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marrys-dream-world · 3 years

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if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter 11)

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Notes: Double update to cheer up a bit! This chapter turned out much longer than I thought it would be, almost double the size of other chapters. No content warning, just fluff! The song "Blueming" by IU, I think this fits this chapter a lot so if you want a song to listen while you read, it's that! Day 11: Voice Mail/Phone calls. @ladynoirjuly

After their last patrol, Ladybug sent Chat Noir a link through their communicators.

[Download this!!] She sent along with it, eagerly waiting for him.

[As my lady commands : D] He sent back almost immediately.

That talk had been a bit of an eye-opener to Marinette. She was getting to know Chat Noir more and more each day and she treasured every bit of information she got, jealousy holding it close to chest, hesitating to write it even in her diary. He was a quiet student during class, he had a friend whose name was definitely not Sallie (ugh), his father was distant, his mother and mother-figure were out of reach. He was lonely. All this information was worrying, just not as much as what she learned that night. At that moment, with him shaking in her arms, she made a decision.

Being there for him just as Ladybug wasn't going to cut it anymore.

This idea wasn't anything new, she had been playing with it in her mind for a while now. So when she sent him a chat room code through her communicator with other instructions and detransformed, she was fairly confident it would work. Picking up her phone, she smiles as she saw that there was already a message.

My lady!! <3 <3 <3

down, Chaton. :)

I'm just mdlaomqnahsbsk

Is it okay, though? Talking like this?

yeah, i've been testing this app with RR and it's fine, there's no way we'll leak our numbers or anything like that to each other. don't worry ;)

This app is to warn each other about attacks and schedule meetings? Are you going to add RR to the chat?

nah, i'll just make one for the 3 of us. this is one for us to talk and stuff, doesn't need to be about job things.

The "CN is typing…" kept it's place on the screen for enough time for her to start getting worried.

You don't need to force yourself for my sake, bug. I don't want to bother you.

Marinette thought about making a joke. The situation, however, didn't seem right for it.

you never bother me.

His response came almost immediately.

You never texted me before.

guess i'll have to learn what's the maximum amount of cat memes a person can humanely send per day

Is that a challenge, my lady?

;) ;) ;)

just remember to not blow up my phone, we have class

I'll use my powers for good, don't worry : D

Marinette smiled and put down her phone, fixing up her bag for the next day on the chance (certainty) that she would wake up late the next day. When she picked the phone up again, there was a single text:

Thank you, bug. Good night.

He was absolutely unstoppable after that. Next morning, as she was brushing her teeth, her cell phone pinged with the telling sound from the app and she smiled as she opened the app on her phone.

Look, look, we can change each other's names.

good to know

You changed "CN" 's name to "Chat-terbox"

Chat-terbox

You know me so well. Soulmates.

Chat-terbox changed your name to "lady of my heart"

lady of my heart

yeah, i should have seen that coming, that's on me.

oh yeah, gm

Chat-terbox

Good morning <3 <3 <3

Are you in class already?

Marinette froze in place, eyes snapping to the clock. There was only ten minutes before the class started. She bolted, barely noticing if she had on the right shoes or if her jacket matched her pants. So much for being an aspiring designer. Marinette blurred past the kitchen, taking a croissant and a banana and cramming them into her mouth as she ran. She made it to the classroom in the middle of the roll call, not even stopping by the lockers.

“Thanks for joining us, Marinette.” Ms. Bustier said dryly. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She answered, out of breath. Sitting down, she took out her tablet and noticed another message making her phone screen glow.

Chat-terbox

Is everything okay?

lady of my heart

i made it late in class but the teacher let me in hehehe

i think she's used to it *forehead sweatdrop emoji*

Chat-terbox

Hahaha a friend of mine just did the same thing, you two are twins

lady of my heart

let me guess… Sallie *eyeroll emoji*

Chat-terbox

I mean, yeah, but why the eyeroll???

lady of my heart

you just talk too much about her, don't you think

Chat-terbox

You sound just like Plagg.

lady of my heart

maybe bc we're right

Chat-terbox

Why does that bother you? Jealous? *eyes emoji*

lady of my heart

as if *kicks u*

Chat-terbox

You kick your partner? You kick his body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for my lady! Jail for my lady for One Thousand Years!

lady of my heart

since my fate is already decided *kicks u again*

Chat-terbox

Nooooooooo

A giggle escaped her mouth.

"Marinette?" Ms. Bustier raised an eyebrow. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"N-no, ma'am." She answered, face heating up. Marinette quietly put her phone away, ignoring Alya's prying eyes.

She only opened the app again during the break between classes, moving away from a curious Alya to hang by Kim and Alíx.

Chat-terbox

I'll assume you're actually paying attention to class, which is great. You probably need it to make up all those crazy plans ;)

SM beaten by ninth grade physics

Hey, boo, did you see this one SM identity theory video making rounds on the internet?

Marinette frowned.

lady of my heart

there's nothing new on the ladyblog

Chat-terbox

Oh, it's not on the Ladyblog, here

She opened the video as quickly as she could before Ms. Bustier came back, only from the sound to make Kim and Alíx burst out into laughter.

lady of my heart

i opened it in my class I hate u so muuuuuch ughhhhhh

Chat-terbox

C'mon, boo, it was funny

lady of my heart

>: (

Chat-terbox

: 3

This time, she willingly put her phone away.

On the next break, she tried to ignore the pinging from her phone. However, curiosity killed the cat(‘s lady).

Chat-terbox

Please don't be mad, my lady, I have written you a lengthy apology to make up for sins

File attachment: apology letter for my beloved.doc

lady of my heart

if it's another rickroll i swear to god i'll END you

Chat-terbox

You can see it's not a video, it's safe to open

Scout's honor

lady of my heart

u were never a scout

Chat-terbox

I could be!!

Please read <3

Sighing deeply, she clicked on the document. He would never shut up if she didn't. It read as:

l would like to offer my sincerest According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible…

She clicked back

Chat-terbox

Did you like it? :3

lady of my heart

…

blocked

Chat-terbox

Boo, noooooooo

After that, Marinette didn’t open the app again no matter how much her phone pinged. She wasn’t mad, not really, just a bit annoyed. Before lunch ended, she would read and answer. But now, she was stuck watching Alya and Nino play Super Penguino and make moon eyes at each other. Adrien wasn’t allowed to join them, as much as he begged his father, and she was feeling pretty bummed about that. She poked around her chicken pasta when she heard her phone playing a familiar song.

kore nani kore nani korenanikorenanikorenanikorenani-

Chat Noir!

"Is everything okay?" Marinette asked as soon as she picked up the phone. Alya and Nino, noticing her worried tone, paused their game to look at her.

"You picked up!" Chat Noir said, cheery. "I thought you blocked me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there actually something wrong? I'll hang up "

"No, wait!" He yelped. "There's nothing wrong, I just wanted to talk. Are you busy?"

Marinette looked over at Nino and Alya, who were still watching her expectantly. She smiles reassuringly and waved them away, furtively signaling to Alya that it was Chat Noir on the phone. Her friend nodded and bumped her shoulder on Nino's.

"C'mon, babe, let Marinette talk to her 'friend' by herself." Alya said, leering.

"Why did you say it like that?" Nino asked, confused. Then, his eyes lit up. "Is it Adrien? Tell him I said hi!"

"No!" Marinette shouted, gaining weird stares from the other patrons.

"No, you aren't busy?" Chat Noir asked on the phone.

"No, it's not Adrien, or no, you won't tell him I said hi?" Nino asked.

"It's another friend." She said hurriedly before focusing on the phone. "I can talk now, not that busy."

"If you're with your friends, it's okay." He said, rather meekly for her chaton.

"I'm just third-wheeling." Marinette said as Alya and Nino began another round of Super Penguins. "Why did you call? Aren't you having lunch now?"

Chat Noir chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm having lunch at home and I'm all alone, so I thought I could give you a call. Is that too much?"

"No, it's fine." She reassured. "Why are you alone? What about your siblings?"

"What siblings?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Uh… the siblings I assumed you had for some reason." She said awkwardly, noticing how out there she sounded the more she spoke.

"Really? You thought I had siblings? Why?"

"Because you're just like an annoying little brother." She said teasingly, a complete lie.

Chat Noir struck her as a mischievous, but supportive older brother. The kind that sneaked you treats after midnight and comforted you after failing a math test. Not like she could tell him that, though. If he was a little brother, it would be to a stressed older sister that he admired a lot and that found him reliable in return. She dreamed about meeting them sometimes and now it seemed that they would truly stay dreams forever.

"I would like an older brother or sister." He sighed longingly. "The closest I have is my cousin, but he lives in another country."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's better this way, we would kill each other if we lived together. Everyday I would have to check for poison in my breakfast."

"A true sibling dynamic."

"Yep."

"Hey, why aren't you having lunch with your friends then?" With Sallie, she wanted to tease, but held back for fear of sounding, as Tikki said, bitter.

"My father would rather I have lunch at home." He said vaguely. "My friends did invite me to go with them to a café, but my father didn't like the idea. He only likes one of them, the rest he says are bad influences."

"Let me guess, the one he likes is Sallie?"

"I can hear you rolling your eyes, but yes."

"Well, if you ever get lonely at lunch, you can call me." Marinette said honestly. "I don't mind it."

"Thank you." Chat Noir said softly.

They spent the rest of lunch talking on the phone, even sending pictures of their food to each other (Chat's limp salad made her take a bunch of mental notes to take him some pastries next patrol). On the way to school, as she walked to the classroom, they kept talking. She could hear Chat getting on a vehicle (a bus?) and when he got to school, she was disappointed he had to hang up. After Marinette clicked the end call button, the first thing she noticed when she looked up was Alya's smug face and Nino's confused one.

"Wow, does my bro have some competition, dude?" Nino said. "You spent the entire break talking."

"What? No, that was just a friend!"

"Yeah, a friend." Alya sing-songed, making her face heat up.

"Yeah." Marinette said firmly. "There's no competition for anything."

"Who's competing?" A sweet voice asked from behind her and she jumped.

"Adrien!" She shouted, scrambling. "N-nothing hehe."

"Dude!" Nino smiled. "How was your lunch?"

Adrien smiled, brightly. "The best I've ever had."

Marinette felt inclined to agree.

#ladynoirjuly #ladynoirjuly2021 #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #ml fic #my stuff #miraculous ladybug #if we're bound to be something why not together

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

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Small Time Witch (32)

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

Vanaheim had been kind to you but it was time to make your next move. Loki had been pardoned on Asgard. The convergence was nigh and preparations for Malekith had begun. Asgard was fortified as a precaution. You thought maybe Malekith wouldn’t bother since the entire universe knew you had the stones. The small council was not so sure. They wanted you locked away in a secure location where he couldn’t find you. You wanted to fight. That’s all you seemed to want these days.

Malekith and Frigga have long been enemies. His brute murdered her when the dark elves invaded Asgard. You would only hide if she hid with you. Being ever stubborn she declined. You didn’t tell her what would happen but, because of your insistence, she could guess. “If it’s my time, it’s my time. I won’t hide.” Everyone in this family was ridiculously stubborn. You fit right in.

Loki fought you ad nauseam about expelling the stones. You refused to even entertain the thought until the convergence was over. He thought the stones were overtaking you. They changed your personality. You argued they just made you stronger and perhaps he was threatened by you. That never failed to spur him into a tirade about how dangerous they were and how no one knew what they were doing to you. The voice in your head told you otherwise. He would prattle on about how they seemed to speak for you. How you had changed. You never listened.

“Mortal are you listening?” It drove you insane when he called you mortal. Just a constant reminder that you were beneath him.

“I am. And I’ve asked you to please stop calling me mortal.”

“Well aren’t you? Are you now unable to die? Have I missed something?”

“As long as I have them I am.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t have them. Where is my wife? You were not this war mongering battle hardened warrior when I first met you.”

“You prefer me weak? Too afraid of my own shadow?”

He knelt in front of you to look in your eyes. “I have never known you to be weak, Y/N. You were powerful enough.”

You laughed but the smile on your lips never met your eyes. “Just enough that I couldn’t ever take you.”

“Stop it. That’s never mattered to me.”

“Until I became stronger than you.”

He picked up a pillow off of the bed and smashed it into his face. He let out a deep growl out of sheer frustration. “Your new found obsession with power is exactly why I am worried. They need you. They are like parasites and you are their host. You feed them, darling. Of course they don’t want to give you up.”

“And what if I do release them? What then? Do we just wait for the next maniac to use them against us?”

“Then we keep them locked in the vault.”

“Oh yeah, because Odin’s vault has never been breached.”

“Only by me.” He hated fighting with you. Absolutely loathed it. You kept putting off the release of the stones but he wouldn’t give up. You were scared they would fall into the wrong hands. He was afraid they already had. The only other person who was in your corner was Odin.

Loki knew his father all too well. He was not interested in what you wanted but what your power could do for him. He treated you like his own sentient weapon. Your daddy issues completely clouded your judgement in regards to Odin. He doted on you. Called you his daughter. You lapped it up. When Loki or Thor would say something he would laugh it off and say they were jealous that he had a new favorite child. After Asgard was safe, they thought it was time for you to go back to Midgard for a while for an extended holiday. Maybe your family could talk some sense into you.

“My love. My little queen. Please don’t be cross with me. I am simply worried for your safety and sanity. Don’t you want to leave all of this behind? Perhaps we can start our family. I’ve longed to see you with child.”

Your voice was quiet, “That’s not my dream. It’s yours. You know how I feel about having children. Can’t we just go on forever having adventures?”

“Pet, I have had my fun. I just want to start a family and be settled. I don’t care if I ever ride into another battle. Children or not, I just want this constant upheaval to end. I quite liked our life on Midgard. I actually miss television. Why don’t we go back and rebuild our little cottage? Will you at least think about it?”

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I will. When this is all over, I will agree to take extended leave and visit my family.”

—————————————————————

The day Malekith invaded was like deja vu for Loki except he was not in the dungeon. The dark elves were unable to breech the outer reaches of Asgard so they moved on to Greenwich where he and Thor would meet. Against your better judgement (and certainly Loki’s), you jumped the portal to help Thor. You served as nothing but a distraction. Thor was nearly crushed by Malekith’s ship. Had it not been for Dr. Selvig, Thor would have been killed.

Your magic destroyed half of a library and a lot more property. When law enforcement arrived they thanked Thor for his help. You, on the other hand, were put in shackles and taken into custody. Thor tried to stop them but they were under strict orders from the World Security Council to take you in.

You tried to break free for your bonds but your magic wouldn’t work. “Stop resisting, Princess.” one of the Interpol officers shouted. They didn’t have regular guns pointed at you. They looked like ray guns or something you’d see in a sci fi movie. Thor rushed behind you asking where you were being taken. They muttered something about an Air Force base as officers held him back.

“I’m coming, little sister! Just hang on.”

They had you locked in the back of a van that was caged and padded. A thick metal partition separated you from the driver. The doors on the back were also thick metal. Three officers wearing helmets rushed in in a practiced military style drill. Keeping their weapons trained on you, one officer stood in front of you and pressed a button that magnetized your restraints. He stuck your hands to a small but sturdy loop on the bench you sat on. Another officer put a mutant inhibitor collar around your neck while the third jabbed a needle in your arm. “Nighty night, Princess.”

When you awoke your head was pounding. There was a jumpsuit on the small table next to you. On the floor were socks and slippers. The collar was pretty heavy and seemed to grab at your skin when you pulled. “It won’t come off Mrs. Odinson” a voice said. There was a speaker just above the door.

“Where am I?”

“Change into your jumps.”

“Where am I? Don’t make me ask again.”

“Change into your jumps, prisoner.”

You tried to use your magic but only a tiny spark flickered between your hands.

Your cell doors opened and a familiar face stood in front of you. “Ma’am. I’m Coulson. Come with me.”

“Wait. Aren’t you...”

“Dead? As in your husband killed me? Yeah. Something like that.” He stood in the doorway looking at you expectantly. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

You followed behind him flipping off the speaker when you left. “Can you remove this collar, Coulson?”

“Please forgive me if I’m not super trusting.”

“Understandable I guess. Where are you taking me?”

“New York. Into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. It’s the only way the US government will release you. Part of the MCA.”

“MCA?”

“Mutant Control Act. You’re an unregistered omega level mutant. Your powers, as defined by the government, are unlimited. You’re dangerous.”

“So when I’m on Earth, I am a prisoner?”

“When you’re on Earth? You think you’re leaving? You belong to us now.”

He took you along to an airstrip where you boarded a small plane. He helped you into your seat, shackled your wrists and ankles and bid you a safe flight.

——————————————————————

Thor was too scared to tell Loki you were captured. He would have been pissed at the both of you. If he thought you were in danger he would rip Midgard apart to find you. The only person he knew to contact was Steve Rogers.

In Tony’s infinite wisdom, he named Steve his successor of sorts. He called him the Chief Moral Compass of the company. That gave Steve all kinds of contacts and diplomatic immunity in 46 countries.

Steve met your flight at the base in New York. Coulson was thrilled to see Steve again but he wouldn’t release you. He got into the backseat and went with you to the facility where you’d be staying.

You waited for several hours in a holding room. You hadn’t eaten in a couple of days and your body was exhausted without the stones to prop you up. You fell asleep with your head on the table. Finally Steve came in to wake you.

“Hey, Y/N. You’re free to go. Get this collar off of her now!” he said to an agent.

“Can we grab something to eat? I haven’t had anything in a couple of days.”

He planted his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw. You were freaking Asgardian royalty and a human being. Surely that earned you some respect. He was livid. “Seriously, guys? You couldn’t have gotten her food? My apologies, Princess.”

“I would kill for a slice. Ever hear of Joe’s Pizza in Brooklyn?”

He smiled, “Best in New York. How do you know about that place?”

“I was in love with a guy from Brooklyn once.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“He couldn’t handle who I was.”

Steve chuckled to himself, “Then he didn’t deserve you.”

——————————————————————

Pending a hearing, you were released to your mother’s care. You absolutely could not prevent Loki from coming any longer. When he landed you were sitting in the open space where your house would be built.

“This is the perfect spot isn’t it?” You were picking blades of grass and letting them fall through your fingers.

“Afelheim has ample space for cottage building. No cable though. I guess this rules out our extended holiday.” He sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I think this is our extended holiday. My hearing isn’t for another month.”

“You know what you did was careless and stupid right? Also incredibly arrogant. Thor didn’t need your help.”

“I know. I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t. The stones were. While we’re stuck here, I’d like to get as many people as possible involved in removing them and healing you. That’s even if you can be healed. Your body could be riddled with cancer like poor Jane.”

“Well I’ve saved her from that fate.”

“Not yourself. If I lost you....”

“You’re not losing me.”

You snuggled against him and he kissed the top of your head. He no longer tried to hide his feelings from you. He was afraid. You just found each other again and he was afraid he would lose you. The old Loki would have run screaming. This Loki would fight for you. And, if he had to, he would follow you into Hel. Maybe he was selfish in that regard. He lost you once. Never again.

#loki of jotunheim #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #witch #mcu witches #small time witch

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed! So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’.

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn��t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #alliswell21 #567inpanem #prompt 23 #submission

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jimmymcgools · 4 years

Note

From ch 17, "Through his airplane window once, Albuquerque had looked like an afterthought, dwarfed by the sky." all the way to the absolutely perfect ending! (since I'm about to chonk on this chapter 🥰❤️)

♥️💙♥️💙 thank you so much! this one got long, wow

fic commentary meme and my answers

i am WEAK for an indulgent callback and this ending is the most indulgent and callbacky thing i’ve ever done. i really hoped it would give the chapter a sense of closure and finality -- or at least that’s the excuse i gave myself to go absolutely ham.

Through his airplane window once, Albuquerque had looked like an afterthought, dwarfed by the sky.

i didn’t do it deliberately at the time i wrote chapter one, but at some point i noticed that interesting quirk of jimmy’s very first observation of abq. it’s all sky and mountains and nothing of the actual city: “Albuquerque makes a disgustingly beautiful first impression: the sky as big and curved and blue as he’s always heard it can be, streaked with paintbrush clouds.”

It had looked like something ready to be forgotten

another callback to chapter 1. “Here, the architecture feels almost temporary, as if it’s been carelessly dropped on some enormous play-mat and forgotten.” i always try to use jimmy’s observations of abq to reflect how he feels about himself at that point.

along with the thought of the heavy suitcases that he’d watched slip and shift in the overhead lockers before takeoff

i don’t think it really stands out enough to be anything, but i was stuck for list items here and i ended up trying to fold in some of that slippin’ jimmy gaze. the idea that maybe he’s not only looking at people to read them / figure out how he could scam them, but looking for these liability insurance $$ payouts waiting to happen.

... along with the thought of their drive out to O’Hare, Jimmy silent in the passenger seat of the rental car, the radio off and Chuck’s grip tight on the steering wheel.

oops--just remembered jimmy says chuck’s waiting in a taxi!

Jimmy had listened to the line ring for what felt like forever, each silver chime spinning a silver thread across the city, winding toward his mother’s living room.

more damn callbacks! when he thinks about calling his mother in chapter 9: “He imagines a line emerging from the handset, a thin silvery thread spinning off from his room and his street and then out of Albuquerque, crossing over the Sandias and shooting northeastward, over rivers and fields and Dust Bowl states, until finally arriving in Cicero, in his mother’s living room.”

It echoed through the handset like it was being piped back to him, like the prison phone was just a sick joke, a closed loop, locked inside

so much of acb is jimmy trying to break out of these closed loops

In a bright and steady voice, or at least his brightest and steadiest, he had said, “Hey, Mom. Something’s happened.”

law offices of james m mcgill, how may i direct your call! 🙂

It seems unfamiliar at first, but then the city starts to take shape, and he thinks he can see the squat skyscrapers of downtown, the geometric cubes that rise from the flat land.

i wanted this to be the end point of a series, where jimmy’s first impression is the beginning, and him arriving back from cicero is the middle, and now only here is he finally familiar with the city. the next few sentences are kind of a walk through acb -- "squat skyscrapers of downtown” is similar to how jimmy sees the city in chapter 7 when they go to the movies, then we get central avenue/route 66 “historic and neon-glowed”, and then finally the airport on the “desert shore” like in chapter 14.

Might even see Chuck’s house, still lit by lantern light.

ofc jimmy’s thinking of the luminarias but the dramatic irony here was too good to pass up 🔥🔥🔥

And in the west now, clouds. As the sun vanishes below the horizon, they become briefly clear, shadowed with lilac and orange, and Jimmy can see their shape by the light on them.

you’re going to have to forgive me for how damn metaphorical this is gonna get, but thinking of metaphors is one of the big ways i spark ideas for description, and this ending is really just an enormous chunk of description, so 💀

these clouds. these damn clouds. ever since hamlin snr told jimmy to find a space in the world only he can can fit, jimmy’s thoughts have kept returning to that idea -- and his mother’s innocent words, too: “you were really in no shape”. so the idea that, if he can figure out what shape he is, he’ll know which space he can fit.

and throughout the fic when i was stuck on kim description i’d play with light, and the idea of kim being a source of light, like the sun. the fireworks sequence is a big example, where i wanted to make her as bright as the fireworks, or at the holiday party: “Beneath the hanging Christmas lights, she’s luminous.”

so when i wrote “and Jimmy can see their shape by the light on them” i was thinking about him seeing the shape of himself and therefore his place in the world because of kim.

... but the clouds only become briefly clear.

(it’s also a little bit of inspired/stolen phrasing from the end of no country for old men: “and i could see the horn from the light inside of it.”)

If he watched for long enough, he thinks that he could also see them moving slowly, driven by high winds.

oh did you think i was done talking about these clouds? ☁️☁️☁️

this from chapter 11: “A display entitled Surviving in a Moving Landscape shows how the dunes can shift almost forty feet a year in places, driven by high winds”

“surviving in a moving landscape” ♥️ i always thought that was a really nice way to look at the characters of bcs. they’re the animals in the dunes having to adapt to survive, but also the dunes themselves. moving slowly because of these intangible forces on them, adapting to the forces, but changing forever for it.

The winds move through him, too, hollowing him out.

a future callback, i borrowed "hollowing him out” again for chapter 5 of safs, so keep an eye out 👁

In the darkness, the flat land below the Sandias seems to go on forever, black and flickering with dying embers: scorched earth.

if i had seen this specific image of abq from the sandias before i wrote the chapter, the light on the clouds would’ve been the city lights of abq -- even BETTER than the sunset! look at it! LOOK!

He can even smell them on the wind: the woodsmoke scent of evening

jimmy thinks of night smelling like woodsmoke on their drive along route 66, and then again on the forecourt of clines corners. bringing that back here with the idea that it’s coming from those imaginary fires of the city lights.

And he thinks that his whole life since arriving in Albuquerque has been like a controlled burn: searing away the silk shirts and the fake Rolexes and the ice of Michigan Avenue until nothing remains—breath on a cold mirror vanishing—a blank slate.

(peter griffin voice 👉AHH, AHH, 👉THERE IT IS)

the end here is inspired by this from “how to embrace a swamp creature” by tmg:

Alone with your bathroom mirror Try to get my head straight Breathe on the glass and wait for it to clear Clean slate

Burned back and clean. So he thinks about what he could build.

jimmy thinking very much like kim here, and especially what she said in the last chapter about the desert being sterile.

He thinks about his brother on a park bench, surrounded by luminarias. He thinks about a paper-wrapped book with fourteen words inside it.

i really wanted there to be some of chuck in this moment, even though i’ve ended up in such a shippery/kim place.

He thinks of letting her move against him, move over him, move around him. Of letting her define the edges of him.

the same idea as the light on the clouds, but hopefully a little more apparent! 😂and more returning images, and the seed planted by kim in the white sands motel.

there’s something so fragile about jimmy’s realisation here, i hope. he really is still doing so much of this for other people. it’s hard -- there’s something about slippin’ jimmy coming to abq and deciding to *dedicate years and years of his life to becoming a lawyer* that’s just... incredible. i tried to get to a place by the end of this fic where it made sense, and of course we all know he ends up doing it, but -- i always wanted there to be this inspiration from within himself to do it, too, outside of him just doing it to follow kim or to make chuck proud.

but i don’t think he’s found it here, as much as the shape of himself is briefly visible atop the sandia peak.

Jimmy wonders if he’s allowed to stay here all night, up on the Sandias. Up on this one high place.

oh jimmy if only you could stay up there forever. hamlin snr voice: perspective!!

He imagines waiting exactly here until the sun returns, until it rises behind him and breaks over the mountains. Like sitting beside Kim on the trunk of her car, their legs pressed together beneath the blanket.

this specific idea of holding off on seeing 🌄morning over the sandias 🌄at the end of chapter 16 came as i was planning that chapter. i was worried that ending with a sunrise would seem too final, seem too much like the ending of the whole story, and that chapter 17 would then end up feeling tacked on.

Then, the dawn had seemed to reach out close enough to touch them, huge and breathless, warm fingers on his skin.

three rapid fire callbacks in these next sentences. first an inverse of this from chapter 6, when kim takes a cup of coffee from him: “He can feel the ghost of her fingers like sunlight on his skin.”

And Jimmy had inhaled the colors of it: blue and gold and orange, streaks of brightness across the enormous sky.

then white sands: “as Jimmy inhales the air and the colors he thinks that there could be nothing more opposite of a Cook County jail cell than this exact spot in the middle of the White Sands National Monument.”

Morning sliding over the land.

and this is so niche and impossible, but it’s “I watch the sun rise over this wall / I watch it break and slide” from “graffiti” by throwing muses, which is on the road trip playlist and shows up in chapter 10 with: “A smile crests Kim’s face like the sun over a wall.” but, you know. callback?

And now he stands on the edge of the viewing platform and he looks out into the darkness of the city. And he imagines it all bathed in light.

i said that i decided to shift the idea of the sunrise here because it felt too much like an ending -- and man, the noise i made when i realised that jimmy imagining the sun rising behind him was jimmy imagining the world before him finally illuminated.

i also loved the idea of the weird clash of him standing there at sunset, at night, and imagining dawn.

🌄🌄🌄☁️☁️☁️ thank you so much for asking!! 💙

#commentary ask meme #asks #the-parallax-of-rain #a controlled burn

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5lazarus · 3 years

Text

Ligaments

Summary: Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” Warnings: Prisons, PTSD. Read on AO3 here.

“We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” Lavellan eyes her doubtfully. “He ripped my arm off, Leliana,” she says. “And you kissed him while you did it,” Leliana returns. The two women keep walking, and Lavellan casts a look behind her to see who exactly is following them. One of Leliana’s scouts tucks themselves out of view, just a fraction too late. She sees their shadow, and smiles. The elvhen district of Halamshiral, called the Dirthavaren, has recovered since Marquise Briala has taken the reins. News of her arrest has not yet left the palace. Even the Divine does not technically know: but Leliana has left off her hat today, and Leliana knows everything. The guards will descend upon Briala’s court in two days, unless they act, and Lavellan intends to act now. “I thought she’d trust me enough to tell me,” Lavellan mourns. “I understand the need for caution, but that she warned the Dread Wolf before me--” “She wanted him exposed,” Leliana says. “So Charter claims. If he did not act to help one of the last living hopes of Elvhenan, it would discredit him amongst his followers. And Briala is jealous of her recruits. I do not believe she thought he would act on this information.” She can play the Game as well as even the Marquise and the Dread Wolf, if not better. She is not in prison, and while some are calling her a living god, her people love her. Gaspard is holding the elves of Orlais hostage. She will not let them purge another alienage--she is playing to win. “She’s not dead yet,” Lavellan says. They reach the riverbank and turn onto the bridge where Charter said they’d meet. A man stands at the center, leaning on the railing. He gazes out onto the city, the Dirthavaren, the Promise. A seagull pulls inquiringly at his sleeve. Irritated, he brushes it away, and as the bird flies off with a squawk he turns around. Lavellan presses her lip into a thin line: Solas is still wearing the shirt her aunt made him. Solas, for his part, only flicks his eyes away and bows slightly. “Divine Victoria,” he says quietly. “Inquisitor. Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Leliana is staring at his feet. He is wearing shoes. Lavellan can see the wheels turning in Leliana’s head, and is looking forward to hearing her character assasination over a glass of wine, if Gaspard doesn’t kill them all first. They are relatively nice boots, well-worn, a bit muddy. It has rained recently, so that makes sense. Leliana will be able to tell her exactly where the mud comes from, of course, and if he’s killed anyone in their sleep recently, and exactly how often he cries himself to sleep, if he cries at all. Lavellan says, “Let’s leave the pleasantries aside, shall we? You know where Briala is being held. Her agents told yours--your singular agent, because recruitment isn’t going particularly well, is it?” Solas frowns and folds his arms. Rejoicing in his disapproval, Lavellan continues, “No matter--we have the schema of the palace. And my agents can get us in.” Specifically her mother-in-law can sneak them in, since she moved to organize Briala’s clerks in her court, and she is honestly looking forward to Manon taking the Dread Wolf’s measure. Leliana nudges her gently: play nice. “I have the clothes,” Leliana says. “The costumes, since we do all know how much you like to dress up.” A smile ghosts across Solas’ face. “I am quite curious to see how you’ll dress me.” “Not in a wig,” Leliana says. “Blond is not your color.” Both he and Lavellan laugh. Solas looks at her under his lashes, and Lavellan schools the smile off her face. She had been incredulous and delighted when Charter told them. He had clearly done it to make them laugh. He always liked to perform for her: likes, she thinks, he still likes to. She eyes him, considering. What is he getting out of this? Leliana thinks she can wheedle it out. “Let’s go,” Lavellan says forcibly. “We do not know how much longer we have, and I’d like to spare our sister as much suffering as we can. They only leave you alone the first day, to get you scared.” They torture the ones in the cells next to you, to set the mood. Lavellan brushes the gashes on her face, remembering, and then she makes herself stop. Leliana and Solas look at her, concerned. Irritated, she snaps, “Let’s go. We haven’t much time left.” They cross the bridge and leave the Dirthavaren behind them, and Leliana guides them to one of her many safehouses. She leaves them with their costumes and closes the door behind them. Solas says, “Alas, no wig. But she is right: blond is not my color.” Lavellan ignores him and strips out of her tunic. The servant’s dress is a bit hard to lace up, and the sleeve snags in the metal ligaments of her prosthetic. It tears. “Fuck,” she says, helpless. She counts: one, two, three, and breathes past it, and tugs her sleeve out. She stretches her metal arm out and splays the fingers. They’re too clumsy to do up buttons and tighten stays. She stands in her dress and waits. Solas silently changes his clothes. He keeps the wolf-bone necklace on. She catches him staring at her. “I don’t need your help,” she says. “I was not offering it,” he says mildly. Before Lavellan can snap back, Leliana returns with a tub of greasepaint. She eyes Solas and turns to Lavellan. Wordlessly, Lavellan turns, to get her to do up the back. Leliana buttons and ties her into the dress, and buttons her cuffs. “We’ll need to cover your scars,” she says. “And your vallaslin.” “Absolutely not,” Lavellan says immediately. Leliana says, “I understand your discomfort, but a Dalish elf with large gashes across her face is recognizable, no matter how nondescript we dress her. You are no longer invisible, Inquisitor. And we cannot afford to dawdle.” Lavellan says repressively, “Of course. Make it quick.” Leliana paints her face, and she is struck by how surreal her life has become. The Divine is painting over her vallaslin while the Dread Wolf watches. She glances at him, and to his credit he does not offer up a smile. He looks sad. He always looks sad. Leliana is kind enough not to offer her a mirror. She pulls out the map of the Winter Palace, and shows them the route they must take. Lavellan brushes against Solas’ shoulder as they lean in. Solas shies away. “You’ll enter the catacombs from here and walk along the aqueduct to Briala’s offices. Gaspard believes he has them sealed, but he does not know about the servants’ passageways within the very walls of the elvhen quarter of the palace.” Leliana traces her finger down the map. “Manon will meet you where the paths intersect under the Great Hall, and show you how to climb above to the cells.” Lavellan blinks. “So they keep the torture chambers right about the ballroom? How utterly Orlesian.” Leliana says, “It is quite a performance. Some dances are choreographed around the screams. No one knows quite where prisoners are held, of course. Or they pretend not to know. But others have broken free before, and I am confident that the two of you can move her out. And once she has claimed asylum with the Chantry, I can act, and charge Gaspard as an enemy of the faith.” “And then you will grant the petition of the Council of Heralds to let him free,” Solas says, “and put the Duke Cyril de Montfort in his place, who is less interested in wracking his country with civil war and pogroms and will stand strong against the Qun.” “Surely your distaste for the Qun isn’t the only reason you’re here,” Lavellan remarks. “And you have pretended at length not to care about what the People think of you. Since you do not think of us as people. What does Briala have on you?” “No good deed goes unpunished,” Solas says. “Perhaps I tire of wading through dead elves. A better world is coming. That does not mean I enjoy seeing our people suffer in the interim.” Lavellan exchanges a glance with Leliana. He has expanded his definition of personhood, but not by much. If the lives of the elves of Halamshiral were not at stake, she would hound him on that, and triangulate with Leliana--but there is no time for that. She does not take the bait. “Maker be with you,” Leliana says. She smiles oddly at Lavellan. “May the Dread Wolf never hear your step.” Lavellan laughs. Leliana pulls open the trapdoor, and they descend into the bowels of the city. The ladder is built into the stone, and it is wet and slippery under her hand. For once Lavellan is glad of the prosthetic. It steadies her down to the rushing river below, funneling the water that feeds the city. Solas waits for her at the bottom, hands glowing slightly. He has pulled a barrier spell right to the edge of the Veil, just in case. Silently she gestures to him to follow, and they hug the wall as they walk the narrow path towards the palace. Every twenty feet they come across a glowstone; Lavellan begins counting. Manon told her that she would reach the crossroads after the fortieth light. The water roars, the brickwork drips, and they keep walking. At the twenty-eighth glowstone, Lavellan says idly, “You shaved the beard.” “As you said, it was not a particularly compelling disguise,” Solas says. They have to shout to hear each other over the water, which is not a particularly good idea. They fall silent, and the corridor gradually widens over the water, which reduces to a quiet stream. Now they walk in step. They reach the fortieth glowstone and Lavellan stops. Her mother-in-law steps out of the shadows, carrying a lantern. She has more gray in her hair, Lavellan notes sorrowfully, and her mouth is pressed thin and tight. “Da’vhenan,” Manon says: child of my heart. “Why do I never see you unless there is a catastrophe?” “I’m making this one right,” Lavellan says. Briala will not die like Mahanon did: that goes unsaid. Manon examines Solas doubtfully and chooses supremely to say nothing. She turns her back to them and gestures to them to follow. “Where are the others?” Lavellan whispers. “Surely you’re not the only elf left in the palace.” “They have been encouraged to go home,” Manon says. “And the servants’ quarters have been locked. This was customary, of course, in Celene’s day. But I am glad you are here. Your life is considered so much less disposable than ours. If you fail, the shem will not torture you again, at least. But they’ll take it out on him.” “We will not fail,” Solas says. “I don’t find promises from the Dread Wolf particularly reassuring,” Manon says lightly. “I like it better when the gods keep silent.” Solas, amused, catches Lavellan’s eye, and Lavellan suppresses a smile. She does enjoy her mother-in-law. It is a shame only catastrophe brings them together: her husband’s death, the purging of the Dirthavaren, venatori in the Winter Palace, now this. “Don’t worry, Mamae,” Lavellan says. “I have it well in hand.” Manon leads them to a sloping stairwell and hangs the lantern at the entrance. She tells them to climb. They must follow the stairs along a steep curve along the dome of the Winter Palace ballroom. Briala is likely kept close to the top, behind a halla-locked door. Manon hands them a bag full of the statues they need. Solas shoulders it. There is only one way in, slithering between the ligaments of the Winter Palace. Lavellan flexes her prosthetic, arming her spirit blade. If they must they will fight their way out and leave no survivors. That is the Game: but it is so much more elegant to empty it, rather than leaving a trail of corpses to bloat the aqueduct. Lavellan hugs Manon tightly. “Stay safe,” she tells her. “Get out of here. Leliana will protect you. She’ll bring you back to Val Royeaux.” “My, my,” Manon murmurs. “The Divine’s protection. We really have risen in the world.” She pulls away from her and examines the greasepaint. “Don’t get caught. You don’t need any more unnecessary scars.” Stung, Lavellan draws back. Manon steps back into the shadows. Solas turns to her, concerned. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says. “I’m alive, her son is not. And she hasn’t seen her granddaughters since before the Conclave. It’s my fault.” “But she loves you,” Solas remarks. “‘Child of her heart.’” “And so do you, and that has not done me much good,” Lavellan shoots back. Solas’ face tightens in the shadows. “True,” he says. He reaches tentatively towards her. “You have been here before.” Lavellan breathes: one two three, in. Halt: one two three four. Out: one two three four, one long gust. “In a place like this,” she says. “Not here. In Val Royeaux, and then in Wycombe. And of course, you remember Haven.” She lets him take her hand and squeeze it. “We will leave this place whole,” he says. “A promise from the Dread Wolf,” Lavellan says. “Forgive me if I am not reassured.” Still she does not drop his hand, and they enter the stairway together. Their eyes adjust seamlessly to the dark. The smell is horrible and the heat atrocious. Still, they continue to climb, and Lavellan wonders what is happening below. Perhaps Duke de Montfort’s men have entered the palace by now. Perhaps Gaspard himself is pacing in circles, stroking his moustache as he prepares for the inevitable backlash. Perhaps the room is simply empty, and it is only full in the Fade, where spirits reenact Briala watching Celene die again and again. A low mumble sings between the bricks and plaster wall. Solas and Lavellan stop in unison. Lavellan drops his hand and rubs her head, suddenly fatigued. Pressure is building behind her eyes. “The song,” she says. “It’s red lyrium,” Solas says. “It should not be in Halamshiral.” “It’s a desecration,” Lavellan says angrily. “It should not be in the heart of what was once my people’s city.” Solas looks at her strangely. “On that, at least, we agree,” he says. “Let’s keep moving.” He waits for her to move in front of him. Lavellan rolls her eyes. She does not know if it because he does not trust her, or because he wants to make a show of protecting her back, or if he simply dislikes walking first into the dark--likely all three. But with evidence of red lyrium in the Winter Palace, Leliana now has enough to order Gaspard to stand down. The curve of the halls glow red as they continue upward, and the song grows stronger. Lavellan is sweating off the greasepaint. It is worse here than in Emprise du Lion; it is growing in the mortar between the bricks themselves in the worryingly empty cells. Solas says suddenly, “This is an experiment.” He stops, brow furrowed as he stares at the minuscule lyrium crystals between the bricks. “A foolish one, because it will eventually take down the roof.” They reach the top of the stairs, and Solas places the halla statues along the doorframe. They glow a sickly green, and the lock clicks. Lavellan charges her spirit blade and pushes the door open. Briala is chained to the wall, staring fixedly at a growth of red lyrium in the center of the room. It is pulsing up her chains, inching closer and closer to her wrists. She looks up and says, “Maker. Get me out of here. I cannot hear myself think.” Horrified, Lavellan hurries over and strikes off her chains. Briala crumbles to the floor. She picks her up. “Solas, her shoulders,” she says. “Her wrists!” Solas kneels next to her. Hands glowing a comforting green, he massages Briala’s shoulders back into place and heals the bruising the cuffs left on her wrists. Briala says, half-deliriously, “If you are the Dread Wolf and that is the Herald, what does that make me? The Arrow?” She rests her head on Lavellan’s shoulder. “Has he moved against our people?” “Not yet,” she says. “He won’t. I will not let him.” She looks at Solas over Briala’s head. He is staring beyond them, lost in a reverie. She shapes my love on her tongue and stops herself. “Solas?” she says instead. “We need to move.” He startles. “Yes,” he says. “Forgive me. Imprisonment is hard to bear.” They still, and Lavellan understands that all she has been through, her and Briala both, he has lived too. He touches her shoulder and helps her hoist Briala up, carefully skirting the red lyrium. Briala says, “They did something to my legs. Injected something. Poison, but they wanted the lyrium to eat me alive.” “So not so poisonous,” Lavellan says. “Lethallin, let me carry you.” Briala sags in her arms and carefully they maneuver towards the door. Solas walks down the slope first, drawing a barrier close to their side of the Veil. It drowns out the singing, but her head continues to pound. Briala’s breathing is practiced and even. She has been through this sort of pain before--but their people don’t rise this high without learning how to breathe pain to make it manageable, so that it doesn’t snatch at your very respiration, that you can have that much control over your body, even as it revolts from the inside. Lavellan does not let her thoughts lose her. Carefully and steadily, she steps through the prison and never loses her footing. They reach the end of the staircase and Solas fishes a healing potion from his pocket. Lavellan sets Briala down. Briala looks at Lavellan. She nods, and only then does Briala reach for it. Solas’ face is unreadable. Briala drinks. “My people,” she says. “Do they know?” “We’ve kept word from spreading,” Lavellan says. “Manon let us know.” “And your man let mine,” Solas adds. Briala grimaces. “A pleasant surprise,” Briala says. “I had assumed you would be too proud.” She looks at Lavellan sardonically. “He feel guilty that when he took the eluvians from us, he interrupted a supply chain to the ghetto in Jader. Babies and old men starved, because of the Dread Wolf. And of course, you cannot let Orlais fall to Tevinter and the Qun before you take the Dales, can you?” Solas says, “You have your life. Would you like to keep it? The more we dawdle, the more we risk discovery. Let us leave this place.” Lavellan picks up Briala. She murmurs in her ear, “Dead babies. Nice touch.” Briala seizes a second--the closest she can come to a laugh. They follow Solas’ light through the underbelly of the palace and back into the roaring aqueduct. Lavellan is panting heavily now, prosthetic digging into her skin. Briala tries to support herself and nearly falls into the water. Solas turns to watch as Lavellan shouts and grabs her back, both of them slipping to the ground. He does not offer them a hand up. Lavellan glares at him, covered in muck. She picks Briala back up. When it is clear they will not fall, Solas turns around and keeps walking. Lavellan tries to keep up, but her energy is flagging, and she falls behind. When they round the next bendSolas is gone, and while there are footsteps tracing a path through the muck into the catacombs of Halamshiral, Lavellan has neither the time nor the rage to follow. “Asshole,” Lavellan says. She steadies Briala on her back and climbs back into the light.

#ligaments #solavellan #action/adventure #solas #briala #lavellan #leliana #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #dai #post-trespasser #canon compliant

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tribeworldarchive · 3 years

Photo

Worldview on PREGNANCY - Part one.

Over the next two weeks we take a look at pregnancy in the real world and compare it to pregnancy in the world of The Tribe.

There have been four pregnancies in the main cast of The Tribe from series 1-3.

PHOTO 1 - Trudy with new pride and joy - BRADY

Trudy was already pregnant when we first saw her and soon delivered her baby in the Mall with the help of some of the Mall Rats.

Zandra discovered that she was pregnant with Lex's baby but died in the explosion on Eagle Mountain.

Salene suffered a miscarriage after she fell down the stairs.

And now Amber is about to deliver in a barn in the middle of nowhere with the sounds of an ominous airplane overhead.

The first signs

Most women discover that they are 'with child' when they miss their period but this is not always due to pregnancy. It is really important for a woman to see a doctor if she misses a period. Next comes the morning sickness although again, this doesn't always affect every woman. The sickness doesn't just happen in the morning either - some women are quite sick all day long for the first few months of their pregnancy. A suspected pregnancy needs to be confirmed by a doctor. If the woman has done a home pregnancy test she should still consult her doctor. This will help her to make informed decisions as to whether she wants to keep or terminate the baby and to make sure that both she and the baby are monitored closely for health reasons if the pregnancy is to continue.

How is it that a woman can not actually realise that she is pregnant?

There are some girls who have not even started their periods when they become pregnant and so do not notice any difference in their body. That combined with not getting morning sickness might hide the fact that there is actually a baby in there. Sometimes girls who do not know much about the facts of life just don't realise they're pregnant until they're in labour. Even at this stage they might believe that the pains they are experiencing are the result of food poisoning, a strained muscle or a stomach bug.

Phantom pregnancies

Is it a ghost? Is it a spook? No, it's the belief that there is a baby in your belly. Sometimes women desperately want to become pregnant and think about it so much that they convince their bodies that it is actually carrying a baby! Other women have all the characteristics of a pregnancy but there is no baby there. Just a mass of cells which grow and grow and this can be very dangerous indeed. Other 'pregnancies' are ectopic where the fertilised egg starts to grow in the Fallopian tube until it reaches such a size that it bursts and can cause death. These points make it very obvious that if there is ever a change in your body that you need to go and see your GP or your family planning clinic as soon as possible so you know that everything is normal.

Health issues

Pregnant women need to be really careful with their health so as not to harm the baby. Smoking, drinking alcohol and, of course, drug substances travel right through the umbilical cord from the woman straight to the developing foetus. Every year there are too many babies born with deformities caused by the mothers' abuse of these substances and they lead a very painful life, if indeed they live at all. Food is also an issue with pregnant women. Simple things like eggs, soft cheese, paté and seafood need to be avoided because of the risk of food poisoning which could kill the baby.

PHOTO 2 - a very pregnant Amber with Bray, leaving town

Tribal pregnancies

Tribal life must be like going back in time in many ways and the Tribal girls must have found it very hard to be pregnant in this post apocalyptic world. No family support, no pain relief, no doctors, and no ultrasounds or blood tests.

Of course, this is the way that women have given birth since time began but many women and babies have also died in the past due to the lack of medical help.

The Tribal girls would have been hard pushed to find enough healthy food to eat during their pregnancies. Plenty of iron (which is found in red meat and green vegetables) is important so that the mother doesn't develop anaemia, which would leave her feeling very faint and unwell.

Other problems would arise if the mother was diabetic or suffered from high blood pressure. Both these conditions can be fatal if not monitored and treated properly.

PHOTO 3 - Trudy with new born Brady, but feverish already

Trudy suffered terribly after the birth of Brady. She developed a puerperal fever (or childbed fever) which could have been fatal had Dal not been able to find some antibiotics. This fever was actually the biggest killer of women before the Second World War. Trudy then developed postnatal depression and luckily had the help and support of the Mall Rats to get her through this dark time. Some women get so depressed after they give birth that they harm themselves or the baby.

Salene miscarried after falling down the stairs and it was lucky that she recovered well from this. Some women have severe complications after losing a baby and need to have an operation to make sure that the uterus has been cleaned out properly to stop the risk of infection.

Amber lay bleeding in the last episode of Tribe 3 and this can obviously be a very bad sign in childbirth. Hopefully the labour will progress normally and Bray will be able to help with a successful delivery.

A problem the Tribal mothers could encounter after the birth include breastfeeding. Some women develop an infection called mastitis and this needs to be treated quickly with antibiotics. Other women find out that they are just not comfortable or have problems with breast-feeding and so need to bottle feed their babies. And they then need to find formula milk and bottle sterilising equipment. Some babies are allergic to cow's milk and need to have soymilk.

PHOTO 4 - A very proud Daddy - ZOOT holding Brady in his arms

It takes two to tango...

Of course we have to remember that a woman doesn't just become pregnant on her own. The father of the child becomes as involved in the pregnancy, decision making and the upbringing of the child as his morals will allow. Imagine having Zoot as your father! Bray, Ryan and Lex were all happy with the thought of becoming fathers and Bray was very supportive of Trudy during her time of need. In fact Zoot was blown away when he found out that he was a father but we will never know what kind of a daddy he would have made as he was killed soon after this discovery.

Teenage pregnancies

There are many teenage pregnancies all around the world and the Tribal girls were all still teenagers themselves when they discovered that they were pregnant. Some girls find it incredibly hard to make a decision about the best plan of action when they discover they are pregnant. Some decide to terminate their pregnancy but this should never be treated as a form of contraception. Some decide to have their baby adopted. And some decide to battle on and raise the child themselves. Any decision would be a difficult one and should not be made lightly as this is a life in the making. Some girls have great support from friends and family whereas some are not supported at all. Those who become pregnant need all the help and support they can get as well as further education about contraception and safe sex. The Tribal girls were all very lucky to have the help and support of their partners and friends.

Remember...

If you are pregnant and worried about it, please see your GP or go to a Family Planning Clinic as soon as possible. Tell a friend or a teacher at school. But most importantly, tell your parents. This might sound easier than it is but you need the support your parents should offer and they should ultimately respect you for trusting them with the truth. Of course, some parents cannot offer this kind of support and then it is really important that you find somebody else who you trust and can help you through a stressful time. There are support groups throughout the world that have been set up to help pregnant teenagers. Your GP, family planning clinic or school should be able to point you in the right direction.

Other concerns

There are so many sexually transmitted diseases that can be picked up through unprotected sex as well as the HIV virus. Pregnancy is just one concern. What starts off as a bit of harmless fun can develop in to just another unwanted and unloved child in the world or the contraction of a deadly virus. If you are mature enough to have sex, you should be mature enough to realise what the possible consequences of your choice are...and deal with them. There are strict laws in place in most countries about underage sex and the male involved can be arrested and prosecuted for statutory rape.

#The Tribe #Pregnancy #Worldview

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armyhome · 3 years

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You Are In Love | Hoseok

↳ summary - Inspire by Taylor Swift song You Are In Love.

↳ pairing- Hobi x reader;

↳ word count - 1.6K ;

↳ gênero - just in love you know;

↳ warnings - You will falling in love with Hoseok again;

↳ Versão em português

I feel Hoseok's calm breath against my neck, his body is partially over mine, his leg over my waist holding me on the bed, I take a deep breath to smell his perfume. Years have passed and my heart is still accelerating the same way, little by little my vision begins to focus, I observe the drawings on the ceiling made by sunlight against the blinds.

I caress a few strands of his hair, I don't want to get up, but I have an appointment. Watching him sleep so calmly was the best thing in the world, time has gone so fast, it seems like yesterday that I decided to leave the sad memories in the past, switch countries, move on, and build happy memories.

With my finger, I was drawing over Hobi's nose, happiness was everything he helped me build. I was an intern at the art gallery, he was also one at the record company, we met on the bus, he was one of the few people smiling. If there was one thing that made me miss my country, it was people's smiles, and he brought it to me. One day, when I smiled back, his cheeks went scarlet which made me laugh out loud.

On the way home, he stopped in front of the gallery and waited for me to leave together. He said that even though it was safer than many places, it'd always be better not to be alone at that time. Then, on another day, I was alone cleaning everything after an exhibition, I sent a message telling him that I wouldn't leave at the usual time, that he could go alone, and if he thought it was too dangerous, he should take a taxi, that'd be safer.

Ten minutes after our usual hour, Hoseok appears ready to help me, still sweaty from practice, he tells me about how his group's fandom is growing, he boasts of being very dear in my homeland. When we're done, I offer him a coffee, we sit on the floor with our cups, observing our notable work, he rests his head on my shoulder, then I take a deep breath looking for his perfume “We are a good couple, don't you think so? You are my best friend, you know? ” He asks, I punch myself inwardly so as not to deceive myself with his words, "Don't get me used to it Jung Hoseok, you'll be an international star soon and I won't have my guardian angel anymore", I shivered reminding this, his hand was full of bandages from the practice "Let's go, today I'm driving. My boss lent me his car hehehehe" he swings the key.

We were silent the whole way, he used one of his hands to drive and the other to hold mine, my heart was beating so hard inside my chest, I thought it would jump out. "I'm falling in love with you, so if you're not feeling the same way, please, let me know."

His words draw all the air out of the room, I am usually the best person to escape this type of situation, but for the first time I don’t want to. So I try to kiss him suddenly, which causes an embarrassing situation, because the seat belt stops me from reaching his face, he laughs and I want to die right there. Little by little, he got closer to me, the feeling his kiss gave me was like watching the New Year's fireworks on the beach.

"You're falling in love with me again, right?" A sleepy Hobi asks.

"The real question is: When am I not falling in love with you, Jung Hoseok?" He smiles wide, but his eyes still closed "I need to get up, I have to meet your sister to help her organize everything for her wedding"

"If it's her wedding, then the organization is her responsibility too… This has become an habit of hers, to take you away from me is truly annoying" Hobi hugs me "Don't go please, it's my day off. Stay here, sleeping in with me"

"I like how your family includes me in their activities Hobi, it makes me feel part of something.." He sighs then lifts himself a bit, just to rest on me but without supporting his weight on my hips "I will be back soon before you could miss me. Promise!"

"Okay..." He surrenders, he holds my face in his hands and calmly approaches, but before our lips can touch my cell phone rings, on the screen the name of my sister-in-law "I love my sister, but in these moments, I reflect on whether these feelings are real or the society forces me to feel it..."

"Amor… You need to stop muffling Namjoon's books and I need to go and meet my sister-in-law!" I answer the phone “Put it on speaker mode”, she orders from the other end of the line.

"JUNG HOSEOK, YOU BETTER NOT BE THE ONE STOCKING MY PLANS FOR TODAY" Hoseok roll his eyes "AND DON'T YOU DARE ROLL YOUR EYES TO ME! And sis, I'm waiting for you outside"

"Okay, I'm on my way!" I almost knocked Hobi off the bed while I got up, hung up the phone and ran to the closet wearing the first things I found, a denim pants and a Hoseok's T-shirt, which looked great on me. By the way, he watches me sitting on the bed, I hold my hair with a hand "Ponytail or nah?"

"Ponytail, that way people can see your face better" While I tie my hair he fixes the front of the shirt inside my pants and aligns the back, his hand stops at my hip and he gives me a kiss "Come back home soon, please!"

=_=

The Jung family's taste was impeccable, everything was so beautiful that I felt lost there, I can feel everyone looking at me, it's almost like a weight on my shoulders, but Jiwoo smiles at me and embraces me by the shoulder.

"No need to be so tense, I don't call you to put you on a test or anything like that" She pouts while choosing her words "Hobi asked me to be the best men with you as maid of honor, and I don't know much about your style yet, so I think that you can find a balance between us"

Hoseok's family treated me like this from the beginning, as if I were already part of it. I was so nervous when he called me to meet them the first time, I was afraid they wouldn't like me, but at the first dinner, his mother hugged me as if I was her daughter, his father danced with me in the living room and we all laughed about my two left feet.

It was late afternoon when we finally found the perfect dress.

When I get home, there is a note on the table, Hoseok saying that he had gone work out, so Guinho runs to me, entangling his four legs to greet me, he jumps on my lap and promptly turns his tummy up behind for affection.

"Did Hoseok hyung leave you alone in the dark? That mean hyung!" He barks as an answer.

The hallway has our photos: our first meeting, another from when we were having dinner with his family, the picnic on the day we adopted Guinho, the first day at our house… We argued so much that day, every detail started arguments and more discussions.

When we get to the room, Guinho jumps off my lap to settle on his plush on the sofa, I sit next to him and turn on the television.

So the television shows a image of me and Hoseok, covered in paint on, an old selfie, followed by the video of the two of us in the park with Guinho, quickly cuts off so we are painting the apartment, then I am sleeping with my head resting on his chest, “So that is what's like to hold the world in my arms? ” He whispers "I love you, Hobi" I say still sleeping, probably dreaming. My cheeks are burning, he always bragged about declaring himself first, but here was proof of the contrary, so Hobi appears on the recording, smiling, my heart accelerates a little more "I can imagine this moment since I was little, how will the person be, your name, smell, everything, but nothing was remotely close of who you are, because for me, everything in our relationship it was beyond any expectation that I may have created throughout my life! Your friendship, our complicity, wow how do we get that? Look up amor!"

He points at the ceiling, so I see the stickers of the glow in the darkstars, when I look ahead again there he is, in person this time.

"I wish I could do this in a stadium full of people, scream to the whole world how much I love you! Eu te amo!" He confesses "But, this will make you run away so..." He kneels, I feel that I am very close to a heart attack so strong that my heart beats in my chest "Will you marry me?"

"I love you, te amo, te amo" I answer and my eyes are full of tears, Hoseok hugs me "I love you so much that sometimes I think my little heart will explode! Obviously, I want to marry you!" Then he kisses the tip of my nose, I realize he's also crying.

We were embraced in silence, because even in the silence, it was possible to hear our feelings.

#Jung HoSeok #hoseok imagine #hobi birthday #hoseok day #bts fic #jhope fanfic

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forsetti · 4 years

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On Racial Justice: Time For Action

When I was in high school, a young girl went missing. There was a rumor she had been abducted. This was years before cell phones and then internet. Word spread through phone trees, in diners, at the gas station, in the barbershop and hair salon. The entire county became quickly invested into finding her. It was as if someone took a big stick and beat the hell out of our little beehive.

She was found, later that day, up one of the canyons that bordered the rural valley where we lived. She had been killed. I know this because my father was the county coroner, as well as the local mortician. As the news of her murder spread as quickly her abduction had earlier in the day, a wave of anger and fear blanketed the valley. Anger because of what had happened to “one of their own.” Fear because there was an existential threat to their own children out there, somewhere, still at large. The beehive was whipped up into a frenzy.

I can't remember if it was later that same day or the next but the local police soon found and arrested what they described as “a drifter from California,” for the young girl's abduction and murder. They locked the man up in the little jail that was located in our town hall.

Once news of the arrest and jailing hit the hive, the emotions that had been building over the past couple of days began to boil over. By that evening, after a number of drinks at one of the local watering holes, a number of men had worked themselves up into a frenzy over what had happened. At some point, one of the men suggested they drag that “mother fucker” out of the jail and administer some “good ol' country justice.” Before you could say, “vigilante justice,” a number of armed men in pickup trucks were parked in front of the town hall ready to reenact their own personal version of “Death Wish.”

With all respect to the local police force, the few officers on duty were able to talk the inebriated, heavily armed group off the ledge. The men eventually drove off to their respective homes, no one was lynched, and a crisis was averted. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, the police transferred the prisoner to a larger jail a hundred miles away.

The reason I bring up this story is because I am reminded of it every time I hear white people lecture black people on how to behave after one of their unarmed sons and daughters is killed by the police. I watched, in real time, an entire community get worked up to a fever, murderous pitch over the course of a couple of days over the murder of one of their own. Yet, people just like those I grew up around who, within a few hours, rationalized a lynching over one unjust death, cannot imagine the release of pent-up fear and anger many black communities feel that has been building for generations.

The reason Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the National Anthem wasn't because of the killing of one person. The reason there were riots in Ferguson MO in 2015 wasn't just because of the death of Michael Brown. The reason there are protests and riots in all fifty states right now isn't just because of the deaths of George Floyd or Breonna Taylor. The reason for all of these is the centuries-old, systemic practice of viewing and treating black bodies as expendable.

When citizens do this like we've recently seen with the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, it is horrible and deserves moral outrage and legal repercussions. When this happens at the hands of those entrusted to serve and protect the very people it kills, without consequences, it is evil. When this happens over and over and over and over....again, it is a moral failure not just of the law enforcement officers who do this but of our society because we've turned a blind eye to the deaths, pain, and suffering of our own.

It doesn't take a lot of thought to imagine what would happen if it was unarmed white people being killed by the police. One of the turning points in how the nation viewed of the way our government was handling the Vietnam War was shooting deaths of four young, unarmed students at Kent State in 1970. Like the rural area where I grew up, white America doesn't tolerate the killing of their own by agents of the government. Not for one fucking second.

Yet, a whole lot of white America can't seem to understand why Black Americans get so worked up whenever one of their own is murdered by the police. I've seen more video of white people screaming at police for pulling them over or for asking them to obey safe practices during a pandemic than over the killing of their fellow, unarmed citizens.

I know there are a host of hot takes as to why white America doesn't really give a damn about the killing of unarmed minorities. If the analysis doesn't begin and end with, “as a whole, white America views minorities as inferior and expendable,” it isn't worth a damn. This doesn't mean all of white America is racist. It means that, as a group, white America doesn't care enough to change the status quo. This shouldn't be a revelation to anyone who pays attention to the world around them. White America hasn't given a damn about minorities since, forever. They have really never cared about Native Americans. They've only given a half-assed care about blacks and that was only after seeing images of church-dressed men, women, and children being attacked by police dogs and brutalized with batons and fire hoses at the hands of racist, Southern police. Once the Civil Rights Act passed, White America pretty much went back to not giving a damn about black people. It almost seems like giving blacks the right to vote was all the care White America could muster and a lot of them couldn't (and still can't) do that. The fear and anger the people in my community felt over the course of a few days back in the late 70s led them to be willing to break whatever laws they deemed necessary to get the justice they felt they deserved. Imagine this same fear and anger not building up over a few days but a few centuries. Imagine not one member of your community being unjustly killed but dozens and dozens each and every year. Imagine the fear and anger not that these deaths were the result of some random person but by the very people hired and entrusted to protect your community.

The surprising thing isn't that black Americas are angry. The surprising thing is they've kept their anger in control as well as they have. White Americans protest and riot over their favorite sports team winning or losing. They protest and riot over a beloved football coach being fired. They protest and riot over having their favorite drink being taxed. They protest and riot over not being able to get their hair cut and flower beds properly tended. Black Americans are protesting over the killings of their loved ones.

I cannot imagine what it is like to fear for your life every time you encounter the police, regardless of the circumstances. I cannot imagine worrying about any of my children being harmed, let alone killed by the police. I cannot imagine being punished more harshly by the police and courts for doing the same things that others have done. I cannot imagine being viewed as “violent,” “lazy,” “a thug,” “a threat,”... , no matter how wealthy or successful I am, by a good portion of society, just because of the color of my skin. I cannot imagine my water supply being poisoned with lead and no one with any power gives a damn. There are thousands of things about being black in America I cannot even imagine.

Just because I can't imagine these things doesn't make them not real. It doesn't make them not important. That I cannot imagine these things just means I've been fortunate enough to be on the other side of the systemic racism in our country. As I watch the current protests over the latest police killings of unarmed blacks, I'm hopeful and afraid. Hopeful because the number of protests not just in big cities but around the country in towns large and small means, like the images on tv from the 60s of the Civil Rights marches, are having a real impact on white America. Fearful because I know the history of this country when it comes to the levels it will go to protect the white patriarchy.

Within the past few years, I watched the election of someone who is the personification of white supremacy as a backlash to the first black president. Trump won the election because the majority of white men and women voted for him. They may not do the same next time around but that they did the first time tells you all you need to know about where White America stands when it comes to racial justice and equality.

When it comes to the deaths of unarmed blacks by police, to the overpopulation of our prison system, to the gross wealth disparity of whites and blacks, to too many issues to list here, to my fellow White Americans, I quote Pogo, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” You know damn well you wouldn't tolerate being treated how blacks our in our country. You know damn well you wouldn't tolerate the killing of your sons and daughters by anyone, especially the police.

It is time to stop pretending the problem isn't systemic and it is the responsibility of minorities to fix. White America built the system. White America has and still does, to a great extent, support it. White America, all of it, benefits from it. It is up to us to dismantle it. We can either go down as the ones who did what was necessary to live up to the promises of our Constitution and Bill of Rights, or we can go down in history as just another era that made promises it never intended to live up to. This isn't something that could or should wait another day to happen. It is centuries behind schedule. Trying is no longer enough. To quote a Jedi Master, “Do or do not, there is no try.” We owe it ourselves but, much more importantly, we owe it to Black Americans past and present.

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betelgeusessonajblog · 4 years

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Carlos’ Final Day....

You knew this was coming

@thelostandforgottenangel not sorry!

Carlos rubs his eyes a little as he steps out of a portal, he groans a little then blinks “I need to get used to that.” he thought as he shook his head. It takes a minute before his vision adjusts to the normal light “Ah much better.” he smiled before pocketing the bottle that was in his hands.

He had decided to surprise AJ and, Raph after hearing both had managed to recover quite a lot since he’d last heard from them.

Carlos walks down the street as he pulls out his phone then dials AJ’s number, wanting to see if AJ was free so he could visit them.

After a few rings it goes straight to voicemail, Carlos thinks for a moment ‘Hm he must be busy with Raph.” so he decides to leave a voicemail “ Hi, Alex it’s me. I’m guessing you’re spending time with Raph. I’m so glad that you and he are doing much better. I decided to stop by Monstropolis to surprise you tonight but since you’re busy I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be staying at the MonStar hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow, have fun!” he said as he hung up then decided to check AJ’s Facebook page.

He smiled a little as he saw a new photo of Raph and, AJ that the young lizard had posted not too long ago with the caption ‘Spending the evening with my hubby’ underneath it.

Carlos exits his account then puts his phone away as he began walking down the street “I have time before I have to head to my hotel.”

He spends the next twenty minutes walking around, exploring the city as he never truly got the chance to do so whenever he did visit.

Carlos stops in front of a fast food stand and decides to grab a bite to eat, he pulls out his wallet to grab some money but groans a little “In all my excitement I forgot to go to the ATM and get this world’s currency.” he muttered.

Just then a woman with black hair in a bun approached Carlos “Excuse me but are you having some issues with money?” she asked as Carlos looked at her.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I suppose you could call it issues. In all my excitement to visit my son and, son-in-law I forgot to change my currency.” Carlos replied, chuckling a little in embarrassment.

The woman reaches into her trench coat and pulls out her purse “Allow me to buy you something from the stand.”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly do that.” Carlos replied as he held up a hand

“I do not mind as long as you can repay me.” The woman smiled

“....Oh...Alright. I am rather hungry and I have some time before I have to head to my hotel. Not for another half hour.” Carlos said as the woman approached the food stand and begins ordering herself and, Carlos some food.

Soon she hands a hamburger to Carlos whom takes it with a smile “Thank you so much. I’m Carlos Garcia, by the way. I never got to introduce myself to you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Garcia.” The woman smiled “You may call me Miwa.” she said as she took a bite out of her food.

Carlos nodded “Miwa? That’s nice. Japanese?” he asked

Miwa nods “Yes, that’s right. My father named me it after my late mother.” she explained as she and Carlos ate together.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” Carlos said with a sincere look on his face “Losing someone is never easy.”

Miwa nods in agreement “Yes, that is true.” she shook her head “But we live for those that are no longer around.”

Carlos nodded “That’s a nice sentiment.” he smiled. He pulls out his phone to check the time “Oh, it’s almost time for me to check into my hotel.”

"May I offer a cab service? I use this company all the time, they are very reliable.” Miwa said with a smile

“Oh that’d be appreciated, I don’t know any companies in this country.” Carlos chuckled.

“May I borrow your phone to call the company? That way you can save it to use later.” Miwa asked to which Carlos nodded, the idea sounded reasonable to him.

Miwa took Carlos’ phone then dialled a number into it, she spoke briefly to someone on the other end before hanging up “They’ll be here within the next five minutes. Luckily a driver was in our vicinity.”

“Oh that is great. I hate having to stand around for long periods of time.” Carlos said with a smile.

Miwa nods a little in agreement “We should get going, they’ll be wanting to park nearby.” she said as she started walking off.

Carlos nodded as he followed Miwa towards a nearby store “outside here?” he asked

Miwa nods a little “Yes, I often stand outside this store whilst I wait on them.” she replied with a smile “plus it is a nice way to watch something on the TV whilst waiting.”

Carlos turned to look at the store, noticing it was an electronics one “Oh that is a nice idea.”

Whilst Carlos’ back was turned, a van pulled up behind him and, Miwa. Without hesitation, Miwa pulls out a syringe and stabs Carlos in the neck, he quickly passes out and is dragged inside the van.

Hours later Carlos groans as he wakes up in what appeared to be an old warehouse, his hands shackled above his head “Wh...where....”

Before he could fully grasp where he was or what was going on, something stabbed into his side then began to zap him. Carlos screamed out in agony as he felt the electricity run through his body.

Soon the zapping stopped as Carlos panted heavily, he looks up and sees Miwa standing before him “M-Miwa...?? What are you...”

“My name is not Miwa, you fool. My name is Karai.” Karai said as Carlos’ eyes widened in horror realising who it was

"Wh-what do you want from me??” Carlos asked, his voice trembling a little.

“You are going to spill everything you know about your son and the turtle.” Karai said with a smirk

"You must be insane if you think that I would ever betray my son and his husband.” Carlos replied before getting punched in the gut, causing him to grunt

Karai spends the next three hours trying to get Carlos to spill anything that could help the Foot win against Raph and, AJ but Carlos would just toss out useless information about AJ like how he has a passion for playing the guitar.

Karai slams her fist onto a nearby desk “STOP WASTING OUR TIME AND GIVE US THE INFORMATION WE WANT!!” she shouts

Carlos’ face was badly beaten and very bruised, his left eye had swollen a little, he spits some blood onto Karai’s chest “I told you, you stupid bitch....I would never betray my son or son-in-law.”

Karai growled as she went to punch Carlos again “Do not bother, Karai.” a voice called out as Shredder appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Karai looks at Carlos then walks towards Shredder “I have been at this for three hours now, he has given no useful information.” she said with an annoyed tone in her voice.

Shredder walks towards Carlos whom was trembling a little “If you wish to make it out of here alive, you will comply with our demands, lizard.”

Carlos inhales deeply “I...am...NEVER going to betray my family.” he replied as he trembled a little.

Shredder shook his head silently before looking at Karai and, in Japanese, tells her to bring Carlos’ cell phone over. He looks back at Carlos “You might as well say goodbyes now....” Shredder said as freed Carlos’ hands

Carlos drops to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth as he panted. He looks up at Karai as he takes his phone, his hands shaking as he dialled AJ’s number once again and...once again...only reaching his voicemail. Part of him was hoping AJ would be able to answer this time, hoping he could tell AJ personally his final words but decided to just leave one final voicemail for the young lizard “Al-Alex…I’m so sorry honey to call again….something happened and I’m…I’m not gonna be around anymore.” he took a deep breath but it still came out shaky “Alex….you have no idea….just how proud of you I am. Of the life you’ve built for yourself with Raphael…..I am so glad I took you in as my own son….You were the best thing to happen to me since Ollie….I want you to promise to keep doing your best….no matter what happens to me, okay? Tell Roger that I love him so much and he’s an amazing young man. Raph….Raph is an amazing partner….and I was proud to call him my son-in-law. I know he’ll keep you safe when I’m gone. Never forget how much you meant to me, Alex. I love you….I love you so much.” as Carlos finishes his message to AJ, Shredder looks at Karai and gives her a nod.

Karai quickly grabs some wire that was on the nearby desk then wraps it around Carlos’ neck and begins to choke the life out of him. He drops his phone onto the ground as Karai did this. He begins to struggle, attempting to break free. He wasn’t ready to die, not yet. There was so much he wanted to do and, experience. He wanted to live, he wanted to see his family again.

Karai tightens the wire around Carlos’ neck, she then puts her foot on his back as she pulls upwards causing a loud CRUNCH to be heard as his windpipe was crushed, killing him in seconds, the life quickly draining from his eyes.

Shredder stomps on Carlos’ phone as Karai lets go of Carlos, causing his lifeless body to drop onto the ground with a thud. Shredder looks at two nearby Foot ninjas “Hold his body up.” he says to which the two ninjas agree.

They each grab an arm then hold Carlos’ body up, he looks at his bladed arm then in one swift motion cuts Carlos’ midsection open causing his guts to drop out, blood pouring onto the ground “....Take his body and string him up. I want them to find him.” Shredder instructed some Foot ninjas whom all nod then carry Carlos’ body away.

A while later the Foot members wrap wire around Carlos’ neck then hang him up. Luckily for them this was the quiet hour in the street so no one saw them. Carlos’ body was soon hanging, blood dripping from his guts.

Meanwhile.....in the Netherworld....Carlos lays in the middle of a street, he sits up and rubs his neck “...wasn’t...I just...” he muttered as he stood up and begins to look around. it was clear to him that this wasn’t AJ and, Raph’s world....nor was it the Monster World....

Carlos walks backwards as he looked around until someone tapped him on the shoulder causing the lizard to turn around to see who it was.

Carlos’ eyes widened as he saw a young dog-like monster standing in front of him. The dog-like monster had two small horns on his head, his eyes were a light blue colour, his body was muscular “...Hello...love...” the monster said.

Carlos began to tear up “O-Ollie...??” to which the dog-like monster nods smiling as Carlos quickly wraps his arms around Ollie. The two share a long, loving kiss before they pulled away, Carlos places his forehead against Ollie’s “Ollie...I...I am so sorry for...”

“Sssh....Carlos....not once did I ever blame you for what happened to me...I should’ve tried to keep fighting but I was just so broken....” Ollie said as Carlos lightly caresses his face “I was....sent here to help you with....dying.”

“...so...I really died...” Carlos said as he began to sob softly, Ollie wraps his arms around Carlos “I...I didn’t want to die, there was so much I....”

“I know, love...I know...” Ollie said as he lightly rubs Carlos’ back, trying to soothe the lizard.

“Wh-What about Alex....?? He...” Carlos started to say before Ollie kisses him on the lips gently

“Alex is going to be okay....he’s a strong kid....I’ve been watching over you for some time. I am so proud of you for helping him out when he needed someone....” Ollie said as he pulled away, taking Carlos’ hand into his “....Why won’t we go start our afterlife together?”

Carlos looks at Ollie’s hand then at Ollie, nodding a little with a small smile “At...least I get to be with you again, Ollie...”

The two walk off together, hand in hand heading off to start their afterlife together. For once....Carlos felt truly happy....he finally had the love of his life back. They stand in front of a door, Carlos was nervous about whatever it was that was behind it but Ollie gives him a reassuring smile before they walked through it, a bright light engulfs the pair as they share another kiss.

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

The Rising Sun: Ch 1. Dawn of the Gerudo

Malik roared triumphantly as he walked through Zarazu’s office, the biggest grin on his face in a while. In these years he had a thin beard that Ganondorf kept in some incarnations. The Gerudo Lord was nearly dancing, thrilled with a personal secret. The only thing he told the castle before arriving from out of country was to prepare for his arrival. “The scumbag pirate actually delivered on her biggest contact yet!”

For years now, Malik had talked with the pirate Adda. The Gerudo was his personal captive to do with as he pleased. As awful a woman she was, she was still a Gerudo. And she held Gerudo secrets. Sure, she knew her crew, but she also knew of scattered Gerudo across the world that Malik needed to track down.

"... I really wish you wouldn't work with that woman, Malik." Zarazu was in the middle of a huge stack of papers with a map sprawled out on her desk. There were rumors of another continent. Yet, she could not exactly pinpoint where it could be. There were so little travelers from other places, what other information could be gathered? "She's not exactly trustworthy."

“I hold her life in my hands, and give her sunlight from time to time. She respects power. I am power. So, we have an understanding. But enough about her.” Malik pulled out a map of the Gerudo desert. “It’s time Zarazu. I found not only enough Gerudo now, but the right Gerudo to run and fill this town.”

"And who might that be?" Zarazu knew that Malik really wanted to try to revitalize the Gerudo community. Yet, sometimes, when someone was too eager, mistakes could be made. "Adda is staying in her cell."

“Of course she is. And perhaps it’s best you met one of the women I’ll be working with.”

Malik turned to the door, and with the command of his hand, he waved a Gerudo woman in. She was fit, but not overly muscly. With a cloak over her head, she had rings and earrings made of rubies and sapphires on her person. She looked a little anxious, but swallowed her fears down as Malik introduced her. “I present to you, Gali Kalpaka. Her family has carried Gerudo traditions from generation to generation. Like Cass, they lived as merchants to survive.”

Gali lowered her cloak, the forty-year-old woman smiling to the Queen. “Vasaaq. Lord Malik honours me by bringing me to the Queen of Hyrule. I am Gali.”

"It is nice to meet you, Gali." Zarazu stood from her desk to greet the woman. "If Malik trusts you, then so do I. Rebuilding the Gerudo community has been a task that has been neglected for too long. I am glad that you will take part in this event for the shaping of our children's futures."

“I couldn’t help but spy on the conversation you were having. My mother had a deal with Adda. She’d take in willing Gerudo who didn’t wish to be pirates. I, however, have no relationship with this Adda, so please do not be worried.” Gali finished shaking her hand. “Lord Malik told us all the tale of how Ganondorf came to tame the beast within. How his son worked hard to give the Gerudo a name of honour amongst Hyrule again. And that he himself was a relic from times long forgotten. Currently, there are 27 different families in my caravan alone awaiting a new home with safe borders.”

Malik was beaming with pride at his actions. “Indeed. This has always been my dream. To see the Gerudo rise up once more. I never decided to grasp that dream until I breathed with my own flesh and blood again. But now it’s a reality that seems possible. Zarazu, with my guidance, you’re about to see a boom of revived culture not seen since your brother in law down at the plantation.”

"It seems like the two of you have a lot to accomplish in such little time." Zarazu then asked. "If you require some help shaping this community, I could introduce you to some very reliable Zemljas, Kovinas, and some Vodas if you need to create a well system." She took a look at the map where the new Gerudo village would be located. "We would have to establish a proper road there as well." Pausing, she then suggested. "Malik, might I suggest you take your family there for a while? I could give Asa leave from the forge for a couple of weeks."

“That’s the beauty of it Zarazu. I wanted it to be a surprise to you.” Malik giggled. An honest to god giggle escaped his lips. “I’ve had the help of your people and associates of mine for a while in constructing not only the town, with all its vegetation, housing, and clean water supply, but a road right into Hyrule. Pulled a lot of strings to keep it secret from you, but I think the surprise is well worth it.”

Malik shocked both the women with pictographs of what the village looked like. Stone houses with solid doors and curtains to keep out the elements, an oasis in the middle of the town, multiple wells, a pool to swim at, mighty walls and gates, a small palace, and plentiful market with fruits ready to be given to the new citizens. “I call it Taiyo Town, home to the Gerudo. Soon we’ll even have our old temple ready again.”

Gali was in total shock, never having had a house before in her life. “Sa’oten! I-I can’t- I don’t-“

“I believe the words you’re looking for, is Sarqso.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Gali couldn’t hide her tears of excitement now.

"....?!?!" Zarazu was shocked. Malik was not too good at keeping secrets like this for long. Then again, she was not sure what to think of this. A development of a new community without the knowledge being shared with the king and queen, that was a little... uncalled for. There were a lot of regulations to put into place. Covarog would probably going to shit a brick unless Malik did share this with him beforehand. Either way, this was a lot to take in for now. "I... am happy for both of you, yet there is still work to be completed to ensure a proper thriving community."

“Of course. And we shall all work together to build a bright future. Once the Gerudo refugees are settled, it will bring me great joy to bring family and yours to the town.” What could go wrong?

Revan, son of Malik, narrowed his eyes down at Luimaya. So it had come down to this. “Luimaya. You’re my friend, but you have the hottest temper I know. I didn’t want to cross this line, but your disregard for common sense made me have to step over your head. I’m sorry it has come to this... King Covarog, I insist, given the attack on Zarazu and Luimaya from the vampire, she needs to have a full time bodyguard.” Revan was a Tatl Tael, even in his twenties. A mark on his honour to be sure, but a necessary sacrifice. His stubborn friend needed to listen to the only person who might be able to ground some real sense into her.

"I don't need someone watching me every minute of every day!" Luimaya insisted, "And I have plenty of common sense, I just don't want to use it sometimes."

"You are to be the future queen of our kingdom, Luimaya." Covarog told his daughter, understanding her point but also knowing Revan was looking out for his child's future. "Even your mother had a bodyguard for over a decade."

"Yeah, but Mom was waddling around pregnant half of that time." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not married, I'm not pregnant, and I certainly don't need a babysitter."

"You're more reckless than your mother diving off that tower when I first met her." Covarog stated to his daughter in a dry tone. "I believe Revan has a point."

"Well, fine! Then Carsa'sec can be my bodyguard."

"He can't fit in the castle."

"He'll be my bodyguard outside of the castle."

"You need someone inside the castle."

“I volunteer. If it weren’t for my common sense and tactics, that vampire would have taken us down before you can say Bleh.” Revan lifted a brow at Luimaya.

“Unless her royal fire highness objects.”

"While I appreciate you volunteering, I'm not so sure your father or mother would want you to have such a dangerous job."

"It won't be dangerous because I don't need a bodyguard!"

"We could organize a contest to see who proves themselves worthy of holding the mantle."

"Dad! No! Urgh!" Luimaya groaned. "Not another one of those contests like Grandpa used to hold."

"What? He'll love it, those are fun." Covarog grinned widely, loving the look of dismay on his daughter's face. "Besides, consider this your punishment for being so reckless during a fight."

Revan frowned, sighing deeply. Maybe King Covarog was getting too protective with age. “My King, I assure you it’ll be a waste of time.”

"Oh, it will be like old times!" Covarog wrapped an arm around Revan's shoulders and then Luimaya's, earning a loud groan from both of the youngsters. "Get a bit of a crowd going on too. The kingdom will love it!"

"... this is your fault. You and your big mouth's." Luimaya blamed Revan. "I'm going to have my dragon sit on you later for this."

“...Oh King Covarog! Don’t you think Luimaya should get dolled up for the big event? After all, motivation to see the princess they wish to protect might make the battles more engaging if Luimaya pours her heart and soul into seeking the perfect bodyguard.” Revan had the perfect tone to hide sarcasm. He shot her a cheeky smile.

"Don't you fucking dare---"

"Luimaya, language." Covarog chided his daughter. "I do think this should be a family event for sure. We'll all look our best for the tournament!"

"... sleep with one eye open, you prick."

Revan smartly made his way out, giving Luimaya a smartass wink and comment. “My my. Haven’t you heard that rudeness often disguised intrigue? I’m sure ‘prick’ is the most romantic name you can think of in the heat of the moment, but do try to do better next time my ‘sweet’. Till later Luimaya.” Revan turned his back to her, his face immediately shifting to regret and worry as he could feel Luimaya fire daggers from her eyes into his back.

With a sigh, he took a deep breath to relax as he shut the door behind him. Despite being three years older, herself only about three to four years shy of thirty, Luimaya still could have the same temper she held since ten. "Note to self. Look out for the skies."

Asakonigei had everything perfect. Dinner was Malik's favorite dish, the peach cobbler was cooling, and the side of vegetable medley with herbs smelled wonderful. It was his first day off in a while, and she missed him greatly. His work was important, but sometimes, she wished he would take on less responsibilities and enjoy his time at home. Revan and Donoma were out with friends, so this evening would be some one-on-one quality time... another aspect of life the two of them had been lacking lately.

Malik entered the house, a red cape trailing behind him. Carefully, he took the garment off, folding it gently and placing it on a rack. Smelling the air, he smiled. "Smells good."

Asakonigei had on her prettiest outfit, and even a touch of tribal paint on her eyelids. She wanted to look beautiful for her husband and hopefully, later, entice him. Smiling widely, she told him, "It's your favorite. You've been working so hard lately, so I wanted to surprise you. The kids are out, so it's a date night; just me and you."

"Oh." Malik cleared his throat, trying not to dampen the mood. "Yes. Thank you for the lovely surprise. I do appreciate it Asa, I do, but I need to leave in the early morning."

Asakonige's smile instantly vanished into a dark frown.

"It's your day off tomorrow." The Kovina was. Not. Pleased. "What do you mean you have to leave?"

"There was an incident at the temple. Turns out some of the new warriors haven't even seen monsters before. No casualties, but there were injuries." Malik kept speaking as he dished himself a plate up. "I came here to grab old drill instructions so I can teach them how to be effective fighters. I don't need any blood spilled due to inexperience. So I'll need to save my energy for the trip back through the valley."

That was the last straw for Asakonigei.

"Are you kidding me right now?!" She slammed her hands hard on the dinner table, causing the dishware to rattle. "You want to know how much you've been home within the past months, Malik? Nine days. Nine days, day and night, here, with me and your family. You want to know how many dinners you've actually sat down and ate with us instead of looking at your paperwork? Five. Five dinners. You want to know how many nights you've slept beside of me in our bed instead of in your office on the couch? Three nights." The Kovina stated firmly. "I am tired of this. I understand you have responsibilities for your job, but you also have a duty to your family!"

“I have a duty to my people as well. A duty to make up for my failure in protecting them in my first life.” Malik narrowed his eyes at her, slowly gesturing to the chair. “Would you like sit down and have meal number six?”

"You have one life, Malik. One. You don't have to devote all of it to making up for the sins of the past. Whether you want to spend some of it with your family, with me, that's up you." Asakonigei took off her earrings, her beaded necklace, and used a cloth to be rid of the tribal paint. "Eat your dinner by yourself. I'm going to go cool off before I really lose my temper." Tromping out of the kitchen, the Kovina walked out the back door and headed to the forge. She needed to hit some metal to feel better.

“Unbelievable...”, Malik muttered under his breath.

Outside, to the surprise of Asakonigei, she heard light talk coming from a training yard. Revan didn’t think anyone was around, so he was training with a latex mask around his head, jabbing his fists at a dummy. He wanted to test his new sneaking suit out. “Ha! What’s the matter? You late for the scumbag convention? Don’t worry, jail makes a good substitute.”

"... if you're planning a raid or a robbery, my son, I think you'd be able to breathe better with cotton material instead of that... thing." Asakonigei chuckled when Revan jumped slightly, being so focused on the dummy, he didn't hear her approach. "Though, if you need someone to hide the loot, I'd suggest the cellar."

“Oh my god...” Revan stopped, his movements, clearly embarrassed. “It’s not a mask of a villainous bandit, but a masked hero. I wanted to wear it at the tournament I’m going to attend.”

"A tournament?" Asakonigei asked, interested, trying her best to suppress a grin of amusement at her son's mortification. "Like the arm wrestling tournament you tried in Uskar to win a year-long supply of mead and ended up with a sprained wrist?"

Asakonigei looked her son up and down.

"Well, I don't see any burnt skin, so I'm surprised that Luimaya didn't try to roast you." She quirked an eyebrow. "I know how she is. She hates someone constantly looking over her shoulder." The Kovina then asked her boy. "And... I'm assuming you're going to enter this contest to guard her?"

“That’s the plan. I rather she has a friend look after her than some blockhead.”

"I think that's admirable of you, Revan. Your father did protect our queen all those years ago." Asakonigei recalled that was a much easier job for her husband than this folly he was doing now. Though, Luimaya was very stubborn like her father and grandfather. She figured Revan would have his work cut out for him. "Might I suggest if you really want to do this, that you take a moment and think about the future?"

“In what way?”

"You might want a family one day, or even a life of your own away from the castle." Asakonigei gently reminded her son. "I want you to do what makes you happy. However, if you are the bodyguard of the future queen, it's not like you'll be able to leave your occupation anytime soon. You will have to guard her until she produces an heir and that heir is mostly grown, or capable of protecting his or herself. That is years, Revan. It will be difficult if you wish to marry, to have children, to travel, if you are tied down by your job." She then asked him. "Are you prepared for your life to take a backseat for the sake of the kingdom?"

“I don’t need to guard her long term. Just until she can learn to take care of herself better. Or better substitute than me comes along.” Revan took his mask off, raising a brow at her. “Why you out here and not pouncing dad at the moment?”

"You will be there for a long time, Revan. Luimaya, as much as I think she's a sweet girl, is reckless just like her father." Asakonigei then snorted. "Your father has to leave. Again. Eat, pack, and go."

“Oh.” Revan wasn’t too surprised by that. “Can only imagine his town project is going well. Donoma says it’s pretty.”

Out of the whole family, only Donoma was allowed to see the town in its construction twice or thrice. “Maybe if I dyed my hair red and put on woman’s clothing I could sneak in. Who knows when he’ll let in outsiders and men. Hopefully soon.”

"Supposedly." Asakonigei was not too enthused about this project taking so much of her husband's time. Especially in a town full of women who would be drawn to a Gerudo male. She knew her husband would not betray her that way, but she didn't trust the women there. "I wouldn't worry too much about the town, sweetie. If you want some help training, I'll pull out my puppet knights."

“Why not pick up a sword yourself ma?” Revan grabbed a sword, twirling it in his hand. “I’m planning not using my powers either in the tournament.”

"Oh, you want to sword fight with your mom like you did when you were little?" Asakonigei recalled the days of when Revan would hold his tiny wood sword and just tackle her legs, declaring he 'got her' and he 'won'. It was adorable. She gushed, "You were so cute when waved it around declaring yourself the champion."

"That's because I was fantastic." Revan smirked. "Your move mama bear."

As Revan was practicing with his mother, Malik was already preparing his horse for the trip back to the desert. He glanced over to hear the sounds of laughter and heroics. It seemed he was training for something. Odd. The older Gerudo made a silent pray for his son’s success, then continued onwards.

Asakonigei was all for theatrics when training with her son. She was nowhere near his level of skill, but still enthusiastically practiced with him. She then tossed down her sword and got her boy in a headlock, messing up his hair.

"I got you now! I am going to... mess up this hair," Asakonigei declared and then gave him multiple kisses on the cheek. "And give you cooties!"

Revan just laughed, reaching his hands back to tickle his mother’s chest. “And I come back around with the surprise attack!”

"Oh no, he's got me!" Asakonigei dramatically flopped over on the ground, before swiping Revan's feet out from underneath him, causing him to fall over too. "But I got you back!" She snickered and then took a huge sigh. "I think you'll do well, Revan. Just don't be too eager. Watch your opponent closely."

“Will do.”

Revan’s laughter finished when his attention was caught by the near silent clop of his father’s horse next to him. He rode a monstrously large black horse named Phantom. It could carry ten times its own weight. Strapped to the sides, Malik had supplies and a round device next to him. Armoured up, it seemed he was ready to leave. His father looked down at both of them, seemingly not tired. “Would you like to join me?”

"...?" Asakonigei had a quizzical look on her face. "Join you?"

“I’m leaving back for the desert. I packed a spinner for you travel quickly back. I thought we could all catchup on the way to the border.”

"... well, I don't know," Asakonigei was still mad at him and crossed her arms, laying on the grassy ground. She stopped to look at Revan. "Our son might need his mother in the stands, yelling for him to kickass. Or perhaps, my husband can tell me exactly why he wants me to go when this invitation has not been extended before?"

“The stands?”

Revan nodded to collaborate his mother’s statement. “I’m attending a tournament to become Luimaya’s personal bodyguard.”

“Really? That’s not a bad occupation. She certainly needs protection. When is this tournament?”

“King Covarog didn’t give a date, but I’d imagine soon.”

“I see.” Malik then turned his attention to Asakonigei. “Because you’re my wife. If we can’t spend time together here, or have you see the importance of my work, perhaps it’s time to start opening outside elements to the Gerudo people. Starting with the beautiful woman who gave birth to our sun, Donama. There are some who are curious about you.”

"... very well. I'll go with you." Asakonigei added one stipulation. "But I'm taking Nubi'ahlus. There's pretty of monsters in the desert and while I know you can protect us, there can always be an extra eye."

“As long as they keep to the sky. I can warn the people about them later so they don’t fear for their lives.” Malik made a gesture for them to both hop aboard his stead. As the family unit finished climbing aboard, Malik took off with them. Both Asakonigei’s and Revan’s dragons were alerted and flew from above in the early night.

“So Revan, do you feel prepared for this tournament.”

“Of course. I’m going to handicap myself and not use my powers.”

“Really? Impressive. You’ll have to tell us all about it if we can’t make it.”

Revan nodded, hands tight on the horse. “It won’t be anything impressive to see anyways. Except maybe to see Luimaya lose her cool when she discovers who won.”

"Now, now, you need to tell Luimaya you're going to enter." Asakonigei was so ready to get off of the horse. She hated the constant bouncing, but was trying to amuse her husband for the time being. "If she finds out later, she might just find a way to throttle you."

“Maybe that’s I want~” Revan teased.

This only got a sigh out of his father. “You know, if you’re going to put so much energy into tormenting a girl’s feelings, maybe you should do it to someone you share interest in.”

Revan felt his heart get emotionally stabbed by that. “Ouch dad.”

“I’m just saying. You told us yourself you got over your crush of Luimaya. Why torture yourself?”

"Sweetie, look, Luimaya sees you as a friend. Just because you're nice to her and have known her for a long time, doesn't mean she's going to marry you." Asakonigei had to give her son some tough love. "She's not required to do that. Now, if you want someone who is going to love you for you, then it takes patience. I know a certain cutie who does like you, but she's not going to pursue you because she thinks you're still hung up on Luimaya. And you are."

“Yeah, I know that, I’ve accepted that.”

“Then why don’t you and Nakeso stop fucking around with your feelings for one another?”

That turned Revan bright red, and he actually fell of the horse as they took a leap over a small bump in the road. “God damn it that hurt! Dad! That is NONE of your business!”

Malik turned the horse around, Phantom gruffing as they spun about. “Orana asked the same thing of her daughter once. You’re both compatible, you both enjoy one another’s company.”

"Malik, you've stunned the boy stupid." Asakonigei sounded exasperated as Revan hit the ground with a thud. "Look, Nakeso isn't going to chase you around like a lovesick puppy. She's got standards and morals. If you want to pursue her, that's up to you, but she's not going to wait forever."

“Oh. So it’s on me now is it? You two don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Revan brushed himself off, whistling for his ride to come down. “Nakeso is a good friend. I have no idea where you picked these false flags up from.”

Malik said nothing, raising a brow slowly.

"... he gets that denseness from your side of the family." Asakonigei told Malik dryly. "I know it."

“Absolutely not.”

Revan started to storm off, getting out to an open area for his dragon to safely land. “Have fun at your girls Gerudo club. I’ll mail you a post card of my new job status.”

"And he definitely getting the sulking from your side of the family too." Asakonigei stated as she pulled her locks back into a tail. "At least he got my fabulous hair."

Revan jumped aboard As’wana, but before he could fly off in a pout, Malik spoke up. Best not leave the conversation on a teasing note. “Revan. We only love you. You know that. Just focus on acquiring your position for now. I believe whole heartedly you can do so.”

Revan took a deep breath and exhaled his angst. “…Whatever father.”

With that, he flew off back home, leaving his father and mother alone.

"He'll be okay." Asakonigei watched as her son flew back in the direction of Hyrule. "Revan just needed to hear what he did not want to hear. Luimaya will never see him the way he wishes for her to."

“Last thing I need is a young man having his feelings twisted by a whole village of attractive women because he can’t focus his heart.” Now more alone, Malik’s hands held Asakonigei close. “You still mad?”

"... a little." Asakonigei admitted, feeling awfully small when Malik held her. "You've spent so much time away from home. I was afraid for a while, you were bored of me."

“Why would I ever be bored of you?”

"Well, you were gone for so long, paying attention to your project, and we... um..." Asakonigei blushed lightly. "It's been months since we've even made love."

Malik tilted his head. Looking around, he suddenly surprised her by getting off his horse, and grabbing her with a haul over his shoulder. They started to walk to a nice smooth cave.

"H-Hey!" Asakonigei did not appreciate being carried around like a sack of potatoes. What was her husband thinking now? Wasn't he going to be late if he did not stick to the schedule? "What are you doing?!"

Although Malik gently set her down, his arm and legs pinned her, and he looked down at her with intense passion. “I’m going to spend the next half an hour making love to my wife.”

Now that certainly caught Asakonigei's attention. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, but then she raised an eyebrow. "Only a half hour?"

“I do have a schedule to keep, and we don’t want to your scent being picked up.” Malik’s voice grew as low as the days he was Klinge. His metal hand clawed down her pants, his tongue licking his lips. “So perhaps I should change loving making to fucking to get more enjoyment of our time.”

"Oh? My scent? What about yours? It's usually a little more... potent." Asakonigei nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. "And I'm not sure about that, love... it's been a long while. Sure you remember the difference?"

“I’ve never forget.” Leaning closer, Malik reminded Asa of his devotion with a firm kiss to the lips. Perhaps the jackals hollowing in the night would hide their passionate cries.

________________________________________________________________

Next Ch.

New crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse! Please enjoy and love to hear comments more than anything!

#crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Klinge/Malik #Gerudo #Asakonigei #Revan #Gali

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