#its so hard to distance a series so steeped in my childhood from my childhood emotions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Bonus - Songxiao

part of the wwx Emperor AU set post Chapter 35 (morning of Day 6) - technically not a chapter since this fic is unlikely to have any other explicit elements, and my current plan is to keep the rating to teen once posted to AO3

that said, this is smut (if my clumsy effort can be called smut)

It is discomforting, to say the least, waking in his old bedchamber.

Xiao XingChen’s memory of the years spent in the Immortal Mountain lacks all those particulars which he now finds essential. He can recall the color of the drapes, the shine of sunlight glinting off the gold trim, the red and gold pattern of the rugs. But he does not know the distance from the bed to the window, or from the window to the washbasin. He does not know where exactly the tables and the chests are placed, or how tall they are, or when he may stumble into one by mistake.

It is not new to him, being blind in an unfamiliar place. But being blind in a familiar one, a place that still provides the same echoes of footsteps on the marble floors, the same scents, the same texture of silk sheets, it is discomforting in a way he cannot describe. His inability to see is never so restrictive than in the Immortal Mountain City, a home he had only ever known by sight.

It is no trifling, frivolous life, the one he leads side by side with Song Lan. More often than not, it is exhausting, fraught with danger and uncertainty, always lacking those comforts which he had grown accustomed to in his childhood. But at this moment, he would trade all the silks in the Iron Palm Palace for a night under the stars, wrapped in Song Lan’s cloak.

Wei Ying is right. Xiao XingChen would have never returned to the Immortal Mountain just for the Emperor’s birthday. Had the trail they were following simply passed through YiLing and continued on, Xiao XingChen and Song Lan would have done the same, neither one mentioning the mountain rearing in the distance.

The price he had paid to protect the throne was given willingly, and out there in the world, with Song Lan by his side, he often forgets that life had once been different. He does not miss the blue of the mountain creek, when he can smell its earthy scent and hear the murmur of its ripples. He does not miss the green of the grass, when he can feel each blade under the palm of his hand. Out there, he is whole, even with parts of him missing.

Here, in the Immortal Mountain, he can never be whole again.

He hears the silky slide of Song Lan’s hair on the pillow before he feels him move. Fingers brush against his cheek, lightly, a soft tickle that always makes him smile. It is hard to smile this morning. It is always hard to smile when his childhood is clogged in his throat, in his nose, when he can feel the texture of it underneath his spine.

Song Lan knows this without having to be told. He knows the guilt XingChen carries for having abandoned his nephew to a life that he, himself, despises. Song Lan knows that renaming the Emperor’s palace does not erase the blood that had smeared its stone arches or marble floors. He knows that the voices echoing in the banquet hall will always be screams to XingChen’s ears.

There are very few people left who remember YanLing DaoRen; none who had seen his madness first hand and still live to tell the tale. There is only XingChen. And the scars those years had left on his soul are still bleeding and raw, despite having decades to heal.

He can hear Song Lan shift, feels a hot breath caress his neck before lips press to the sensitive spot under his jaw. He shudders, exhaling deeply. Even after all the years they have been together, Song Lan’s mouth on his skin never fails to thrill him, each touch as exquisite as the very first one had been. A hand trails over his hip, every callus as familiar as his own.

He smiles now. It is impossible not to smile. Song Lan’s nose is brushing his jaw, his cheek, feather-light touch of eyelashes tickling his temple.

“I can hear you thinking,” Song Lan whispers in his hair, the hand curving over XingChen’s inner thigh, strong and possessive, the warmth of the grip spreading though XingChen’s skin, coiling in the pit of his stomach.

His breath stutters, the sound loud and new in-between the familiar curtains, reverberating against the familiar walls. They have always shared a bedchamber, those rare times XingChen would allow them to stay in the Immortal Mountain long enough to spend the night. But rarely ever had they done anything other than sleep. It feels awkward here; the shadow of the First Prince he had once been always there, hovering over his shoulder, pressing against his temples, demanding to be acknowledged.

Song Lan’s lips trail over his ear, tongue tracing the curve, teeth scraping against the delicate shell. His hand, well-versed in the layers of XingChen’s sleep robes, does not fumble when searching for flesh. Throat seized with tremors, XingChen wants to speak, but neither his mind nor his mouth has settled on the words he wants to say. A part of him does not want to give in to pleasure here. This palace, these walls, they will never be free of malice. There is an illogical fear that the darkness steeped into its very foundations will somehow seep into the joy he shares with Song Lan, taint it, twist it to its own ends.

Another part of him is already sliding his thighs open, muscles quivering with anticipation, aching to replace the unpleasant memories with something sweet and pure.

When a hand wraps around him firmly, his hips shamelessly arch into the grip. He turns his head to drown a series of whimpers against Song Lan’s mouth. There is always a lazy, languorous quality to Song Lan’s kisses, no matter how large their need, how frantic their bodies. Song Lan kisses as if he has centuries at his disposal, an eternity of pleasure to offer. XingChen has learned to yield to his tongue, to the slow, intoxicating rhythm, regardless of his desperation.

This time, Song Lan pulls away slightly, his breath fever-hot against XingChen’s lips.

“Is this good?” he asks softly, as if XingChen’s need is not obvious, hot and throbbing in his hand, already grown tight and slick to the point of pain.

The part of XingChen that hesitates to give the walls around them any sign of their bliss, to keep their joy forever separate from this place saturated with blood and pain, has shrank small and insignificant, a mere whisper in the back of his mind.

But Song Lan can hear it still. There are no secrets XingChen can keep from the other half of his soul. No grief that Song Lan has not drank from his skin, no tears he has not tasted.

“Yes,” he stutters, hand wrapping around a tense shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle, “It is-- perfect. Do not stop.”

Song Lan smiles against his skin, and pushes the covers aside. The air in the bedchamber is cool, biting, a sharp contrast to XingChen’s overheated skin. His sleep robes are disheveled, gaping open, starkly revealing the most vulnerable parts of him. XingChen cannot see himself, and he has never been ashamed of his own body, aroused and pliant under Song Lan’s hands. But here and now, he feels fragile and exposed, the way he never does when they make love under the stars.

He cannot see himself, but he hears Song Lan’s breath falter at the sight.

“XingChen,” he says, voice hushed and heavy, fingers lightly catching on the edge of the robe, pulling it open further.

Cold air washes over XingChen’s shoulder, his chest and stomach, a series of goosebumps traveling across his skin. It is always overwhelming, the tinge of awe in Song Lan’s voice, the reverence of his touch. XingChen had spent his childhood being wrapped in the most expensive silks, handled with gentle touches, being spoken to with the utmost respect. But he has never felt so throughly worshiped than he does under Song Lan’s hands, under his devoted gaze.

Song Lan’s tongue is searing on his chest, the teeth catching on delicate flesh, gentle but ruthless in their pursuit. XingChen’s body jerks with every scrape, the sensation unbearable, always too much and never enough. Each time, his fingers will tangle painfully in the silky texture of Song Lan’s hair, both to push him away, and to press him harder to his chest. Each time, he can do neither, equally helpless under the insistent graze of the teeth, the lazy soothing of the tongue. It is exquisite torture, this, and XingChen never knows how long he will have to bear it.

A single word would be enough to stop it, yet XingChen has never spoken it out loud. He has never been able to see any marks that Song Lan leaves on his skin. He had given up his sight long before Song Lan would overcome his stubborn veneration, before he would admit his love for the man he had sworn to serve and protect. But he cherishes each mark he can feel, even when they ache.

The bedchamber is no longer silent now, XingChen desperately gasping for breath, the restless flutter of need pulsing in his ears and throat, underneath his breastbone, in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes, this is all it takes; Song Lan’s mouth on his chest, fingers firmly wrapped around his length, the rhythm steady and relentless. XingChen has rarely asked for more; under Song Lan’s mouth and hands he has always felt loved, adored, desperately needed. That alone has always been enough.

Still, when Song Lan’s mouth slides down his stomach, his muscles tense in anticipation. He smooths the layers of hair he has tangled, his fingers shaky and weak.

“It will not take much,” he says ruefully, his voice hoarse.

Song Lan huffs a laugh against his hip bone, the vibration soft and delighted.

The first swipe of his tongue is almost too much. XingChen hears himself cry out, a sound too loud and frenzied for the somber chambers of the First Prince. But he is no longer aware of the space around him, or the walls that had so tormented him in the past. Another swipe follows the first, then another, and another, each excruciatingly hot, each providing lightest possible pressure, both cruelly unsatisfying and utterly overwhelming. The tongue dips lower, slick and insistent, and XingChen frantically shifts his trembling thighs, far beyond hesitation or shame. He does not know what Song Lan wants, but all of XingCheng is there for the taking. It always strikes him as the verge of madness, this shameless state where he is no longer himself. Or perhaps, it is the only place where he may be the purest version of himself, with no fears, and no burdens; a selfish, unblemished state, where he only wants to be loved.

The voice that comes from that place is raw, all the veneer stripped away to reveal the need beneath, “Please-- I want-- please.”

Song Lan does not ask what he wants; XingChen is hardly capable of speech. His hands are clenched in the silk sheets so tightly that his fingers are cramping. Each one of his muscles is taut to the point of pain. He is there, at the very edge, but the edge is hairsbreadth one moment, and miles wide the next. This can last for hours too sometimes, an endless lingering at the verge of an abyss, the pleasure drawn out past the point of endurance, until XingChen is sobbing and writhing, begging for release.

This time, Song Lan takes him all at once, mouth slick and hot. He is no longer teasing, but firm and determined. XingChen jerks his hips twice, feeling the narrow space of Song Lan’s throat trying to accommodate him, the tight pressure of his lips at the base, and shakes apart without warning.

It always feels like falling. A few moments of perfect weightlessness, perfect emptiness, pleasure and joy so tightly entwined that they seem one bright whole, blinding and blissful. Long before he can think, long before his shudders subside, Song Lan pulls him close into the safety of his arms. There is a place XingChen intimately knows, a soft dip of muscle between Song Lan’s shoulder and collar bone, where his head nestles perfectly each time.

Once, long ago, home had been a mountain, a city, a palace. Now, home is a single stretch of warm skin under his cheek, a hand on his shoulder blade, soft brush of lips against his forehead.

“Good?” Song Lan asks, and XingChen smiles, his hand sliding underneath Song Lan’s robes.

“Not quite yet,” he says archly, and Song Lan huffs a laugh into his hair.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #songxiao #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #i can't believe i have to use the tag #lemon #in the year of our lord 2020 #but there we are #nish writes smut badly #as an apology for not having done any other writing #imma toss this at you guys and run away #ily chickens

100 notes · View notes

ninbayphua-moyan · 3 years

Text

Calico

Warm evening sunlight streamed in through the lightwell, painting the dimly lit room in a dreamy pastel gold, quite like that of a faded photograph or a muzzy memory. The balmy air was steeped in the fresh, earthy petrichor of a recent shower, blanketed with a sense of Saturday languidness. A gentle breeze, pleasantly cool against the slight stickiness of my skin fleets through the wide-open windows, carrying with it the alluringly sweet scent of frangipanis. Closing my eyes, I leaned back into the well-worn rattan chair, legs stretched out lazily as I took a deep breath, listening to the faint rustling of palm leaves.

Shsshhhhh…shwsshhhh…shhshhh…nudge? Just as I was about to be lulled off to sleep, I felt something small and damp poking at my toes, followed by a tickling brush of fur around my ankles. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring into a pair of bright, forest green orbs. Its thin-slit pupils stared right back at me, alert and unblinking, watching…waiting…There was something unnerving about that sharp unwavering gaze…almost as if it could see into my very soul and read the sins of my past.

Minutes passed but neither of us moved, brown eyes gazed into green and green eyes into brown. At the open doorway it sat with its tail curled around its toes, still as a statue yet perfectly poised, each muscle humming with trapped energy, ready to spring into action at the slightest notice. Under the smoldering intensity of its gaze I felt paralysed, as if it had cast a strange spell over my muscles, rendering them useless.

Then it moved. Its long sleek tail unfurling from its snowy white paws as it took slow, measured strides towards me. The light streaming in from the wooden louvred windows casted stripped shadows on its tri-coloured coat. And, just for a split second, instead of a common household guest, I saw a flash of its forest dwelling ancestor. Its black, orange, and white patches distorting and melding into camouflaging stripes. One soundless step after another, slinking closer and closer, all the while maintaining eye contact. It was the hunter and I was the hunted. Pausing at my feet, it took an effortless leap and landed on my lap in one fluid and graceful motion. At first, neither of us moved. Then it blinked and the spell was broken. In an instant, the illusion of the apex predator transformed back into that of a sofa lounger.

Rubbing its head against my neck, it started purring. Its narrow slit pupils were now dilated to the size of large round saucers. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I scratched its chin and stroked its head fondly, recalling our first encounter many years back……

It was a Saturday evening just like this one and I was lying on the hard majolica tile floor comfortingly cool against my skin in the sweltering Malaysian heat. A large piece of drawing paper laid sprawled out before me, colour pencils strewn about as I tried to trace the mosaic patterned tiles. Its kaleidoscope of bright colours a stark contrast against the plain wooden and rattan furniture of the living room.

I was so focused on my artwork that I didn’t notice a little visitor until a sudden shadow was casted over the drawing paper, effectively breaking my concentration. Looking up from my masterpiece, I came face to face with a pair of large, forest green eyes of a tiny calico. We both froze, our noses only a hair’s breath away. I blinked. From its matted fur covered in dirt and its half-starved appearance, I had guessed that it was a stray. For a long while, neither of us moved. Then, instinctively, I reached out a hand towards the kitten. As if waking up from an enchantment, the little calico blinked and darted out the door, tripping over the wooden doorway plank in the process. I got up hastily to chase after the little calico but by the time I reached the door, it was long gone. Thinking I’d never see it again, I sighed in disappointment and went back into the house.

Much to my surprise and delight, it came back again the next evening. I was sprawled out on the floor reading a book when a familiar shadow was casted over the pages. Looking up, I saw the little calico sitting in front of the doorway, gazing at me unblinkingly. Worried that it would just run off again, I hastily got up and was immediately stopped by a firm but gentle grip on the shoulder. Turning around, I saw A-Gong[1] shaking his head before giving me a light pat on the back, motioning for me to wait. I sat back down reluctantly and watched as he tottered over to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came doddering back with a bowl of boiled and shredded chicken meat and a bowl water. Placing the metal bowls a distance away from us, he went back to his rattan chair, giving me a knowing smile. Nothing happened at first, and I was starting to get impatient. However, heaven rewards the patient because sure enough, the little calico took a hesitant step forward. Inching closer to the bowls and tenderly lapping up its contents. Once the bowls were empty, it would lay curled up in a corner watching us before slinking back out in the night.

Day after day, it’d come back. Always sitting patiently at the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation to enter the house. A-Gong would always have a metal bowl of food and water ready for it each evening. As time went on it became part of our evening routine whereby A-Gong and I would sit in the living room with the little calico. Each night, it’d come up and rub its head against us before leaving.

I remembered the day A-Gong passed; I came back to find the little calico waiting by the door. Going into the silent house, I made the usual and placed the bowls in its usual spot. I sat in A-Gong’s favourite rattan chair and watched it lap up the contents, wondering if it realised that he was gone and if it’d miss him too? A sharp stinging pricked the back of my eyes, tears threatening to fall as my body shook with suppressed grief: heartache, regrets, longing, even anger.

As if realising my torment, the little calico stopped eating and padded slowly over. Pausing at my feet, it took an effortless leap and landed on my lap in one fluid motion. Without saying anything, it snuggled against my chest, purring softly. The warmth radiating from its small body comforting in the cold and silent house.

That night, it didn’t leave like it usually did and I fell asleep, cuddled up with it on A-Gong’s favourite rattan chair. A momentary reprise from the grief.

Looking down at the now fully-grown calico, a bittersweet smile wound its way onto my face as I gaze at the content expression on its furry little face. Oh, how A-Gong would’ve chuckled at that dopey expression it made…

NOTES:

[1] ‘A-Gong’ means ‘grandfather’ in Hainanese

Author's Notes:

Back with Part 2 of the short story slash prose pieces from uni series (this part was written in second year lol) The piece is a flashback to A-Yun’s childhood so a slight detour from the main story timeline wise but the detour will make more sense once it gets to Part 3. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading Part 2~

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Since exams are over and graded and I've officially graduated, I can finally post my work online without having to worry about Turnitin picking it up as plagiarism because apparently you aren't allowed to plagiarise yourself according to university which is absolutely ridiculous but I'm not the one making the rules here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, please don't reupload my works without permission.

#ninbayphua 墨彦 #prose #short story #constructive critisms are always welcomed #please don't repost without permission

5 notes · View notes

tf-tmnt · 5 years

Text

Fallin. Rodimus x reader

this is a Rodimus x reader i wrote like years ago, that i had forgotten about that never got uploaded to wattpad. heres the first cringey ass chapter now.

"What in the hell is that!"

"Jee. I don't know, it kinda just fell outta the fucking sky!!"

"why is it so small?"

"and fleshy."

The different voice jumbled around me as my head spun. I groan, raising my hand over my face to cover the light.

"I wonder if it speaks."

I feel movement, the ground shook slightly underneath me.

"Will you idiots move! I need to see if it's injured." there was heavy movement and grumbles before a gasp. "By the all spark.."

i feel like i recognize that voice, but i just can't put my finger on it. "Ratchet. What is it?" a younger voice calls out.

He sighs. "She's human you dumb ass. you should know this! you wen't to the planet with us for primus sake!" Ratchet..that sounded familiar too.

"She doesn't seem to be injured. Just a bit shaken up, But I'll need to do a full scan back on the ship.." the voice known as Ratchet said.

I groan, pushing myself up from the ground.The small chatter and movement around me stopped as I opened my eyes. Man do I regret opening my damn eyes. I jump back, panic struck through me, upon seeing the giant ass robots in front of me. Most of them looked somewhat familiar. Then It clicked as I whipped my head around, looking at the closest mech.

"Ratchet?" My voice was scratchy.

The bots jumped back, Ratchet's optics widened. "Yes?"

My eyes go wide and go to the next bot. "Magnus? Ultra. Magnus?" I questioned. He just looked shocked but shook his head.

I nod my head towards the one horned, giant purple people eater, "Cyclonus."

My head shifts to one quite a bit smaller, a mini bot. I smile, seeing the white and blue bot. His head was pushed into his shell like body, slightly hiding behind everyone else. "Tailgate?!"

My head whips to each bot. "Brainstorm...Drift...Rewind...Chromedome...Whirl..."

Then my eyes land on him, the bright orangey red paint along with the yellow. Oh my god..my childhood crush stood right in front of me. "Roddy?!" I couldn't help but scream out his nickname. The already confused bots furrowed their brow ridges at me.

"How in the fu-" Whirl was cut off by brainstorm.

"Whoa, how do you know our names? How are you even breathing, humans need oxygen, don't they? What if this is a trap!" he spewed out words before pulling his blasters out, shoving them in my face, i jump back, smashing into the ground.

"Hey, hey, dude, chill, Im not a decepticon or from the D.J.D.-"

"How do you know about the D.J.D?" Chromedome stepped closer to me, kneeling slightly.

I sigh, face palming. "Okay, look, i don't know how I got into this..whatever this is, but Where I'm from you all are apart of this comic book series. You're called Transformers. Cybertronians from the planet cybertron. After the 4 million year war, and cybertron was rebuild, Rodimus set off to find the knights of cybertron, he got a crew, and a ship, the lost light, and set off.. Now I don't know how much of this is the same as my world, but that's how I know about you guys, and as far as the breathing thing..I uh, I don't really know to be honest. Please, just don't kill me, I'd rather not be killed by my childhood heroes"

"Us?" Ratchet asked, surprised.

"Childhood?" Brainstorm squinted at me.

Oh yeah..forgot they don't know earth terms.

"Oh, sorry, Sparkling hood heroes. And yeah. I mean, I was a quiet bitlet. I liked reading and watching TV, and instead of friends, I in a way had you guys, which probably sounds weird to you..so I'll just shut up now.." I blush as I let word vomit spill from my mouth. Ratchet smiled sweetly. He actually smiled, I made him smile! I did that!

Rodimus gawked. "Holy shit. She just made him smile. She really is from another universe if she can do that!" I chuckle and roll my eyes. Rodimus never changes.

"So. I have a lot of questions..Do you know our future? Did we have toy figures?! OH do I get my arms back!? Does Cygate become a thing, cause I ship that shit, when does chromewind get married?! Oh, do I get to be bad ass? I am for sure bad ass." Whirl went on as I just looked at him.

"Um. Yes. Yes. Tbd. Yes. and Tbd. and yes, whirl Very bad ass." i nodded, chuckling at him.

"What is this 'tbd' Magnus asked.

"To be determined" me, whirl and rod answer.

I whip my head around to Rodimus. "I didn't know you were text savvy." I tease.

He smirked. "Gotta keep up with bumbles back on cybertron!" I roll my eyes. I completely forgot those two were like the same age.

"Okay..well, I'm getting bored, soo, to the ship we go?" Whirl turned to the giant, no huge, no, gargantuan ship that was off in the distance.

He walked towards it, not waiting for anyone else to object, we all start towards it. I mutter an "Oh shit." as I stumble and stand fully, before running up after the group, who were just walking.

I bolt up to their peds, I was between Rodimus and Drift, who were talking about..what sounded like how to care for a human. they (Mostly Rodimus, while Drift silently agreed by shaking his head yes.) Seemed like a kid getting their first pet, which I should be offended being compared to a pet, but since its Rodimus and Drift, I will even bark like a dog if it means it will please them. He talked about getting me a bed, and food, and my own room. Honestly, sounds fucking great, can I get belly rubs too?

"Hey ratchet, you know what all a human needs right?" Rodimus called, looking to the older bot.

Ratchet Rolled his optics, muttering out a "For fuck sake..." "Rodimus. She literally talks, just ask her for what she needs to survive!" He shakes his head at the young mech. Poor Ratchet, Always dealing with their bullshit. no wonder he is always so Done TM. with life. I would be too. he's too old for this crap.

I drag myself over the rocky and sandy terrain, I was jogging, almost running while the bots walked, we were about halfway to the ship. the 3 suns above us shun brightly , my face was red and sweat dripped down my back and through the gray shirt I was wearing. My jeans stuck to my legs. my red converse, no doubt had sweat pools at the bottom of them. My red flannel wrapped around my waist. I pick a great day to fucking wear jeans. why didn't I grab one with holes in them. I legit only have one pair that DOESN'T have holes in them and the One fucking day I wear them I get sucked into another World and end up sweating my ass off, walking to a spaceship with some giant robots. Just my odds. I grumble to myself as I try to make it down a "small hill" it was 10 foot, and steep as hell. once i was over it, I lost my footing slightly, my converse which had no grip slid against the rock and sand.

"Oh shiitt!!" I let out a shriek as I tumbled down the hill. My face collided with the hard rock, scraping my face, As I rolled down the hill. It got steeper as I fell, and I dropped off the side, landing on my right arm with a sickening "Crack". I scream out in pain, tears mixing with the blood on my face as I held my arm to me. This was just fucking great. I 100% just broke my arm..but look on the bright side, it was my right arm..I'm left handed, so at least I can still draw. I wail out, clutching my arm to me as pain throbbed through it. Everyone turned towards my screeching, optics wide with worry, Rodimus bolts towards me.

"Oh my primus, are you okay?" He gently scoops me up into his servos, turning towards the rest of the group, who just stood, looking panicked.

"Shes...leaking..red goop.." Whirl pointed out, obviously disgusted.

Ratchet shoves through the crowd of bots, pushing his way towards Rodimus and I. "Oh Boy...shes loosing blood. We need to get her to the med-bay!" He shouts, everyone squirms and makes way to start running back to the Ship, which now seemed even bigger than before.

"Will she be okay?" Rodimus asked, looking down at the little being in his servos.

Ratchet sighs. "Yes. humans are tougher than they look. She, from what i can see, she has broken her right arm, and has a cut on her face that will need to be disinfected and stitched up, but other than that she is perfectly fine." He pats Rodimus' shoulder before taking off towards the ship at a faster pace with the rest of them.

The walk..well Run, back to the ship was a bumpy one for me, every time Rodimus would slightly jostle me, I would groan in pain from my arm, making him repeat "sorry" over and over, I'm pretty sure I've heard him say sorry 36 times in the past 2 minutes. The sound of metal moving and air depressurizing filled my ears. The blinding Suns were now gone, the metal ceiling above me blurred in a gray and silver. The clanking of peds running in different directions, and Rodimus yelling out commands to the crew, echoed off the walls. "Drift get the ship in the air, Cyclonus, prepare everyone for take off, Tailgate..see what a human needs to live...Everyone else..er, do your jobs!" His voice boomed, making me vibrate against his chassis. We turned down a hall, the lights above brightening, I guess we were in the med-bay. Rodimus brought his servos gently to the berth in front of him, letting me roll out of his palm and onto the metal bed. I groan upon impact, but sit up.

"ep, ep, ep, don't move!" I hear Ratchet shout from another room

Rodimus looks down at me, worry in his optics. Then he turns to Ratchet, who was now in the room with a very small, human sized bag in his hand. "Tell me when you're done repairing her." And with that, Rodimus walked out of the room, leaving me and Ratchet. I look about the room for a second. it was huge. well huge for me. there were a couple cybertronian sized desks, and about 5 berths, besides the one i was sitting on. Different Machines were shoved in the corner and to the sides of the room. Papers littered EVERYWHERE. Messy was one word to describe it, but lets call it..Organized Chaos.

Ratchet Groaned in annoyance and looked down at me. "Ya know. I haven't had to use this stupid holoform in years! I never thought I'd see another freaking human again." he grumbled, placing the human sized bag down in front of me, which i could now see was a Doctors bag.

"Now here I am, using the stupid thing to patch up a human that supposedly from another Dimension, who just happened to fall out of the sky right were we were walking, on a random deserted planet! Ugh!" he continued to complain.

I shyly smile. "Its my destiny I guess.."

"Yeah. yeah. Destiny my aft. you already are starting to sound like Rodimus..Just. Sit still while I do that." he grumbled once more before a high pitched fizzling type sound rang out, along with the sound of Ratchet transforming to Alt mode. A man Appeared in front of me. My mouth dropped open wide. In all my time reading Fanfic, I never imagined Ratchet to look like this. He looked about 50 but had gray hair, spiked up in the front, white streaked through the sides. he was tan, his eyes a bright and kind blue. he worn an orange button up underneath a white lab coat, Black dress pants with some bland doctor type shoes. My eyes widen as I look him up and down. I breath out a "Whoa." his eyebrows pushed up.

"What? Do I not look good for human standards?" his voice, sounded exactly the same, but more human.

I chuckle a nervous laugh. "No, its just, I've never imagined your holoform like this..not that I've imagined your holoform, cause that would be weird.." I mentally slap myself, face going red at the stupid thing I had just said. why can't i just keep my mouth shut? life would be so easy if I just didn't talk.

he chuckled before walking towards me, and the bag sitting in front of me. "I'm gonna need you to lift up your head" he asks, rummaging through the bag before pulling out a disinfecting wipe, and stalking towards me. He raises it to my face but stops seeing me flinch as he touched my face. "Easy. It may sting a bit.." He pushed the wet rag against my cheek, my skin screaming out in pain as he wiped away all the dirt, rock and blood from my face. Then he cleaned up my arm and started to wrap it, making me hold it straight out as he wrapped the black around it.

"Do you remember anything at all of how you got here?" he questions, face scrunched in concentration.

"I uh..I had just gotten up, and was on my way to work.. Did the same thing I did every other day, got dressed and then its off to work, work was pretty normal..until some lady came up to me, she was talking about Wolves, and babies, it was weird. but she handed me this necklace and...wait" My hands go to my pockets and root through them till my fingers land on the rope chain. I pull it out, holding it up to the light to show him. the light shined through it, making colors go everywhere. "Anyways, she handed me this, and said something alone the lines of what i guess would translate into. Follow your destiny. Later than night i was walking home, it was late, the moon was shining brightly above me, and I tripped and fell and then next thing I know I'm falling on top of Rodimus!"

Ratchets eyes widen looking at the crystal on the necklace. "Oh my Optimus. we need op- oh primus." he started to panic, stepping back, clutching his chest. breathing heavily his holoform flickering. He was having a spark attack.

"Ratch. breath! breath okay?! look at me, look at me. you are fine okay?" I clutched his arm making him look at me, trying to calm him. He shook his head, looking into my eyes, clutching me back, breathing heavily.

"I. I need to..I need to finish your cast." he breathed out. Of course this idiot is more worried about my stupid broken arm, than him actually dying!

He grabbed onto the roll and continued to wrap it, his eyes staring at it, you could obviously see that something was bothering him. Did I do that? or was it the crystal? why did it scare him or whatever it did to him, so badly? is he okay?

"Done." he pushed down the last side, and looked at his work. I stick my arm out looking at it, my arm would be stuck in this thing for months. ugh. I hate this already.

"Thanks Ratchet..but are you okay, like seriously, get First Aid in here or something, because you are not okay. what was that with the crystal?" I looked up to eyes, he still looked shook to say the least.

"Pah, I'm fine, better than ever! I may be old, but I can still get around! These hands are as steady as ever!" he waved me off, flickering off his holoform and transforming into his bi-pedal form.

I look up to his bright optics with worry. "No, no, something happened, what happened, what is this?" i pushed the crystal upwards closer to him, he eyed it cautiously. This thing is obviously important, but what is it?

"Ratchet, please, you obviously aren't telling me something, what is it?" i push further, batting my eyes and him and pouting my lip slightly. I'm a grown woman, but pouting should work, it always does, I mean, it works for dogs with humans, why not for humans with cybertronians?

He sighs loudly, crouching down a bit to be eye level with me. "Fine. What you have there...is very valuable, in fact, it could change the fate of our world. you have a fragment of the all-spark. which till now, we had thought was destroyed long ago within the battle, alpha trion had said it was destroyed within a forge. I-I had glitched out a bit upon seeing it...And I don't really know what to do with it, I would call optimus, but he is busy with bumblebee, trying to restore cybertron, and we are so far in the galaxy, it would take eons before they could even get here..We cannot let anyone else know about this. they will want to take it from you. use what power it still has...from what i know, the all-spark has a way of..claiming owners, it will cling to a certain person, and then that person is the only one able to use it." he pauses looking down even close to me. "though. that does not explain why it sent you here, or why that woman on your world had it in the first place..and as for the wolves....well i have a few theories, but those can wait till tomorrow, you've had a long and stressful day, and you no doubt will be the center of attention for a bit."

he stands completely up, holding out a hand for me to jump into. i quickly waddle over and sit in his palm. he raises it slightly, holding me to his chassis before starting down a hallway. I looked all around, eyeing the different doors as we pasted, till we got to a big opening. it was what looked to be the main hall, Rodimus' winged speeches, and Drift whispering things in his audio receptor to say, all happened here. I smile to myself, thinking of all the goofy things they probably do on the ship.

Ratchet takes a turn that has a hall, and at the end, a single door. There was a sign on the front of it, it was written in gold lettering. "Captain of the Lost Light.' under it sat a Rodimus star, which was crudely tapped on. flame stickers all around the wording. Who let him be captain. like for real, like I love Roddy, but whoever thought putting a teenager in charge was a good idea, needs to be fired.

I chuckle at the door. Ratchet scoffs.

"Don't encourage it. He'll add more." he rolls his eyes, holding his servo to the door and banging on it. Almost immediately the door swooshed open. Out popped a orange and yellow head.

"Heya Ratch!-"

"Don't call me that."

"is the Human okay?" Rodimus brought his head down to where I sat in ratchet's palm, holding a digit out to me like a human would a stray animal. Me being me, as the digit got closer and closer, I pounced at it, hanging onto the giant finger. He lets out a shriek and jumps back, falling over his own peds. he topples onto the ground, a hard metal thunk sounded, making the ship shake and then groaning. I thankfully let go before he fell back completely, so i was now slightly hanging on ratchets digits.

"Why did it do THAT!" Rodimus screeched, still sitting on the floor.

I pull myself up towards ratchet, seeing my struggle, since I was doing it one handed, he pushed me back up with the other hand, giving me the silent 'that was dangerous, are you trying to die' look, with a hint of humor to it. I whip around to Rodimus, putting my hands on my hips.

"IT? did you just call me an IT?" I screech, trying to sound as bitchy as possible. I love dicking with people. It doesn't really trigger me when I am called it. I understand it, coming from Aliens, who are different from humans.

His optics bug out. and he starts to stutter, he knows he fucked up, he went through this with Chromia, when he made the mistake of calling her, he. it wasn't his fault! he's just use to it! I mean how can you blame him, almost all cybertronians are male!

"N-No, I didn't mean, that, I- well i kinda mean't it, I just didn't know what pronoun you use and I didn't know if you were actually just a fem looking mech or-" he blubbered out words, trying desperately to fix his words.

I bust out laughing, I didn't mean to, it was just him. I mean, Rodimus loosing his cool was just too much. He was know as the cocky always ready for anything Rodimus Prime, not blubbering and rumbling for words. "Rodimus. Rodimus! I was kidding, calm down!"

"Wha-What?" he stuttered, his voice quiet as energon rose to his cheek plates.

"I'm not mad or offended. I was just messing with you!" I giggle, as he still sat on the ground

he looked up at me grumbling as he stood up. "Ya know, I don't remember humans being this big of jerks!" he complained, pointing to me in a teasing manner.

Ratchet cleared his throat before speaking. "She had a broken arm and a few stitches, she needs rest, I hope you will care for her properly. she is not a pet, If i hear even the slightest word about her needs not being met I will have someone else do the job." And with that, Ratchet held his hand out to Rodimus, who plucked me from the medics palm. I watched as Ratchet walked back towards the med-bay, and the captain's door shut in front of us.

I turn in his hand to look up at him, he was looking down at me, a small smile on his lips. His optics were even brighter than I ever imagined, they could light up a whole room with their pretty color. I hadn't really realized i was staring at him.

"You okay, human?" he asked, looking me up and down, looking at my injuries.

"huh. what? oh yeah. Yeah!..I'm fine, just got distracted by your optics...thy're pretty.." I mumbled the last part out, hoping his audio receptors didn't hear it.

"o-ooh....hey, uh you want me to sit you on my desk?" he asked, blue on his cheeks, obviously, trying to keep a conversation, despite the awkward tension.

"oh, uh. sure." I smile up at him, as he holds me against his chest, walking over to a desk that was right next to the berth.

there wasn't all that much in the room..that i could see at least. there was a berth, and a desk which was cluttered with papers, which i'm currently standing on, a dresser type thing that had empty blocks of energon on it, some of the drawers were pulled out, showing the different waxes and what would normally be car supplies on earth. there was also a closet..which was latched shut, you could see a blue thing, trying to spill out of the door, it looked almost like a skateboard.

I turn my head back to Rodimus after looking about the room. "Sorry about the mess, wasn't expecting company." he chuckled nervously shoving papers to the side of the desk so that i could sit on the edge. I push my legs down, so they dangled off the side.

"So...what do you need, to like, survive?" he cocked his head slightly, like a confused dog.

I chuckle a bit at his cuteness before answering. "Well, uh. I'm gonna need a bed, a bathroom, a food supply, entertainment, and some different clothes." I listed off different things that I would need to stay on the ship. I knew it would be a while before i could even think about getting back home, that is even if I wanted to.

"Okay, consider it done!...just one question...whats a bed? and a bathroom? and cl-oth-es?" he listed off his questions, holding out his digits.

"i-um-uh." I pausing thinking of how I could explain this to him.. "Okay..so a bed, is like a berth, but soft, and for humans...clothes are...well these" i grab my shirt and tug on it slightly, doing the same to my pants. "and a bathroom is um a...- wait a minute! Can't you just google this shit, you're a Robot for gods sake!" i burst, throwing my hands up at him. My cheeks glow with embarrassment.

he bursts out laughing at me. "ya know i was on earth for a bit, i didn't learn much but i did know what a bathroom was....mainly cause the human i had to guard constantly needed to use one....plus i can use google. so I kinda put 2 and 2 together." he chuckles again, I roll my eyes.

"Anyways. tomorrow around noon we should be arriving at a depot, so we can get some of your supplies there. for whatever reason, all other species are like, obsessed with earth products, so it shouldn't be too hard to find some things." he smiled down at me.

"Including you?" I ask with a smirk, thinking about the cans of wax that were in the drawer.

"Shut up, not my fault your species makes good products to keep metal shiny and clean." he holds his head high, probably trying to protect his pride.

I grin back up at him, chuckling when a loud voice boomed over an intercom, it sounded like Ultra Magnus. "Lights are now out. Everyone must go into your assigned habsuite, failure to do so will result in punishment from me. Goodnight." the voice shut on ask quickly as it came.

I cock an eyebrow up at Rodimus in question. he sighs. "He's starting this new, curfew thing, cause too many bots were staying at swerves and constantly getting drunk."

I scoff.

"Yeah, I know its stupid. me and Drift and the others sometimes sneak out, just to try and get caught by him. its a fun game, we should play it sometime when your arm is healed." he looked down at me and then to the berth.

"Yeah. I'd love that." I smile up at him.

"We should be getting to recharge." he sighs, shuffling towards the berth, peds dragging on the ground. He falls onto the berth, making the room shake slightly.

his head was now closer to mine, since the desk was right near the head of the berth. I turn towards him and stand, walking closer. he holds his hand out slightly.

"I know it isn't the softest place in the world, but you can sleep over here with me if you want..I promise I won't squish you." He holds out his hand for me to crawl across, onto the berth.

I chuckle softly before climbing on, and across his arm, sitting next to him slightly. he shifts around a bit and I hear a click before the room goes dark, other than the slight glow of the energon slipping through Rodimus' Armor cracks, and the bright glow of his optics. He shifts a bit again, I close my eyes, curling into him a bit, snuggling the warmth I could get. I drifted deeper and deeper into the darkness till I felt myself being picked up and placed on something much warmer, I sighed in content and curled into the warmth, clinging to whatever was producing. the last thing i remember was the slightest whisper from Rodimus.

"Goodnight little human."

#tf #transformers #transformers headcanons #transformers imagine #roddy #rodimus #hot rod #maccadam #rodimus prime #lost light #mtmte #mtmte rodimus

60 notes · View notes

kitsoa · 5 years

Text

Fic: A Measure of Gratitude

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Genre: Gen

Word Count: 4309

Characters: Sora, Riku

Relationship: Sora & Riku (mainly platonic but its free real estate)

Summary: [Post KH2][Pre-DDD] It was a childish ambition of his, accomplished in seconds. Perhaps the way he got there cheapened the moment, but it couldn’t change the beauty of the view. This was his home.

Sora reflects on his homecoming.

The air splashed around like a thick hot soup. Hungry gasps for oxygen took in the humidity with native ease while arms pumped through the foliage of green and sneakers slapped the wet stone at a constant beat. The run was joined with the ceaseless screams of cicadas and the scampering rustle of a startled animal.

The island was built around a massive and dormant volcano. Upon its dark soil sprung violently rich greenery. Trees of impressive heights, coiling vines along fallen trunks, moss blooming along jagged cliff sides, wet ravines that spilled water from a nearby ocean channel in loud splatters. The expanse of the main island was covered in a forest known fondly by the youth of the town. The primary hiking trail was exhausted in its familiarity, only holding captive the spirit at the base of the volcano’s sharp incline by a sloppily pinned strip of bright yellow ribbon blocking entry to Uwami Point.

It was almost laughable really. Closed in a moment of crisis roughly 20 years ago, the lone, pathetic string of tape was mainly symbolic of the very few hard laws in the land, relying on the trust of islander fellowship to enforce the idea that Uwami Point could kill as it had done before. It didn’t stop the more adventurous children until resulting consequences satisfied them to play exclusively at a lonely island across a small surf of ocean.

It was a schoolyard dare, a right of passage for unruly teens, a thrilling challenge to a wide-eyed child looking to prove himself. So the act of jumping over the blockade was not unheard of. Not for many Islanders and certainly not for Sora.

The impact of his shoes on the rock was momentary as the young teen immediately broke back into his run. He launched himself among the step stones of a winding creek, sweeping under low hanging branches, arranged in a manner both familiar and entirely new—like someone shifted the couch over by two inches. His focus was as intense as his breathing, eyes darting miles ahead of his next step to take the vault across the stump that wasn’t there 2 years before, and dodging the drop where he broke his wrist when he was nine. All the while the incline grew steep and the smell of the ocean took back dominance over the dirt and green.

The trees started to thin as the rocks climbed to the sky and what was the once the expert movements of a boy at home became something else entirely. He kicked off the wall of stone and parried himself off another in a way that looked like flying. Sora flipped along the small footholds, finding greater purchase on the larger ledges only to launch himself higher, sometimes scampering his shoes straight up a vertical incline to catch a distance lip.

The entire time his blood pumped, eyes elated and sparkling with what was a childhood dream falling—or in this case climbing— into his lap. The moment captured his body into a captivated physical trance, his focus equally pacified and humming with electrifying precision. Beneath that, wells of something greater, more mysterious, and limitless bubbled with the joy. It joined his coiled muscles as he rocketed along the impossible trail of Uwami Point.

The massive leaves of a tropical bush indicated the return of green and Sora grabbed its stalk for one final pull up. There were few trees upon the more level walkways of the mountain but the path winded across vertigo-inducing altitude. Sora rose to his feet, taking several steps toward the clearing on the rocks, the air salty and active. It was a like a different world, the clouds so much closer, his eyes consuming the entire expanse of the forest surrounding the town— the size of a dinner plate from his vantage point. His feet stopped at the massive drop into a sea of trees.

“Wow.” He breathed, unable to contain his wonder. Here was his home, his small world nestled in a nook of island foliage and blue sea, in a form he never before dreamed he’d see. Sora let the temptation to reach his hand out toward the coastal settlement take over, his gloves obscuring the homes, his fingers worming along the dirt streets, every single denizen in his palm. The school was near his pinky, the younger students milling about like ants while at recess. Several ships were finding the port with trade from the island neighbors. His small home settled on the edge of town by a coast of soft white sand curled under his thumb. If he squinted, the mayor’s mansion was in sight by the town square. Face flush with excitement, Sora thought of showing Riku this view. He wondered what he’d say.

And then, in the distance, he spotted the lush little Play Island. The special islet stood out like a beacon surrounded by the blue. Even so, it was still an unsuspecting location for his world’s heart. Just knowing that gave the place a warm glow that was amplified by the fond memories upon those shores. The compulsion to lay on its sun-soaked beach was far too real for the mountain scaling teen.

With a wry grin, Sora fell into the easy analytics of judging if a glide-induced jump from this height would result in an early nap across the stretch of water. Confidence started to swell with a change in the wind pattern, whipping his hair into his eyes which were skirting across the town in a last minute search for witnesses. He took a couple steps back to prep his running start.

His muscles fired him into a leaping sprint when a voice emerged out of the quiet nature around him.

“You will definitely get spotted if you try that.”

Sora squawked as he tried to stop, his momentum launched out of control. And in a comical attempt to stop himself, the boy’s arms flailed wildly while his sneakers slid to the edge of the cliffside until finally, Sora fell off.

“Sora!”

Riku, the unsuspecting visitor to what was actually an impossible trail to follow, stumbled forward in a jerk of protective reflexes, reaching down the cliff toward his falling friend to no avail.

“Oh thanks, Riku.” He heard the eye roll in Sora’s voice and took in the sight of his friend falling slowly through the air, a magical glide easing him to the next available ledge, arms crossed in a sour mood.

“Did anything hit you?” Riku couldn’t contain the guilty worry in his voice. He clenched the ledged while his friend descended.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Sora insisted, feet touching the ground on a small lip along the cliffside. “Just gimme a second and I’ll give you some payback.”

A second was all he needed to scale back up in two easy leaps. Riku couldn’t rise to his feet in time to avoid Sora’s vengeful tackle on the way up, complete with a gurgly yell.

“Wah? SORA!” He spluttered as a face full of Sora was now on top of him, pushing his shoulders to the ground. A mischievous grin was on his mouth as he pressed his forearms into Riku’s face with a series of sloppy knuckle slaps to his head.

“Way to screw up my plan Riku!” Sora laughed while the older boy knocked his hands away in a light swipe. He then used his long legs to pin Sora’s ankles in a show of resistance.

“Oh, you’ll thank me later,” Riku responded, attempting an easy tone with difficulty amidst the wrestling match. He swept his feet to the side, knocking Sora off balance and into humorous crumpled of limbs. Riku took his chance and went after the boy’s mess of brown hair, rustling it into an even greater mess.

“Hey!” Sora protested grabbing at his pant leg in a childish way as Riku got to his feet. His posture tensed.

“No no don’t.” He said as Sora released his pant leg with a cocked eyebrow. Riku heaved a sigh, scratching has his face with an embarrassed gaze. “I can't let my uniform rip.”

And that’s when Sora took full note of his friend’s attire, blue plaid dress pants and a now dirt scuffed short sleeve uniform polo fit with a plaid tie. The Destiny High School summer uniform.

“Why aren’t you in class?”

Riku swallowed a laugh in a choked huff. “Why aren’t you?”

Sora shrunk back in a spell of insecurity. He grabbed at his feet as he adjusted himself into a sitting position. He was still in his adventuring clothes, complete with the clanking buckles and rattling pockets full of keychains and accessories. He scratched at his head.

“Ah, you know.” He laughed with a furtive hesitation in his eye. “I wasn’t really feeling it today, that’s all...”

Riku crossed his arms, clearly contemplating something in the silence of his piercing eyes. He took in a breath… and then sighed it away in defeat.

“I’m not really one to talk.” Riku pulled a hand through his bangs, clearing his vision before the wind swept it back into his eyes. Sora felt the tension in his neck relax. “The moment I realized you were skipping, I headed out after you. Talk about an opportunist.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Riku hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to crouch down to Sora’s seated level and kick his feet out. “You were staring at Uwami Point yesterday. I had a feeling you wanted to give it a spin with your new abilities.”

“And yet you stopped the biggest test of said abilities.”

“Hey, as impressive as your ability to glide is, don’t think for a second you won’t get spotted by the entire town trying to take a short cut to the Play Island. We have to—”

“Maintain the world border. Don’t worry, Donald never let me forget.”

“‘Border?’ ”

“Sorry— ‘order.’ ”

“You’ve clearly committed that to memory.”

Sora made an exaggerated pout. “It’s not easy lying to everyone.”

His exaggeration hid greater stress and Sora had to swallow down a sudden string of tension in his throat at a creeping memory from only days before. A reunion so basic; the family friends rushing to their home as news of Sora and Riku’s return rippled across the town like the igniting lamps at nightfall. He remembered Hana, the wife of his father’s employer, in her misleading scowl and heavy glare, yielding to a twinkling joy on verge of tears, crushing him in a hug and pawing his shoulders and face for signs of some kind of harm. Questions spilled from her mouth that would echo later from neighbors of a more casual bond. Where had he been? What had caused his absence? Was he okay?

He didn’t blame them for their overbearing reactions. He even indulged in the euphoric atmosphere of their presence. Old bonds in his heart leaped. Childish selfishness basked in an attention he had gluttoned for in his younger days. And as joy curled his lips, a blush rose to his cheeks and brought a similar twinkle to his eye— looming clunch on his jaw skewed his face awkward. His neck grew tight and a pressure seeped through his chest.

When the swell of shock and elation died out, and all that was left between them was that empty air of unanswered questions and great expectations, there was the seizing dismay in her eyes. It was a confusion so unrelated and undeserving while she and many others in the following days would realize that they had come to harbor a worry that would never find burial.

And wasn’t that worry just another form of darkness?

Riku’s face was lax, his mouth a hard to read line. “True.”

Sora shook his head of the memory, choosing instead to cling on the more present good. The beautiful horizon lent a hand in that.

“Oh, but secrets can be fun too! How many people do you think have ever successfully climbed Uwami Point?” As if to exclaim his point, Sora outstretched his arms to present the impressive view of the town.

Riku hummed. “If the stories are true, I can only imagine a small number have even tried.”

'Stories’— meaning cautionary tales and ‘tried’—meaning ‘failed.'

“Yep… Everything looks so different from up here.”

“It certainly provides… an interesting perspective.”

The kind of perspective a restless child could have used to cure his island fever. A spin on the small sameness of a sea-locked paradise that could easily inspire and regrow weary appreciation for home… But it was a perspective nearly impossible to gain without first stepping foot outside. Redundant, the view of the town could just as easily summate the limits of their world.

The thought was sobering. The memories of reckless horseplay on the island and schemes of adventure on the beach gave a sleepy warmth in Sora’s head. It felt a little like swimming, staring out at home. Weightless, free, and comforting. The memories of loving smiles from shopkeepers on the square, or his father’s crew, to the diligent teachers at the school— he imagined they were all within his vantage point from this distance. But in the same way, it felt a little muffled. Unreal and distorted as though the winds from this mountaintop were waves and those smiles were trying to talk to him from the surface when all he could only see was their sun dazzled shadows through the water and all he could hear were their warped voices in the bubbles.

“Are you happy to be back Riku?”

The question caught Riku off guard, Sora’s expression was mellow and perhaps nostalgic—not an ounce of unspoken context or prying. Just an honest reflection. Their home behind his heartfelt gaze, the sun as ever faithfully crawling through the sky, the question seemed silly.

“Yeah.” And his words were sure. It didn’t really matter if rumors flew in unsavory ways, or if the townsfolk would never completely understand the people they were growing into. Even if there was a foundation of truth in the furtive glances, and that horrifying storm— now a bad memory— was a result of his weakness… the idea of standing on this earth had been resigned so many times in the past year that Riku couldn’t fathom regret. At least not at that moment. Sora just made things easy.

“What about you?” He shot back. What of this open heart could words really convey? There was something so islander about an exchange of easy pleasantries, if this could be considered that.

“Oh sure.”

A silly question indeed.

And it was like they were on those dark shores again, yearning for the slight breeze to smell the same while letting it settled slowly that they were never going to view their sea again. If Sora hadn’t been there. If he had been alone, grounded on that suffocating land, Riku imagined he would have wept endlessly on that black sand. He would have gone from being blind to the wealth he already had, to truly destitute. A real island prison as opposed to his naively manufactured one.

But Sora’s eyes flickered, that sobered feeling from earlier swelling around his vision while he took in his friend. Déjà vu. That water swarmed around Riku and he felt the urge to reach out to him against a swallowing current. At least… he was below the surface with him. It gave him the strength to lay the feeling on the table.

“But you know. I think I’m a little nervous.” The surprising words had that characteristic Sora pep. It was the sort of certainty that spoke of his refusal to dwell and brood, or at least fight in the face of it.

“Nervous? Of what?” Unlike Riku, Sora’s never resented his home. Any guilt around his heart from here would have to have been born from some contrived sense of failed responsibility and as far as he could tell— Sora was nothing but victorious.

Sora slowly let his gaze fall away from the town, focusing at his feet, upon the shoes that trodden on lands beyond the wildest imagination.

“Not a day went by when I didn’t think of home… I just wanted to find you and Kairi and let everything go back to normal... “ He cocked his head in some mixture of nostalgia and amusement.

“But ever since we got back… I’m starting to wonder if normal’s even possible anymore.”

Sora wasn’t sure normal was the word. Maybe it was ‘same’? But that forced him to recognize the feeling as unyielding change. A transformation instead of a slightly skewed picture frame.

Sora‘s voice was gentle, almost lost to the wind in his bout of insecurity. Riku exhaled through his nose, not taking his eyes off the sad smile on his friend. There was a flare of guilt in his gut he refused to let fester. If only he had realized what he had. If only he hadn’t uprooted their world and destroyed any sense of the word normal. If only—

“You think you’ve changed?”

Sora crossed his arms with a more befitting pout of consideration as he rolled the summation.

“Yes? I mean something’s different. I feel different.”

“You’ve grown,” Riku corrected and Sora felt an uncontrolled swell of pride from a younger side of himself, desperate for his older friend’s recognition, now suddenly dished out without fanfare. He laughed it away with a dry bark.

“I’m taller.”

“And you can climb Uwami Point in seconds flat.” And the weight of such a benign fact was reluctantly recognized, but promptly ignored.

“That doesn’t matter.” He pushed Riku’s example away with his hand, bemusement in his eye. It did matter. It was indicative of his new abilities, of his responsibilities and purpose. It was the highest point in their world. The limit.

“Does ‘normal’ even matter?” Riku asked, but in his head, he screamed ‘ of course it matters.' The attempt at devil’s advocate to fight Sora’s woes was a purpose he could rally behind though. It settled him into a familiar position; giving sage advice he wasn’t entirely sure of like the older kid on the Play Island he was used to being.

“Not exactly…” Sora admitted. “But it probably does for everyone else.”

Riku paused, the spell of concern resonating and tugging at his own heart. It didn’t take long for the rumors to reach them. While their return was miraculous and welcome, the lack of answers to their great mystery simmered a world of fables. How long until they tainted the hearts of their beloved islanders? How long until the weakest of connections withered when Sora’s love included everyone? Would it spread like poison? What would that lead to?

“I know what you mean,” Riku said after a moment, doing his best to fight the spiraling void of dark possibilities. Alas, it brought him to a spot of resonance. A memory from just that morning, interrupting Kairi’s pre-class conversation with her classmates to inquire about Sora and the stares from the underclassmen that ensued. People unsure of what to think. Perceptions once gilded in admiration and familiarity now boggled in the foreign sight that was Riku himself. Otherness. Guilt. It was like playing with fire and blisters calloused along his skin.

Riku didn’t know how to put that into words.

“But hey,” He continued, finally knocking Sora out of his thoughts and catching his drifting gaze with a tilt of his head. “I guess we just have to keep it a secret the best we can. Just you, me, and Kairi.”

They were the people Sora’s heart chose. Woven into the foundation of all he felt, they were his pillars. As long as they stood beside him, he would be okay. That image of swimming felt a little more grounded, in his hands were the solid palms of resonating company and it coursed through him like liquid courage. The steadfast eyes of his longest friend reassured him. He was not alone.

Sora nodded sharply, encouraged. “You’re right.”

“That’s more like the Sora I know.” A wry smile teased Riku’s mouth. A shock of perspective— one of less macrocosmic levels— jolted Sora with a trill of self-conscious anxiety at his words. He blinked back beside himself.

“Ah… uh… Sorry?” He offered. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t being ‘me’...”

Riku waved the concern away with a laugh. “Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Hey!” Sora jutted his jaw forward for show and Riku had to hold it together with a bemused smile.

“Why don’t you go to class tomorrow? We can bring things to normal together.” Riku offered after a kind silence.

He shifted his weight and brought himself onto his feet as Sora pursed his lips, giving the only school building on the island a long and pointed glance.

“Come on Sora. United front?”

He may cox his friend with ease, but stepping into the constricting uniform was a herculean task in and of itself. He could truly sympathize with Sora’s reluctance with striking clarity. Even so, Riku's efforts seemed fruitful.

“Only if you let me glide to the Play Island after nightfall.” Sora mirrored Riku, rising to his feet with a sly grin on his face, troubles far away. He began walking toward the edge of the perimeter he arrived from, intending to jump.

Riku gave a scoff. “You’ll have to carry me with you.”

“No way! You’re too heavy!”

“I’m offended.”

“How are you gonna get down without scuffing up your uniform?” Sora asked pointedly, peering over the edge to find potential footholds for his friend to ease down the cliff. Riku, in a moment of concern, glanced at his uniform pants, patting away some dirt collected from when he was sitting.

“I guess I didn’t think that far.”

Sora took a step back in yet another jumping prep, a self-important laugh. “Then it looks like you’re actually are getting that lift.” And that’s when Sora stepped on a loose stone, bringing his attention to the earth beneath his feet.

“Hey, Riku… come over here.”

“I was joking,” Riku said turning around from the cliffside only to noticed Sora‘s distracted focus. He drew closer, following his friend’s curiosity as he crouched himself toward the stone.

“What do you know... We aren’t the first ones up here.” Riku mused as Sora brushed away loose dirt from the sloppy engraving. It appeared to be old but was deep enough to have survived years of erosion. Whoever wrote the message did so with passion. Sora imagined if someone were to have scaled this cliff —without superhuman abilities— they would’ve easily had the drive to inspire a trophy of this simplicity. The message itself was the confusing part.

“‘Another, ’” Sora read aloud. “Another what?”

This was the highest point in all of Destiny Islands. There wasn’t ‘another.’

Riku failed to respond, something dark sobering his gaze. “That’s kind of sad.” He said after a pause.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Sora was attempting to search for more inscriptions on the rock but failing.

Riku took his time to brush his thumb over the message, the jagged engraving seemed artistic at first glance, but closer inspection showed more sloppy desperation in the lines. “Whoever climbed up here chose not to write their name… they probably weren’t very proud of themselves.”

And to write something as greedy as 'another.' There was little context in those lines, but something about its location was chilling. Sure... the view was beautiful, the feat was validating, the notoriety was immortalizing, but what more could someone from this small world expect?

“Oh…” Sora knitted his eyebrows together in concerned thought. “That’s… not right…”

Who wouldn’t feel proud of themselves? Sora and Riku technically cheated themselves from the pride… but the spoils of the view, the nostalgic dream-come-true was too sweet to not appreciate. But this mystery person, who most likely scaled this mountain with their hands, facing the dangerous winds and stretched out footholds… they didn’t even tell anyone to warrant an island legend… assuming that they got back down alive. Sora almost choked on that sinking thought. It made him feel wrong, almost dirty. In those moments, the air clung to his skin weird, like he didn’t really belong. Nothing stirred more fear in his heart.

“Or their name is actually ‘Another.’” Riku offered after a silence.

Sora choked, but this time on a bursting laugh. “Now that’s sad.”

“I’m just picturing a cranky mother naming her fifth kid ‘Another’ out of frustration or something.”

Sora threw his head back. “I’d probably climb a mountain too if my mom was that disappointed in me.”

“You’ve done more than that and your mom’s a saint Sora.”

Sora smiled, impossibly bright. “I’m actually really happy we weren’t the first up here.”

It made him feel closer to the ground, but he didn’t know how to say that out loud.

Riku hummed in agreement. Sora took in the town as he rose to his feet one final time. This was home. It was small, but plenty. This was enough.

When they returned to level ground, Sora and Riku took a boat out to the Play Island. They stretched the long afternoon in the dark cave of the Secret Place, holding a handful of conjured fire to newly made engravings of their own, sloppily scratched on the precious blank stone. They tested their imagination and art skills on the walls, making up stories about a mysterious ungrateful mountain climber and later showing Kairi in fits of laughter. She scolded them for skipping class before drawing an artistically superior sequel.

And when night fell they saw the stars shimmering from the cave openings. Backs flat on the wet stone floor, they got another, equally impressive view of their world.

#kingdom hearts #a repost because i put the ao3 link the last post and i dont think it got on the tag #anyway please enjoy

3 notes · View notes

ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[MF] The Uncanny Canopy

Source: https://athousandwrittenthoughts.wordpress.com/2020/05/03/the-uncanny-canopy/

I used to live on the west end of a relatively new estate during the early years of my childhood. Before I begin discussing these series of events, let me say for the record that I had been subject to intense psychological screening throughout adolescence, and aside from mild depression and anxiety, I received a clean bill of health. If a psychotic break nor collective delusion cannot explain what me and friends went through in what would otherwise be described as a rudimentary upbringing in English suburbia, then not all is as it seems in this world. What was meant as a harmless exploration into the novel and exciting put me through a experience like no other and turned my perception of the world on its head. My story begins shortly after I was old enough to play on the streets with my brother, but never truly took root until the later stages of my primary education, so I will start where appropriate to help you understand how this all came to be.

Me and my older brother used to play with some of the kids who lived on the same street--or "close"--as us, and their friends from neighbouring closes would join in every once in a while. We would often play games on the tarmac, or play cricket and football on the greenery near our houses. It was mostly harmless, although games would often go too far sometimes. The quest for entertainment frequently devolved into accidentally pelting footballs at the doors of residents, knocking on doors and running away in the vein of knock-knock-Granny, and one incident even led to intervention from the school superiors and having appropriate sanctions exacted as a result. When we weren't loitering, someone would end up going home early upset due to an argument, and we would hold grudges against each other for a few days until the idea of playing an imaginary game of "army" later on in the week would signal that tensions had been relieved.

On a scale of a silver spoon in the mouth to a hard-knock life, we were firmly planted in the middle. British youth at its purest.

My story takes me beyond the cul-de-sac and into remnants of nature that served as a reminder of our estate before its construction. At the end of our street was a narrow path that was surrounded by two small "fields"--or patches of greenery; anything looked like a field at that age. The path branched towards the left and right after a short stroll along it: the left took you to the outskirts of the estate, and the right took you along another path to the estate park, where families took their children to play on the swings. Going towards the outskirts of the estate and entering the estate park were the established lines set forth by parents, and we never crossed those lest we face groundings and other punishments such as having the PlayStation taken away. Stay where I can see you was a rule-of-thumb imposed by parents.

In hindsight, it was probably the desire to disregard parental advice that instigated the events of my tale.

Playing a hide-and-seek tag hybrid was a favourite during childhood. We would have a designated amount of time to run and hide, and this would often lead us to hiding in the hedges--or "bushes", as we called them as children--dotted along the edges of the fields we used to play on. These privet-leaved bushes acted as excellent camouflage for hiding, and their density prevented sunlight from entering the bushes and were the go-to place to hide in. The darkness and the abundance of imagination at that age allowed for some fantastic adventurers beyond hide-and-seek, with one afternoon having us occupied with a friend who had been watching Planet of the Apes. We used his inspiration to collect fallen branches to build "platforms" higher up within the trees, using them as observatory platforms for the oncoming apes that were set to assail us. We would also find the biggest sticks we could from the bushes to prepare for battle and do imaginary battles with them on the ground.

The best game in the bushes involved simple exploration. Most of these bushes never stretched great lengths across the fields, but the navigation between branches created the illusion of length. We would go on journeys in dim light with only streaks of rays creeping in through the leaves above and around us. Pretending that we would end up somewhere else when we reached the light in the distance was imagination fuel. We never did, obviously, but that was more than enough stimulus and the best way of exploring a world beyond our own without delving into fiction.

We frequented the bushes so often that we unfortunately bled the desire of curiosity dry and there were no nooks nor crannies left to explore. Not even the imagination of the same ilk of Planets of the Apes could satisfy that need. That was until we decided that the boundaries set by parents were putting a cap on our fun, and ignored them in favour of exploring the bushes at the perimeter of the estate park. Adventure outplayed authority. One afternoon myself, my brother, and the youngest of the neighbours--let's call him Jake, and he happened to be in my year group at school, towards the younger end of the pack--took it upon ourselves to explore the world beyond where we were allowed. We had one area in mind, though, which you of course know to be the park bushes.

The bush we were interested in could be accessed by walking along the small, right-hand side field we played our games on, and crossing over the width of a path that led to another neighbouring close. Beyond this narrow path were two bushes. The left one was mostly bereft of foliage and no bigger than the ones we played with in the past, but the right one was as privet-rich as the others and significantly lengthier. There was a break in between these two bushes that if you followed it all the way through, you would see the park. Stepping briefly out onto the field allowed us to see where the relative bushes ended, but this simply wasn't enough for us. It was not where this bush seemed to end: it was where this bush ended from within. There were new worlds to explore and new garrisons of apes to defend ourselves from.

Walking into the break of the bushes showed the way. Within, we took a right into our preferred bush's entrance. This was immediately different to the ones we had previously explored: there seemed to be little natural light entering it, only through streaks between the planks of wood at the right side that separated the bush from the gardens of those on its opposite. There also seemed to be no end to the bush gazing at it from the entrance, even though you could see where the bush led to via the adjacent field. We knew there was an end, but why were we not reassured by this fact? What if we went deeper within, and we lost sight of both the entrance and the exit? What if the stranger danger principles adults had been teaching us was well-steeped in reality? What if something were to happen to any of us...one way or another?

It was this reticence that stopped us going far into the bush on that day.

We hung around the first ten to fifteen metres or so of the bush. It was novel, sure, but ultimately unsatisfying. The fear of the unknown and our safety unfortunately outweighed the desire to explore further. Jake would be climbing the tree branches to see if he could see the outside world from the top, whereas me and my brother would navigate through tight spots to gather fallen branches as a means of creating a small "den". We left when the activity became as exciting as any other expedition in the bushes, and played some football on the greenery until late afternoon, where we would not be allowed outside for the rest of the evening because of tea time.

The game of football subsided an hour or so before tea time, and the three of us sat outside on Jake's lawn house to look at a few toys he brought out from his room. Whilst engrossed in that, I kept thinking about the bush earlier. What was stopping us from going in deeper? My curiosity grew again and I started to think about whether the fear was justified. Who would really be hiding in a bush? It was still bright outside. I mean, it was in the middle of Spring. The sun would not be setting until later, and it was strong as it was at noon. It boiled down to the fact that I was adamant on returning.

They were too scared. But I couldn't be.

The other two were distracted in Jake's house for a while. I walked towards the bush again and thought about it all. Imagine how cool I would be if I told the others that I made it to the end of the bush when they couldn't, and I wouldn't be telling a lie! Each step was one of excitement. A minute or so had passed before I made it to the break and reached the entrance of the bush.

I remembered it again. The absence of natural light apart from that coming in through the withered fence that shielded the adjacent properties, the never-ending trees emitting privet-leaves, and the crunching of twigs underneath my feet that counted each step deeper into the foliage. I began walking into near-darkness, holding onto the towering trunks to keep my feet firmly on ground, frequently looking back to see how far the light from the entrance had moved away from me. It was not long before I surpassed the previous effort. Everything was fine when you thought of this as an adventure, which was the point.

Until my mind began to wander.

I was completely alone in here. A wave of dread washed over my body from head to toe. What the hell was I thinking, coming here all by myself? Perhaps it was naivete: I got caught into thinking that I had it figured out and could have bragging rights on making it to the end. How could I, though? I was the biggest chicken out of my group of friends.

This didn't stop me.

All it did was slow my pacing, and I gripped the tree branches more firmly as I looked into the distance still seeing no end to this bush. I was not exactly turning back and giving up. What made me eventually bolt out of the bush, however, was something that made me surmise that I wasn't alone in here.

At first I thought I was mistaking it for an oddly-shaped tree and this was my prevailing theory for a long time afterwards, but I thought I saw something deeper within that day. It was an indiscriminate thing that was a dark shade of brown all over, and had a certain presence that did not register in my mind as inanimate. I could not see if it had eyes--or even a face--but I felt that it was watching me. There was no indication as to whether it was human, beast, or anything similar, but I felt like it had sensed me, and felt like it was now going to harm me. It had this feeling of "why did you come here" mixed with the pleasure that it was going to hurt me. My mind filled in the rest as I cried out and scarpered back towards the break. I imagined this presence following me as I ran with the thought of it catching me, fuelling me to run faster. The crunches of twigs underneath my feet masked any other noise, so I could not tell if it was hurtling towards me, and I simply lacked the courage to turn around and make whatever was there real. Never had rays of light been more of a relief in my life as I embraced it running out, realising that nothing could hurt me in broad daylight. When I reached the field and slowed my pace, I looked behind me and saw that nothing had came out of the bush with me. Perhaps it was a stranger and he did not want to be seen. Or perhaps nothing was there at all...which was also what I theorised for a long time.

My brother and Jake saw me as I ran back to the cul-de-sac. I told them about the bush we went in earlier and how I saw something within. My mind had it pinned as a person, but I upstaged the tale to its being a monster to pique their interest. They laughed and refused to believe me, but they were not able to tell me why they were afraid of going deeper into the bush earlier. Their best excuse was that it was "just scary", not being able to say what was scary about it other than the darkness. It's not the darkness: it's what's in it.

Days passed and they still refused to go into the bush. Since my brother and friends always expressed disinterest in exploring the bushes from that point on and I sure as hell wasn't going in on my own again, we eventually forgot about exploring the bushes and created more games of our own in the area we knew. Deep down I was still curious as to what lay deeper within the bush, but thoughts became less frequent as make-believe was substituted out.

--------

I moved house at the age of around eight or nine to the other end of the same estate. This meant that I never really met up with friends from the neighbourhood as much nor played in the close, although I did make some new friends at school to spend time with. We used to call ourselves "the gang", although we were far from a gang: it was simply a fancy way of referring to our group of friends. There were three of us: Dan, Tom, and of course myself. We used to meet up outside school from time to time. These friends were generally well-behaved and never got me into trouble. My parents took to them more kindly and suggested that I stayed away from Jake as a substitute for these newer friends.

One meeting outside school revived my interest in the bush.

I took Tom and Dan to the same estate park one day--now off the reins of parents--and we played a game of football and sat on the swings afterwards, happening to face the direction of the bush that instilled a sense of wonder during my childhood. We spoke for a little while about it and I told them how I always wanted to explore those bushes as a child, but was always too scared to do so. I never mentioned what I saw inside that one day, only that the darkness of the bush made me fear for what. I told them how we used to play make-believe and how similar it was to the imaginary games we played at breaktime during school, and how the bushes enhanced the realism.

What if we went back in, I thought.

There were now gaps in the bush from above where trees had fallen, so darkness seemed not an issue. I was a fair bit older and had more of a sense as to what was real and fiction, even if there was a suspension of disbelief during make-believe on the off. I thought how I could persuade them to get on board. There was safety in numbers, and perhaps having other people there could assuage the fears I once held and conclude that what I saw that day really was a tree.

"Now that was not pretty".

Those words exited Dan's mouth before I could even articulate my desire of exploring the bushes again. He was staring bug-eyed towards the gap in the middle of the bushes, looking as if he had witnessed a murder. Without saying a word, me and Tom averted our gazes towards the bush. I did not know what I was looking for, and at that stage I did not know if I wanted to know what I was looking for. However, I had to know what he saw, because it could vindicate what I experienced a few years ago. Was this something I wanted vindicated?

The image I had in my mind was that something in the bush was bleeding or falling apart, and that something in the bush happened for this something to be maimed in this way. The creak of the swings ceased. Dan leaped over the park's wooden barriers, and invited us to follow him into the bushes to see what was over there. Dan always saw himself as a leader, and we followed in his footsteps and used his courage in this moment as reassurance that things were going to be fine. What child who was so clued up stranger-danger was going to walk head on into a death trap? Dan somehow conveyed safety in his stead.

We walked into the gap that exposed the innards of the bush. This put me further into the bush than I had ever been, but I never truly felt deep inside because of the new entrance behind me. Looking in the direction towards the break showed no light, and looking deeper into the bush to the left showed no sign of exit. We could see where the bush led from the outside--into a few more connecting hedges--but not from the inside. Just what was going on in here?

The three of us stood a few feet apart from one another, looking in all directions. What did Dan see? He never spoke a word about what he saw. I used my personal guesses as anchors for things to look out for, but saw nothing. Dan looked towards the direction of where the break was, and paused for a moment.

Nothing.

Myself and Tom followed suit. We did not say anything to one another. We watched. And waited.

Nothing.

No words were spoken by anyone for a moment. The bushes were quiet apart from an intermittent rustle of leaves from the wind and the snapping of branches underneath our feet.

"Run!"

My heart jolted. Dan was the first to sprint headfirst out of the bushes after bellowing this. That same sense of toe-to-head dread kicked in before I could even process Tom's leaving the bush in suit. Dan and Tom did not stop running, and neither did I once I managed to shift my fear-stricken legs. We ran out of the park, beyond any sight of bushes, and towards the shops. He never told us what he saw, and to be honest I never knew whether it was because he was too afraid to tell us or whether he did not know what he saw.

"I've seen something like this before". I piped up about my experience in that bush.

Dan did not seem relieved that he was not alone. He immediately retorted that what he saw seemed different as to what I saw. In fact, Dan hastily said that he did not see anything. He mentioned that he felt that something was there. This feeling was overwhelming, and felt that something was there, sensing him, and willing harm upon him. I never knew whether his experience in the bush matched what he saw with us on the swings, either. Or whether the intrusive thought of someone falling apart matched the reality.

The rest of the day was spent in avoidance of any sort of greenery. We wandered the estate talking about other things in an attempt to take our minds off of what we experienced. Apart from one or two conversations at school, none of us really mentioned the bush again. I became susceptible to the idea that Dan was playing an elaborate game to entertain us.

--------

The day everything became real was when I decided to go back into the bushes without Tom, Dan, Jake, or my brother, again.

The decision to do so was by accident and impulse. There were no further plans for me to go back into the bushes, and by that age I was reaching the end of my primary school run and was a stone throw's distance from entering adolescence. I had free volition to go where I pleased throughout the estate, and decided to go on a bike ride around to kill an hour's worth of time during a spring Saturday afternoon to pave the way for evening television; the pinnacle of the weekend as a child. The route was made up as I went along it, but was invented to fulfil the goal of cycling for longer than I had ever done in the past. It took me through streets and fields I had only seen from a distance, and of course, through the estate park.

I scoped the bush in my line of sight as I nonchalantly cycled through the park. It instantly took me back to those times during childhood. It was like my mind was calling me to go on over and visit it once again. I cycled across the greenery towards it and approached an entrance to the bush that I never saw during previous visits. This was its end. I could have entered the bush this way and saw what it looked like from within; however, there was a part of me that wanted to walk through the bush from start to beginning to let sleeping dogs lie, even if I thought of Dan as a daydreamer. The final chapter to the tale that was my early childhood, if you will. Thus I cycled over to the opposite entrance, dismounted my bike, and walked with it through the all-too-familiar break, leading to the entrance of the bush. My entrance to the bush. I balanced my bike against a tree at the bush's opening, took a few steps inside, and it all came back.

Everything was like it was during childhood, sans the fear. As I walked into the bush, I thought about what myself and Dan saw on those two separate occasions. Again, I reasoned that I had an over-active imagination at that age, and maybe so did Dan, and was having us on to entertain us. I had now been walking a minute into the bushes and felt no fear nor discomfort. It was dark, sure, but light came in from the gaps in the fence and I felt a new kind of solitude. I looked ahead into the distance and saw only more trees and leaves; no sign of that exit I only looked at a few moments ago from the other side. There were no brown-hued shadows, and it made me think that my mind was playing tricks on me during my previous visits. The only thought that occupied my mind was whether someone was going to steal my bike.

Footstep after footstep took me deeper within.

Turning my back towards the break I had entered from emitted light no longer. I was probably halfway into the bush now, and I could neither see entrance nor exit. This was further than I had ever reached as a child, and about the same part of the bush myself, Dan, and Tom stood in quite some time ago. If what Dan saw was earlier on in the bush, I had now passed it and braved whatever troubled us on those peculiar days. I was over the hump, and now I simply had to make it to the exit so I could walk back around the outside of the bush and retrieve my bike.

The bush was more densely populated with trees as I entered its second half, and it forced me to hug the fence spanning the right-hand side of the bush. Few sources of light were coming in from the gaps in the fences now because it appeared that people living in the gardens had stationed their garden sheds against the fence, so I relied on the gaps in the trees above to pave my way. I also had to navigate through thorns and watch where I placed my hands and feet to avoid getting splinters on the wood and branches. Clutching the planks with the tips of my fingers, I took it step-by-step, and slowly but surely found myself making it through the most difficult part of the bush so far. A final stretch of this tightly-packed route forced me to crawl on my hands and knees for a few moments, which took me out into the open once again and finally to my feet. I grasped the branches for stability once again, and moved my head upright. Confusion ensued.

There was still no sign of the exit.

I turned my head back on the route I had taken, and looked around the trees that I had been crouching and crawling between for quite some time. It was quite a trek in of itself, and I was unsure as to why it had not led me to the exit. Perhaps there was no light coming in from the exit because it was connected to another bush--which it was, to be fair--and I was close to the end already. Just a minute's worth of walking to go and I would be there, I thought. Baby steps.

Another minute had passed. Still no sign of the exit.

I was more angry than confused at this point. I felt deceived, like my effort of walking towards the exit had not been recognised. As my footsteps became heavier, slamming into the ground with frustration, I began to notice a few other things. Fewer specks of light were coming in from the fence to the right. In fact, I forgot that there was a fence there at all in the past minute or so, because trees were sprouting in front of it, seemingly covering every square inch. And where was the light coming in from the field side? Standing still and observing my surroundings to the left, I saw only more trees like the ones I had been holding on to. How deep had I gone into this bush? Did I go too far, and I had not noticed? I walked towards the left to see if I could exit the bush via a gap like the one Dan had found, but I only found more trees. Tree trunks as far as the eye could see. There was light shining on those trees, but only from above. The treetops were the only things paving the route around me, and they seemed to span forever. In all directions.

I contemplated coming back the way I came, but it took me long enough to get this far in, and there was a pit in my stomach at the thought of whether I could even make it back. In fact, looking back only made me realise how unfamiliar the surroundings looked. Did I really come from that way? I remember very little of it. The layout looked different, but maybe it only looked different from the opposite direction? Only then did I realise that the only option was to keep moving forward, hoping that I would come out the other end. Perhaps my mind was being overactive again like it was when I was a child. I let the crunching of wood beneath my feet ground me and snap me out of the incessant rattle of my anxieties and move onwards. But it felt like for every step I took, the exit of the bush seemed further and further away.

The feeling of dread washed over my body once again.

I had not felt it in years, but it was unmistakeable. I began running through the bushes, reliving the terror I felt on that first encounter. The darkness and the claustrophobia of the trees became too much to bare, and I wanted out. I contorted my body through the trees during my flight, occasionally grazing them as I brushed by, and used every ounce of will and hope I had to make it to the exit. I was not even thinking about my bike at this time. A lost bike would be a mere sacrifice compared to the fear and helplessness I was experiencing at this place in time. Anything would have been a trivial expenditure if it meant seeing the blue sky again and resuming my exploration of the estate.

Look back.

A thought crossed--echoed across, rather--my mind as I pelted towards the thought of a light in the distance that I questioned the existence of. It was a thought that I heeded so heavily that it stopped me in my tracks, once again gripping the trees around me and brushing away hanging thorns. Putting my left foot significantly in front of my right, preparing myself to run once again, I slowly crooked my neck behind me, again experiencing that familiar feeling that something was sensing and watching me.

My gaze fixated on a shuffle in the distance behind me. It was that presence. It had a dark-brown hue, undiscernible features, but ultimately an ineffable sense that it knew something else with in here with it. I did not run, but briefly stood in trepidation to observe it. It stood at adult male height and was partly obscured by a tree trunk, and remained stationary when I froze in position and acknowledged its existence. I saw no eyes attached to it, but I knew we were making some equivalent of eye contact. Originally mistaking them from branches, my mouth became agape when I noticed a pair of antlers emerging from the figure.

You should not have come here.

A raspy voice in my mind harshly whispered those words to me as I ran as fast as I could, away from the presence. I heard the snapping of branches and twigs as I ran, but could not tell if it was caused by me or the thing from behind. A cold air gushing within the bush made the hairs on the back of neck my stand up, and there was sense of weight on the posterior regions of my body. The thing must only be a few feet behind me now. I drew breath after breath, summoning the will to keep on running, but the bushes kept on stretching in all directions, forever and ever. All signs of the fence to the right had gone, and the light from above began to dim as I sprinted into the unknown darkness. Suddenly I tripped over a fallen tree trunk, and my body fell limp. I closed my eyes during the fall as I thought about my mortality. Perhaps this was all a dream, and I would wake up before I was caught. I accepted my fate of being caught in this presence's grasp, and rejoiced in the fact that the adrenaline would shoot me upright in my bed and I would be safe at home, calling for my mother's comfort. I braced for impact on hitting the ground, imagined the velvet comfort of my pillow against my head, but the falling sensation continued.

I continued falling.

I dared not to open my eyes. My body flailed aimlessly in an attempt to catch the air; anything, as I was falling. The crackling of leaves and branches began to fade into the distance as I eventually hit dirt, now tumbling down and feeling every individual impact of my body from the surface bruise and strain me. The rolling of my body abruptly stopped with a period of more falling, and I finally hit terra firma with one resounding thud as all sound in the world began to fade away.

And all was quiet.

--------

I came to and felt the floor beneath me.

I remembered what had just happened. There was a presence chasing me and my life was in danger, so I jerked upright and looked around me in all directions to scope it out. All was silent and I could see no sign of any being that wished to harm me. There was no sign of it...or anything...anywhere.

This was when I also realised that I was somewhere I had never been before.

I was in some sort of forest. The sky was bright but grey, and trees were no longer as densely packed as they were, instead being farther and fewer between and larger in size. These trees looked like old oaks, completely devoid of leaves and much different from the privet spouting ones forming the bush, stretching further into the sky and seeming to have an impossible amount of branches stemming from each individual trunk. Each branch deviated several metres away from the trunk but never seemed to meet with the branches from other trees. The only evidence of these trees once bearing life was of rotten leaves spanning the dirt.

For a season that signified life, there seemed to be anything but.

Everything was silent apart from the occasional breeze rattling the canopy from above. There was no sound of birds, animals, children laughing, or any form of wildlife. It was peaceful: certainly different to the dread I felt in the bush. I sat down against a tree trunk and wondered where I was and what had happened. Looking into the distance gave me no indication as to where I was because it was only trees and leaves as far as the eye could see, and no sight of where to go if I was to go about leaving the forest, and where I would subsequently end up. How would I even go about getting home?

I thought about looking in the direction from which I fell, but I could not see any slopes that were big enough for me to have fell as I did. However, what I did notice in that period of introspection was a small break of trees in the distance, similar to the ones I saw upon entering the bush. Barren, withered oak trees were staggered on either side of the entrance, and seemed to be the entrance to the bush I was previously in. Perhaps this was my way back home. I hobbled over to the break in the distance and peered inside. No evidence of any slopes. It was not what I was expecting inside, either. Sure, the inside of the break looked like the bush I was just in, but the tree trunks were a mahogany colour instead of the usual sunken brown, and the leaves seemed a little discoloured, closer to a yellow than green. Something felt off about this bush. I accepted it in my mind as the way I came, but I felt an unease peering deeper within. It was like having a dream of your hometown, and in the dream recognising it as your hometown, but upon waking up realising the layout was off in some way, and you slap yourself for wondering why you did not notice it in the dreamstate.

The thought of being in this new, tranquil area beat the thought of going back into the bush and risking losing myself further. I backed away from the break and began strolling into the forest, slowed down only by the mild injuries I had sustained from the tumbling and landing. I figured if I became lost, I would simply head back in the direction from whence I came and try the alternate bush only if I became absolutely desperate. For now, anything was better than that bush.

On my way through the quiet wood, I thought about my friends and what they would have thought if they saw this, too. I knew what I saw as a child must have been the same as I was a saw barely a few moments ago, but is this what Dan saw? Would they have ended up here if went alone into the bushes? What would have happened if they got caught by the antlered presence? What was that presence? Was it protecting something that lay here? I thought about bringing them here if I could get out, but that was if I could get out in the first place. Nothing like this had ever happened before in my life, and I had no idea if I could return. It was an adventure I did not ask for.

Like with the bush, the forest never seemed to end. Apart from the incline and decline of the terrain every once in a while, the only things that entertained my vision were trees and decaying leaves. I tried calling to see if anyone else was around, and tried talking out loud to myself a few times to keep my mind sane, but all seemed helpless. Eventually I was beckoned by the sound of flowing water, and by tracking the origin of the noise, I made it to a stream. It stream ran from east to west relative to my position.

I decided to use it as my guide. Thinking back to geography lessons, I reasoned that the source of a river tends to be of a high elevation, so perhaps by heading to the source I could get a better vantage point and navigate my way out of the forest. I considered doing this with the trees earlier, but famously within my social circle I had never been apt at climbing trees and there seemed to be no possible way of scaling the trunks without serious risk of injury. So I decided upon another route. I looked to see if there was any change of elevation along the banks of stream. Looking right--or east, even if it was not actually east--showed a rise in terrain, and looking left--you guessed it, west--showed a dip in terrain. I headed easterly in the hope that it would give me a lead for learning more about this place.

The route ahead of me began to steepen. It remained silent in the forest as I asked myself why the forest was so quiet, although I ceased that line of thought as I formed an idea. The oak trees around me followed some sort of pattern during the ascent, almost paving the way forward for me. They were arranged in a straight line at a somewhat staggered distance from one another, taking me somewhere. As I climbed higher and higher, visibility decreased as I wondered how far I had climbed. It certainly was not that far, but I warmed to the idea that anything was possible in these parts and reasoned that if I wanted to go somewhere or have something happen, a change in environment was evidence of my doing something right.

There was a thick mist towards the summit. I coughed as I approached the precipice, wondering if this was even mist in the first place. The trees no longer paved the way and tapered away either side of me as the ground levelled out. In the mist I could make out large stones--wide and no taller than myself--dotted around one another forming an oval. And I saw it again, in what looked like the epicentre of the mist.

There was that brown shadow.

There were features I could not make out. Two antlers protruding from its head. A gaze felt by psychic link as opposed to physical eye contact. But this time came a sensation of its not resembling anything remotely human. It felt otherworldly. I became paralysed with fear and greeted the unrelenting sense of dread once again as the being began to shift in the distance. All remained silent.

The presence's movements were unusual. Its shoulders retracted backwards, and its lower body contorted in a multitude of directions as it made for my location. However, it seemed to travel at a speed inconsistent to the movement of its lower extremities, covering more ground than I expected and appearing larger in its approach. It was coming at me at some speed, and I felt the urge to run.

Don't run, though, I thought to myself. I needed to see what it was first.

I expected to see its true form as it emerged from the mist. However, it was still obfuscated by shrouds, apparently cloaked by something other than mist despite having nothing to coat it with. Homing in on me, segments of matter underneath its antlers began to part, and the stench of rot filled the air as I spotted several sharp appendages emerging from them. I retched as I fled, desperate to avoid a fate worse than anything I anticipated from the bush. Words echoed across the landscape once again.

You should not have come here.

Those bellowing words increased in volume as I heard its breath behind me during its close. It was speaking directly to me. Every gasp it took during its hunt resembled the ticking of a centipede mixed with the sound of one clearing phlegm from their throat. I heard my heartbeat pound in my ears as I ran downstream and then south, trying to rediscover where I came to. There were inclines, declines, oak trees that seemed familiar, piles of crumpled leaves, engulfed by the all-consuming mist that had now spread across the forest. My flight took me to a familiar light in the distance. It was the passageway birthed by the gaps in foliage...the entrance to the mahogany grove.

You should never have come here.

You will never leave.

As I ran back towards the break that led to the alternative bush, the ground beneath me begin to tremble. Roots sprouted out of the ground, and branches and leaves blossomed from these waving stumps. They towered over me and wrapped in all directions until I could no longer see the grey skies above the canopy. The remaining light that seeped in through the gaps of the newly-arrived branches around me shifted to a familiar yellow hue, fallen leaves began to sink into the ground being seemingly swallowed by the dirt, and the distant sound of children playing crept up. The hounding of the presence subsided as the whooshing of wind became inaudible, and by glancing over my shoulder the thing began to recede from my field of view, fading away as its antlers disappeared underneath the horizon. By arriving at the break, I spotted my bike still leaning against that tree I propped it against before entering the bush a short while ago, noticing that the area was bereft of both mahogany and oak with not a yellow leaf in sight.

I pushed my bike to the field next to the bush and collapsed onto my knees, finding myself laughing in a daze. The relief of being home was palpable and I felt a few tears roll down my face. The next thought that followed was to go home and embrace my family, but I wondered who would believe the story I had to tell. They would think that I was merely playing another game of make-believe. How have the police not investigated this place, either, and how has no one else encountered what I encountered? And indeed, that ended up being the case, but the hope of someone understanding me had not died completely. I still had my friends--both old and new--who had experienced unusual happenings in those hedges. They might believe me, and they might want to go and check things out for themselves.

Tomorrow would be a new day. I sat in my room planning on what to take for my next journey into the bush, and contacted my friends about what happened, and whether they would be happy to investigate. They were in disbelief, but wanted to come along to see me "make a fool of myself". Even Dan expressed this sentiment, as afraid as he was that day. As I look back, however, there was no greater foolishness than not heeding the advice of the presence of staying away.

submitted by /u/RebornHellblade [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2DF4iu3

#Blogger #Story

0 notes