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raendown · 4 years

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With NaNo going on I am utterly terrible about remembering to post updates!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5367 Chapter: 5/9 Rated: T+ Summary: When his brother disappears coming home from town Madara goes looking for him only for both to end up taken prisoner in a castle hidden by magic generations ago. The candelabras talk, the furniture sleeps, and a great white beast hides himself away in the eastern wing. As he uncovers the story behind this place and gets to know the last small group of ‘survivors’ Madara gradually makes a new home here in the least likely of places.

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Chapter 5

“You did not!”

“It was a common pastime when I was young, is it not so anymore? In fact I believe I was the only child in my age group who did not enjoy rolling a hoop with a stick. However, that was mostly due to the fact that I much preferred to sequester myself in the library reading books far above my expected level.” Tobirama’s chest puffed out ever so slightly with pride and Madara laughed again.

“So all the other kids were boring losers playing with sticks and a hoop but you were a nerd. Awesome.” Anticipating the frown of disapproval, Madara hustled a few steps ahead and pretended to inspect an admittedly beautiful vase on a random table, hiding his laughter in admiration for the intricate designs.

Once they finally got past the awkwardness of actually speaking after ignoring each other for several weeks Madara was pleasantly surprised to find an amusing companion in Tobirama. Their first true bonding exercise was avoiding Hashirama together and working as a team to distract and evade, neither wanting to stay and listen to the idiot sobbing melted wax for hours at a time. It took a while to convince Izuna he wasn’t crazy for making friends with the one that trapped them here but after a few days Madara could safely say that he did not regret their burgeoning new friendship. Tobirama was interesting.

“Forgive me if this offends but I am unaware of the current educational standards. Do you or your brother know how to read?”

“We can, yeah. Izuna would rather do other things, although a lot of the time he doesn’t have much choice. There’s not much else to do when you’re lying in bed all day except maybe knit. I like to read though. I was one of the library’s only patrons in our village.” Now it was his turn to fluff up like a peacock. A lot of the villagers never bothered with any education besides caring for their land. Some had no one to teach them, some had no interest. Madara considered himself and his brother lucky that their parents had deigned to pass on a little education to their children. The story had been that the skill was passed down through their family because they were descended from noble stock, something he’d never believed until Kagami oh so casually revealed that it was actually true.

“Shall we visit the library?” Tobirama asked.

“You have a library? Hashirama took me on so many tours around this mountain of a place and not once did I see a library!”

The other shook his head. “My brother was ever bored by reading. His pursuits were more of the physical realm. We were a well-balanced pair in our day, he and I.” His voice took on a melancholy tinge as he trailed off and Madara hopped on the chance to distract. Today was not a day he wanted either of them to start moping.

“Right then, show the way!”

His mock-cheer seemed to draw Tobirama out of whatever cloud he’d been about to shroud himself in and the atmosphere between them remained fairly mellow, the path of their aimless wandering turned aside with purpose to head for the southern wing. When he first explored the castle with Hashirama Madara remembered thinking the southern wing was oddly smaller than the others but now he realized it wasn’t. They had just spent less time exploring those parts because Hashirama didn’t care for them, the sneaky idiot.

Getting anywhere took forever here since the entire building was roughly the size of a village center at its base and several stories tall so the two of them made idle conversation about what games they both played as children to see if there was any commonalities between the changing generations. As it turned out there were a few things they could both recall doing and, ironically enough, they were all the games they’d had to be forced to play along with like hopscotch and spinning tops.

“Ah, here we are,” Tobirama interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence to indicate a set of massive wooden doors that had once been painted a very soft green, though the paint had faded and peeled with no one taking the time to rejuvenate it over the years. They were also several times taller than either of them.

“How in the hell are we supposed to get in there?” Madara demanded. “Either one of those doors probably weighs more than I can move without some kind of pulley system!”

“Yes, very likely, but that is why this is here.”

With that Tobirama reached over and took hold of a secondary handle in the left door that had been cleverly hidden by the old paint job, even move indistinguishable with so much peeling paint drawing the eye everywhere else. As casually as if he opened secret portals all the time Tobirama pulled open a smaller door out of the massive one and turned back to Madara with a smirk that said he knew very well he’d just blown the human’s mind.

Madara had every intention of snapping back with some kind of sassy retort but the moment he stepped through the door his mind was empty of almost everything but awe. He thought back to the library in his village, how he’d always been so proud of himself for reading almost half of the books, and could not help the hysterical bubble of laughter that escaped for believing himself well-read. Every book he’d ever consumed in his life would not have filled a single shelf. The room itself was massive, the number of shelves lining each wall mind-boggling, and the number of trees it would have taken to fill so many books would probably have outnumbered the very forest this castle was surrounded by. For a wild moment he felt somehow unqualified to be in here.

“That is…a lot of books.”

“And that is a respectable understatement.”

“Shut up! This is amazing!” Madara stood close to the entrance for another minute just to admire the sight of so much human knowledge all in one place.

Then he turned and sprinted for the closest spine he could get his hands on, tracing the high quality leather and greedily admiring the gold embossed lettering decorating several of them in a row. Dust coated everything in thick layers but underneath the books were thick and sturdy looking with no signs of deterioration or damp. Just the thought of how much knowledge might be contained within this one room was enough to stagger him, almost enough to make him salivate, so without making himself wait any longer he reached up to pull the closest book out and admire the front.

“An interesting choice to start with,” Tobirama noted, stepping up behind him.

“Why, what is it?”

“That is a genealogy register; this particular section is a record of my family history going back more generations that I’m sure anyone has cared about for at least half of those generations. What you have there is a volume dating somewhat near to one hundred years before my birth.”

Madara lifted one eyebrow and looked down at the book in his hands with disappointment. “Oh. Boring. I’ll look at something else then. Where does the family photo album section end?”

He followed Tobirama’s clawed finger to where it pointed at the far wall and had to shake his head first because that was way too many books just to keep track of how many people had been part of one family. Then he hurried across the dusty maw of the open floor to snatch the first book that drew his eye. Once upon a time the leather had been dyed a gorgeous emerald green. From the condition of the page edges it looked as though this tome had been ancient even before it was stopped in time, practically ready to crumble between his fingers. As carefully as possible and with gentle movements Madara opened the book to a random page.

Then frowned.

“What the hell language is this?” he asked.

“The same language we are speaking now,” Tobirama replied with slight confusion. “Perhaps a bit more formal but it is the same language. Is there a problem?”

“No way is this the same, I’ve never even heard some of these words before. Thouest? Hitherto fore? Seemest thine? What kind of witchcraft spell book did I just pick up?” Turning the book side to side and flipping it around did nothing to make the sentences any clearer.

“I assure you that the recipes therein are not witchcraft.”

Madara looked up at his companion with a frown and then back down at the book, squinting. “These are recipes? I honestly cannot follow a single sentence. Why are all the letters so stupidly curly?”

“That is the way of scribes, I suppose.” Tobirama offered a disinterested shrug.

Disappointed again, Madara snapped the book shut and very carefully slid it back in to place. He stepped back and craned his neck to look way up to where a balcony had been built around the perimeter of the room, breaking up the wall close to where the second story would begin. So many books and they were all so stupidly fancy he couldn’t read any of them? That hurt.

“Are there any books that have anything interesting to say?” he grumbled.

“Plenty of them, yes.”

“Hmph. Suppose it doesn’t matter anyway if I can’t bloody decipher them. I shouldn’t have to learn half another language just to read a few books!”

Tobirama, the bastard, was laughing at him. He could tell. No smile appeared but there was a certain tilt to his head that Madara was used to seeing on the villagers that always thought themselves better than him, though oddly enough Tobirama didn’t strike him as quite that stuck up despite his royal upbringing. Either he was naturally blessed with a little humility or the years alone had smothered his pride. Whatever the case he was still laughing.

Just to be clear on how little he appreciated that Madara made sure to shove his nose so far in the air he almost couldn’t see where he was going as he stormed away from the library he’d thought he might be able to lose himself in. He had no illusions about his own skill, he would never pretend to call himself a scholar or a true intellectual of any kind, but he did enjoy the hours he was able to sink in to stories of the past and just thinking of how much rich history there must be here burned him. To be so close to so many treasures and unable to appreciate them, it was torture.

“If words have failed you then would perhaps you would like to see the armory instead?”

“What?” Madara's head jerked down and he stopped in his tracks. “You have an armory? More stuff Hashirama did not mention!”

“It’s a bit of a walk but yes but considering the location I am not surprised my brother was unable to show you this as well. Allow me to escort you.”

This time Madara hustled to match Tobirama’s long strides a little better, twice as excited. “My favorite books to read were always the history books on war. There was the one about a battle that took place only a few miles from our village; when I first read it I was still pretty young and I ditched chores for the day to hike out and play soldier in the field I thought the book was talking about.”

“Pray tell me you wore a pot for a helmet?” Tobirama teased.

After sticking out his tongue Madara had to sheepishly admit, “I may have brought along an apple basket to wear. And a broomstick to use as a sword because I knew a stick from the forest would break if I hit anything with it.”

“How precious. When I was learning swordsmanship my father had crafted for me a wooden sword but I insisted upon carrying a genuine shield.” His heavy nose wrinkled ever so slightly. “It was much too large for my small frame and I needed both hands just to lift it.”

“Now that is precious. Wait, are you any good with a sword?”

“Of course. All members of the royal line were taught to defend themselves in times of emergency. I daresay I was quite skilled, though I never quite reached my brothers’ level of proficiency.” As he spoke his eyes grew distant and Madara huffed. Distant was not what he wanted. Half the point of getting to know Tobirama was helping him get his mood out of the dark clouds he had all but permanently stapled to his own head.

“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Madara admitted. “Maybe you could teach me?”

Looking down at him, a little of the darkness lifted in favor of curiosity. “Teach you?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do with our time, you know?”

Tobirama didn’t answer but he did look thoughtful and that was a hell of a lot better than letting him stew in whatever black hole he’d been about to spiral down. Learning to cross blades with someone a few good feet taller with roughly three times as much muscle was actually a little worrisome to consider when Madara thought about it further, wondering if he’d just signed his own death warrant.

Since it was too late to take the words back now he kept his silence and both of them disappeared in to their own thoughts as they made the trek back over to the far side of the castle where the stables were kept. It made sense, he supposed, to keep the armory and the mounts so close together. He just wished he’d known it was there earlier. All this time he could have been escaping Hashirama's endless babble to go relive his childhood playing soldier with real helmets and a sword that wouldn’t break no matter how many times he tripped over his own feet and smacked it in to a nearby tree.

What he was picturing in his mind was a small room with swords in neat rows and shields hung on the walls, perhaps a small selection of polearms to train with. Surely most knights must have owned their own personal weaponry and kept such things in their quarters. The outside of the building Tobirama led him to was rather unassuming looking, constructed with the same dim brick as the rest of the castle, completely devoid of any artistry or embellishment. Even the door was simple plain wood. When it was pushed open the inside was nothing but shadows and Madara stood blinking in to the darkness as his companion trundled inwards to find candles to light. When he found none Madara could hear him grumbling irritably, stomping over to throw open a window instead, midday light spilling inside to reveal the treasures within.

And what treasures indeed. The swords he had imagined were bigger and more impressive than he could have dreamed. Rather than hanging along the walls they were displayed on wooden racks, some of which also held pikes and halberds and naginata, but above them there were katana with intricate hilts he could hardly believe. Rows upon rows of daggers and poniards, a full display of tessen fans both parchment and metal, and on the opposite wall hung shields of every size and shape. At the end of the room there stood an open archway that he could only assume led to another room with just as many discoveries waiting for him to gush over like an excited child.

Flustered by so many incredible findings and unable to decide what he wanted to explore first, Madara could only spin in a circle letting his eyes roam over the dull blades and imagining how much more unbelievably impressive this collection would have been when there had existed a full staff of servants to care for each item properly.

He had very nearly spun all the way around in a full circle when he spotted a massive curved sickle not unlike the ones his fellow villagers used to sow wheat in the fields. This one topped a much shorter handle to be wielded single-handedly and was attached by a thick chain to an identical blade. With glee spreading across his face in an excited grin he made to step over to the sickles and heft them, to feel their weight, when he spotted it at last. The perfect grail.

“Is that a gunbai?” he breathed, approaching the weapon with reverence in his steps. Tobirama watched from where he remained by the window.

“A rather unorthodox one. If memory serves my grandfather commissioned that for ceremonial use. The man who crafted it sought my grandfather’s favor and so in place of a simple ceremonial piece of artistry he gifted to our family a battle-worthy gunbai as tall as himself.”

“It’s incredible!”

Taller than Madara himself, the massive war fan was constructed of steel and wood, painted with a repeating pattern around the edges to distract from the way they had been deliberately sharpened to a deadly point. When he very carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle and lifted the weapon it was so much heavier than he anticipated that he very nearly went crashing sideways trying to balance himself again.

“Do you know how to wield it?” Tobirama asked.

“Not a clue,” Madara admitted. “But I’ve read about them and I’ve always wanted to see one for myself.”

“Would you like to learn?”

Several nearby weapons rattled ominously as Madara spun around in shock and crashed the edge of the gunbai against a rack of throwing stars. “Are you serious!?”

“I fail to see why not when I had already planned to teach you the art of the sword. What harm is there in choosing a different weapon to better suit your tastes?” Tobirama shrugged in that haughty way of his as though he were offering nothing more momentous than afternoon tea.

“Then yeah! Yes! Oh man, Izuna is going to be so jealous!”

Hefting it again, Madara turned for the door and scurried out of the armory before Tobirama had a chance to call him back. Both halves of the buildings made a right angle that, together with the stables, created a box shape with one open side. When he made his way around he found himself in what must have once been a sparring ring or a practice field. Several wooden targets stood along one side of the square and a collection of straw dummies strapped to wooden poles lined another. Madara headed straight for the dummies and hefted his new weapon.

Only to realize that this would perhaps be a little more difficult to pick up than he had imagined with his swords made of broomsticks. The gunbai was heavy. Madara had never been a farmer for all that he lived in a small farming village, he’d never had quite the muscles that others built up after years of pulling plows and carrying massive bales of hay.

Tobirama came around the corner with an indulgent expression already hovering around the smile twitching his lips and Madara scowled at him before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

“As I was about to say before you dashed off oh so eagerly, it would perhaps be better to learn a set of strengthening exercises first before you injure yourself with such a large weapon that you are so unfamiliar with.” The bastard even had the gall to lift one eyebrow mockingly.

“Uggghhh that sounds like it’s going to be so much more effort than just learning how to swing this right.”

“Indeed. Much more work.”

“What use is magic if you can’t use it for cool stuff? I mean, screw immortality and shape-shifting. Why can’t some witch just pop over for tea and make me in to a battle master in one afternoon?” Madara slumped and stared mournfully down at the gunbai in his hands, picturing how cool he would look if he were able to dance across the field cutting down opponents with one hand. He would probably look even more impressive if he could use something like that sickle in his other hand.

Tobirama snorted and brought him back out of his daydreams. “Are all the youths of your generation so lazy?”

“Oh, youth am I? I’ll bet I’m older than you! Just because you’ve lived longer that doesn’t make you older!” Madara paused and frowned as he thought that through again. When he noticed the judgment in his companion’s face he scowled. “Shut up! I know what I meant!”

“Regardless, the question remains: would you care to learn a few strengthening exercises or not?”

Not wanting to embarrass himself any farther, Madara very reluctantly toted the gunbai back in to the armory where he placed it very carefully back where it came from. Then he followed Tobirama back out in to the training ring and listened with rapture to the new exercise regimen they would apparently be taking up daily from now on. Since most of his physical labor back home had involved mucking out stalls and carrying buckets of oats he’d never given much thought to how very average his muscle mass was and, honestly, he’d never had much motivation to do anything about it. It wasn’t as though he’d ever had anyone to impress.

Getting a bit of exercise every day was better than just sitting around in the kitchen watching Hashirama try to come up with ways to hug his wife without setting her on fire, though, and it wasn’t like he ever had any pressing duties to attend to. So long as he made sure Izuna was fed and had taken his medicine the rest of his days were generally filled with quite a lot of loafing about. If this new regimen happened to come with the added benefit of Tobirama’s face lighting up with true interest as he nattered on about lesson plans he was apparently already composing in his head then that could only be considered an additional bonus.

By the time they returned to the castle Madara was covered in sweat from head to toe and yet he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in such high spirits. As he trained Tobirama had regaled him with stories of the few minor battles he’d been involved in during his youth when they’d been at war with one of the neighboring kingdoms and small forces had stupidly attempted an assault on the royal palace itself. Madara had been just as thrilled to discover they had something in common as he had been to listen to the story itself. If he couldn’t read the history books in the library then listening to a live retelling was just as good – better even. Listening to Tobirama meant he could interrupt with a dozen questions if he could catch his breath enough to ask them and enjoy all the small details historians never bothered to record.

“They did not!”

“I tell no lies. They watched us set up a vat of boiling oil in plain sight, set their ladders straight underneath it, and attempted to climb them as though somehow expecting us not to use whatever means necessary to repel them from our walls. I have never in my life heard a more startled scream.” Tobirama chuckled with sadistic amusement and Madara admired the glint of his misshapen grin.

“Maybe people really were just stupider in your time,” he teased. “I think Hashirama could be used as evidence for that.”

From around the corner a tinny voice could be heard shouting, “There’s no need to be cruel!”

Tobirama was already smiling but at the sight of his metal-bound sibling hopping around the corner with despair etched in to the shape of his face he began to laugh unrepentantly and Madara realized they had a second thing in common. They both enjoyed teasing Hashirama and watching the dramatics unfold. Nothing made for better entertainment than winding Hashirama up and then abandoning him to sob all over his wife, although that usually ended with having to deal with her death glare and leaving himself to the mercy of her cooking when mealtime came around again.

After letting his friend cry himself out over how mean they were being Madara made it up to him by letting Hashirama hop in to his hands and carrying him with them as they travelled the halls.

“Mito and I were concerned when you failed to arrive for dinner; I was coming to see where you might have gotten off to. Why is all of your clothing so damp?”

“We were training!” Madara told him excitedly.

“How exciting! Ah, what were you training?” Hashirama listened with rapt attention while Madara extolled upon the beauties of all the incredible finds revealed to him inside the armory and moaned wistfully when told about Tobirama’s promise to teach him the art of battle. “Oh to hold a blade in my hand again, to hear the singing of steel and the rush of battle.”

Tobirama snorted above them. “Do not pretend you are not a pacifist for all that I never managed to best you on the field.”

“Sparring was ever different from true battle. I would give anything to feel the ache in my limbs after hours of training or the drip of sweat upon my brow. As the years turn I find that I…I quite forget what it was to feel the burn of the sun in my eyes or the kiss of the wind.” Hashirama drooped momentarily and Madara stared at the candelabra in his hands.

It wasn’t often his friend opened up in such a way about how much he missed being human. Beyond the daily mourning of his inability to hold Mito close he generally avoided the subject and even then his yearnings were so overdone Madara realized he had started to treat them as jokes. A quick glance up told him that Tobirama was just as floored by the open admittance, though surprise quickly turned to heavy guilt and he looked away. When Madara looked back down he noted Hashirama following his line of sight only for his own face to crumple with remorse.

“Forgive me little brother, I did not mean to be so maudlin.”

“You should not censor your speech for my sake,” Tobirama forced out. “If you will excuse me, I do believe the mood will improve if I am not present.”

Before either of them could say a word to convince him otherwise he had already turned to storm off in the opposite direction with his long loping stride, too fast for Madara to catch up with unless he broke in to a run. They watched him go until he turned a corner in the hallway and then Madara looked down to the friend he carried between his hands.

“And I had just gotten him in to a better mood,” he sighed, much to Hashirama's obvious chagrin.

“Oh my. I may have, as you say, messed up.”

“Just a little. He’ll forgive you though.”

“But will he forgive himself?”

Madara twisted his mouth to one side and looked back in the direction where Tobirama had disappeared. That was a good question. After spending a day together finally he felt much closer to the other, could see how they might actually become great friends, and with every interaction he found himself more and more determined to help Hashirama with the quest to remind Tobirama of his own humanity. That the actions he believed had made him a monster were truly the only choice he’d had, something anyone in his position would have had to do. They may have lost many lives in the plague but from the story he’d been told Madara would bet that Tobirama’s quick and decisive actions had saved many more.

And he would be willing to bet that the idiot hadn’t let anyone say that to him in a long time.

“Where’s Kagami?” he asked. Hashirama perked up.

“I do believe he was heading to royal apartments when I left the study. What excellent timing! My brother has ever found solace in his young student. As much as I have never doubted his love for me I understand why it is often difficult for him to face me. There is simply too much guilt in him.”

“And in you,” Madara pointed out.

His friend nodded sadly. “We make for quite a morose pair.”

“Well, while Kagami distracts his royal grumpiness I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me the story of how this all happened again? I want to get the details straight. I think it’s about time someone yelled in his face that he’s being stupid.”

Hashirama gaped at him.

“You would not possibly be so insensitive!”

“Oh yes I would,” Madara grunted. “He’s being mopey and dumb and that’s the whole reason this mess started. I get it, he feels really shitty about what happened. But if it were anyone else they would have gotten over themselves by now. He needs a wakeup call and I am just the rude asshole to do it.”

He continued to stump along the halls on his way to the kitchen where he knew Mito would be hard at work in the middle of her dinner preparations. For a woman without hands or limbs she was able to whip up some rather incredible creations. He should really start saying thank you more often. It took several hallways of walking in silence for Hashirama to shift in his hands, crossing both arms with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“I cannot say I agree with your methods but what passes between the two of you in conversation is simply not my business,” he concluded. “You have requested the tale and I will tell you. What you do with that information is out of my control.” Madara offered him a grin.

“That’s the spirit.”

“Perhaps this could wait until after dinner, however? I would not wish to upset my wife.”

“Whatever you want, big guy. Were you big? I saw a portrait of you and your brothers but I never asked which one was you and it’s hard to judge height from a portrait.”

Finally a shadow of cheer returned to Hashirama's engraved countenance as he replied with a sly undertone, “Taller than you, my friend. If you have more questions along that nature I would be more than happy to extoll upon my own beauty as you sate your hunger!”

“Ugh, don’t make it sound so gross!”

The two of them bickered good-naturedly all the way in to the kitchen where Mito was putting the finishing touches on a gorgeous spread of some western dish known as shepherd’s pie. Madara was more than happy to let the good mood rest for a little longer before the conversation returned to somber topics, allowing himself to be pulled in to some lighter reminiscing about the good old days. Yet even as Hashirama spent ten minutes alone trying to find the perfect comparison for the exact red shade that Mito’s hair had been he found his thoughts drifting away to another part of the castle.

Somewhere in the bowels of this oversized stone bucket Tobirama was beating himself up for something that happened countless years before and hadn’t even been his fault, wrapping himself in misery while the rest of them allowed themselves a moment of jocularity. If he were honest with himself Madara understood that a large part of his motivation for helping Tobirama was the selfish desire for his life to go back to the way it had been, for the ability to leave this castle and return to the life he’d been stolen away from. And yet the more time he spent here the more he had begun to wonder with each new day.

Was leaving truly what he still desired?

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction

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writinginstability · 6 years

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Deviating Love Affair - Part 2

PART 1

Soulmate AU with DBH Connor

Pair: Connor x Female! Reader

Prompt: In this universe, you are supposed to receive a tattoo of your soulmate’s name on your 18th birthday. However, you being the lucky winner, never received one on that special day. After years go by, you began to accept the fact that maybe you were never destined to have a soulmate until one day, on August 5th, 2038, you see a certain individual’s name gets written on your wrist. Not only is it odd that your soulmate tattoo wasn’t given to you on your 18th birthday but that in reality, your soulmate isn’t even human.

Word Count: 1749 words

A/N: Hi friends! I’m back with another part! Just an FYI, I skipped through “The Nest” chapter since I didn’t think it really fit with how I wanted the characters to develop so we are just going to pretend that never happened. I’ve also skipped through some other chapters from the game that I thought were too boring and I really don’t want to bore you guys. This part and the next one are going to be kind of slow but I swear it will pick up a little....hopefully...I don’t know.

Feedback is always appreciated and I know this part sucked so nitpick all you want! (I need it because writing is really not my strong suit).

Connor was facing a dilemma. He knew what his purpose was, how he was supposed to hunt deviants and search for their source of deviancy. He also knew that he was a machine, a machine who was not supposed to feel emotions or disobey his master. However, the moment he met you, everything seemed to change within him. He no longer truly knew what he was or how he was supposed to act. For the first time ever, he did not know what to do.

Connor opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the peaceful Zen Garden. The words, “Talk to Amanda” appeared at the corner of his eye. Connor looked around the area before landing on Amanda’s figure standing on the center island by a wall of roses. He slowly made the walk to her while trying to formulate proper sentences which would not upset her nor make him lose her trust.

Once Connor had reached a comfortable speaking distance from her, he introduced himself, “Hello Amanda.”

Amanda looked over her shoulder before replying, “Connor, it’s good to see you.”

Amanda smiled at him before snipping off a flower in front of her. She proceeded to congratulate Connor on successfully locating the deviant as well as properly extracting a confession. She also praised Connor for his achievements while also asking a series of questions of what he has discovered along the way.

Amanda paused for a moment as she sprayed her flowers with water. Connor had hoped that their conversation would be over so he wouldn’t have to face any more of her questioning, especially ones involving you.

“Both Lieutenant Anderson and Officer (Y/L/N) have been assigned to the deviancy cases. What do you make of them?”

Connor paused for a moment, carefully thinking of what to say. “Lieutenant Anderson seems a bit dysfunctional. He clearly has some personal issues which impact his professional behavior. He also seems to want to have nothing to do with this investigation or Androids overall.”

“Unfortunately, we have no other choice but to work with him,” she replied, “What about the other?”

Connor paused once more, but this time, he was taking more time to properly say what he wanted to say without upsetting Amanda. But what could he say? He couldn’t tell her that he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since last night or that the image of your smile was engraved in his mind. After careful thought, Connor spoke again, “She seems to be very invested in her work, unlike her coworker. However, she also seems to be troubled by something, more troubled the moment I introduced myself to her. Overall, she’s a very intriguing character and I wish to learn more about her.”

Amanda stopped what she was doing and slowly turned around to face Connor. “More and more androids are showing signs of deviancy. If they are not stopped, destruction and chaos will occur. You are the only one who can stop this outcome. There are no room for...distractions,” she ended, clearly referencing Connor’s description of you.

Connor nodded as he watched Amanda walk away.

You anxiously tapped your fingers on your thigh as you sat on your couch. You kept glancing over at your phone which sat face down on the coffee table, taunting you with its presence. You were eager to call Hank and talk to him about the events of last night and what it had felt like to meet Connor; however, you were worried about how he would react which kept you from making the call.

After a few more minutes of you contemplating whether or not to bother your easily-annoyed coworker, you picked up the phone and pressed the dial button on his profile.

“Hello?” Hank asked.

“Do you think, and I’m asking out of full curiosity, it’s possible for someone’s soulmate to be an android?” you asked without warning.

“What?” Hank asked.

“Do you think it’s possible for someone’s soulmate to be an android?”

“Hell no, Androids aren’t alive; they aren’t meant to have soulmates. Wait, why are you even asking this?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with your question.

“Think about it Hank, my tattoo says Connor, my soulmate tattoo says Connor. The next Connor I meet just happens to be an Android detective working with us, this has to mean something.”

“Oh hell no, you don’t actually think that that plastic cop is your soulmate do you?”

“Just hear me out Hank,” you replied.

“Look kiddo, I don’t have time for this,” he said as he threatened to end the call.

“Hank!” you exclaimed, stopping him from doing so, “just listen.”

You heard Hank sigh through the phone before he replied, “Continue.”

“Last night, when I met Connor, it wasn’t like I was just meeting another Android, it was like I was meeting another human being. And, I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about him, how he acts, how he talks. It’s like I’m a teenager all over again experiencing a first crush or something and it’s driving me insane. Last night was the first time I’ve felt like that with anyone in a very long time and I can’t just ignore it,” you said.

Hank stayed silent for a couple of seconds as he processed everything that you had just said. “Please say something,” you begged, worried of what Hank might think.

“I don’t buy it,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think the universe made you wait this long for a fucking Android. You deserve better than that,” he replied.

Before you could object, Hank had already ended your call, clearly thinking that you were delusional. You leaned your head back against your seat while running your fingers through your hair in frustration. Maybe you were crazy and maybe you were in over your head; however, nothing else could explain these rush of feelings from the night before.

The next time you ran into Connor was later that night when you heard someone knock on the front door to your apartment. You carefully put down your cup of tea before getting up from your seat to answer the door. You truly did not expect to see Connor standing at your door.

“Hi Connor,” you said with a bit of surprise, “What’s up?”

Connor looked at you up and down for a split second, noticing how you had on black rimmed glasses for a -1.00 prescription and you were wearing comfortable loungewear.

“Hello Officer, sorry to bother you so late. I have just received word of another deviancy case just downtown and wanted to inform you. I also thought it would be better if you were with me before I talked to Lieutenant Anderson.”

You smiled and nodded before replying, “Come in, just give me five minutes.”

You took a few steps back, opening the door wider, allowing Connor to walk in. Connor looked around your home thinking to himself that it was very cozy and comfortable for one person (maybe even two).

“I’ll be right back, but make yourself at home,” you said before retreating to your bedroom to get dressed.

Connor took this opportunity to learn more about you, in hopes to better his relationship with you. The first thing that caught his eye was the lonesome white mug on your island which was still steaming. Connor took a second to analyze the contents of the cup. He noticed that you had brewed a cup of tea, assuming it was your favorite, with exactly 15 grams of sugar.

Connor exited your kitchen and came across a photo album which sat in the middle of your coffee table. He picked up the book and noticed a photo of you and Hank with the words, “Happy Birthday” engraved on its cover.

Connor opened the book and flipped through the photos of you and your presumed close friends at the DPD and various locations in Detroit, all of which had you in mid laughter or with a huge smile on your face. Connor found your smile so charming and genuine. He lightly traced the outline of your face with his fingertips, the edges of his mouth turning slightly upwards. He was so captivated by your photo that he failed to notice you had already left your room and was standing next to him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked as you tried to tame the stray hairs on your head and pull them in a proper ponytail.

“I was-I was just looking at your photo album,” Connor said, somewhat startled by your presence.

You laughed slightly before placing your hand on his shoulder, “Sorry for scaring you.”

Connor quickly glanced at your hand, the warmth of your fingers seemed to burn through his skin.

“Do you want to see something funny?” you asked, snapping Connor out of his thoughts.

Connor nodded slightly before handing the photo album to you. You quickly flipped to a certain page of the album and pointed at a picture of you and Hank. Connor studied the picture for a bit, trying to understand the situation.

“Is that Lieutenant Anderson,” he paused, “in a crab costume?”

You laughed inwardly before replying, “Yes, yes it is. This picture was taken on Halloween and we made a bet the night before. Basically, if the Detroit Gears beat the Boston Celtics, I would have to wear a ridiculous costume of his choice; however, if the Celtics won, Hank would have to wear a crab costume. Guess who won,” you said in between laughs.

Although Connor did find Hank’s appearance to be very entertaining, he was completely drawn to your laugh. The pictures he had seen in your booklet did not truly capture the beauty of your smile. The way your eyes crinkled up, how your eyes literally lit up, and how the sound of your laugh was very pleasant to listen to, almost like a melody. Your laughter made Connor begin to smile and for the first time, he had experienced genuine happiness.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

“Anyways,” you said before your eyes met with Connor’s.

You both froze for a brief second getting lost in each other's eyes. After a few seconds, you shook your head slightly and cleared your throat, breaking the silence between the two of you. You closed the photo album in your hand and placed it back in its original position.

“Ready to go?” you asked Connor.

Connor nodded before following you out of your apartment and into the cold night air of Detroit.

TAG LIST: @girlonthebalcony , @layinglonely , @liveloveandbekind , @pickelope , @avorstori , @dragonempress123 , @i-heart-movies , @moonlitsunset3 , @lydiafrye , @ashura-y , @enderspider , @mapangx3 , @vlkryia , @derpydanandphil , @connorfixinghistie , @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 , @bithepowerofgay , @jessblucifer , @datweirdname , @sarcastic-fuckery , @aklesiz , @pokengirl2 , @seoulxbts , @i-do-wat-i-want , @fuckthatfeeling , @skylawolfstarlight , @freakhalo , @lumpysei, @kurooislittlekitty , @thiriiyum , @ladye11e , @crashintothewall , @purpstraw , @hufflepuffing-all-day-long , @satanic-telephone , @callalilyiskewl, @ultramajorfandomtrash, @sweetlittleviper , @yeah-im-c-r-a-b-b-y , @itybitynovak , @rogueajz , @racrneko , @heypartypeps, @bad-blue-moon-rising , @nerdy-marisie , @phangengar , @lunarlexycon, @noythe , @tayshipping , @kazuha159 , @unprofessional-inhumanbeing , @fineactually , @poodlegods , @mei7298 , @aya-fay , @xlexiiiiiiimakeup , @baguetteslayer , @classy-stars , @crystal-birds-love , @dbhconkarmar , @lone-loba , @am-i-your-friend , @alexkunis , @shadows-echoes , @the-razy-pie-rope , @ev3e , @the-fandoms-with-the-feels , @dontmesswithmeboi , @bibbo-boggerns , @androids-became-human , @nerdylittoyvoid, @harleyscheekheart , @unlikelybreadtimemachine , @spectacular-spiderboy , @fragmentsofmiles , @ricewithfish, @wecheescakeme, @izzy2808, @songofgratitude, @conwhore800, @internalplight, @meetcally, @arkana-eskellion, @dinkythedinosaur, @quartetstarheaven

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lenavonschweetz · 6 years

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The Bridges of Time - Part 6

Look at Me, The World Inside a Frame

Summary: The tale of a man out of time, and the woman who never believed in Soulmates. When her husband and children are away, a mysterious man stumbles into her life and with a simple brush of skin against skin, their lives are never the same. The two share “a brief affair that is never sordid but instead one of two soulmates who have met too late.” - The Bridges of Madison County

Warnings: more tension, a lil angst, soulmate feelings running rampant

A/N: This slow burn is killing me, but damn it all I am going to stick to it! I hope you guys enjoy. you know the drill - I got no Beta, let me know of any mistakes you catch. Love y’all!

The Bridges of Time Masterlist

⏪ Part 5 || Part 7 ⏩

The ride to Bucky’s mystery location is fraught with tension and side glances. You do your best to forget the way that he looked at you in your room, but no one’s ever looked at you like that before.

You had only had sex enough times to count on one hand. There was no desire to before your marriage, so why bother? And within your marriage - the first time to test the waters. It was clumsy, awkward. You didn’t finish. It resulted in your son.

The only other times were on purpose - you wanted another child. It only took a few tries for her. You would never tell Erik that you were relieved by that fact, but then you could tell the feeling was somewhat mutual. You weren’t his soulmate, she’d died before you’d even met and you knew there was no way you could ever replace her, but you could offer him friendship and children. A semblance of the family he’d lost.

It was an arrangement neither of you had a problem with until Bucky. A picture perfect life that you could frame. You’d never thought to look outside of that frame until now.

But Bucky...the way he looked at you... It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Like you were gorgeous. Like he wanted you, not whatever fantasy world you could offer him.

“We’re here.” Bucky suddenly said, tearing you from your thoughts. You exit the truck at the same time, the engine dying as you took in the scenery. You’d known where Bucky had been talking about, but seeing it now in the breaking light of morning it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

You turned to him, sharing his smile.

“It is. So peaceful.” You said. “I’d forgotten what this was like.” Beneath your feet, the grass disappears to make way for the wooden bridge as you make your way further into the picturesque view.

He cocked his head at that and you realized that he’d left his cap and jacket in the car, and it was the most exposed you’d seen him. The tight shirt did nothing to hide his frame, but the glove he still sported on his left hand didn’t escape your notice.

“What what was like?”

“Quiet mornings.” You sigh, looking out across the water. “Time to myself.”

“You don’t mind the company?” You can’t help the smile that his words bring to your face, one that he echoes as he leans against the railing beside you.

“Not when the company is this nice.” He’s quiet then. As are you, both of you just sharing the quiet sunrise as if you’d known each other your entire lives. When you hear the shutters of his camera, you turn, startled to see his camera pointing not at the scenery - but at you. It takes you a moment to find your voice as you stare back at him. Finally, you whisper “Bucky?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He explains sheepishly, letting the camera rest against his chest at the end of its strap. “You just looked so...so at peace.”

You feel the blush instantly, averting your eyes once more.

“You’re beautiful.” He says quietly as if he’s scared to break this trance. “Which I know is the last thing I should be saying to a married woman. But it’s true. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.” Bucky rambles, taking in every curve, every dip, every nuance there is to you. “You make me feel safe. Like I’m not some - some monster.”

“Bucky,” you whisper, “what -”

“I’m sorry, Doll. I never should’ve opened my trap.”

“No, I’m...I’m not mad. I just - a monster? Bucky, you aren’t a monster.” Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for his shoulder, desperate to comfort him. Before you can touch him, however, he’s jumping away from you with fear filled eyes. You mumble a sad sorry underneath your breath before dropping your hand to your side.

“No, I’m sorry.” He groans as he drags his hands down his face. “Can we just start over?” You nod at his sorrowful voice, encouraging him with a small smile. After a moment, he returns the smile and glances at his camera, then you, then the horizon. “Humor me?”

His whisper dances up your spine, and before you know it you’re nodding, listening as he instructs you to look out upon the horizon, then back at him, then down at the bridge itself.

Bucky doesn’t consider himself a photographer - not in the artistic sense, anyway. But when he looks at you through the lens of his camera, commanding his attention with a simple glance, he knows you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen.

The way he’s looking at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, has your heart pounding and your cheeks warming.

“Bucky?” He starts at the sound of his name, tentative voice breaking him from his thoughts. You don’t have to speak aloud for him to know exactly what you’re asking.

“I didn’t want to forget.” He whispers, unable to meet your eyes.

“Forget?” There’s a story there, you realize. One you are simply dying to know.

“This.” He answers, eyes tracing the rising sun and the way it paints the sky different colors. “I didn’t want to forget this place, this moment...you.” He snaps a photo of the landscape to escape the silence, speaking his next words under his breath. “Though I don’t know how I ever could.”

You hear them anyway.

“Forget this place?” You offer, not wanting to push him but wanting so desperately to see what hid behind his mask.

“Forget you.”

For a moment, the only sounds you hear are those of birds chirping their good mornings, crickets playing their songs, and your heart thumping loudly in your ears.

When he looks at you like that...

“Tell me about your photos.” You say with sudden courage. “How do you know what you want to photograph?”

A good question. One he’s not sure he knows the answer to, or at least he’s never thought of it.

“I photograph what makes me feel.” He says, handing the camera to you but being very careful as not to touch you. “I spent so long only feeling anger and fear, but when I see something beautiful that reminds me what my life used to be like...what it could be like again...” He gestures to the horizon, your own eyes following.

Suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of peace, you raise the viewfinder to your eyes and snap a picture before you can convince yourself not to. Not a moment later, your picture comes up on the tiny screen and you show it to Bucky with pride.

There’s something unreadable in his eyes when he looks at your picture, then at you.

“I’m sorry I kept you so long.” He says suddenly, pulling you from this perfect moment. “I don’t want your husband to worry.”

His words instantly remind you that Erik will no doubt be calling sometime soon to check up on how you’re doing alone. But you don’t want him to leave again. You don’t know what you would do if he took this dizzying feeling away once more. So you say the first words that come to mind, hoping he’ll accept as you gently hand him back his camera.

“Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.” Once again, his fingers do the most to make sure there is no contact between the two of you. But even without touch, the moment feels beyond intimate.

He gifts you with a blinding smile, snapping one more picture of you and the horizon, genuine happiness adorning your face.

“I’d like that.”

TAGS

TRUE LOVE TAGS:

@bxtchybrie , @sergeantjamesbarnes107th , @itsanotheravengersimaginesblog, @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme , @james-bionic-barnes , @mickeyl322 , @stank-tower , @lostinspace33 , @thecrownedrose , @nikkitia7 , @redroomproperty , @magpiegirl80 , @fifi1433 , @knittingknerdy , @specs15 , @justareader , @metalarmandredstar , @agentsofcap , @marvel-lucy , @pickylittlebitch , @shamvictoria11 , @twistedfate108 , @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky , @allinhishands , @hellomissmabel , @mizzzpink , @smexy-bucky-waifu , @annwhojumps , @avengerofyourheart , @saffreelove , @palaiasaurus64 , @flowercrownsandmetallicarms , @sexyvixen7 , @armenian-nerd, @thiddlestoff, @callingmrsbarnes , @avengebuckybarnes , @splaine-to-me , @to-be-a-sunshine , @heismyhunter , @miladycollie , @4theluvofall , @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers , @writingourwildestemodreams , @imadandelion-yourearose, @sebbymylove16, @harrysbbby, @italyand5soslover283, @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers,@httpbarnes, @subtletynotwithstanding, @panickingwiththefalloutboys, @hardcorehippos, @ryverpenrad, @stellarfairie, @nativesebby, @violentlyfarts, @dianelogan, @mrtinslydia , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @unidentifiedanonfics, @microscopicmonsters, @elohunnie, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x

BUCKY BABES TAGS:

@meganlane84 , @thewinterher0 , @winter-in-wakanda , @221bshrlocked , @iamkaties111003 , @castiel-barnes , @creideamhgradochas, @sebbytrash , @nykitass , @livenicebebeautiful , @slickblitz , @supersoldier-buckybarnes , @jarnesbrnes , @my-wings-will-heal , @octopishisahybridanimal , @harleyscheekheart , @leoberosis , @da-sebooty-be-plentiful , @jamesbarncs , @buckys-fossil , @mermaidinplaid , @gucci—garbage , @siliverin , @ageekybookworm , @nilly-willy , @musichowler, @mrs-squirrel-chester

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #bridges of time #bucky series #bucky smut #bucky angst #bucky au #bucky fluff #lena writes #soulmates #soulmate AU #soulmate alternate universe

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tryingthisfangirlthing · 7 years

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Endless List of Works-in-Progress

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

So I was sort-of tagged by @pellaaearien (in the manner of “if you see this and haven’t done the thing yet, do it”). And I’m tagging @viennainspringtime, @flootzavut, @doctorinblue @onekisstotakewithme (only if you want to do this!) and anyone else who sees this who wants to do the thing. :)

This is going to be long. Firstly, I’m only counting the works for which I actually have at least a few paragraphs written, aka not including the million and one ideas bouncing around in my head, some of which I have notes for and intend to write in the near future as well. Secondly, I’m only counting works on which I see myself spending time in the near future.

Also, most of these don’t have proper titles. Titles are the worst, and I generally only have a hope of coming up with a title after I’ve finished a thing or written at least a few thousand words.

(Doctor Who) Nine/Rose ballroom dance class scene A short thing inspired by this photo manip. Currently untitled, basically what it says on the tin. He’s a dance instructor who sweeps her away from Mickey for several glorious minutes. Open-ended with implied mutual interest/pining (because mutual pining is my Thing). Basically I just have to sit down and finish putting the words to paper, dammit.

She was holding more-or-less the normal dancing position, because she knew that if she lowered her arms she wouldn’t want to raise them again for a week, certainly not before the end of the class.

“Whose idea was this again?” Mickey grimaced, scrunching up his nose.

“You sided with Mum on the whole dancing at the wedding bit, not me.”

(Doctor Who) Fem!Tentoo/Rose romantic fluff-ish thing Tentoo is female (because, hello, Donna’s a woman?) and her and Rose start bonding during and in between all those stops to drop the other companions off, and eventually reveal Feelings. Basically I decided to try to fill my own prompt. I still want to do it, except I am terrible at getting-to-know-you bonding chatter. Both in real life and in writing. It confounds me.

“I am the Doctor.” It was odd to hear those words in such different tones -— slightly higher, a bit rougher. “Well…” and she drew the word out exactly like the Doctor Rose knew did. “I’m a Time Lord-human biological metacrisis. Rather different body.” She rolled her shoulders, grimacing, laying one hand on her chest. “Bit of an odd feeling, having only one heart. I keep thinking something should be missing.” She looked back at Rose. “But I’m the Doctor in every way that counts. Thoughts, memories, feelings.” Rose wasn’t sure whether the split second of hesitation before the last was only her imagination.

(Doctor Who) Fem!Ten/Rose human AU speed dating Because I love Fem!Ten. I think this was also from something I saw on timepetalsprompts, but I can’t find the post right now. Fem!Ten here is adorably socially awkward and I want to snuggle her. But this story also suffers from the same I-can’t-write-bonding-talk problem as above.

“The Doctor. Well —” she reached back to rub at the side of her neck. “It’s Jane Smith. But all my friends call me the Doctor.”

“I’m Rose Tyler.” Rose couldn’t help smiling, just a little. “So, are you a doctor? Like, do you do surgery?”

“Oh! No, not that kind of doctor. Astrophysics. And politics. And I’m working on my doctorate of electrical engineering.” She twisted one curl around her finger, tapping the fingers of her other hand silently on the edge of the table.

“Wow.” Rose inhaled, trying not to be intimidated. “That’s a lot.”

(Doctor Who) Nine, Ten From this prompt, of Rose having a one-night stand with Ten while she was traveling with Nine, that decided to gnaw at me, and I immediately wondered “Where is Ten’s Rose?” and then it developed Feelings. This is another where I really just need to get all the words down, but I’m incredibly afraid I won’t do all the emotions the story holds in my head justice on paper (or on the screen).

“Oh. Oh!” The realization dawns in his eyes. “So that was…” His expression falls, his voice flat, deep disappointment in his gaze. “You — that you — didn’t know it was me. And you wanted to see the old me again, that was why you wanted to come here.” He’s closing off, something she hasn’t seen on this him before, but she instantly recognizes it, that look in his eyes, the way his features harden. “I can’t change back. I’m sorry. I wish I could—”

(There’s also a version that’s shorter and angstier but that doesn’t have enough words yet to count for this list.)

(Doctor Who) Ten/Rose flogging scene I started writing this to process a personal experience, and maybe attempt to more accurately depict conscious BDSM than how I usually see it portrayed (than I’ve portrayed some practices myself in the past). What I currently have will likely be scrapped, or cannibalized for a second version. But I still want to write this, and possibly expand on it, into a series of scenes (of actually rather minimally sexual BDSM). But it’s a balancing act between not wanting it to devolve into pure imagination, and not wanting to recount intense personal experiences for the world to get off to, out of respect for my partners.

She trails her fingers down his vertebrae — he’s so wiry, she’d worried about hitting bone anywhere she struck, but he’d reassured her that he would be fine. Lightly, she strikes his left buttock with the back of her hand, just because she can, not because he needs any more warming up, his backside tinted pink as well. The smallest of noises curls in his throat, part amusement, and she smiles.

Resting her hand other on his shoulder, brushing her thumb in a short arc, she asks, “Ready?”

He nods, clears his throat. Head lowered, he adjusts his stance slightly where he braces himself against the wall on his forearms. “Yes,” he says, a slight rasp to his voice.

(Nonfiction) BDSM writing how-to A lot of us tend to include elements of BDSM in our smut. Heck, I’ve done the same. But there’s a difference between spicing up the sex and consciously engaging in BDSM, and there’s not much information for “laypeople” on how (some/most conscientious) people do the latter, and how you can best write it. My intention is to try to fix that. It’s very much a work in progress and I keep changing it as I gain more experience and insight myself, and talk with far more experienced people. (Also I sometimes feel really pretentious writing this so if someone really wants this to be a thing, please please let me know.)

(Sanctuary) Adolescence of a Mongrel Vampire A work likely to approach novel-length in which Nikolija (gender-swapped Nikola Tesla) deals with having become a vampire in the early days after the change, and the effect this has on the Five at Oxford. Rather graphic and unpleasant in parts, very whump-y, with a dash of unfulfilled lesbian pining to round out the angst. (This is also actually part of a universe of sorts, with multiple stories featuring said gender-swapped Tesla, but it can be read on its own.)

“How’s —” She cut him off, not wanting to hear the lie, swallowed, and tried again, forcing hoarse words over her lips. “How’s Helen?”

Newton, as she had begun to privately call the pigeon, squawked, and she realized she was gripping him — her? it — far too tightly, and she stepped inside and set it down on the edge of the washbasin.

“She’s fine.” Nigel spoke softly. “She lost some blood, and she’s restin’ now, but she saw to herself and she’ll be fine.”

Nikolija nodded, finally, and mostly closed the door behind herself, purposely not quite enough that it would latch.

He saw it, and didn’t say anything, as she kept her distance from him, moving along the walls over to the plain wooden wardrobe.

“Tell her I am sorry.”

She bowed her head and turned her back on him as she rifled through her clothes.

(Sanctuary) Soulmarks UA Soulmarks are not only for romantic partners, but anyone who is has touched your heart in a significant way, however briefly or not-so-briefly. Helen, with her lifespan and work, of course has far more soulmarks than most. (This story was not meant to be this long! But it kind of took off and then I had no other choice but to trace through most of her life as we know it or can surmise it from the show.)

The cravat never caught on. It would have hidden the identifying mark in the hollow of one’s throat, that design — not words, but figures, lines contrasting against the skin in a symbol — that would be traced elsewhere on your own skin, if this person was to touch your soul.

It wasn’t unusual to have multiple marks, some clear, more starkly colored, for best friends or lovers or spouses, and some fainter, for a passing acquaintance who nevertheless offered exactly the right words or listening ear at the moment you needed them, or some kind of animal symbol for a beloved pet.

There were some who had many, many marks belonging to others — tracing up and down an arm or a leg, the lines occasionally interweaving — and then there were some who only had a few, loving rarely.

And then, there was Helen Sophia Magnus, whose skin from just below her collarbones downward was a mess of various shades of gray, so that individual designs were hardly distinguishable any more, aside from a few that stood out in stark black lines.

(Sanctuary) Teslen vampire/hunter AU He’s a vampire; she’s a hunter. He’s an unusual challenge for her; she’s the same for him. She’s also the one responsible for the entire vampire epidemic in the first place. I think this is the only one that’s been published in any kind of significant way so far; if you’d like, you can read what’s already up online here. Currently somewhat stymied because I’ve gotten past all the really fun relatively fluffy (for a given value of fluff) “mostly enemies but forging a grudging relationship” stuff and now I have to think of an actual plot, which I am incredibly bad at sorting out properly (and I really should have seen that coming, bad Rinari).

(Original Work) The Kel’Reth This is less of one work and more an entire project. It’s a whole flipping world, with one long, more traditional novel-ish work, about a king who loses his kingdom to a coup, and then several other stories in the same world, among them a lesbian explorer couple and a glimpse into the Kel’Reth mythology through a temple librarian. A lot of it is mostly ideas and notes. (Worldbuilding is hard!) It’s kind of a mess and I haven’t worked on it in what feels like ages but it’s my precious.

Sreh was already waiting for them with the messenger and a zazak, one of the large, thinly-furred, horned creatures the Kel'Reth used as pack animals, now relieved of its load. The tactician’s expression was somber.

“What do you have to tell me?” The king adjusted his red robes, cinching his belt tighter, as if that might help to brace him for whatever terrible news he could feel was coming.

The envoy bowed deeply, laying his frills flat. “I bow before you in awe, General-King, Elected of the Zir–”

“What do you have to tell me?” Varekh snapped. “Courier. Consider yourself excused from formalities.”

The messenger paled, swallowing heavily as he straightened. “My King… people have begun to die. It all happened so quickly—but some say even a quarter of the people may be gone by now. The Regent-King has fled, with the Crown Prince. Jazeri now holds the throne, though she has not ordered your guards slain yet. I have a letter from Regent-King Levor here–” he dug in his satchel to retrieve the roll of parchment, still sealed, and offered it to Varekh “–for you.”

His mind spinning, Varekh shook his head, not reaching to take the letter, simply absorbing the news. So he was too late. He had failed.

Perhaps it was instinct that made Sreh grab his arm just before his knees gave out from underneath him.

“Your Majesty! My King!” Her voice rose in panic. “Varekh!”

(Original Work) Heaven in Hell This began as a short story. Then it blossomed into a series of short stories, just a series of moments that somehow became a story in their own right. Jeanne/Evelyn is a lowly guardian angel, who talks with the demons she’s supposed to kill, who falls in love (and God forbid his angels truly love anyone but him), who is cast out of heaven and realizes maybe hell is her heaven after all. I started writing this in French, actually, and I have this weird compulsion to continue writing it in French. But since I have no French teacher to currently impress with little French stories, I haven’t made much progress recently. Still, I love it and I do want to finish it one day. It’s pretty personal, honestly, because I myself used to be highly religious of the very conservative variety and am now quite at home among the flaming queers. I’m sure you can see the parallels.

“I miss you.” Isabelle bit her lip, raising her eyes to meet Evelyn’s again. “You were always my best friend. Come back, please. I don’t know what you did–I’m not going to ask–but I’m sure the Lord would forgive you. He’s always ready to forgive…”

“You’re naive.” It was quiet, almost a whisper, as she stood.

The demoness kissed the angel on the cheek, pressing her lips to the corner of her mouth several moments longer than what would be strictly appropriate for a friend.

“Have a good evening, ‘Belle.”

With a flick of her tail, Evelyn turned to leave.

#rinari's fic writing #holy crap #so many things #my flighty distractable muse #i am so sorry to all of you #anyone who reads anything i've written or am in the process of writing is a saint #works in progress

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the-unspoken-rules-ff · 7 years

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Chapter 2

Bexley's P.O.V

I was sitting on the bed, taking everything in. Once again, I hadn't had the chance to properly talk to all the boys yet. Their schedule was an unorganized mess. They were always practising and when they weren't, they were either sleeping or somewhere out. I never managed to meet all of them. Today was the day I had to move into the guest house. I took most of my stuff from the apartment I had rented, leaving the things I no longer needed.

In the meantime, I had done all possible research on the group, from their debut up to the present and I wasn't exactly shocked when I remembered watching their early videos with my sister. I knew a little bit about each of the boys and I was surprised I hadn't properly met the leader of the group yet. The guest house I was going to live in for the next two years was bigger than I had expected, beautifully painted and decorated. If I looked out through the window I could see the huge front yard of the main house, the one the boys lived in. The yard was a green paradise, almost like a park, having a beautiful white swing in the center. White and red flowers all around it. I started thinking about how easy it would be to get lost there. Not literally lost, but spiritually. You would be overwhelmed by the nature right away.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by someone knocking on my front door. I put on my slippers and rushed to open the door.

"Hey! Can we come in?" Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook were waiting at the door.

"Sure." I moved aside to let them get in and closed the door behind them.

"I think I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself. I'm Namjoon a.k.a Rap Monster, the leader of BTS. This is Jin" he said, showing the brown-haired smiling guy on his right, "he's the oldest member. And this is Jungkook, our maknae." he said, this time showing the baby-faced guy on his left. I smiled back and introduced myself.

"I'm Bexley, but you guys can call me Bex. I'll be taking care of you from now on. But on that note, please take care of me while I'm here." I said, bowing respectfully. "Do you guys know where the other members are? I really need to talk to you all in order to plan exactly what I want to do next."

"We don't, but we'll find them for you, don't worry. We have a conference room in our house. We'll all be there in about half an hour. Thank you for choosing to work with us and we hope we won't disappoint you." Jungkook said, smiling casually. I nodded and watched them leave.

That half an hour really flew by while I took a shower and ate some snacks I found in the kitchen. I left the house with exactly five minutes to spare and enjoyed the walk through the yard all the way to the main house. I didn't know if I should go in or knock and wait for someone to come, so I knocked once and entered the house without waiting for a response.

Across from the main entrance there was a spiral staircase that went up to the first and second floors. They had photos of themselves everywhere. Individual portraits and group photos. I walked up to one to see it up close. They were all laying on a bed. It looked like a photoshoot. I touched the frame and traced my finger across the patterns. All of a sudden something touched my shoulder and I jumped forward banging my head against the picture frame. I instantly grabbed my forehead with my hand and rubbed it, trying to make the sharp pain go away.

"That's an instant headache." I said, turning around to see Jimin staring at me with the biggest eyes I have ever seen. "Oh, hey there!" I said, flashing a forced smile.

"I'm so sorry! I really scared you. And hurt you, apparently, God. Why am I always like this?!" He said, frustrated. It was obvious that he wanted to do something, but he was too polite to touch me. So he just stood still, making a very adorable 'sorry' face.

"Don't worry about it. It's my fault. I came in without knocking." I took my hand away from my forehead and his eyes became even bigger -something that I thought was impossible-. He pointed at my head and I looked at my fingers, noticing that I was bleeding. I had scratched my forehead and now I was bleeding. Sometimes I really wondered if someone had cursed me as a baby.

"Can you tell me where the bathroom is? I'll go wash this off and I'll be right with you guys."

"No way." He said, very serious, still watching me carefully.

"Okay, then I'll go wash this off in my bathroom and I'll be right there--"

"No. I mean you're not just 'washing it off'. That can get infected."

"Oh, come on! It's not like I live in a dungeon. Really, it's fine. I won't die from this." I said, laughing slowly. I tried to go past him, but he grabbed my arm and squeezed it, still not saying anything. I looked at him waiting, but he was just watching me. After a few moments, he started walking, dragging me along with him. I wanted to protest, but I knew it was useless. He took me to the kitchen and started looking around the cabinets for something.

"Can you sit on the table?" I looked at him clueless, thinking I started to imagine things. "So I can reach your forehead..." He pointed at my head again and waited patiently. I jumped back on the table and watched him pull a first aid kit out of the cabinet.

"You guys keep the first aid kit in the kitchen?" I laughed and he smiled nervously.

"Put 7 guys in a kitchen together and ask them to cook, you will need more than one first aid kit. We're kind of reckless." He put the first aid kit down and opened it, taking out a cotton swab which he dipped in sterile water. He walked over and stopped for a few seconds before coming closer and leaning in his head to look clearly at my forehead. If you think I wasn't breathing at that moment, you're right. I wasn't. I stopped the moment I saw him in front of me.

"Ouch!" I said and he immediately took away his hand and stepped back. I started laughing. He shot me a serious look before he started smiling, realizing that I was just messing with him. He wiped the rest of my wound and pulled out a small band aid. I did that on purpose, because I was running out of air.

"Hey, did you see--" Tae came rushing in and he stopped when he saw me sitting on the table. "What's... going on?" Jimin started speaking in korean, not facing him and I waited until he finally put the band aid over my scratch so I could get off that table and start breathing again. "Are you okay?" Tae asked me, concerned. I nodded my head as a yes.

"Can we go to the conference room? I've been waiting to talk to you guys."

"Sure. Come on." Tae started walking in front of me, but Jimin stayed behind a few more seconds before I heard his footsteps behind me. When we entered the room, they were all waiting for us. I asked them to sit down and I stayed at the top of the table, so I could see them all.

"I'm not gonna keep you more than a few minutes. Okay, so, from what I've seen, you guys don't really have much of a schedule, which is not good for the long run or for you. You need to properly balance everything you do in order to succeed and be healthy and happy. So I am going to make you a schedule for practice, meals, sleep and so on. Don't worry, I am a workaholic, but I'm not crazy. I know your limits. I won't exaggerate, I promise." They all nodded in agreement.

"We used to have clear schedules, but that kind of got ruined when we ended up without a manager. Thank you for taking care of us. It might not seem like it yet, but we really appreciate it." Namjoon said while the other guys listened carefully to his words, some nodding while other simply just looked around. "You can work on it here. You have everything you need. We'll be around the house. You can come give us the schedule after you finish it. Our rooms are on the next floor. We have our names on the door." -----------------------------------------

It might sound weird, but working on the computer really made me remember my father. He died when I was 10 and I could barely remember anything about him. The only memories I had of him were when he was working and I would barge into his office. He would yell at me, but I wouldn't care. Now, over 15 years later I was really glad I'd done that. At least I could remember something. He wasn't completely gone. His famous words that my mom always threw in my face - I couldn't remember him say any of that. All I knew is what my mother kept telling me - that he used to give me life advice, but I was obviously too little to remember or understand any of it.

I started the printer and printed out 7 copies of the practice schedule I had put together. For some reason, I was really starting to get sick and somewhat dizzy. I figured it might've been the sudden memories of my father playing in my head. I climbed the rest of the stairs to the second floor and noticed the wodden doors which were all uniquely decorated. I went closer only to notice something that I absolutely hated seeing. I slapped my legs in frustration. "They should have mentioned that the names are written in hangul. I swear someone cursed me as a baby." I said frustrated and decided to just go into the first room I saw. I knocked on the door and waited this time, until Jungkook opened it and stepped aside, letting me come in. I handed him the papers and he took them. Just when I thought he was going to turn around and go back to his desk, he took two steps forward, leaning his head forwards and staring at my face.

"Are you wearing contacts?" He said, still not backing away. A pillow came flying my way, but hit his head instead and he turned around, getting ready to throw it right back at the person. Jimin sat up from the bed and rubbed his eyes.

"People can have blue eyes, stupid." He said, his voice raspy. I figured he was trying to sleep, but obviously wasn't. Jungkook threw the pillow aiming for his head, but missed, hitting the wall behind him instead.

"I know!" he said while Jimin started laughing at his failed attempt to fight back.

"Her eyes are too beautiful to be contacts. They're yours, right?" Jimin stated, falling back on the bed.

"Yes." was all I could say. Not only because I was overwhelmed by the whole situation, but for some reason the room was spinning. I grabbed the edge of a chair near me when my vision started getting blurry. "I think I... have... a concussion."

Everything went black and I fell.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts ff #bts jin #bts jimin #bts v #jimin fanfiction #fanfic #jimin fanfic #namjoon #park jimin #jin #taehyung #bts fanfction #taehyung fanfic

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jvac-lt · 4 years

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Uncomfortable Project: My fear of being forgotten or abandoned and/or the guilt I could endure if I was the one to do the act of forgetting/abandoning - Essay - 2/19/2020

After the in class discussion on how the meaning of the term ‘uncomfortable’ could be defined as angry, sad, afraid, shameful, etc., I came to the realization that there are many things in this world (and outside of it) that make me uncomfortable. I began to think of and consider any irrational fears I have or obsessive compulsions I feed into as the topic for this assignment—but I figured a lot of my issues would trace back to one main shared problem, and after looking at everything I had to work with, I actually did find a sort of ‘root cause’ to most of my problems—this cause is my fear of being forgotten or abandoned and/or the guilt I could endure if I was the one to do the act of forgetting/abandoning. My grandfather suffers from dementia and it realistically seems to be worsening rather rapidly. My mother seems to be on the same route and that terrifies me beyond comprehension. Even the idea of my mom seeing me one day with a perplexed look on her face because she has no idea who I am, breaks my heart and brings me to an anxious/depressive level that is genuinely only slightly tolerable. Same goes for the abandonment aspect; even and especially if it’s an uncontrollable abandonment, such as death—the most permanent departure that virtually never gives those who continue on earth control of the situation. In the beginning, I had a difficult time trying to think of a way to somewhat literally depict my topic as well as give off a general ‘uncomfortable vibe’ by manipulating the way the photos would be taken. I decided to just take my camera and start photographing things I knew I wanted to include, such as symbols of time (clocks, watches, etc.) or objects associated with childhood and basically anything nostalgic. I have a hard time speaking of memories, good or bad, because I immediately jump back to the pessimistic, toxic perspective, ‘memories are the past, time will run out, death is inevitable, and someday you’ll never be able to talk to mom and dad again.’ Honestly, writing that last sentence took a second to process and a minute to bring myself back to completing this essay. Once I started taking those basic photos, I was able to come up with other symbols about time or life, and even specifically forgetting. I first learned about the ‘tie a string around your finger to remember something’ in a children's television show when I was younger, and I thought it would be a great way to express that aspect of my uncomfortable topic. I decided to make one photo that clearly represented the original idea and purpose of the string, and in addition, let it get tangled and tightly wrapped around the rest of my hand, representing a sort of loss of control and restricted feeling in regards to memory. I incorporated this string into a few of my photos to represent the different things I want/hope to remember, things I hope others will remember, and as a sort of ‘memory demon’ that takes over and suffocates you, leaving you to question any ideas or beliefs you had that were aiding in keeping you sane. I also took photos of some physical objects that belonged to a younger me or other younger versions of my immediate family, but I purposefully tried to obscure details in some of them to present the idea of a fading or abstracted memory. Lastly, I toyed with the idea of keeping the photos in color or making them all black and white for a while. I feel both have their advantages and opportunities to challenge oneself—leaving them in color could aid in a feeling one wishes to give the viewer, but could end up being the only thing that ties each photo together. While making them black and white could emphasize some of the ‘five main tenets’ of photography, but hurt the series because of its lack of vibrancy. I ultimately opted to make them black and white because I feel like the challenge for me personally was focusing on how the photos were taken in order to unite them, rather than relying on color alone. Overall, there were definitely times where I struggled with this project, but I certainly discovered things about myself that have nothing to do with photography, but rather what truly makes me uncomfortable—then facing this dark, depressing cloud and attempting to visually capture it. I’m proud of the images I made, and I know I can look back at them and feel a sort of satisfaction in being able to see and have tangible entities of me beginning to regain my power in the now and face the fear that makes me sad, angry, afraid, and most relevant to this project, uncomfortable.

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chastieamari · 7 years

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LIMITLESS part 2

I want to go far away but I know for myself that I can't do it alone, but I don't want to be with my friends or be with someone I know, because I thought of, there will be no difference. And being so eager for the kind of trip I want and barely knew if it is possible, I began searching and looking for that kind of trip I wanted. I searched thru Google and saw this highlighted part on the search results "Singles Road Trip" and to my surprise, there's this travel group that caught my attention, it organizes random trips together with strangers, having no idea where would be the destination not until you're there and activities are also a surprise. The one that I've been looking for! The one that I never thought a possible one! This is it! I never knew that there is such trip that ever exists.

I was still unsure about it, because it sounds weird and crazy and desperate. Because of the word "single" looking for a lover and so… But that wasn't really my purpose... But after stalking their website, it wasn't the one that I was thinking, then, I felt, this is it! It was really the one that I am looking for! Then I inquired, they answered my queries and I got so interested because it’s exactly what I wanted. But it took me days to decide if I am really going to pay or not because aside from the fact that it is really pricey, I have so many doubts but my heart really tells me, “Go Chastie! GO!” and then I paid. And waited for the day of the trip very nervous, anxious excited and scared at the same time.

11.10.16 Day 0

I am so anxious to the highest level! Am I ready for tomorrow? I am so uneasy of the things I needed to bring. Especially on the clothes, I might have brought the wrong ones. But I followed and trusted their list of must haves in their website. But still feeling uneasy because I don’t know what’s waiting for me there and what will happen there, I am packing my bag, checking the stuffs that I am about to bring and emptying my bag again and so on and so forth. And I slept and get ready for the next day.

11.11.16 - Day 1

This is the day! >.< “Tutuloy ba ako? Sobrang kabado ako!” The Uber driver that I got took so long to pick me up and its already 9:10 and the call time was 9:30 and it was traffic and the estimated travel time was about 43mins and I was already ashamed because I was late and one of the travel managers are already calling me. I arrived 9:40pm and I entered McDonalds looked for them and saw a group of backpackers and it was them. They approached me and one of them handed me a paper to answer and signed on something like a consent form. Then, we went outside and took a picture and we left at around 10:30pm.

The aura inside the van was awkward, only a few were talking but still it was fun inside because we are guessing where we’re going. We have lots of guesses but still the travel managers are so good in keeping secrets. Time passes by; we got so far far away from manila going to the northern part of Luzon. (We knew that it was somewhere in the north because some are using Google maps. Haha!) And so the night went on and we fell asleep.

11.12.16 Day 2

After a while I suddenly jerked out of sleep because I felt like we are turning and turning, and I thought of we are about to go to Baguio because as I remember that is somewhat like the way going up to Baguio. But still, I'm not good in guessing. Then, I got so curious and I wasn't able to go back to sleep and I kept on checking the signages outside and tadaaaah! I saw a signage saying, "McDonalds Abra 4km" And a few moments, we stopped at around 5am, one of the travel managers said "Welcome to Abra!" And on my mind I was shouting, "OMG! Sh*t! Nasa Abra ako!?" I’m still clueless where we are even if it’s been revealed already. We waited for our tour guide because we arrived earlier than our expected arrival. We ate our breakfast at a house where in they are serving "Abra's Special Miki" It tastes good and a very knew flavor to my tastebuds. And after that we went to our lodging house. We arrived at our lodging house at around 7am. The lodging house was very refreshing, because the air is so fresh and so strong over viewing the Calaba River and it was just the air and view that I’ve been looking for. We took a rest for a while and changed our clothes that according to the travel managers it should stand for dry and wet activities.

View outside our lodging house

At around 8am we started our road trip in Abra. First stop, Calaba Bridge, we went down from the van and took picture. And the over viewing mountain is what they call Sleeping Beauty Mountain. It took me sometime to see Sleeping Beauty, I just saw it in the picture in my phone.

Calaba Bridge

Sleeping Beauty Mountain (Sleeping Beauty can be seen in this photo)

First Destination/Activity

We stopped at somewhere facing a river and a mountain not knowing what will happen next. We were just enjoying the view and the heat of the sun. And after a while, we walked, at first it was okay but we’ve been walking for several minutes already. And I had the chance to talk to the tour guide and she said we are about to hike for 45minutes to reach our first destination. And I was like on my mind, “hike? HIIIIKKKEEE! O_O” It’s my first time to hike and I am not so sure if I will be able to make it because one thing that I am sure of, I am not fit enough for this kind of activity. But I have no choice, I am already there and I just enjoyed it. It was my first time to be in a forest, stand between two tall mountains, walk through traces that you can’t even see what you are walking under, rocky roads, narrow traces, climbing up with huge rocks and trees, climbing up beside a falls, walk through rivers and on the edge of a cliff. Tiring but I am loving it.

Start of hike is around 9:30am and arrived at our first destination almost 11am. Our estimated 45minutes hike turned out to be 1 and half hours.

Sapilang Falls

(It was my first time to hike and see a real falls and be able to swim on it.)

We had our lunch at 12:30pm and after our lunch, we went down, with the same route. But it was faster because its downhill, but since I am afraid of heights, I had a hard time, but thanks to my new found friends they helped. And the sun is so high and the heat is so intense that you would love to have something cold like a Mango Shake.

Boodle fight at Sapilang Falls

Second Destination

We left at our first destination at around 2:30pm and we arrived at our second destination at around 3:30pm.

The blue-green colored water is crystal clear is so beautiful and is so freaking cold. I doubted to swim at first because aside from I am really not good in swimming, it looks deep but there are areas that are not so deep so I tried swimming and it is really fun. The water is so clear and cold and I wished I could swim. We didn’t stay there for so long because our next stop is to watch sunset. We left around 4:30pm

Lusuac Cold Spring

Third Destination

Since it was said that our next destination is to watch sunset, I was wondering if we’re going to the beach but I thought of, “Is there a beach in abra?” haha! But I was wrong, we went uphill, we are going to watch sunset uphill, sunset by the mountain. It was breath taking. Just the view that I have been wanted to see, a very refreshing view, the air breeze through my hair and the wind is hugging me. I felt so free, so clean, so out of this world and I closed my eyes and thanked the Lord for letting me have this opportunity. We took pictures and after sunset, we looked for food and ate for a while and we left going back to our lodging house at around 6pm.

Victoria’s Park - Cassamata Hill National Park

As we went back to our lodging house, we fixed ourselves and get ready for dinner. Around 8pm, we had our dinner prepared also by our tour guide. The travel managers reminded us of the gift we are to give to our fellow road tripper. A gift or something in the past that would remind you of a memory that you want to let go. Since I am a type of person that is sentimental, even if it a thing reminds me of a bad memory, I would still keep it because for me, it’s already a part of my life, that I have learned something from it. So, I thought of sharing my 20pesos story.

After dinner, the travel managers told us to prepare those gifts and go to the not so tree-house because it’s not on top of a tree, but it is built high enough so you could feel the wind. It was already the time to get to know each other and chitchat with each other, so we went there and when we’re already complete, we shared why we decided to join the trip and how we knew about it. Some knew about it through Facebook, some was their second time already, some where pulled by their friend while for me, I decided to join because I am so stressed at school, and I am now feeling so depressed because I won’t be able to graduate on time and all the pressure is with me now and I just want to take a rest, I want to breath and going to school makes me feel so sick. It feels like there’s a loop in my neck every time I thought of going to school and I just suddenly felt out of love with Dentistry and I started to question myself if I really wanted to become a Dentist.

After a while, the travel manager told us what we have to do. We have to tell the story of the gift and give it to the one on your left. I was the third person to share, so, I shared my 20 pesos story. The story may not be really that significant to others but since I am to sentimental to things, the 20pesos that I just saw on the ground while I was walking 5years ago became meaningful to me. Here’s the story, “Noong pre-dent pa ako, at naguuwian pa ako, everyday kami ng mama ko na sumasakay ng fx simula saamin hanggang sm manila, tapos isang araw, pagbaba naming ng sa sm manila, habang naglalakad kami, may napansin kaming 20pesos sa sahig, syempre hindi namin alam kung kanino, nung nakita namin pinulot ko. Wala lang pinulot ko lang at hindi ko ginastos. Simula nun, tinago ko na yun sa wallet ko at naging lucky money ko na siya. Hindi lucky moey na magkakaroon lagi ng pera wallet ko, pero lucky money na naging inspirasyon ko din. Para sakin yung 20pesos na to, sinisimbolo nito yung hirap ni mama at papa na mapagaral ako, na yung moment na napulot namin yun ay isang moment na nagpapaalala sakin kung hindi dahil sa pagsusumikap ng mama at papa ko na mapagaral ako wala ako ngayon dito. Na pagdating ng panahon na marami na akong pera, susuklian ko lahat ng paghihirap nila sakin. Bibigyan ko sila ng buhay na hindi nila aakalain.” So that’s the story, as I gave it to the person on my left, I told her that it might also be a symbol of her parents hardships for her.

And so after my turn, there we’re 6 more to tell their story. Some of their stories were really unbelievable that they had overcome that obstacle in their lives and some stories really have “hugot”. Their stories were about love, mistakes, decisions, self-improvement and choices. Their stories made me to think that my problem were just a minor problem or maybe is really not a problem at all that there are people that have problems you won’t believe exist and here I am stressing myself out of this problem that is really not a problem at all. But one of my fellow road trippers told me that every problem is valid, we are different from each other, it’s just that, that is your problem now and this is our problem. It just a matter of how we are going to deal with it.

Another activity was done, there were gummy worms, in each gummy worm there are 2 colors, we are to get a gummy worm, and it’s up to us if we are to get one or more, each color has a corresponding question. I got one gummy worm, and the color is red and blue, first question, “What do you want to become in life, be specific.” My answer is “I want to become a Dentist. Yes! I want to be a Dentist.” Second question, “One thing you don’t like about yourself”, my answer, “Wala akong tiwala sa sarili ko.”

And so the night when on, I felt so relieved. I was able to share my thoughts without hesitation. I was able to transform my thoughts into words and be able to tell it through my mouth. I finally was able to say the words I never said before. That get to know each other moment we had, was more of get to know myself more. Those 2 questions I had was the answer to the problem I have. It was me all the time. And really, I learned a lot.

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