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Nggak Ngaruh
Bisa nggak, kita nggak perlu tahu hidup satu sama lain aja?
Bukan, bukan karena belum move on. Tapi kayaknya buat apa sih aku perlu tahu hidup kamu dan sebaliknya? Padahal kita kan bukan teman juga.
Setelah malam itu, harusnya aku segera unfollow akun sosial mediamu ya. Harusnya aku nggak perlu besarin egoku dengan cara mau lihatin ke kamu kalau hidup aku baik-baik aja.
Harusnya aku nunjukin ke diriku sendiri aja dan itu cukup.
Dalih nggak dewasa saat saling unfollow sosial media ketika sudah putus itu celetukan siapa sih?
Apa sih parameter dewasa? Siapa sih yang bilang dengan masih saling follow tandanya kita udah dewasa?
Nggak lantas jadi pecundang kok orang-orang yang milih unfollow atau blokir. Karena kita kan mau mengamankan hidup sendiri aja. Memangnya apa manfaatnya juga kamu tahu hidup aku baik-baik aja? Nggak akan merubah ceritanya juga kan? Nggak lantas kita bisa memperbaiki sesuatu yang harusnya memang diakhiri kan?
Liatin hidup kamu, nanti menikah, punya pasangan baru, punya keluarga sendiri nggak akan bikin perubahan apa-apa juga di hidup aku.
Kita nggak saling kenal sebelumnya. Kita juga nggak memutuskan untuk jadi teman setelahnya. Jadi buat apa sih ini semua?
Kayaknya sih aku memang harus ambil langkah sih. Nge-cut orang-orang yang aku nggak seneng aja, aku bisa, apalagi kamu yang kasih luka.
Jadi kayaknya udah ya, nggak perlu tahu lagi aja. Kalaupun suatu saat kita ketemu, ya benar-benar karena nggak sengaja. Itupun kalau cuma mau lewat tanpa menyapa ya nggak apa-apa juga.
Yang semula asing biar kembali ke asal muasalnya.
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Satu sisi, sebagaimana manusia biasa, rasanya ingin sekali diberi keberlimpahan harta yang dengannya bisa membahagiakan orang tua, menolong sesama dan berbuat banyak untuk umat.
Sayang, di sisi satunya, sebagaimana manusia yang diujiankan nafsu mencintai dunia sedemekiaan rupa, rasanya enggan memiliki harta yang diperebutkan oleh ahli waris, diributkan sanak keluarga. Bahkan, ketika sadar itu tak lagi menjadi hak, masih saja getol mendapatkannya. Dan tak jarang menyebabkan pecah perang saudara.
Ternyata benar, mabuk dunia semenyeramkan itu.
Maka, Ya Allah, biarkan aku mabuk akhirat melalui harta duniaMu.
Batusangkar, 11122023
#selfreminder#coretansebelumtidur#desembernulis#writers on tumblr#30 day writing challenge#writingproject
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Raiha Falls
-I-
-後程-
A dark timbre hailed out into the courtyard as sharp and clear as a bullet dislodging into the night.
“Tch. It seems you're fair game to me now.”
As soon as Gin's hand disappeared beneath the lapel of his overcoat, as was his usual modus operandi, Vermouth in pursuit of both, the male executive and the girl, abandoned her cover.
The disguise of Kudō Yūsaku forsaken, and the mask forgone. To drew the noose ever tighter around the Kudō family, was something she'd shun till her last.
Gin at least, would've seen through one of her games, as the man had the keen sense of a bloodhound, able to sniff her out, even when no one else seemed to glean the truth beneath.
“I beg to differ. Lay off her, Gin.”
After tailing both, the male executive and the girl to a corporate building whose premises are bordered eastwardly by the Teimuzu river, Vermouth's voice still held an ounce of breathlessness within as it carried out into the courtyard.
Intercepting his line of fire, the actress drew her Belstaff coat closer to her lithe frame, missing the trusted weight of her gun, more than she would care to admit. And yet, her steps betrayed none of it. The almost meandering yet self-assured poise clad the woman in a habitual veneer of cold composure.
-後程-
Ran stood pale and unmoving, her back flush against the rails, and a vast escarpment just beyond. Torrents of glistering black cascaded into one of Raiha-no-taki's sunken pools and further onward into the river itself and left a constant roar in her ears.
A gaze of inquisitive indigo bore into the actress only in passing, but after a merest moment of indecision, seemed to come alight with recognition.
Her ever so quietly uttered “It's you.” so genuine in its sentiment, yet so profoundly wrong to the woman who struts upon this worldly stage in the guise of her own daughter.
If this evening was to steep in a grand drape of blood, at least this abhorrent lie shall take its last bow with her.
“Our traitor coming out to play. It shall be your undoing, woman.”
A heavy-booted prowl conquered its path on the concrete pavement.
Gin licked over his canines with decadent relish, tasted out on his words like a connoisseur would savour a comet vintage.
He finally had her, the grande dame of deceit, no longer untouchable to him.
“We'll see.” she crooned in a low contralto.
Vermouth tilted her head to one side with an air of coquet aloofness, a lazy cavalier smirk thin on culpable quirked lips. All but acting the Agent provocateur she was.
It reaped her nothing but a contemptuous scowl.
Calloused olive iries seethed, narrowed in utter distrust, as Gin considered the little karateka to whom Vermouth seemed so unequivocally drawn.
“Far from that sleuth, it has been the Mōri girl and the bouya, you were drawn to. Our line of work should've ridden you of such foolish sentiments. It doesn't become you, Vermouth.”
The defiant gleam in vibrant turquoise bedimmed into guardedness. “Is there something you're looking for, Gin?”
The man ground his jaw, a low baritone deepening further till it bled into a growl.
“Tsk. Doesn't matter. She'll merely precede them. That brat and dilettante tantei will be disposed of soon enough.”
The silver blond executive flared his nostrils, keen to mete out the coup de grâce, now that his game was afoot.
“No, yamete.” a soft outcry, followed by a cascade of lightsome footsteps, draw the immediate focus of both syndicate members.
The muzzle trained to the high of Vermouth’s heart aligned its aim in a split second.
Her attention never to stray far from Gin, she read his intention not a moment to soon.
Acting on a desperate momentum, Vermouth lay one gloved palm to the small of Ran's waist, and spun them both around. Outmanoeuvring the muzzle until it no longer trained on the girl, but left the elder woman vulnerable in its stead. Negligent to her own, Vermouth took utmost care to coax Ran's head into a protective dip against her own sternum.
Mere seconds later, a shot rang out into the courtyard like a bell tolling.
-後程-
#dcmk#meitantei conan#conanverse#detective conan#vermouth#gin#ran mouri#canon divergence#unbeta’ed#writingproject#writing#dcmk fanfic#ensemble fanfic#fanfic#zimtescapism
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Scene from my novel 4
Read other scenes: 1 || 2 || 3
Three years later, the special forces team caught my parents. I managed to escape; no one paid attention to a pre-teen. That night, my parents entered a dreamscape and spoke to me.
I sat by the hearth in my tiny family cottage outside the city center of Eldham. Mother and Father joined me on the cushions on the floor. They hugged me tightly, kissing my forehead gently.
“I’m so sorry, my dear. I am sorry we’re leaving you alone.” Mother mourned, tears welling in her eyes.
“Heed our words, my sweet child.” Father spoke, the steel in his voice was betrayed by the sadness in his blue eyes. “Do not save us. This must happen. We must die.”
“Then we all die. Everything dies! You have to let me save you.” I begged.
“No. We are giving you everything, if you’ll have it. The magic is yours. You can carry on, keep everything alive. You might fulfill the prophecy or preserve life for the next cycle.” My father held out his hand. A glowing orb sat in his palm, waiting for me to take it.
“I’m taking your magic, too, aren’t I?” Father nodded. Mother reached out to grasp my hand. “Memories? Family secrets? Histories?” I asked.
“All of it.” Mother replied, his mouth set firm.
“Why?” I frowned. I needed to know the answer. But, I didn’t want to. I shuddered as the fire died.
“When the rooster crows, everything is yours. Darcio will think he’s won. He hasn’t, not truly. He needs to think he’s won. That’s only possible if we die.” Father pried open my fingers and placed the orb in my palm.
“I’ll need to leave Sakaris for a while, won’t I? Are you certain you can’t come with me?” I plead.
Mother nodded. “Yes, you’ll need to leave. It’s the only way to make sure you survive. I am so sorry, my sweet chickadee.”
I sat up straighter, my resolve hardening. “Okay. I love you both.
“We love you too,” their voices echoed in my head and faded.
The next day, I watched in horror and anger as Darcio cheered and laughed as my parents burned to death. He partied and celebrated. His courtiers sang and danced alongside their king.
As much as I wanted to run and save my parents, I obeyed their instructions. I left Eldham but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Sakaris right away. I watched as Darcio enlisted his special forces to spread terror and fear. I had laughed when I heard that his soldiers ran scared and charred from the Dragon Lands.
#writing#fantasy#fiction#lgbt#lgbtfiction#maturelanguage#maturethemes#creative writing#books#adultfiction#amwriting#love writing#my writing#writer#writers#writers on tumblr#writingproject#writerscommunity#original character
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Kau tahu, kenangan kadang menjadi salah satu alat emosional yang paling berharga dalam hidup kita. Bahkan tak jarang, kenangan menjadi alat untuk bertahan hidup bagi seseorang. Jika kau belum juga memahaminya, maka mulailah mengukir kenangan dalam setiap sejarah hidup yang kau lalui. Kelak, pada waktu yang juah dari hari ini kau pasti akan memahaminya juga. #fragment #writing #writingproject #writingcommunity #writingchallenge #writeaway #writer #writerscommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp2fc56p2oy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#fragment#writing#writingproject#writingcommunity#writingchallenge#writeaway#writer#writerscommunity
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Check out my Nanowrimo project?
#nanowrimo#nano 2022#writing#writerscommunity#female writers#baby witch#beginner witch#eclectic witch#witch#shinrinmajo#witchblr#writerblr#writingproject#werewolf romance#witch romance#fun writing#forest witch#green witch#kitchen witch#witchcraft#witchy#cottage witch#crystal witch#magick#witches of tumblr#original story
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i finally started the first draft of my writing project
wish me luck!
#creative#creative writing#writing#writingproject#writerblr#writers in tumblr#creativity#first draft#writer#personal blog
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Writing is therapy for the soul, but sometimes it can be health damaging 😂 Take the past few weeks. I've put so much effort into my writing that I almost ended up hospitalising myself. You see I end up exhausting myself, which then aggravates the heart condition I've had since my early twenties. Anyway, I managed to avoid a ride in an ambulance. 🚑😂 I put such effort into my writing, because although I love it, it doesn't come naturally to me. With my English teacher at school once stressing, to my mum, 'I'm worried he puts too much effort into his work.' But that effort wasn't exerted because I wanted to hone my talent, but because I wanted talent. I obsessed for the tools to extract, and put to paper, all the stories in my head. All that effort in school meant nothing, it seemed. When taking my English GCSE, exams at sixteen, I was placed in the top class, but I flunked my Literature and Language exams. I received 'D' grades for each paper. The whole experience, meant I didn't write again until I was 32 - 16 years later! But that may have been because, at fifteen /sixteen, I'd discovered music, booze and girls! 🎶🤗 When Ernest Hemingway said, "there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at your typewriter, and bleed," he wasn't far off the mark 😂 Effort is great, but perhaps not to the detriment of your health. 😁 #writing #writersofinstagram #writerslife #writerslifeforme #thepainofwriting #dyingformyart #author #publishedauthor #writer #writingproject #writingcareer #careerinwriting #holmfirth #worklifebalance (at Holmfirth) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ch1u0g_qyIj/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#writing#writersofinstagram#writerslife#writerslifeforme#thepainofwriting#dyingformyart#author#publishedauthor#writer#writingproject#writingcareer#careerinwriting#holmfirth#worklifebalance
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Today I'm working hard - not a joyful thing on a June Friday - but the work itself is amazing. I've been coaching Write Across America hosts and reading writing and reflections from summer institute participants. I love this work! @writingproject (via Where Do You Find Joy? : Metawriting)
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#writingproject #5amwritersclub #amwriting #WritingCommunity #writerslife
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Aku sedang tidak Berkorban
"Sudah buat cerita?" Tanya suami.
Aku hanya bisa geleng-geleng kepala.
"Kenapa? Nggak ada ide ya?" Tanyanya lagi.
Senyum miris, "Hehe, iya."
"Maaf ya kalau baba dan adek sudah ambil waktu umma. Sejak baba dan adek datang ke hidup umma, mungkin umma jadi kehilangan kebiasaan yang sebelumnya."
Kaget dan syoknya ada banget denger kalimat beliau.
Apa benar aku membuat mereka merasa seperti itu selama ini?
Memang, sejak kehadiran mereka hidupku seperti berubah. Seperti kataku, banyak kebiasaan yang bergeser bahkan hilang sama sekali.
Sesederhana membaca dan menulis pun aku seperti kekurangan waktu. Tapi itu bukan salah mereka.
Mereka nggak pernah mengambil waktuku. Mereka nggak pernah mengambil kebiasaanku.
Aku yang mau ada di saat ini dengan keadaan seperti ini.
Mereka adalah mimpiku. Keinginanku saat ini ya terus ada di tengah-tengah mereka.
Tapi aku pasti punya mimpi lain juga, yang aku impikan bahkan sebelum bertemu mereka. Betul dan mimpi-mimpi itu nggak pernah padam barang sebentar. Hanya karena aku belum mampu mewujudkannya sekarang, bukan berarti mimpi-mimpi itu hilang. Bukankah katanya mimpi nggak pernah kenal usia?
Saat ini, aku sedang belajar tentang cara menghadapi realita. Realita yang paling dekat ya aku memang sedang bersama mereka. Realitanya aku mau menemani anakku bertumbuh. Realitanya aku mau support mimpi suamiku yang pelan tapi pasti menunjukkan hasilnya. Aku mau menjadi istri dan umma yang 'hadir penuh' untuk mereka.
Lalu mimpiku siapa yang dukung? Pastilah mereka.
Nanti, saatnya tiba, mimpiku yang pernah aku istirahatkan sebentar itu bisa kembali aku lanjutkan. Terkadang nggak bisa mencapai beberapa hal dalam satu waktu itu nggak apa-apa. Capai satu per satu setiap list yang aku tulis nggak kemudian menjadikanku ketinggalan.
Lagipula aku sedang nggak berkompetisi dengan siapapun, kan?
Mimpi itu kita yang ciptakan. Dan kalaupun di tengah jalan, mimpinya tiba-tiba berubah haluan ya nggak masalah.
Semangat menghidupkan dan mengejar mimpi teman-teman. Karena selain untuk beribadah, salah satu alasan kita bisa terus hidup ya karena punya mimpi dan tujuan.
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Suara malam mengantarkan kantukku sedikit terlambat malam ini. Sedang kelam telah cukup lama menyelimuti langit, membiarkan bintang-bintang menjadi corak, berkelip setiap detik.
Dari kamar ibu kudengar sayup firmanNya mengalun. Menjadi senandung pejam yang akan selalu kurindukan saat raga ini dan rumah saling berjauhan.
Sudah terlalu lama aku mencari bahagia di luar rumah. Bahkan pernah pada sosok yang ternyata tak pantas kupercaya. Sampai akhirnya kusadar, bahagia itu, yang bisa kurasakan di dunia, berada di bawah atap seng, di balik dinding batu, yang kusebut rumah.
Bahagia itu teraduk dalam wangi aroma masakan ibu di kuali, larut dalam segelas teh manis hangat milik ayah, memantul di senyum keduanya.
Bahagia itu tepat di depan mata, di balik pintu kayu yang terkuak setiap waktu, kala kupulang membawa rindu dalam tas ransel pemberian ibu.
Bahagia itu tersimpan di hati yang tak pernah ragu akan kasih sayang Allah yang mengalir lewat kasih ayah dan ibu.
Betapa lelahnya selama ini kucari bahagia di tempat yang salah.
Batusangkar, 10122023
#coretansebelumtidur#selfreminder#selftalk#desembernulis#writers on tumblr#writingproject#30 day challenge#30 day writing challenge
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The Spy, the Intrigue, and the Woman
A rotary engine's idle drone, interspersed only with the susurrus of tires on tarmac, lay disturbed as Bourbon softly rapped his knuckles against the dashboard. “Still with me, Vermouth?”
Not for the first time this question took centre stage. But whereas not a quarter of an hour ago, a coldly dished out “I'm fine, Bourbon. Quit bothering me.” had been thrown his way. No answer was forthcoming now.
The PSB agent threw a sidelong glance to the passenger side, where the first luminous greys of matutinal light softened that woman's profile. It was quite curious that he'd associate this, dare he say, all too human side, to the same woman who held a glock between his eyes. That person's grandchild, that person's favourite. But to see that they would go so far, an intrigue that was beyond their superiors' knowledge. They'd considered her a liability. Even as He did not. Why not reap the benefits. He was nothing, if not a man of callous opportunism. Even as he sensed, that the boy at least held something of an untarnished altruism, far beyond his age. As everything about him. That child, that terrifyingly clever bouya, and the Kudo patriarch were on point: A house divided in itselt couldn't stand.
While the minutiae evidence of her confinement remained secreted through disguise, the tiredness and pain she'd not been quite up to par to mask, had at long last cumulated, and drawn her into unconsciousness.
Her chin tipped to expose the slender curve of her neck and left the woman in an all-too vulnerable position.
But whereas Amuro Tooru clung to a chivalrous streak, Bourbon was but a man of callous opportunism. On such note, he took to observe first and foremost.
An element of guilt hounded Bourbon now, for his extortion...
Whereas he thought beforehand, he'd accumulated a broad understanding for the troublesome woman, she acted contrary and threw any foregone conclusion into disarray. Alas, women are naturally secretive, their motives so incongruous. The actress, in his belief, might outperform the whole of her sex on such a theorem.
He couldn't quite parse it. But somewhere along and between the line, in-between banter and occasionally subliminal as literal threats on each other's lives, they'd bonded, for the better or for worse. How troublesome.
-後程-
At no. 21, Beika-chō 2-chōme
The first luminous greys of predawn shrouded the stately Tudor-style mansion upon their arrival.
Leaning over to the passenger side, the PSB agent discreetly placed his hand to the nape of Vermouth's neck, with the sole objective of reclining the actress back against the leather seat. Rendering it feasible to open the passenger door without risking injury to her. It was an oddly intimate gesture to him, as both had never outright initiated prolonged physical contact afore. Even under the guise of Enomoto Azusa, they had kept up professional distance with only the merest hint of essential familiarity.
She didn't stir.
A case equally assuaging as it was worrisome. The man after all, assumed it to be of moral certainty, she'd not take kindly to his proximity.
Before long, as if to thoroughly defy the odds of bodily harm to his person, he quite literally embraced the jeopardy, which went hand in hand with the feisty actress and scooped her up in his arms. One hooked underneath her knees, whilst the other entwined the woman‘s waist, which had, in his opinion, gaunted in the last two fortnights to a starkly defined frailty Whereas the odyssey of the last 72 hours, surely had done her an equally ill favour, far beyond that.
Outbalancing, he saw to support her chin in the crook of his neck and drape her arms around it, thereupon, overtly not at all straining to the men and thus, further corroborated his belief.
And no stirring again.
By now he almost preferred to be clocked in the chin with hard-knuckled womanly ire. A subject to her moral outrage in lieu of this darn stillness of hers.
Traversing the path leading up to the estate, the front door opened up to the men known to him as Okiya Subaru, even before Bourbon set foot upon the stoop.
Opting to tarry in the doorframe and his arms folded in front of his torso, Okiya watched his approach. A wary regard on both sides in passing only before Bourbon invited himself in.
It was a prima facie case of being waylaid at the landing. Bourbon politely dipped his chin to the landlady and the bouya. And lastly, to the Kudo patriarch himself.
“I'm sorry for the undue delay. Where to, oku-sama?” Bourbon's eyes wandered down at arm's length.
Yukiko, who stood inert until now, hand tensely still around the bannister of the stoop, agitatedly chewed her lower lip as old sentiments fought with conscious thoughts. Her mind thrown into turmoil at the pairs' arrival. “You may bring her into the parlour.”
She took a hesitant step towards the pair, absently running her palms over her arms, as if the man's arrival had left a sudden coldness in its wake. No, not him, but the woman he came with.
It lay with her.
-後程-
New York's Upper West Side, 1975
An icy gust courting the chill of the sea greeted the young actress like an old, estranged friend. Ducking behind the collar of her wrap coat, she bowed to its unkindness.
“You don't have to pretend, you know.”
Her colleague in the arts, walking side by side with Yukiko, commented as they left the outskirts of Central Park behind them. The drone of traffic no longer a distant hum, but a hive astir, by the time the pair passed a thoroughfare onto Columbus Avenue.
“Eh?”
“That you're not cold.” the elder woman clarified.
“No, kinishinaide. I merely underestimated the Atlantic chill of old 'York. My beloved Edo must've obliged me too much on such a note, I suppose.” Yukiko conceded a tad sheepishly and ducked her head even further.
“Let's see, that we amend to your lack of forethought then, no?”
The staccato of heels hollowed out on the pavement as the elder woman eased her steps.
The younger actress followed suit and watched on in utter bewilderment as her colleague loosened her own scarf. Only to thereupon step up to her curious onlooker.
With the habitual reserved smile of hers, as her colleague wound her own cashmere scarf around the other one's delicate neck. “Will this suffice?”
“Sharon…”
“As I've become quite fond of your high-spirited presence, we'll have to see to it that the winter of your discontent too shall be made glorious summer by this woman of 'York.” A smug gleam flashed in vibrant turquoise.
“Shakespeare, really?” Yukiko‘s lips quirked minutely.
“No? … O hideous winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; … the icy fang and churlish chiding of the winter’s wind… I shrink with cold; what freezings I have felt, what dark days seen...” the elder trailed off with a delicately complex flourish.
“My, how cruel.” Yukiko swatted her colleague’s arm for her cheeky remark. But was it mere cheek? There seemed to be an undercurrent of something deeper, a mere glow of wistfulness behind a well-known veil of aloofness, one that was as elusive as they come.
“I've to be cruel to be kind, dear.”
Oh my, she’d traipsed right into that one, hadn’t she?
“You're a right Shakespearean dork, a prodigiously gifted one for sure, but a dork nonetheless.”
A fond smile graced Yukiko’s lips as she burrowed deeper into the warmth her colleague's scarf offered. Catching a trace of the other woman’s perfume on the cashmere voile.
It was then something caught her eye.
Crossing the wide pedestrian boulevard with quick strides, Yukiko bid her colleague to follow with a conspiratorial wink over her shoulder.
Puzzled what mischief was afoot now, the elder complied and let herself be guided.
As she drew near, it became apparent what had captivated Yukiko's attention from afar.
Nestled in an alcove of an imposing turn-of-the-century brick building, a book vendor had put a broad assortment of readable goods on display.
The chapman, a stout, grey-bearded men, a Boss of the Plains worn over his silver streaked mane, tipped the brim of his hat as she approached. “Ma'am.”
No sooner had she sidled up towards the stand than a triumphant yelp, drew her attention to its tail end. Where behind stacks of leather-bound prose, her young colleague stood with the spoils of her little foray, secreted against her chest.
Stepping up to the vendor, Yukiko cast a furtive glance towards her colleague, surreptitiously keeping its title under wraps.
Seeing that a sub rosa exchange was a prerequisite, the chapman merely bellowed a guttural laugh and divulged a mere “One of my gems, a weather eye you’ve got there, my fair lady.” Before handing the book out to its newfound owner, anew...
Shakespeare's Sonnets is a Collectible Edition, an elegantly designed bonded-leather binding, with distinctive gilt edging.
…
The elder woman caressed the spine with an air of familiarity and fondness. Both seemingly extending far beyond their written planes to the very woman who stood before her, grinning like Carroll's proverbial Cheshire Cat and her cheeks aglow with enthusiasm.
“You're something else.”
-後程-
Yukiko moved passed the man and led him into the adjoining room, towards a lounge situated in an alcove at the back. A fire crackling in the hearth at its lefthand side extended its own fragrant warmth as Bourbon lowered the actress upon the chaise.
With a concerned inquiry the brunette landlady moved in closer to the man. “Are you hurt, Tooru-kun?”
“No, kinishinaide.” A bemused grin dimpled the corner of his mouth. Only to strain into a Front, the tension evident in the set of his jaw as he followed along the elder woman’s gaze. Belatedly taking note, that the front of his turtleneck stood in evidence of his proximity to the injured actress, and lay saturated in her blood.
Forthwith, Yukiko took two hastened steps forward as the man negated. Only to steady herself against the back of the lounge thereupon…
Whilst the man spoke up to alleviate, the whilom actress made her way around the lounge, and huddled down beside its sole occupant. Their fingertips intertwining without thought as hers lay disquietingly bloodless and cold against the warmth of Yukiko’s own.
“She didn't survive this altercation, I take it. The blood residue on Vermouth's neck and blouse collar is too bright to be deoxygenated. It's arterial.” The bouya had come up next to his mother. As keen indigo took in the state of the prostrate actress with an indecipherable mien.
Bearing witness to his mothers gesture, a minute detail piqued his interest. “May I, kaa-san?” the little tantei queried merely low enough for the woman in question to discern.
With an air of reluctance, the whilom actress abandoned her place on the hardwood floor in favour of perching on the edge of the armrest.
And in lieu, resolved to watch her son on the qui vive.
Inflamed by the spirit of investigation, small dexterous fingers turned over Vermouth‘s hand in his own. His index finger traced over her knuckles. “But it’s different here. Its nuance is a tick too dark.” the little tantei mused. Whilst another detail gave rise to a thoughtful frown, and warranted further investigation later on.
“Her carotid to be precise. But it nicked her jugular vein as well. A keen eye for detail you've got there, tantei-bouya. Vermouth had to run her through with the shard of a convex mirror. It was a messy but quick kill, quite different from the one the sniper woman had in mind for our dear actress. That madcap wanted to butcher her up with a kurouchi knife.”
Yukiko’s palm flattened into the armrest, shored up against a bout of disequilibrium at the allusion to a murder in self-defence. Her head bowed, and features curtained by a proscenium drape of curls, as if willing this dreary act to take its last bow with her.
Yusaku who'd observed his wife’s demeanour with overt worry, opted to cut in at this point. “That's quite enough. What's elementary to know albeit, is how Mrs Vineyard came to be in this state. Are you able to elaborate on any occurrences that came to pass after her denunciation?”
“She has been in coercive detainment ever since. There is an instalment, we refer to as the White Room. You might be aware of its concept under the euphemism of enhanced interrogation, a form of systemic torture used by the Agency and DIA. She has been incarcerated for at least 72 hours, as far as I'm aware of. Therefore my intel stems solely from its surveillance system, I was able to examine and interfere upon. Around mid-eve, Gin came to her. Their little chat ended with her pressed up against the wall and a chokehold to her trachea. It was than Ano kata intervened.” …
“It was quite illuminating to watch their interaction. Pre-eminently, as I've know of their particular connexion beforehand. But most unfortunate it was, that the camera vantage point was off. Therefore we’re left with no salient clue to the great Kuromaku himself, other than his voice. Austere and gravelly. I would estimate, Inshū dialect with western influence.
“It further cements some truths, at the least. But we‘re not talking about her status quo as his favourite, I presume? Who is she to the Moriarty of the East, Amuro-no-niichan?”
“I know she holds you in high regard. Then again, she alone should tell you, little Holmes. It leaves me curious, though. What makes this woman so fond of you? Ano tantei, Edogawa Conan and Mouri-san. The girl she bestowed with the epithet Angel. You won't believe how often she held me to our promise.” “No harm shall befall them. Promise me to keep them safe, from now on till the day he'll succeed to deliver the coup de grâce to the beast we serve. Onegaidakara, Bourbon.” “This proud woman deigned to beg, tantei-bouya. I'll not betray her on such, as I'll not betray her secret.”
“Ano on‘na. Such a troublesome one she is.”
(Conan asks is kaa-san to unmask Vermouth…)
On behest of her son she took heart. Treading warily, she leaned above the supine woman to lift the mask with shaking fingers. Fearing what lies beneath.
As the mask fell, Yukiko draw in a shaky breath, one arm folded around her midriff in a protective huddle. A sharp intake beside her, told her Shin-chan seemed taken aback as well, and rightly so.
While her platinum blonde tresses were drawn into a loose chignon for disguising purpose, her features stood out more defined. An unusual gauntness about her, a kind of prominence to her cheekbones and chin. Quite unlike their last encounter on the Belltree-Express. As were the almost bruising shadows that underlined her eyes, and bespoke of more than one night of eluded sleep. In kind, the contour of her lips stood darkly defined, against the pallor of her skin.
“Her lips are cyanotic. That's a good sign.
“Watch you mouth, Okiya-kun! How can this be a good sign?” the whilom actress chided.
“Ano kata‘s intervention. I presume he injected her. Cyanosis is a mere body of evidence, that her organism has eliminated the drug insofar as the onset of withdrawal has set in.” he clarified to smother any kindled ire.
Bourbon gave a stiff nod. “An interrogation under duress. You know the drill.”
“You’re talking about an injection as if it is a common occurrence.” the little tantei enquired.
“Sodane~ Hyoscyamine amytal. A rapid-onset short-acting barbiturate derivative, spiked with a highly psychoactive compound substance.”
The mere thought of what her friend had gone through at the hands of her own syndicate, struck a note of disquiet within the whilom actress.
(All slowly and a little unconsciously, her knuckles trailed along the delicate hollow beneath the other woman’s temple.)
The ardency behind it, not lost on Okiya.
“This woman, who is she to you, Yukiko-san? You were in association with Rotten Apple, so much at least is painfully obvious.” Okiya evinced, emphasising upon the ‘Kusatta’ part of the code name, the Bureau had given to the actress.
Yukiko bristled on behalf of her friend, her tosa-ben distinct in its vowels. “You may not call her that. Whatever moniker the Bureau deems befitting, shall not be permitted in my house. Did I make myself clear?”
"I see." Okiya‘s interest was unequivocally roused as it set the stage for a grand finale deduction to bring down the curtain on the elusive woman, rendered a persona non grata to the Bureau and any other major justice department in and outside the domain.
She might've served a valuable asset to their cause. But placing reliance upon her, was a lethal game of chance. Jodie would've him execrated for the mere though upon such.
-後程-
Hazily blinking into wakefulness, it was a piercing glance of poisonous green, and a low, gravelly timbre rather close upon, she came to.
No more than inconclusive words still, sans greater context, but at the same time eerily familiar in their inflection. One the she couldn't quite place.
Thrown off kilter, she acted on mere instinct, instilled through two decades worth of underground experience, and sprung a well aimed uppercut, clocking the man who leaned at close proximity above her, squarely in the chin.
A passing glance that sufficed to come away with a disquieting conclusion.
Underneath a shadow of discolouration, where her knuckles had glanced his jawline, a sheen of makeup had worn off. A distinct almond hue, contrasting his own pallor, now more noticeable in the change of ambient light. One that was quite commonplace, if one were versed in the performing arts.
The troublesome feel she'd about the man reared to a new high. A shiver of unease run through her.
The same glance through the rifle scope, mere month afore.
Could it be? Had Bourbon been not so far of with his thesis after all?
The man gave a hollow scoff. “Should've known.”
“And so should've I, Rye.”
-後程-
“Glad to know, the Bureau can be brought down a peg, whilst sniffing around on Japanese soil. I’m much obliged, Berumotto.“
“It was my pleasure.”
The actress after all, had borne the brunt of Rye‘s ballistic tenacity, on more than one occasion, so it came to a mere quid pro quo in her book.
A lesser woman would’ve cowered at the louring scowl thrown her way. But for someone in the habit of standing atiptoe with Gin…
“I‘ll take my leave, otherwise my absence will be noted.”
“Bourbon.”
“I’m glad, I didn’t blow your brains. I dare say, it would’ve been a terrible waste, no?”
“Jeez, Berumotto. A simple thank you would’ve sufficed.”
“I know.” an ambiguous smile lay thin on culpable quirked lips.
-後程-
“I beg to differ. And it’s not up for debate. I can’t have you bleeding out all over Great-Aunt Fujiko‘s antique family heirloom, after all.” Yukiko prevailed, towering over her friend for once, a defiant gleam alight in her eyes.
The other woman didn’t yield either. “Just let it be, Yukiko.”
“Don’t be so recalcitrant.”
“My, a tad hypocritical, no?.”
“Please, no more.”
The other heaved a strained sigh, the lingering unease Yukiko’s proximity had stirred up, only gradually subsiding.
“I presume you won’t be persuaded otherwise?” Knowing the headstrong persona before her, this would indeed be the case.
“I won’t. So, indulge me.”
Not to be told twice, Yukiko settled upon the armrest anew. And without delay, lifted the silken garment, deft and careful not to aggravate the injure to a further extent.
“You’re keeping a suturing kit in your drinking cabinet?” the actress asked bemusedly as she observed Yukiko who rummaged through a globe cabinet.
“Yū-chan has not much use for it otherwise. It was after all, a mere endowment from one of his associates. And I’m keeping one stocked in every second room actually. With everything that happens around the estate on a day to day basis. Not to mention, that it has been quite the common occurrence as Shin-chan grow up. Not that he has outgrown it since, ne?”
“I can’t say he has.”
The whilom actress folded her hands in her lap, a sort of restless energy about her as she fidgeted with her wedding band.
For a time neither one spoke. An unease parley of words. One Yukiko dared to stray from first.
“I never stopped caring, you know.”
Yukiko’s eyes, seemingly overly bright in their own right, caught the restive flicker of firelight as she peered through the bay window into the yard beyond. Not able to met Sharon’s gaze at her own unguarded avowal.
“It would’ve been kinder to both of us, if you had.”
“Perhaps. But there is no reasoning with sentiment, and neither should there be a need to.” Yukiko opinioned with amain.
The words of mother and son as if attuned struck a chord in her, that had better not be vibrated. Evoking the memory of that fateful met under the guise of Silverhair with staggering clarity in her mind.
“You’re quite alike. While your son might’ve inherited Yūsaku’s astute logical mindset, his compassionate and empathic nature is one I’ve come to know quite well over the years, in another. That’s the quintessence of your influence, dear. One that’s uniquely remarkable. It’s intelligence that adds to logic with keen empathy.”
#dcmk#conanverse#writingproject#vermouth#bourbon#okiya subaru#kudo yukiko#edogawa conan#kudo yusaku#writing
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Quotes from my novel
Blade appeared in the doorway as soon as I pulled a duffel from my closet. “How are you feeling?” He asked, leaning against the frame.
“I’m fine. Everything is fine.” I reply dismissively.
Blade pinched his nose. “You collapsed after a fight and think everything is fine. How?” Panic crept into his voice as he stared me down.
I sighed, not having the energy for an argument. “Of course everything is not really fine. But that’s what I have to keep telling myself. It’s the only way I can keep going some days.”
#writing ideas#amwriting#adultfiction#books#creative writing#fantasy#fiction#lgbt#lgbtfiction#maturelanguage#maturethemes#love writing#my writing#writing#writblr#writer#writingproject#OC#original character
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Seorang kekasih duduk termangu, mengusap sisa-sisa duka yang berderai dari ingatannya. Aku menghampirinya dan duduk di sisinya. "Kau tahu, aku merasa begitu dekatnya kesedihanmu dengan kesedihanku. Aku seperti mengakrabi setiap derai kesedihan yang menyentuh jiwamu itu." Dia tertunduk dalam dan berkata, "Duka dan luka kita mungkin sama merahnya. Tetapi aku hanya mampu mengalirankan duka ini dalam ratap yang sunyi hingga menyesak di dadaku. Sesekali aku ingin berontak dan meneriakkannya sekuat mungkin, tapi tetap saja sama. Kekasihku tidak akan medengarkan jiwaku yang memanggilnya." "Maukah kau menyatukan luka dan kesedihanmu itu dalam satu pesta yang riang? Maukah kau berdansa denganku? Atau jika aku mengajakmu berlari, maukah kau belari dalam sabana yang luas agar kita berdua bisa menari bersama dalam kesedihan yang abadi?" Tanyaku padanya. Dia mengangkat kepalannya dan menatap padaku. Keraguan jelas tergambar di sana. "Aku suka dengan irama kesedihanmu!" Kataku meyakinkan. "Hanya itu yang dititpkan kekasihku sebelum berlalu pergi. Kuharap kau tak mencurinya dariku." "Aku tak akan mencurinya. Bagus jika selalu ada di tempatnya. Aku suka caramu merawat luka dengan lembut." Kataku sebelum berlalu pergi dan memberinya ruang untuk menata rasa di hatinya. #fragment #note #noteforyou #writing #writingproject #writingchallenge #writeaway #writingcommunity #memories https://www.instagram.com/p/CpbKgZJvZDZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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72-Hour Coffee Picture Prompt Challenge: “You’re a University of Art’s Universe” (Swipe to see all the prompt pictures) (Unlimited words) 72-Hour Coffee Picture Prompt Challenge: “You’re a University of Art’s Universe” by @natalieholland777 and @poeticuniversityuniverse @natalieholland777 is an artist I been following on my art channel @emcee_poetic_artist I love Natalie’s art. Pick from any of the 6 prompt pictures to write your poem, (unlimited words) Universal Poetic Rules: 1.) Follow @natalieholland777 and @PoeticUniversityUniverse (we follow back) 2.) Share this post on your story 3.)Post on your profile along with the picture you chose to write to. (unlimited poems) 4.)Tag as many poetry friends as you like 5.) Use @natalieholland777 #natalieholland777 and #Poeticuniversityuniverse @poeticuniversityuniverse when you post on your feed. 6.) Winners will be featured in my stories and receive a poetry certificate and will be featured on prompt channel @PromptsUniversalSpirit 7.) Be friendly! Lastly enjoy the challenge and have a great August with friends and family !! What You Win: The top champion poet, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners will be featured in my story and permanently featured in the highlight section of my profile. Also, honorable mentions will be featured in my story. Your poetry will be read on Instagram live. Also, the top winners will receive an e-certificate. Prompt started: 4:00 am USA Central Time Sunday August 21st, 2022 ends 10 am USA Central time Wednesday August 24th #writinginspiration #writinggoals #writersblock #julyprompt #journals #journaling #creativejournaling #5amwritersclub #publishing selfpublishing #indiepublishing #writerproblems #writingdesk #writingproject #writinglife #authorlife #creativewriting #writeaway #writerwednesday #writermotivation #keepwriting #NaNoWriMo #characterdevelopment #characterstudy #fictionalcharacters #prompt #poetrybook #celebration (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Chg-vgNuxgL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#natalieholland777#poeticuniversityuniverse#writinginspiration#writinggoals#writersblock#julyprompt#journals#journaling#creativejournaling#5amwritersclub#publishing#indiepublishing#writerproblems#writingdesk#writingproject#writinglife#authorlife#creativewriting#writeaway#writerwednesday#writermotivation#keepwriting#nanowrimo#characterdevelopment#characterstudy#fictionalcharacters#prompt#poetrybook#celebration
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