#yeah she’s gone now urchin has a new friend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

factual-fantasy · 3 months

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26 ASKS!! :DD THANK YALL!! 🎉🎂🎉

@ardent-38 @lime-ether @piperjistic @elegysonnet @storylover2 @forestrests

AAAAAA THANK YALL SO MUCH!! :DDD YALL ARE THE BEST!! :}} 💖💖💖

(Sorry I'm a bit late!)

:DD Thank you!! My favorite might be plain vanilla 😋💖

@unpopularartist14

I have definitely heard of it and seen it around. :0 And I got a good taste of it from SMG4s video on it XDD I've thought about watching it in the past. Though hearing about that widely accepted ship.. Ehhh,, I'm not so sure now.. <XD

@sunshine-vr6

@wdillustration

:DD THANK YOU!! :}}}

@badlyblurry (Post in question)

XDD It really has. The poor guy is so conflicted. This really seems like a romantic moment. But surly she's just excited about her new form and doesn't understand the typical boundaries friends have.

Surly someone as beautiful and desirable as Blue.. wouldn't be interested in a old cookie like him.

..Right??

@jesterpiecethejester

They're still on my blog, I never deleted them or anything. You just gotta go to my #undertale tag and scroll down a bit-

@minnesotamedic186 (Post in question)

AWW!! Its might be a bit out of character for Blue, but its still a cute scene!! :DD

@keakruiser (Sorry for replying a bit late!)

:DDD THANK YOU!! I had some giant cookies and cream cupcakes! 😋😋

Huh, suprising!

....now what does Urchin taste like.. 🍴🍪

@edgywithaheart

Ooooo interesting!! :DD Though I wonder if this would change Barnaby and Howdy at all <XDD

GASP!! Nooo not my boy! He would never do a crime. XD

@jenny-the-fox

XD I think I have a couple of OCs that belong there--

(Post in question)

Oh! Thank you for the info! :DD

@candyglumboy (Post in question)

That could be an interpretation of it yeah :00 but to be totally honest, I haven't thought it all through yet..

The intention behind that comic is its showing that Eddie used to be a human. And now he's.. well. He's Eddie.

The comic was trying to show that there was someone he used to know when he was human. His sister? His mother? Someone.. He knew someone. And now that he's in the neighborhood.. she's gone. What happened to her? Who was she? Why do I miss her so much?.. Why.. am I crying? Why am I shaking?

"..What was I talking about.?"

@astaherussy

EATING THIS SCENARIO LIKE GARLIC BREAD FR!!! AAAAA JUST IMAGINE EVERYONE'S REACTIONS!!

I think the 3 of them are no strangers to bloody scenes, but that wouldn't make seeing their Octokids so hurt any easier.. <:(( Now I'm not much of a writer, and idk if this is the kind of response you were expecting.. but none the less you have inspired me! :}}

I can see them offering their services if needed, but mostly just staying out of Peso's way and letting him do his thing. when everything winds down and they're able to see each other.. it would be tough. :((

Kwazii would be in high spirits as always despite the injuries. He would proudly tell Calico Jack about how he was bravely able to fend off multiple sharks! He expected a lot of enthusiasm from his Grandad.. "..Y-Ye did great Kwazii, ye protected yer crew well. I'm real proud of ya for that.." Instead he got a more.. somber response.

With the time Kwazii has spent with the Octonauts, he's gotten a lot better at reading people. Its not hard to tell when someone is shaken. His ears are pinned back, his tail is puffed up and flicking back and fourth.. its clear that Jack isn't taking this sight well.

Kwazii would probably sit up straighter. "Hey,, Grandad I'm.. I'm alright, ye don't need to worry." He'd gently grab Jacks arm, getting his attention. "I'll be alright, this isn't a big deal! Really, I'm ok! It looks a lot worse than it actually is."

Jack might take a deep breath and nod "..I know. I know you'll be alright, lad.." His ears were still pinned back. Kwazii frowns. "..I'm alright now Grandad. This is small, trust me.." Jack would pause.. but then nod. Seeing Kwazii so beaten is hard for Jack to stomach. But Kwazii is one tough cookie.. Just like him. He knows that things will be ok. Kwazii will be ok.. They're both ok..

~~~

When Marsh came in to see Tweak, he almost lost his composure. He knows Tweak is tough. And she's gotten hurt a lot growin up, this ain't nothin she cant handle. But gosh, this hurts. That's his little girl. It hurts so much to see her like this. She's collapsed in medbay, and has her leg all bound up in a cast.

"Pa! Heh, uh- sorry about all this. You an I were supposed to go out swimmin after that mission. I guess uh.. it'll have to wait.. heh.."

A deep breath, "Now don't chu worry bout none of that," He sat down beside her bed and pat her on the shoulder. "You just put all yer energy into gettin better. Ok? We can always go see the reef another time." His droopy ears and shaky voice wasn't helping his tough façade..

Tweaks pauses for a moment. But then offers her hand to Marsh. He takes it, confused at first.

"..I'm sorry I scared you pa.. I'll be ok.."

...Unable to reply, Marsh just nods. He sighs and wipes his tears away. Gripping Tweaks hand tighter. He sniffles, and just nods..

~~~

Natquik's meeting with Barnacles went a little smoother than the others. He is no stranger to the sight of blood. And knowing that Barnacles is tough as nails, he wasn't too worried about him.. but still. Seeing Barnacles in such a state.. it wasn't easy.

When Natquik came in, he placed a gentle paw on the bears shoulder. "Barnacles, how do you feel? Are your wounds bad..?" Barnacles' voice was gravelly and slow. He had a nasty headache after that facial injury.. "..Oh.. I'll be alright.. its nothing I.. cant recover from.."

Natquik pulls up a stool and sits beside him. "You gave me a big scare, you know. You must not do that to me! No more dangerous missions for you!" He said wagging his finger.

Barnacles chuckled. "That wasn't meant to.. be a dangerous mission. Things just.. got out of hand." Natquik nods. "Yes yes, I can see.." His tone seemed off at the end there..

"..Are you alright, Professor?" It takes Natquik a second to respond.. Seeming to think over his words. "Don't worry for me, Barnacles. I am better now that I have seen you. And you will heal fine, yes? So all is ok." His hesitation wasn't reassuring.. But he knows how Natquik is. So doesn't push it further. "Yes, despite the scene we caused.. most of these injuries are minor. We'll be.. alright." Natquik puts on a smile that cant truly be read. "That is all that matters, my friend."

~~~

ALSO WAAHAGA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I'm so glad to hear you like my stuff!! And you're interested even when you don't know thE CANON? BESTIE I AM HONORED!! 😭😭💖💖😭💖💖

And of course I would respond! :DD I LOVE receiving comments/interaction with my work. Its the #1 thing I hope my posts receive! Now I cant respond to every single one unfortunately, but I do read them all and respond to as many as I possibly can!! :D I'll take this moment to give a big thank you to all that leave me messages/comments/asks! They're my favorite thing!! 💖💖🥰💖

@couchwow

Thank you! :D Also OOOO CREATRURES! :DDD

@peaspods

I don't have a master post for those, no.. it would take a ton of effort for me to comb through my entire blog to compile it all so I haven't done it..

You can find all/most of that stuff under my #octonauts tag and my #deltarune tag. I hope this helps!

I did have a blue blanket for a time.. though that blanket doesn't actually exist irl-

Also man, that would take me forever to make. Bibi and the other's quilts were really small and easy to work with. I cant imagine all the time it would take for me in this state to make a full human sized quilt-

Plus I would have to draw the quilt with me whenever I draw my sona. Which would suck because then it would take longer for me to draw myself <XDD

XD Thank you!! :D I'm so glad you like them! :}}

WAAAAA THATS SO GOOODD!! 😭😭😭😭

#my response #tw descriptions of blood #tw descriptions of injury #octonauts #welcome home #eddie dear #factual fam #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs

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shotofire · 3 years

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bonjour,how are you ? well a oneshot for levi with a kind and shy cadet s/o, who respect everybody but when she gets mad, she'll answer with sarcasm cuz she's dumbass without being afraid or caring about the punishment(even if it's keith or another chef, no body have the right to treat her like a shit) merçi beaucoup ^^✨

Hi friend :p i’m great and I hope you are as well ! Thank you for the request <3

LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER

Warnings: cursing, age gap (legal of course)

Season: not specified

Becoming apart of the Survey Corps was everything but glamorous. Not that anyone would think that, but things definitely were on the ugly side most of the time. To be a scout required discipline and a huge amount of focus. To lay down your life without a second thought would be hard for just about anyone. For some reason, you found it rather easy.

Not a single person believed when you’d say it wasn’t that complicated. Of course knowing you’re going to die isn’t the most exciting thing to come to terms with, but every scout needs to. When your mind is set like that you only excel from there, and that’s exactly what you did. Many of your peers found you admirable, and only wished they could think they way you do.

Levi Ackerman especially found interest in you. At first to find a girl younger than him was controversial, only to him, and he worried that others would accuse you of trying to climb up in the ranks. Soon everyone knew Levi was not the reason you excelled. Sure he’d help you train and push you to your limits, but your natural inner strength is what has kept you alive.

The two of you never classified your relationship, but it was obvious it was closer than an ordinary friendship. There has been several occasions where a group of cadets have spotted you sneaking out of his office. One time Erwin saw you go in without even knocking, that’s the day he knew Levi Ackerman was definitely whipped.

Many couldn’t imagine how you two even came together. Levi was quiet, and only really spoke when giving orders. Then there was you, the quietest girl that had ever entered the Survey Corps. Nobody was being dramatic when they said to hear you speak was rare. You tried to keep to yourself, getting close to others was a weakness. Then Levi entered your life and screwed up that little plan, and now you were perfectly smitten with the captain.

The relationship, or whatever you’d call it, was kept at a minimum to the eyes of others. The furthest it had gone to give others a clue were the office visits, and the way you’d smile at him in the halls or during training.

Before the two of you became a thing you’d given him a few sarcastic remarks. Initially he saw you as someone who needed remediation, but that soon changed. The man saw so much of himself in you it was ridiculous, and he soon started to understand you. On the occasions you’d been a urchin he realized that you were simply sticking up for yourself.

It shocked many to hear the quiet girl stand up for herself, especially to someone as scary as Levi. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t find him intimidating. In all honestly, you didn’t find any of the commanders, chiefs, or captains worth cowering over. You’d experienced titans break down the wall to your home village and devour people in your late teenage years. A couple of humans were the least of your fears, especially men.

Those sarcastic remarks and dramatic eye rolls is what drew the captain in. Not to mention your strength was something they hadn’t seen in years. Some would go as far to say you were worth a hundred soldiers. The raven-haired man made it his mission to get closer with you. This feeling had never been within Levi, that’s how he knew you were special.

He knew you so well after years of watching you become stronger and more skilled. You may be young but you were better than half the soldiers who’d been fighting for a decade longer.

Levi was worried about today, it had been on his mind for weeks. It was time for commander Keith to do his annual checkup. Levi found it rather pointless but it had to be done. The sunkened eyed man always came when he brought a new batch of soldiers. Levi had managed to steer you clear of him year after year, but it still worried him. Keith was a loud and rude man most of the time, and that was your biggest pet peeves. To come face to face with a walking version of the things you hated wouldn’t end well. He knew if the man pushed your buttons in the wrong place you’d have plenty to say.

He spent majority of the day convincing you to train with him away from everyone else. It was his usual solution for this day, to have you separated. As the years went by you started to pick up on it, it’s not like you were dumb. Around the same time every year Levi did this and it started to become obvious and you knew something was happening.

Right now you were trying to take the wooden knife from his hand and pin him down, which was something you hadn’t done since the earlier years. It had been round after round of outsmarting him and throwing him to the ground that you finally spoke your mind, “Levi what’s going on? Everyone is gathered out front and we’re here, I want to get the experience that the others are.” He could see the frustration running through you, and the annoyed on your face expression was prominent.

You didn’t like when Levi took you to do things one on one when everyone else was together. There was a fear of judgment, what if they thought you were getting special treatment? This is what that was to you. Levi was much more skilled than anyone else out there and you were getting to do combat with him, which is unfair in your eyes. “I just wanted to have some alone time with you, is that okay?” The man may have a face that mainly consists of one expression, but you knew he was lying.

He knew you saw right through him once you scoffed. “I’m going to join everyone else, feel free to come with.” There was no stopping you now, even if he tried it’d be more obvious that something was going on. Your eyes scanned the groups of your fellow cadets, and a few you didn’t recognize. Did we get a new group today? You asked yourself.

Before you can really process what’s going on, a bald man with weird eyes is making his way towards you. You recognized his face from past expeditions, but didn’t care enough to remember his name. “Late to meet new fellow cadets?” He asked baffled, a bit dramatic in your opinion. Getting new cadets was nothing special or new, so who cares if you were late? Half of them would be titan food in the next month.

He was quick to talk before letting you answer, but you weren’t sure if you were even going to say anything. For a second you considered just walking away. Someone coming up to you and raising there voice for no reason was enough to irritate anyone. “You’ve been here for years but have never bothered to show up to one of these, maybe you should learn some respect cadet.”

Levi watched from afar with wide eyes. Of course Keith was already talking to you, the man had it out for you. He’s complain that you kept to yourself too much and it was suspicious, and hated that you never showed up to these. Half of that was obviously Levi’s fault. Keith wasn’t aware of that and also wasn’t aware of your relationship with the captain.

Keith’s eyes become staggered when you let out a light snicker, cheeks upturning into a smile. “What the hell is funny?” He asks with his arms crossed, still trying to be intimidating. “The fact that you think i’d ever be afraid of someone like you.” Your words made his mouth fall, no one had ever said something like that to him. He’s pretty much convinced himself at this point that everyone feared him in some way. Then there was you, showing him he was completely wrong.

“You should have some respect!” The man says, stepping closer to you. “So coming up to me without introducing yourself and yelling in my face earns you respect? I don’t know where the fuck you came from, but we say hello first here.” He was down right astonished by you. The smirk on your face made his blood boil, you had zero alarm of him. Before he could come back at you, which he was struggling to think of something, Levi’s hands were on your waist. “Oh well okay, i’m gonna take her away from you now.”

Levi nervously laughs as he pulls you away from Keith. You didn’t want to be around him any longer so Levi taking you away was perfectly fine with you. “What’s that guys deal?” You asked with your lips pushed up and you eyebrows knitted. “As you can tell, he’s not a fan of you.” Well duh, you could tell. You look over Levi’s shoulder to see the man was still looking at you with his same crossed arms. “What a freak,” you mumbled and Levi huffed.

“That freak is pretty important to the scouts, he could have you removed if he really wanted to.” That statement didn’t scare you one bit. Everyone would raise hell if you got taken away, Levi even knew it. “He said I never show up to these, do you know why?” Your brow is quirked and your hand is on you hip, fingers tapping against it. It had become evident that Levi had kept you away from the man, but that seemed to have made things worse over the years.

“I’m sorry,” he said while scratching the back of his head. He knew you had already figured it out by the way you were looking at him. You laughed a bit at his mannerism, the guy really had you isolated from someone like Keith. “It’s fine, you just need to understand I can handle myself.” You smile and Levi ruffles your hair. “I’m well aware you can handle yourself. I experienced the (y/n) attitude when you first got here, don’t think I forgot.” You chuckle thinking of the hard times you used to give him.

“Oh you loved it, didn’t you? I mean look at us now.”He rolls his eyes at you and you can’t help but let out another laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever you brat,” he says playfully, “Just avoid Keith till he leaves. I don’t feel like listening to him complain about you, I may use choice words with him myself.” You scan to make sure no ones looking, Mainly Keith, before you smack a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks heat up at the gesture, which you’d never done in public before. “You sound like an old man, I may use some choice words,” you voice deepens as you restate what he had just said.

Before he can say anything your giving him another kiss on the cheek and walking off, “I want to meet some cadets this year, unlike all the times before this.” He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and narrows his eyes at you playfully. You walk off with a smile and wave, getting ready to greet the cadets. This would probably be the only time the new comers heard you speak to them directly.

Levi’s eyes watch you, then they widen when he sees Keith headed straight for you.

Shit, not again.

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chelseamount · 4 years

Text

Carpool Karaoke - Tom Holland x Reader

BEFORE YOU READ IMPORTANT

when there are songs

cursive is you

BOLD is James

and This is both of you

this story was requested by @tomsirishgirlx

---

"Thank you so much for helping me to work today the traffic is crazy" James

"yeah no problem," I say

"you wanna listen to some music?"

"let's do it"

"Are we gonna have a problem?

You got a bone to pick?

You've come so far why now are you pulling on my dick?

I'd normally slap your face off And everyone here could watch But I'm feeling nice Here's some advice Listen up beeyotch"

"I like"

Lookin' hot

Buying stuff They can not

"I like"

"Drinking hard Maxing dad's credit card"

I like

Skippin' gym Scarin' her Screwin' him

I like

Killer clothes

Kickin' nerds in the nose

If you lack the balls You can go play dolls Let your mommy fix you a snack(whoa)Or you could come smoke Pound some rum and coke In my Porsche with the quarterback (whoa, whoa, whoa)

Honey, what you waitin' for? Welcome to my candy store Time for you to prove you're not a loser Anymore And step into my candy store

Guys fall At your feet Pay the check Help you cheat

All you Have to do

Say goodbye

To Shamu

That freak's Not your friend I can tell In the endIf she Had your shot

She would leave You to rot

Course if you don't care Fine, go braid her hair Maybe Sesame Street is on(whoa)

Or forget that creep And get in my jeep

Let's go tear up Someone's lawn (whoa, whoa, whoa)

Honey, what you waitin' for? Welcome to my candy store You just gotta prove You're not a pussy Anymore And step into my candy store

You can join the team

Or you can bitch and moan

You can live the dream

Or you can die alone

You can fly with eagles

Or if you prefer

Keep on testing me

And end up like her

Honey, what you waitin' for?

Shut up, Heather! Step into my candy store

Time for you to prove You're not a lame-ass Anymore And step into my candy store

It's my candy store It's my candy It's my candy store It's my candy It's my candy store It's my candy store

"I think I just got chills there," James says as we laugh "so Y/n it's so great to have you here"

"it's so great to be here it's like a dream come true" I smile

"y/n you are a Broadway singer and actress"

(all of these musicals and movies don't really make sense with the years they were made in but just imagine that they fit the age the reader is if that makes sense"

"yes that's correct"

"so what was your first role like ever"

"ever was Jan in grease"

"really" James looks at me

"yeah I was so happy"

"that's amazing and you were how old"

"fourteen"

"wow and what was your first broadway musical"

"that was heathers as the role of heather chandler as we just heard"

"I love the heathers songs and you are still in contact with some of your co-workers right"

"right I am really close with Barret who played Veronica but we don't get to see each other too much but when we do it's amazing"

"but you two played in mean girls too right"

"right I played Regina George and she played Janis, and that was probably one of my favourite musicals I have been in because obviously mean girls was like my favourite movie when i was younger"

"yeah so what was your favourite song from mean girls"

"oh totally world burn I think it's amazing"

"My name is Regina George And I am a massive deal I will grind you to sand Beneath my Louboutin heel This is what I get for helping Helping someone lame fit in Cady Heron, enjoy your temporary win" I sing "My name is Regina George "Regina is a fugly cow." Hey Cady, how ya like me now? I wanna watch the world burn I got the gasoline I wanna watch the world burn And everyone get mean I wanna watch the world burn I got the gasoline I wanna watch the world burn And everyone get mean Cady, time to watch your back Cady, time to turn and cough Because you took me down But you didn't finish me off My name is Regina George And in case you're keeping score Cady may have won the battle But I will win the war, for I wanna watch the world burn Trang Pak is a grotsky bi-otch! I got the gasoline Ms Norbury is a drug pusher! I wanna make the world burn Janis is a space dyke! Regina is a fugly cow Regina is a fugly cow And you can quote this Ohh. Woah-oh-oh! Who wrote this? Who wrote this? Who wrote this? I wanna watch the world burn I got the gasoline! I wanna watch the world burn And everyone turn Mean So mean! Mean So mean! Mean! I wanna watch the world burn Who wrote this? Who wrote this? I wanna make the world turn So mean! I wanna watch the world burn!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"y/n you were in les misérables too"

"yes I played fantine which was amazing but it hit hard you know it was very much touching

There was a time when men were kind When their voices were soft And their words inviting There was a time when love was blind And the world was a song And the song was exciting There was a time

Then it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in times gone by When hope was high and a life worth living I dreamed, that love would never die I dreamed that Go

d would be forgiving Then I was young and unafraid And dreams were made and used and wasted There was no ransom to be paid No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night With their voices soft as thunder As they tear your hope apart As they turn your dream to shame He slept a summer by my side He filled my days with endless wonder He took my childhood in his stride But he was gone when autumn came And still, I dream he'll come to me That we will live the years together But there are dreams that cannot be And there are storms we cannot weather I had a dream my life would be So different from this hell I'm living So different now from what it seemed Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"that literally just made me get tears in my eyes," James says as he points to his eyes

we laugh and talk for some time when the thing I have dreaded the most comes up

"so y/n I have to ask you this because everyone wants to know encluding me"

"oh no gosh I know what it is already"

"are you dating tom holland"

"oh god Tom and I are just good friends"

"really because your two have been spotted a lot of times holding hands"

"friends do that"

"sure"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Regina George is the queen bee

She's always dressed up She always wins Spring Fling Queen We're just drones that work for her And then die"James says as he turns on the radio

"My name is Regina George

And I am a massive deal Fear me, love me Stand and stare at me And these, these are real I've got money and looks I am, like, drunk with power This whole school Humps my leg like a chihuahua the prettiest poison you've ever seen I never weigh more than one-fifteen My name is Regina George And I am a massive deal I don't care who you are I don't care how you feel"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"so y/n, let's get a little serious"

"yes" I say

"in this song, you sing 'i never weigh more than 115' but you said something in a video that Regina doesn't have to be that and that you aren't and i found that amazing"

"thank you I really don't think that she has to be that and I am not and will never be near that and I'm proud of that you should be proud of how you look"

"I love that. you're also in a musical right now hamilton"

"yes I am in England"

"so any plans for what you are going to do after hamilton"

"yes but it's a secret for now

"Okay but you play one of the Schuyler sisters"

"yes I play Eliza"

"and you're amazing in it I saw it some time ago and I love it as I wrote to you"

"it still warms my heart"

"but my biggest dream is being in hamilton but as one of the Schuyler sisters"

"mmm-hmm" I laugh

"I wanna be angelica"

"you can be James"

There's nothing rich folks love more Than going downtown and slumming it with the poor They pull up in their carriages and gawk at the students in the common Just to watch 'em talk

Take Philip Schuyler, the man is loaded Uh oh, but little does he know that His daughters, Peggy, Angelica, Eliza Sneak into the city just to watch all the guys at

Work, work

Angelica!

Work, work

Eliza!

And Peggy!

Work, work

The Schuyler sisters

Angelica!

Peggy!

Eliza!

Work!

Daddy said to be home by sundown

Daddy doesn't need to know

Daddy said not to go downtown

Like I said, you're free to go

But—look around, look around The revolution's happening in New York

New York

Angelica

Work!

It's bad enough Daddy wants to go to war

People shouting in the square

It's bad enough there'll be violence on our shore

New ideas in the air

Look around, look around

Angelica, remind me what we're looking for

She's looking for me!

Eliza, I'm looking for a mind at work (work, work) I'm looking for a mind at work (work, work) [x2] Woa-oah

Woa-oah

Work!

Ooh, there's nothing like summer in the city Someone in a rush next to someone lookin' pretty Excuse me, miss, I know it's not funny But your perfume smells like your daddy's got money Why you slummin' in the city in your fancy heels? You searchin' for an urchin who can give you ideals?

Burr, you disgust me

Ahh, so you've discussed me I'm a trust fund, baby, you can trust me

I've been reading Common Sense by Thomas Paine So men say that I'm intense or I'm insane You want a revolution? I want a revelation So listen to my declaration:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident That all men are created equal"

And when I meet Thomas Jefferson (unh!) I'mma compel him to include women in the sequel

Work!

Look around, look around at how Lucky we are to be alive right now Look around, look around at how Lucky we are to be alive right now

History is happening in Manhattan and we

Just happen to be in the greatest city in the world In the greatest city in the world!

---------------------------------

"All my dreams just came true," James says as I laugh at his comment "okay now time for something a little different"

"oh gosh," I say "what is it"

"we're going to take a lie detector test"

"nooo"

after some time I'm all strapped up while a man is on a computer checking whether I speak the truth or not

"okay let's start out by some to test if it works"

"okay"

"is your name Y/n"

"yes"

"true"

"are you currently in hamilton"

"yes"

"true"

"did you play Regina George"

"yes"

"she's telling the truth"

"Great let's start easy so...Y/n"

"yes"

"Which one of your castmates is your favourite"

"Barrett"

"true"

"great, y/n am I your favourite host"

"oh absolutely"

"true"

"yes you had to get that right, okay this one is the best one are you dating tom holland"

shit

"no"

"lie"

"YES I KNEW IT I KNEW IT OMG YES" he smiles

"no that's the truth," I say

"you can't lie on accident"

"well fuck me then"

"how long"

"not long"

"lie"

"okay five years almost"

"WHAT," James says in shock

"I'm sorry we just didn't want our relationship the get ruined by hate"

"five years"

"yeah"

"When were you going to tell everyone when you had seven kids"

"haha no I don't know when but I guess it's out now"

"well some people are going to get heartbroken, someone gets hurt"

-----------------------------

Ice queen, that's what you see It's what they all expect from me But it's all show Face it, you used me You saw the sexy clothes My supermodel pose But did you know?Was I a game to you? Was I way to be cool? I truly cared Was I the fool? It's fine for you It's fine to flirt It's fine 'Till someone gets hurt 'Till someone gets hurt

----------------------------------

"Y/n it was amazing to have you here"

"it was amazing to be here James, even tho I now have to go home to Tom and tell him the news, gosh this is so fucked"

"wait you guys live together too"

"bye James" I run out the door

--------------------------------

"Baby I'm home" I smile

"hi love," Tom says as he walks over to me and kisses me, gosh I missed him

"I missed you," I say

"I missed you"

"you love me right"

"more than anything my - wait what did you do"

"well"

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spartanxhunterx · 3 years

Text

Ok, I've put a little thought into the Skyrim AU and I've got some ideas.

Let's start with the Main protagonists:

Lila: Street urchin from the imperial City, quick witted silver tongue that gets her out of as much trouble it gets her into. A limited but surprisingly wide array of knowledge on multiple skills. Doesn't trust anyone. Has the morality of a roulette wheel, she just spins it when she wakes up and sticks to what it lands on.

"Today is a day to cause Chaos."

"Lila, No!"

Marinette: Born in high rock yet moved to Skyrim, her father's homeland. In the city of whiterun she studies at the temple of Kyne in the ways of Restoration. Wants to help the forgotten injured, also has a pension for stemstressing. She also knows offensive skills taught by her mother, so she's never caught undefended.

Moral alignment: Always do good.

Nino: Tall broad and sturdy, low member of the companions, family hails from Hammerfell. Usually kitted out in heavy steel armour with a shield and Sword. Childhood friends with Marinette that started when Marinette healed a deadly injury... It was a scraped knee... Has an interest in learning from the bard collage to be able to play music.

Moral alignment: Good but will kill you without hesitation.

(Also trying to bait out the Ninette shippers, sorry guys.)

Side Character's: (That I've come up with so far)

Alya: Her mother is the chef for one of the Jarls and as such she and her other sisters grew up surrounded by the high class. Has an interest in Illusion Magic, as it's one of the more... Finer magic skills. Wants to explore but isn't allowed outside the city walls... (I'm thinking she lives in Markarth... Yeah, Markarth fits)

Juleka: Lives in Morthal with her girlfriend Rose, a practitioner of Conjuration can be commonly found outside the city limits summoning actronachs. The people of Morthal Suspect her to be a vampire or worshipper of the Daedra, she is not. She just likes the colour black and purple. Also good at enchanting, it's the only thing stopping everyone from throwing her out completely.

Rose: Alchemist in Morthal, sweet, kind and also an ex-assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, also a vampire. Quit after meeting Juleka, who she was sent to assassinate. Glad to offer Alchemy assistance to any who needs it. May swap potions for poisons if you insult Juleka... Or just slit your throat, or drain your blood dry.

Max: Student under calcemo, studying the long gone Dwemer (Dwarfs), has a small Spider Automaton as a pet that he calls Markov, Markov doesn't talk but can shock you if Max commands it to. Usually quite and keeps to himself, wishing to focus on studying.

Kim: Archer, Hunts game out of Whiterun (Nino, Kim, Marinette childhood friends? Oh yes.) But also moves around to hunt in other places when the Game begins to lessen. Wants to hunt the ultimate Game... Mammoth's, shame he's an idiot and forgets that the giants zealously guard them.

Ivan: Orc, Student at the Bards collage, shy and quiet. Wants to creat new styles of music but is afraid they'll come off as barbaric. People are intimidated by him, so he usually can't play anywhere but the Collage. Has a crush on Mylēne.

Mylēne: Also a member of the Bards collage but more into performance over singing. Wants the create the perfect play for the people of solitude.

... that's all I got for now, if you have any ideas send them to me, or questions. I have a lot to talk about this AU but I won't of people don't ask.

#miraculous ladybug #Skyrim AU #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #nino lahiffe #and others

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marikaaajoy · 4 years

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my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

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wildwoodmage · 4 years

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Can’t sleep gotta write about Sonic epilogue headcanons

Romantic relationships - fankids

I don’t have allll the details but this takes place in a mashup AU primarily based on SatAM and Underground. Aleena was not queen but rather was King Max’s top advisor (things might have gone better if she HAD been queen). Sally was the crown princess but decided not to reinstate the monarchy after Robotnik’s defeat. Instead Sally and Aleena are in charge of the Acorn Council, composed of former Freedom Fighters and community leaders from all over, whose mission is both to heal the damage caused by Robotnik and also to rise above the flaws of the old kingdoms.

Some of these ideas may apply to Dead Reckoning; however there are key differences, and since Dead Reckoning is a long-term work in progress my plans are likely to change. Therefore this brainstorm does not technically include Dead Reckoning spoilers, but I can and will recycle and improve upon my favorite themes.

More under the cut.

Sally’s family name is actually Oakland. 'Acorn’ is a nickname traditionally given to the heir to the throne. Sally’s chosen to keep it both for herself and the Council. To Mobius it represents new beginnings, the potential for life and growth in the wake of disaster. More personally, it represents her decision to walk away from the throne and the mistakes of her ancestors. She hopes that her decision will lead to a brighter future for herself and for Mobius, but only time will tell.

Manic was one of the loudest voices calling for democracy. At first, Aleena tried to reintroduce her children to the aristocracy, with mixed success. Manic, despite wanting more than anything to impress his mother, did not fit in. The nobles predictably looked down at Manic for his lack of manners and education. The disdain was mutual, as Manic resented them for their cowardice during the war and their perceived self-importance. Insecurity turned to anger as Manic realized two things. One) He was every bit as intelligent and capable as the people who sneered at him, if not more so. Two) He was no better than the thieves and urchins he had grown up with, and neither were the ruling class. The whole system was built on rot, and because of his newfound family, he had an opportunity to change it.

He started studying history and sociology. It was not easy. The eclectic skillset that had kept him alive did not lend itself well to sitting in a library (in fact he can’t remember the last time he read a book from cover to cover). Instead he sought out scholars that had survived the war and got them talking. Academics are generally all too eager to talk for hours or days about their expertise, and Manic just had to listen and remember. When other tasks demanded his attention, he poured through audiobooks. He went back to the experts and asked questions, more and more detailed every week. He got into arguments, lots of them, and so he learned how to articulate his beliefs and then defend them.

But of course, in the world of politics, knowledge doesn’t win battles. Networking does. So Manic went to Sonia, swallowed his pride, and asked her to teach him everything she knew. When she agreed, it wasn’t just for the chance to show off. With the two of them at odds more often than not, it’s easy to forget that they are never actually on opposite sides, and together they’re unstoppable. Manic learned manners and courtly protocol, how to suck up and lie for the greater good. Maybe he despised the person he became while wearing the mask, but he couldn’t deny how satisfying he was to wrap the court around his little finger. Rather than a liability, he turned his upbringing into his greatest asset. He knew how to make connections, to discern who was trustworthy and who was lying to his face. He knew how to go unnoticed or to make himself a threat. He knew how to twist the truth or how to choose the ground to fight on. And one goal remained at the forefront of his mind; to extend the same opportunity and justice he now enjoyed to the less fortunate.

Manic didn’t do it alone, of course. Sonia and Aleena stood beside him, despite their initial hesitation. Putting aside a somewhat rosier view of the old kingdoms, they knew just as well that a better future was impossible without a level playing field. Ultimately it was Sally’s decision to turn her back on the throne, but when she did, the hedgehogs ensured that any aristocrats who disagreed with her knew not to raise a fuss.

Meanwhile, Sonic:

The Robians have been freed from Robotnik’s control, but their metal bodies remain. The science of roboticization continues to be poorly understood, and the more the Council investigates, the less reversible the process appears to be. As such, Robians best hope is to work through their trauma, get used to their new bodies, and count their blessings that they at least have their memories and their free will.

Among the Robians is Sonic. He was roboticized in the last days of the war, after making a heroic sacrifice that he thought was going to result in his death. Imagine his surprise when he woke up in a metal body. He doesn’t like to talk about it. If anyone asks, he insists that he doesn’t have anything to worry about with Robotnik out of the way, cracks a joke, and changes the subject. The war might be over, but a lifetime of playing the hero isn’t easy to shake off.

Okay, yeah, Sonic’s having a hard time. Now that things have quieted down and he spends less and less time fighting for survival, he has a lot of time to think. He’s not used to that. He doesn’t exactly enjoy it. When he was sixteen he was fearless. When he was twenty he could rely on adrenaline to drown out his doubts. Now he’s staring a lifetime of hardship in the face, and he’s starting to realize that all the things he thought he could shake off may have left a mark anyway, but that’s not nearly as terrifying as the idea of making himself vulnerable to the friends and family that have relied on him for so long. (They know something’s wrong, of course they do, and they desperately want to help. It’s a work in progress)

On a more positive note! Sonic’s taken up art. He’s always had a doodling habit, and if made to sit still would pass the time scribbling out cartoons on any surface within reach. Lately he’s started to take it a little more seriously, and he’s getting pretty damn good. Most of his work is lighthearted and bright, with bold colors and fantastical elements. He paints a lot of landscapes, showcasing the regrowth of wilderness in Robotnik’s absence, but always adding his own personal touches. Impossible creatures, dreamlike colors, and loops take the place of his signature.

I’m going to stop this here, not because I’m out of ideas but because it’s 4 am and I’m losing my train of thought. Feel free to send questions or prompts for me to ramble about because I would absolutely love to. Art in the future? May be??

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic underground #sonic satam #sally acorn #manic the hedgehog #sonia the hedgehog #sonic epilogue

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 3)

So yeah, this is gonna be my first time writing for zutara, so I have no idea how well that will be received. I know that this fandom doesn’t seem to like zutara so wish me luck lol.

Sokka always liked fish, particularly boop boops because of their silly name. He also liked blue marlin.

She likes stingrays--especially bluespotted ribbon tail--the most but they call her starfish.

She has come to associate her friends with marine life, a habit that formed at childhood. One that she and Zuko have never outgrown. At one point they had addressed each other by the names of sea animals.

Zuko got the name stingray after an incident where he’d jammed a fork into an outlet when Ozai wasn’t watching. It scarred his face and their father was under fire, for the first time, for child neglect.

Sokka was a clownfish because he was the comedian in the group and he had been until his departure. Sailfish has been bestowed upon Katara after dolphin had been taken from her and given to Ursa. Mother was gentle and docile like a dolphin. Katara is too but she is also a fast swimmer. She can swim further out into the ocean than any of them and sailfish are known for their speed. TyLee is also loving and sweet but as kids they had run out of gentle animals to compare her to so they chose the pretty betta fish because TyLee has always been pretty. Eventually they learned about cuttlefish and that became her nickname; it sounds close enough to cuddle for them.

Aang is an obvious angelfish.

Where Katara, Ursa, Tylee, and Aang are kind and caring, Toph is a shark. She’s fun and dangerous and with a razor sharp tongue. She is among Chan, Jet and Roun-Jian who have been nicknamed Hammerhead, Sand, and Thresher respectively. The name Mackerel was afforded to Toph despite her being the smallest of them.

Mai is the piranha mostly because she had been afraid of them at one point and they like to joke that Tom-Tom is a barancel because he clings to Mai like one. Iroh is a serene turtle and Suki is lucky koi.

Ozai is and will always be a crab because is general outlook on life is grumpy. Zhao, the weathered fisherman is a slick and shady eel and their old history teacher Long-Feng is an angler fish; it looks welcoming on the surface but is ugly within. And the bartender is a prickly urchin. They steer clear of he and his wife June, who they have called the Kraken.

It was a fun game and to this day she has a tendency, even if it is out of habit, to try to decide which sea animal a newcomer is.

.oOo.

Azula wakes up on the sofa. It is still raining, fat droplets plop upon the lighthouse. There are less of them but it is still a steady stream. She senses that the worst of it has come to pass and it is probably safe to go outside if she doesn’t mind getting wet. In fact, most people do go out. They emerge skeptically from their homes, reluctant to assess the damage, but eager to just get it over with. It is routine in their little harbor town.

The people of Port Tui-La are slowly awakening, Azula watches them trickle outside of their homes to inspect them. Many of them, the ones who live more inland, skip this and prioritize checking on their shops or their boats. Though boats are almost always a lost cause, hence why Ozai keeps theirs in a boat house. The news of three summers ago was when recreational fisher, Pathik boldly declared that he had found his janky wooden ship fully intact in a rocky alcove while the Cod Man bellowed, “my fishing ship!” to the fleeing grey clouds.

She watches the Cod seller’s car whip down the road, he is always the first to arrive at the docks. Azula rolls her eyes, she can already hear him crying out.

“He must have great insurance.” Zuko grumbles as he groggily wipes his eyes. “I hope he does.”

“Maybe he won’t need it this time?” Azula stretches her arms.

“Ha!” Zuko bursts. “I bet he’ll be La-bsters, crying about it within the hour.”

“If La-bsters is still standing.” Azula says dismally. “This storm was pretty bad.” Her heart sinks for Hakoda and Katara. They have already lost Sokka, if they’ve lost their restaurant too… “We’ll walk over there.”

“Shouldn’t we check on the lighthouse first?”

Azula shakes her head. “It was built to withstand storms.”

“I can get the car started.”

She shakes her head. “Too many debris in the road, it’ll be quicker on foot.”

“We’re going to have to clean this first.” He gestures to the blockage at the door.

Azula rubs the back of her head and grumbles to herself as she begins heaving the furniture back into its place. To the best of their memory, everything is back in order about twenty minutes later. By now the rain is beginning to taper off, but she speculates that it will come back in furious bursts and random intervals.

She shuffles around for two umbrellas and shoves one into Zuko’s arms.

She pops her umbrella as she steps beneath a grey washed sky. Small rays of light break through the clouds, but do little to lift the gloom. The destruction is abundantly apparent as the siblings make their way down the path that leads from the lighthouse to the boardwalk. It isn’t a very long walk but they can see the damage inflicted upon the houses of their nearest neighbors.

The worst of them has a collapsed roof and another has flood damage to the ocean facing wall. Even from this distance she can tell that the boardwalk has been hit hard. After many decades of standing proud and secure, a particularly powerful wave, or mayhaps, a bolt of lightning has collapsed one of the corner pillars. It is splintered down the middle and juts from the lapping water like a broken tree trunk. All around it float planks of wood, chairs, stools, and other buoyant knick knacks. Several of the tourist shops, the ones nearest to the collapsed scaffolding are gone.

Gone in the sense that they are unusable and irreparable. She can see their dilapidated corpses, laying helplessly in the ocean, waiting for the ocean to finish the job. Their rubble will pollute the beaches for days. Likely, the beaches will be closed to the public until the damage can be cleared.

Azula’s favorite jewelry shop, Mai’s family’s jewelry shop, is amid the wreckage and she silently curses to herself, wishing that it could have been that damned pub instead, maybe then her father would be rushing down the street to make sure that she and Zuzu are alright.

It very nearly brings tears of frustration to her eyes. She clenches her fist in her pocket and steps over a broken palm tree, its coconuts roll down the incline of the street.

From what she can see, the La-bster still stands. Though she can’t foresee it opening any time soon. Much like the beaches, it will remain closed until the boardwalk can be repaired and safety secured. Even if the boardwalk were deemed safe enough, the rubble is an eyesore.

The restaurant may stand but they are still going to take a financial hit, losing that much business at the height of tourist season.

Hakoda and Katara are already there when she and Zuko arrive.

“Zuko, Azula!” She throws her arms around both of them at once. When she pulls back, Azula can tell that she has been crying. Her eyes are red and there are tear tracks on her cheeks. Azula doesn’t need to ask her what is wrong but Zuko does anyhow.

“We can’t reopen like this.” She confirms what Azula has speculated. “Waitressing at La-bsters is the only thing that’s kept my mind off of…” She trails off. “Even when the restaurant is super busy I’ll think of him. About how he’d always take the difficult customers from me. Or that one time he threatened to throw a man into the harbor for me.” She wipes at her eyes.

Azula laughs, that sounds like Sokka for sure.

“Need help with cleanup?” Zuko offers.

“That would be wonderful, thanks.”

Azula frowns, she must admit that she hadn’t planned on spending her morning moving heavy planks of wood and fixing outdoor decor. She looks around, there is plenty of that to be cleaned; strings of patio lights are either gone, have cracked bulbs, or are tangled and knotted around palm fronts and rafters in unflattering ways. Outdoor chairs and tables are overturned. Some of them are in neighboring properties and the La-bsters have a few chairs from the Cod Merchant’s Cod Shack. The floor is a mess of glass and broken plastic and Azula has no idea where to begin this task. She has no will power to do it either. Evidently she had just come by to make sure that the place was still standing and that her childhood friend is okay.

Task done.

She retracts that statement. “I’m going to see if I can reach Mai, I don’t think that she knows about…” she jerks a thumb in the direction of the destruction.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Zuko says, “I’ll help Katara, you’re better at breaking bad news anyhow.”

She squints at the wreckage once more, a little ways down the beach, TyLee’s family’s boat rental place still stands. It only does because they have learned from the last time; instead of a small wooden shack on the beach they have built it into the side of a nearby cliff. Their most expensive rentals are tucked away into a garage, also built into the cliffside. But there is some damage to their cheaper rental boats and many of their canoes and inflatables are scattered upon the beach.

Azula picks up her phone and dials Mai’s number, hoping to get a signal.

.oOo.

Katara fixes her eyes on the ocean. She hates it more than anything as it keeps stealing the things that make her feel loved and secure. She loves it more than anything because it makes her feel free and empowered. Such is the duality of the ocean.

Currently she hates it more than anything in the world.

Currently it has reminded her of the last thing it took.

Mai’s jewelry shop is like Sokka, dismantled and being pulled further and further into the water.

She shakes herself, she doesn’t know that he is dismantled.

Yet the hole in her heart is the same it has been several months and it still stings. There is such a vacancy in Sokka’s absence. Anything and everything is at risk of triggering a pang of sorrow; a specific dock post that he used to sit on regularly (she can still see the marks where he’d tagged it), a cluster of shells on a table, certain movies and books. Song are especially provocative; he had always loved reggae. They listened to it together all the time and he had a reggae song for everything, rendering the genre impossible to listen to without crying. There are so, so many songs that she can’t listen to and it is hard to explain why she gets teary eyed when they play on the radio.

Every now and again a customer will walk in who has his hair styled like Sokka had or wearing the same shirt that he had. On one instance, a girl walked in wearing Sokka’s favorite shirt, the one that he’d worn when he went out to sea before he’d disappeared.

She no longer enjoys recreational sailing, and gets tense when anyone mentions that they are going to take a solo recreational trip.

Azula insists that Sokka is still alive but Katara knows in her heart that he isn’t. She senses it in the same way she’d sensed that he’d had an accident while jet skiing with Jet and Chan. The same way he sensed that she’d gotten hurt while surfing.

She knows that he is gone because she can no longer feel him but she lets Azula talk about how she is sure that he is alive. Azula is rarely an optimist and Katara doesn’t have the heart to crush that.

Azula is the only other person who still seems truly impacted by his disappearance. She also tends to turn the radio off when certain songs play, though not as many as Katara. It isn’t for lack of memories with the songs either, it is more that she only turns the music off for songs that have particularly fond memories. Katara noticed that the other girl will grow randomly distant or somber. And Azula still thinks that he is alive. She can’t imagine how Azula will take it when that denial is shattered.

All the same, Katara tries to think of the absolute joy she would feel at being proven wrong.

Not that she thinks this will be the case. Azula has lost her mother already, her father might as well be dead...losing Sokka had done her psyche so much damage.

Damage that her father didn’t bother to tend to.

Damage that Zuko could only do his best to mend.

Damage that had almost killed her too.

And it is no wonder, they had been so close. Of course they were, Katara had caught him kissing her on more than one occasion. It always left her feeling flustered. Especially the night that she’d come across Sokka heavily and deeply lip locked with Azula. She still gags and the sucking sound. And yet, she’d give anything to overhear it again if it meant that Sokka was back.

They had softer moments. Moments where Katara had found them curled up beneath a palm tree, Azula cuddled in Sokka’s arms. They half-sat, half-laid in the glow of the fairy lights that curled around the tree. They nestled in a burrow of a brightly colored bean bag chair. They’d invited Katara to join them as they watched a movie being played on a projector screen across the beach.

Katara can no longer attend those movies.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, “you good?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I’m just thinking again.” She looks towards the horizon. She can’t see the sunrise, not that it will bring her any comfort today. In fact, a pretty sunrise would only be mockery.

Just like it had been on the day Sokka was declared dead.

The sky had been so vivid that day, all manners of orange and gold and the clouds seemed to be tinged a deep purple. Really it was the most beautiful sunset that she had ever seen.

And when night finally fell, the animals had been more lively than ever. Under a starlit sky, she’d never seen so many turtles migrating from sand to sea. Never seen so many crabs scuttling across the rocks. So many fish in the waves and starfish in the tide pools.

Tide pools that reflected a sky that looked as though it were painted with pearl powder.

“Sokka laid those out for us.” Kya had remarked, dabbing at her wet eyes. “My baby boy, made this for us to see.”

The sky had been all sorts of mystifying that night.

And yet she could not enjoy it.

Not at all.

The sky...the world had no right to be so beautiful when her brother was dead.

She recalls at once, their old fish game. She wonders if that’s what the afterlife is like; one big ocean where loved ones go. Spectral fish in a perpetually fluorescent sea. She likes to think that Sokka is a clownfish in this phantasmal sea. That one day she will be a sailfish swimming next to him, finally the big sister and not the little one.

Zuko puts an arm over her shoulder.

She gestures to an overturned table. “Can you help me pick this up?”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Fanfiction

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swordmeetssorcery · 4 years

Text

Sir Ebrenn’s Houseguest

Aefsheen shifted in his sleep, dream memories washing through his mind…

The teenaged half elf looked over at his human counterpart, the girl panting as heavily as he. They were in their usual hiding place, an abandoned and shuttered storefront in the mill quarter. The two urchins had been sneaking in here for years, and over time had furnished it with castoff items. There was a wobbly crate for a table, a couple of broken chairs they'd crudely repaired enough to use, and a couple of abandoned mattresses found on the street. They stank of the wood smoke they’d used to drive the bedbugs and fleas out, but they were better than lying on the bare earth floor of the old storefront’s storage room. They each now lay on one, bruised and bleeding and out of breath from their flight from the city watch. As he caught his breath, Aefsheen spoke.

"You know, Danniven, there are some things I understand and accept. If we pinch food from a butcher or grocer and get caught, I expect a couple of kicks and a head knocking. They're trying to survive just like us. Don't get me wrong - I'll take that food and dodge that beating every time I can, but I don't hold a grudge about it. I'd do the same thing in their place.

But what that watchman does. And it's not just us - he strides roughshod over the whole quarter. Bullies people that haven't done anything wrong. And just now? We were lucky to get away. I think this time he meant to kill us."

Danniven, wiping blood from where it still flowed freely down her chin from her nose, nodded.

"You're right, Aefsheen. Absolutely right. He needs to be taught a lesson, that one."

"Yeah, but what can we do, Danni? He nearly killed the two of us singlehandedly. He even managed to take our knives away.”

“Well, yours he took. Mine, I left in his leg. I guess I’ll have to break into another butcher shop and steal us some replacements. But I know, brother. He nearly killed the two of us. But could he take ten of us down? Fifteen? I don’t think he could.”

“Are we back to that, sister? We’ve talked and talked about it.”

“Yes we have, and it’s time to stop talking and act, Aefsheen. I know you’re not thrilled with the idea, and I honestly prefer going alone or with just you, but we’ve caught the Watch’s attention now, and they’ll be hunting us. We won’t survive on our own any longer. We have a few friends. Let’s talk to them and they can talk to their other friends. We’ll see how it plays out.”

Aefsheen turned it over in his mind and the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. The pair had targets on their backs now. If not the whole watch, then at least this tyrant and his friends would hunt them down now that they’d wounded him. Reluctantly, he agreed to organize a group of other youths from the neighborhood.

Tohlfehn meandered through the mill quarter. He was a large man, but lazy, and so had chosen to join the city watch rather than fell trees or labor in the lumberyard. When he’d finished his training, at first he’d resented being sent here to police the city’s laborers and drunks and urchins. But he soon came to realize that he could truly make use of his great size and strength and have some fun with the city’s poorer citizens. He’d always been a bully, and he soon turned the quarter into his playground, knowing the locals would never bother to complain to his superiors. He pushed around drunkards, beat children, and occasionally had his way with some of the fairer women unfortunate enough to catch his eye.

Movement in an alleyway caught his attention, and he hefted his mace and turned that direction. He limped into the shadowy space between the butcher’s and the tanner’s shops and paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Then he saw her. One of the two little bastards from last week. He’d caught them stealing apples and tried to arrest them but they fought. He’d beaten them with his fists until they pulled knives. He’d managed to disarm the pointy ear boy, but the filthy girl had sunk her knife into his leg. They used the distraction to escape. Now she was standing at the other end of the alley, face still swollen, but she wasn’t running this time. She spoke as she approached him.

“Your days of abusing the people of this neighborhood are over, Tohlfehn. You’ve terrorized us for the last time. It ends today.”

The burly watchman, confident in his leather armor, iron headed mace, and sheer size, laughed loudly enough to echo through the alley and out into the street beyond. He reached out and grabbed the front of her tunic. She didn’t resist as he dragged her out into full view of the growing crowd.

“Little girl, what do you mean, threatening ME? I’ll give you the beating of your life right here in the street as a lesson to any others that feel brave. Ha! I’m a man of the city watch, and you’re nothing. You’re an insect! What threat is an insect?” He lifted her by her tunic and punched her in the face. Her head rocked back, then she lifted it back up and looked him in the eye. She grinned at him as the crowd closed in on them.

“You’re right, watchman.” She spoke the last word with all the disdain she could muster. “One insect is no threat. It stings, and you swat it and it dies. One insect is a nuisance. But a swarm? There’s your threat.” He felt the bite of a blade entering his back and she laughed at the look of shocked pain in his eyes.

He dropped her and spun around, swinging his mace inches over Aefsheen’s ducking head. Aefsheen reached out and left a bloody gash in the large man’s thigh as more than a dozen children and youths emerged from shop doors and alleys, running to attack Tohlfehn at once with knives, table legs, boards, and cobblestones pried from the street.

Danniven laughed as she drew her knife and joined in the attack. She leapt onto Tohlfehn’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist and one arm around his head. “Meet the Swarm” she murmured in his ear as she buried her blade in his neck.

He woke groggily from his dream of the Swarm’s first attack. He sat up and looked at the faded tattoo of a wasp on the web of skin between the thumb and forefinger on his right hand while his left hand rubbed his swollen jaw and he took in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a small stone cell with an iron grate for a door. The bed was a wooden platform jutting from the wall, almost padded by a thin mildewed blanket. There was another bed across the cell, a chamber pot in one corner of the cell and a pitcher near the door. The whole room was perhaps eight feet square with a low ceiling.

He took a look and a sniff at the pitcher. It appeared to be water. Maybe a bit stale, but likely not dangerous. If his captors had wanted him dead, they’d have killed him while he was unconscious instead of going to all the trouble of imprisoning him first. He drank the water and tried to think through the throbbing in his skull. How had he wound up here? As the water revived him, his memory slowly returned and he remembered the conflict. He’d gotten lost in a forest after seeking shelter from a storm. He was camped for the night when he found himself surrounded by soldiers including one mounted and dressed in full plate armor and helm, holding a lance and wearing a sword.

As it turned out, the mounted man was Winslir, Sir Ebrenn Markwell’s squire. Winslir informed Aefsheen that he was trespassing on Sir Ebrenn’s lands and accused him of poaching, although he was clearly eating dried meat and fruits inside his wagon, taking shelter from the rain still soaking everything around him.

This was bad. He’d heard stories of Sir Ebrenn. He was referred to as the Mad Yeoman, although presumably not to his face. He was crazy and, ironically for his station, reclusive. He was as likely to treat a guest with all the hospitality of a noble lord or with all the cruelty of a twisted inquisitor, apparently completely randomly. By all accounts, he was an old man, too old to ride into battle anymore. His squire was said to be up in years as well, and to have fought in many battles in his youth, but Ebrenn had always refused to grant him knighthood, and kept him away from any noble who could bestow the honor so that he could keep the poor man indentured to him for life. Most other men would have abandoned Ebrenn long ago and sought a new mentor, but Squire Winslir was afflicted with a deep sense of either loyalty, twisted honor, or his own brand of madness, and he’d remained in Ebrenn’s service all these decades. Ebrenn was rumored to have employed unscrupulous wizards and sorcerers in the past and was supposed to keep monsters as pets and to have inhuman hordes, either as henchmen or prisoners, depending on the story you heard. This was not a man whose prisoner Aefsheen wanted to be. For that matter, he’d prefer to not even be an invited dinner guest.

Aefsheen tried to explain that he’d merely gotten lost in the storm, and offered to leave immediately, but they told him they had standing orders: Anyone who entered Sir Ebrenn’s land without immediately announcing himself at the castle was assumed to be a poacher or an invader and was to be arrested on sight. He’d resisted, and at first fought off his attackers, but then the squire landed a solid sideways blow with his lance across Aefsheen’s jaw, and the world had gone black. The next thing he knew, he was waking up from his dream of the Swarm, feeling hungover without having had the night of revelry to make it worth the headache.

He got up and crept to the door of his cell. He saw a stone hallway leading to his left and right, lit by torches in sconces set just close enough to provide dim lighting in this dungeon. The other side of the hallway appeared to be solid stonework, unbroken by any other cells or doors. He could hear stirrings off to his left and assumed he wasn’t the only prisoner.

“Pssst. Anyone there? Are you awake?” He asked in the Common speech, hoping the sounds weren’t coming from a guard sleeping at his post. In reply, he heard a wordless baritone grumbling.

“Humph. I’m awake, alright. Now, at any rate. Second time in the last few hours I’ve been awakened on your account. How’s your head? They had to carry you in here last night” the deep voice answered in the accent of the dwarves of Worldcrown Mountains.

“It hurts, and my jaw’s fairly swollen, but I’ve had worse from drinking at the wrong tavern.” Aefsheen replied with a chuckle.

“Well, welcome to the dungeons of the Mad Yeoman. From all accounts, he could hold us for life, let us out today, or have us killed at any time. I’ve heard he’s even pitted prisoners against each other in gladiatorial combat. Who knows?”

“Well, that’s … unfortunate. How long have you been here?” Aefsheen asked as he began investigating the lock on his cell door. It was a purely academic act, done out of habit and to occupy himself, since his captors had taken his lock picks along with everything else but his clothes.

“I’ve been here a week or so, assuming I haven’t lost track of the days. They keep the water pitchers filled regularly, but the meal schedule is pretty irregular, as is the quality. Sometimes it’s stale bread and moldy cheese, sometimes it’s a feast of roast mutton and potatoes. At any rate, the mercurial timing makes it hard to gauge time. My name is Fehrehngarr Stonehew, skald of the Clanfolk. Who might you be?”

“I’m Aefsheen. Question, Fehrehngarr: Have you tried escaping yet?”

“Oh, aye, it’s crossed my mind, lad. But I’m not capable of bending steel bars nor of burrowing through stone with my bare hands. I’m no picker of locks either. So here I sit until an opportunity presents itself. So far they haven’t made it easy. They don’t open the door – they just pass the food through the slot down by the floor and have me pass the chamber pot and empty pitcher through the same way.”

“How many guards do you see at a time?” Aefsheen inquired.

“Usually two, sometimes just one” came the answer.

“I may have an answer then. Wait a moment.” Aefsheen took off his jacket, and began rubbing a spot along the bottom hem against the roughhewn stone of the cell’s wall, fraying the thread of the hem. He pulled at the thread and removed a gold coin concealed there and dropped the jacket onto the bed.

“What are you up to over there, elf?”

“Half-elf, actually, my new friend, but I applaud your ear for voices. And plotting our escape is what I’m doing. The soldiers took my weapons and pouch, and emptied my pockets, but I have a few tricks. For example, this piece of gold that was hidden in the seam of my jacket. If there’s one thing I’m sure of regarding soldiers, it’s that to a man, they consider themselves overworked and underpaid. Makes them easy to bribe.”

“Humph. I can’t argue with that logic, but tell me this – what will you do when the guards take your gold and then leave you sitting there anyway?”

“I’m two steps ahead of you. I’ll offer it, then retreat to the rear wall of the cell. When the guard comes in, the door will be open and I’ll have my window of opportunity.”

“I admire your ambition, but they’re armed and armored. You’re neither. What do you hope to accomplish?”

Aefsheen sighed. “Fehrehngarr, you have no faith, but that’s forgivable, since we’ve only just met. This won’t be my first time fighting this type. Soldiers, city watch, gaolers – they’re all the same at their core. Assuming this one fights like the ones who took me last night, I think I’ll be alright. After all, it took four infantrymen and a mounted squire to bring me down. And if we’re visited by a pair of them, I’ll bide my time until there’s only one to better my odds.”

The pair passed the time with casual conversation. Aefsheen discovered that Fehrehngarr was from the Rockfall Clan, a group of nomadic dwarves roaming the Worldcrown Mountains. He was a skald, recording and reciting history and heroic tales in the form of songs and epic poetry. He’d gone off into the world to seek out new tales to add to his repertoire, and to find opportunity to add his own deeds to his library of songs. To that end, he’d served an enlistment in the mercenary company Swordsong. He’d just finished a three year enlistment and was headed home to reunite with his kinsmen, although he’d caught the wanderlust and would probably venture back out into the world after a bit. Aefsheen, true to his own nature, revealed just enough of himself to achieve a rapport with Fehrehngarr. He spoke vaguely of growing up in the north, and of his travels as a drover and courier, carrying goods by consignment throughout the five baronies. Fehrehngarr, thinking of Aefsheen’s earlier comment about having fought watchmen and gaolers before, came to his own conclusions about what sort of goods Aefsheen ferried.

After an hour or so, they heard booted footfalls descending a stairway nearby. When Aefsheen realized there were two sets of boots, he quickly slipped the coin back into his pocket. The guards refilled the water pitchers and slid plates of food through the slots in the cell gates. At the sight and smell of eggs, ham, and dark rye bread, Aefsheen realized just how hungry he was and his mouth watered. It didn’t even matter that the food was cold and looked already picked at, hinting that it was probably leftovers from the soldiers’ mess.

The two prisoners ate their meals quickly, and one guard left to take the bucket of water back upstairs while the other waited to take the empty plates back. Seeing an opportunity, Aefsheen spoke up as he placed his plate on the floor and pushed it through the slot.

“Quite the meal, my good man. Thank you – much better than the jerky I was accused of poaching last night. So good of your master to feed his falsely accused prisoners so well.” As the guard started to bristle at the insult to his employer, Aefsheen produced the coin from his pocket. “I’ll wager so petty a nobleman isn’t likely to pay his soldiers well, eh?” The gold coin twirled across Aefsheen’s knuckles as he spoke, gleaming in the torchlight. “Here’s an interesting proposition – I’ll trade this coin for that ring of keys on your belt. It’s probably as much as the old miser pays you in a fortnight. More than enough to let you get away from here and start anew elsewhere.”

The guard slid the plate across the floor and away from the door with his foot. He reached for the key tucked into his belt. “These keys for that gold coin, you say?” He asked, greed in his eyes.

“Yes. Surely it’s a more than fair trade. Gold is worth so much more than iron…”

“Aye, that it is, poacher. That it is. However, I don’t like my chances of getting away from here alive if I did that. For that matter, I wouldn’t place any wagers on your escape, neither, if I did let you out. So why don’t we remove the temptation, and I’ll just confiscate your contraband. I’ll do you a favor and not even mention it to the others. That way, you won’t get into even more trouble. You’d likely be executed for attempting to bribe me.” With the last words, he drew his shortsword and moved to put a key into the lock.

Aefsheen moved toward the back of his cell, forcing the guard to come after him. Once inside the cell, the guard hooked the keys back onto his belt, held his sword at the ready, and extended his other hand, palm up, demanding the coin.

“I suppose I should’ve expected treachery from the hired sword of a knight who imprisons travelers for the crime of getting lost.” Aefsheen said with a heavy sigh and held out the coin, which he fumbled and dropped, sending it rolling between the soldier’s feet. As the man looked down at the rolling coin, Aefsheen acted quickly, grabbing his jacket from the bunk and whipping it over the other man’s head, then giving him a hard shove, sending him sprawling on the floor. The guard fumbled his sword, and Aefsheen stepped on the blade, pinning it to the ground. As he knelt and reached for the hilt, the guard freed himself from Aefsheen’s jacket and flung it aside. He put both hands on the sword’s handle and the two struggled over it. The guard was the stronger of the two and was about to wrest the weapon away when Aefsheen leaned over and drove his forehead into the supine man’s face. The stone floor prevented his head from rocking back to absorb the impact, so his nose and mouth took the full force of the blow and, dazed, his fingers loosened their grip for just long enough that the half elf took the sword away and stood up.

Aefsheen pointed the sword tip at the guard’s throat while he retrieved his jacket from the floor.

“I’ll take the keys now, if you don’t mind. Nice and slow.” As the guard handed them over to him, Aefsheen nodded his thanks and walked out of the cell, closing the door with a clang. “It only seems fair that I let you keep the coin after all that trouble. I just hope your superiors don’t find it and think you took the bribe…”

Fehrehngarr shook his head and chuckled at that last bit while Aefsheen unlocked his cell.

“Now, do you have any idea where our things are? We won’t get far without weapons, no matter how stealthy we may be.” Aefsheen asked the dwarf. Fehrengarr looked up at Aefsheen through eyebrows as bushy and red as his long beard, and replied “I’ve only seen guards come and go from that one direction.” He replied. Indeed, looking the opposite way from the stairs the guards had used, they saw only a few more yards of corridor and a couple more cell doors. Looking toward the stairs, they saw the corridor went beyond them and took a turn underneath the stairwell.

The pair headed that direction, came to the turn, and after cautiously peeking around the edge of the corner, continued on. Soon they came to a heavy wooden door. Aefsheen put his ear to the roughhewn surface and listened. After a couple moments of silence, he started trying keys in the lock. On the third try, the lock clicked open. He slowly opened the door while Fehrehngarr stood by with clenched fists, ready to jump into battle should anyone be lying in wait on the other side.

The door opened into a dusty, little used room. They saw piles of crates and chests stacked here and there. There were old weapons and sets of armor, traveling sacks and backpacks, all covered in deep layers of dust. Some of the metal implements were showing rust through the grubby accumulation. But closer to the door, lying atop a rotting wooden chest and piled on a creaky table, were their own belongings. Some of them, anyway. Fehrehngarr’s gear was all present: chain mail shirt, dagger and short sword with the red wrapped hilt and silver plated pommel in the shape of a harp (displaying his standing as honorably discharged from Swordsong), and his great battle scarred ax, pack, and the bag holding his lute and bagpipes. The only thing of Aefsheen’s to be seen was his armor and the pouch he carried on his belt.

“You go unarmed, do you, Aefsheen? Seems dangerous for a courier traveling alone.” Fehrehngarr commented.

“They must have disarmed me when they knocked me out. They probably put my weapons in my wagon – I’d have been lighter and easier to carry. Damn. I’ll just have to make do with the guard’s sword, since these others don’t exactly seem fit to use.”

Fehrehngarr pulled on his hauberk, strapped on his sword belt and hefted his battleax, and Aefsheen donned his leather breastplate studded with steel rivets. They surveyed the room and saw two doors at the other end, and made their way there through the clutter. The first door wasn’t locked, and Aefsheen eased it open. They slipped through and found themselves in a larder. There were crates of various foods and sacks of flour and other ingredients on tables along the walls. There was a large icebox in one corner, and an open stairwell leading upward in the middle of the wall on their left. There was light coming down that stairway, and they could hear kitchen sounds. Likely the next meal was being prepared. As shadows grew on the stairwell, they beat a hasty but silent retreat back out of the pantry to the storage chamber and closed the door as quickly as they thought possible while remaining quiet. Their options were to go up the stairs the guards used to get to the cells, which seemed ill advised, or the other door leading out of this locker. After a brief discussion, they opted for the door in front of them. It had layers of dust and cobwebs built up on it, to the point of obscuring the seam between door and jamb. It had obviously not been used in many years.

Fearing a squeaky hinge would give away their presence, the pair searched the store room and found a discarded oilcan that still contained some thin, watery oil at the bottom and they applied it as well as they could to the hinges. The door was so encrusted, it took both of them pulling on the ring in the center of its face to open it. Even freshly oiled, the hinges squeaked and the wood, so long settled in place, creaked loudly enough for them to halt at one point, fearing the sound would be heard from the kitchen, even through a door and two rooms. They heard nothing from the kitchen, but they could hear sounds of alarm coming from the direction of the cells. It had only been a matter of time before the locked up soldier was missed and discovered, and that time had come. They’d run out of options. They yanked the door open another foot, which allowed them to get through. They plunged ahead through a curtain of cobwebs, pulling the spidery silk off their faces as they went.

They heard calls behind them as they ran blindly down the web filled space. “After them – they’re getting away!”

The space beyond was more tunnel than hallway, unfinished earthen walls, supported at irregular intervals by rotting wooden beams collapsed in places, allowing soil to landslide down, partially blocking their way and forcing them to climb over or run around small mounds of loose dirt.

The tunnel smelled of damp earth, rotting wood, and decay. They could hear other shouts now, from the door. Orders and refusals: “Go in after them!” “I’m not going in the tunnels – we all know what he keeps down there!” “You’ll follow orders or answer for it, coward!” “I’m no coward, but I won’t go down there with those unnatural *things*!” “Fools! The Harvestmen are rumor and myth. Stories told to scare children and keep them from trespassing on Sir Ebrenn’s estate. Now get in there!”

Sounds of scuffling reached their ears, above even the sound of their own labored breathing as they ran and wondered what had the soldiers so frightened. They rounded a bend in the tunnel and stopped to catch their breath. Fehrehngarr pulled remnants of spider web from his beard as Aefsheen nudged a small snake away from his foot. As a dwarf and a half-elf, they could see in the darkness of the tunnel, so had not bothered with any of the torches from their places on the dungeon wall, but they could see the light from torches carried by the soldiers begin to slowly creep in their direction. Apparently the sergeant had proven scarier than whatever bogeyman the men feared in the tunnels. They began their flight anew. Here and there, they began to see small tunnels branching off the main one. These obviously weren’t dug by men, because they weren’t even with the floor of the main passage. They were at seemingly random heights, even through the ceiling, and they had to watch their footing lest they step in one. The smaller passages didn’t always fork off at right angles. When the pair bothered to look, most of the smaller tunnels seemed to twist in odd turns and directions, and many looked to be lined with a white silky coating.

The tunnel they ran through gradually devolved from the structured, semi-finished passage it had started as to a simply dug, rounded hole through the earth and began to twist and turn like those side tunnels they'd passed.

They began to notice an upward incline to the tunnel, and they could just make out a hazy light up ahead, as if daylight were creeping around a doorsill. Just as they started to feel some hope of escape, they began to hear a new noise mixed in with that of their labored breathing and the clamor of the soldiers blundering through the tunnel in pursuit. From all around them, they heard an odd skittering noise, much like the sound a beetle might make as it crawls across a piece of parchment.

Then, in the semidarkness of the tunnel, they saw the first of the creatures. At first, neither believed his eyes, because the images were so surreal. Dozens of what appeared to be gigantic spiders crawled out of the twisted cross tunnels. Up through the floor and down from the ceiling, as well as from all sides, they climbed over each other in their haste, presenting a chaotic swirling tableau of oddly jointed legs like crooked stilts, all racing each other to get to the two adventurers. Each one seemed to be about a foot tall, with a body about the same size, and a leg span of at least five feet. But that was the most easily digestible part of what they saw. What took them valuable seconds to believe was the human face on the front of each of the creatures, and the fact that the first pair of limbs wasn’t spidery legs, but humanoid hands. As though that weren’t bad enough, several of the creatures held sticks or rocks in their hands, presumably as weapons. If the horrid screeching sounds issuing from those ghastly mouths was speech, it was no language either man had heard before.

As the beasts drew closer to the front, and the soldiers closed their distance from the rear, the two men felt real fear creeping at the sides of their minds, threatening to swarm panic over them. They gripped their weapons and looked at each other. “More inspiration for your tales, if we survive, eh, skald?” joked Aefsheen with gallows humor. Fehrehngarr adjusted his grip on his ax, gave it a flourish and replied “Don’t stand too close to me when it starts – an ax requires a wide berth in battle. Shall we?”

“Ready when you are.” Aefsheen readied his stolen sword. Fehrehngarr gave a great roar, lifted his ax, and charged into the cluster of monstrosities with a mighty swing. As he cleaved the head of one, Aefsheen thrust his blade into the face of another. They pulled their weapons free, and not caring to try to kill all the man-faced creatures, began to hew a path through the crowd. They pushed and fought their way through the arachnid throng, making progress by ax stroke and sword thrust, spilling foul blue ichor from the unnatural beasts. For their part, the monsters, through sheer weight of numbers, took their toll on the pair trying to escape this nightmare dungeon. Aefsheen and Fehrehngarr both were covered in deep bruises and shallow cuts from their clubs and stones. The two could better see the light coming into the tunnel now. It looked as though the tunnel led outside and its opening had been loosely capped. They hacked their way towards it.

A great beast of a harvestman made a leap and landed on Fehrehngarr’s chest, wrapping its spider legs around his back and grabbing his beard with its humanlike hands. He could feel others pummeling his legs, and a well-placed blow to the back of his knee caused his legs to buckle. As the beast on his chest lowered its mouth toward his face, fangs dripping with venom, Fehrehngarr dropped his ax and began wrestling with the creature, trying to keep its teeth away from his flesh. A dollop of poison dropped onto his cheek and he felt his skin burn and smelled his whiskers singe. As other monsters crawled onto him, he began to lose his struggle and the fangs drew closer to his cheek. His arms shook with the effort of pushing it away, and just as he felt the tips of those murderous fangs make contact with his flesh, he saw the beast’s head flinch, and the point of a sword exited its forehead. As the blade retracted, he shoved the corpse off himself while Aefsheen set to work slashing at the others who’d crawled aboard the fallen dwarf.

As Fehrehngarr regained his feet, he could see Aefsheen being overrun himself. Not daring to swing the ax and risk cutting the half elf as well as the man-spiders, he drew his own sword and set to work skewering and prying the monsters to free his comrade.

As they were freeing themselves from the onslaught, they noticed a slight ebb in the arachnid tide. They could hear screams from the way they’d come, indicating that the troops had now encountered the swarm.

Aefsheen had a flashback to that first attack by the Swarm he’d helped to found. He saw the irony that he now faced almost certain death at the hands of another type of swarm. If he ever survived, this would make for the perfect tale to share with Danniven and the other remaining founding members back in Oakyard. But first, he had to survive.

Fehrehngarr spoke, “Aefsheen! Stay with me, friend. It’ll take both of us to make it out of here.” Aefsheen shook his head, clearing his mind of the flashback. Fehrehngarr picked up his ax and continued “If I use my ax properly, it takes both my hands, but here – borrow my sword. Do you ever fight with two weapons? It might make the difference.”

Aefsheen replied “It’s how I prefer to fight, actually. These blades are a bit shorter than I’m used to, but they’ll do.”

They resumed their push toward the light. As Aefsheen thrust and slashed to both sides with the pair of shortswords, and Fehrehngarr hacked and swept his way through the arachnid hybrids, they heard a renewed pursuit coming toward them. Just ahead, they saw a large, round stone blocking what looked to be their exit out of this hellhole. There were just a few yards of distance and only a couple of the creatures between them and daylight. They each dispatched a man-spider and then both broke into a run for the stone blocking the exit. Coordinating their timing, they both crashed into it with their shoulders, hoping against hope that their weight and momentum would open their escape route and let them get away from the horrific horde behind them.

Breaking free from the spider hole into the sunlight, they shoved the capstone aside and their momentum carried them to the ground. As they caught their breath, they took in their surroundings. They were in a small, lightly wooded, naturally bowl shaped hollow a few dozen yards across, whose sides sloped up to the crest about twenty feet higher than where they lay. There were fallen trees and boulders strewn around the depression, all covered in webs still beaded with moisture from last night’s rain. They also spotted too many web-obscured lumps that looked uncomfortably humanoid shaped. There was a light scattering of web strands across the rest of the ground as well, resembling a light frost, while the lower branches of trees might as well have been subjected to a blizzard for all the white clinging to and hanging from them.

As the pair stood up, they heard more battle sounds from the tunnel, but more ominously, as they looked toward it, they heard a loud rustling from the fallen leaves beneath the trees behind them. They turned to find another cadre of the spiderlike monsters approaching them from the leaves, while their second line dropped on webs from higher branches.

The fight began anew as the adventurers thrust sword and swung ax, and did their best to dodge and parry stones and sticks. They could hear the fight from the tunnel getting closer, and just when they were beginning to wonder if they’d run out of stamina before their enemy ran out of numbers, they saw the knight’s guards hack their way into the sunlight, having finally overcome the spiders in the tunnel. The guards emerged blinking at the sun’s brightness contrasting with the tunnel they’d just fought through. They seemed confused as to whether they should continue to pursue Aefsheen and Fehrehngarr, or to fight the creatures. The question was answered for them as a new pack of Huntsmen broke away from the main force and encircled them.

After what seemed an eternity of fighting, hearing the screams of men and the horrific screeching of man-spiders, enduring the bruises and cuts of wounds, and feeling the burn of cramping muscles in desperate need of rest, the two escapees found themselves backed up against a web-shrouded boulder alongside the last two soldiers left alive. The giant spiders seemed to be regrouping in a semicircle facing the four. Everyone on both sides seemed to be taking the moment to catch their breath. Hearing the guards ragged breath, seeing one looked like he was about to die, Aefsheen steeled himself to take his last stand. He spoke, “Fehrehngarr, this looks like the end. Shame, too – I feel we could have been friends under other circumstances.” For his part, the skald looked around at his impromptu battle mates and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his sonorous voice carried the authority of a historian and the inspiration of a poet. “Few against a throng Captain Asfandiar Cried out ‘Cut down the vile invaders!’

He raised Troll-Sunder Swung down the notched blade and Elf heroes laid waste to orc raiders”

Raising his ax blade as he spoke the last stanza, he then roared and charged the gathered spider throng. Aefsheen, inspired by recognizing the name in the poem, gave both blades a whirling flourish and leapt back into the fray with renewed vigor. The soldiers, encouraged by Fehrehngarr’s oration, began once more to swing their own swords.

There weren’t so many monsters left now, and by this time, the men had begun to figure out the weak spots to aim for, and soon turned the tide. There was a scream, and Aefsheen and Fehrehngarr, having each dispatched the last of the creatures facing them, turned to see only the sergeant left alive. He was disarmed, on his back, wrestling with one of the beasts, much like Fehrehngarr had been earlier. The dwarf strode steadily toward him, drew back his ax and swung. The blade bit right through the monster, cutting it in half, sending the two pieces scattering, and covering the soldier in blue blood, but sparing him the venom that had killed his companion beside him.

“You could have left me to die and made good your escape. Why did you help me?” the man at arms asked, and Fehrehngarr replied “No, I couldn’t. Have no doubt I’ll be leaving, but I couldn’t walk away from any man and leave him to die such an unnatural way. If you wish a clean death in battle, let’s take a moment to recover our energy and we’ll have a go at it. Otherwise, I’m walking away now.”

“Not at all. You’ve more than earned your release as far as I’m concerned. Looking at some of those shapes wrapped up in webs, I think I know what happened to some of our ‘deserters’, and what would have happened to me and the bodies of my men had you not intervened.” He looked over to Aefsheen, who was using the shirt of one of the fallen to clean the sword blades. “I’ll retrieve your wagon and deliver it to you on the road near where you were captured last night. Just wait until after nightfall when the knight and the squire have retired for the evening.”

Aefsheen nodded his thanks and replied “Just don’t wait too long. If I don’t have reins in hand by midnight, I’ll come back in for it myself. And I won’t be caught unaware this time.”

________________________________________________________________

Later that night, having regained his wagon, donned his own swordbelts, and returned Fehrehngarr’s blade, Aefsheen took shook the reins and set his team to a relaxed canter despite the rain having started again. There would be no stopping tonight – he wanted as much distance as possible between himself and whatever dark wizardry was responsible for what they’d just survived. He looked over to the dwarf seated next to him and asked “What was that bit of poetry you called out back there?” The dwarf shrugged and replied “Oh that was just the end of the Tale of Asfandiar Silverthorn. I’m surprised you’re not familiar – it’s a true tale that took place during the Orc War up in your part of the world.” “Oh, I know that much. We just didn’t hear a lot of poetry or singing in my quarter. Well, at least none that wasn’t lewd.” They shared a laugh that helped relieve some of the day’s tension. Then Aefsheen got serious. He was distrustful by nature, both from upbringing and profession, but this man knew things he wanted to hear. Plus, they’d just saved each other’s’ life. He decided to let himself trust the bard.

“Some time you’ll have to tell me the rest of the poem. To be honest, I’ve heard quite a few stories about Asfandiar. For example, did you know that Asfandiar took a human wife in the Treeguard Barony?”

“I’ve heard rumors about Asfandiar Silverthorn’s human woman, aye. But the historians are divided on how true it is.”

“Humph. The elves provided a proper funeral for him, but then abandoned his widow and child afterwards… Yes, any tales you’ve heard of Asfandiar, I’d love to hear them, my new friend. And in exchange, perhaps I can supply you with some you haven’t heard.” Fehrehngarr stole a glance at the man he’d just met, looked at the head and face that was shaped like an elf, but bore beard and mustache like a human and started to ponder.

“Aefsheen, are you saying –“

Aefsheen cut him off and said “I’m saying that in my mother’s house, in the mill quarter of the city of Oakyard, on the wall above her fireplace is an elfmade longsword, with a prominent notch in one edge, hanging below a scrap of banner from the Elderwood kingdom.

I didn’t tell you my surname, did I? It’s Silverthorn.”

#sword and sorcery #fantasy #elves #dwarves #wizards #warriors #high fantasy #epic fantasy #dark fantasy #sorcery #sorcerer

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angedemystere · 4 years

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In Need of Company (Les Miserables Fic)

Title: In Need of Company

Fandom: Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)

Characters: Jean Valjean, Inspector Javert

Rating: T

Warnings: mild language, mentions of racial slurs

Summary: A little what-if scenario from Jean Valjean’s youth. It’s 1786 in Faverolles, and a well-meaning if careless peasant boy is about to make an unexpected friend.

One summer morning in Faverolles, Jean Valjean rushed through a few household chores and slipped out of what remained to scurry up the apple tree in their garden and relish in the shade. The sun winked between the leaves. Nothing but placid green and teasing light and a soothing breeze.

A small rock pelted at his thigh. Another hit his boot.

“Hey!” he shouted groggily. “Philippe, you ass.”

“Shut up and get down here,” answered a tall, blond young man. His long bony limbs reminded Jean of that marionette his brother-in-law Henri made for his oldest son.

“Make me.”

“Yeah? I will find bigger rocks, you know.”

“Your aim won’t get better.”

“Fine. I’ll drop in and say good morning to Jeanne and let her know where you are.”

“She already knows,” Jean lied, and in the same breath swung down by the nearest branch. His feet hit the ground as loudly as an elephant’s step, but the shock of it evaporated and Jean straightened as smoothly as he would rising from a chair. “What do you want?”

“My old man is sending me into town for a few things. Boring things. You need to keep me company.”

“Sure, and you’ll ditch me as soon as we get there for Marguerite or some other girl.”

Philippe snickered. “Maybe I’ll get you to finally talk to a girl.”

Jean made the kind of throaty gargle and tongue lurch expected of a seven-year-old rather than a seventeen-year-old.

“Jean, you are too old to think girls carry the plague.” Philippe grabbed his arm. “Come, let’s get you cured!”

Arm in arm the friends ventured to the market square. This morning happened to be market day, which meant an uptick in activity and liveliness that jarred against the characteristic daily drone. The square hosted a dozen stalls for textiles, toys, tools, and produce. Philippe sailed through, Jean in tow, to a stall selling ironworks.

As Philippe finished paying and scoped out the next destination, a crew of lads the same age as he and Jean came into sight like jackals looking for a carcass to loot.

Jean patted Philippe’s shoulder. “There’re the boys.”

Philippe’s delight far outshone Jean’s. “Oh, good! And look, they found a new friend!”

The group led by Leonard was tailing a gamin. Leonard was a well-looking boy who could be charming, but his smiles tended to twist into sneers even in good humor. Nothing unintentional about his sneer now, floating above the brown-skinned urchin like a falcon ready to dive for him. The other boys caught on to Leonard’s game and mirrored his expression. It looked contagious. Even Philippe sharpened his smile with impish elation. Jean felt none of that giddiness. He felt like he’d swallowed a rock.

The boy, no older than seven, wore fabric with strong shades of red, yellow and purple in bold geometric patterns that were lost under wear, tearing and recent dirt. He carried an embroidered and beaded satchel on his shoulder. The clash of vibrancy and desolation marked him a gypsy. His black hair hung in his eyes and close to his shoulders. The bag appeared full of food, an acceptable sight on market day. Leonard and the gang didn’t agree.

Whistles, snickers, provocative spurts of words like “darkie” and “gutter trash” littered the boy’s wake. The boy acted deaf and watched only the road and his ripped shoes that flapped like dead fish with every step.

“Say, darkie,” Leonard cooed, “how about a little dance for us? Where’s your tambourine? In your bag there? Say, that looks heavy. Must be exhausting carrying what you steal from honest, hardworking people like us. Must be nice not to have to work, just swindle your way across town. How about a song? Sing a song and earn something for once.”

The flow of venom set Jean’s ears ringing. While some adults observed this taunting and simply watched, most turned away and pretended nothing was happening. The child wasn’t doing anything. If he were another village boy, Leonard and his cadre would’ve been scolded off by someone’s mother—maybe one of theirs. Where was this boy’s mother? Didn’t someone care?

Merde. He cared.

But he couldn’t be asked to do something, surely! No one was asking anything of him now. Philippe was busy laughing at Leonard’s vitriol, so Jean could sneak off if he tried.

“Come,” he muttered to Philippe, “let’s get going. Leave him.”

Philippe grimaced like Jean had told him to set himself on fire. “What? Why?”

“Philippe!” Leonard called. Then he pointed at the gypsy boy and pantomimed a stumble. Philippe, tittering, angled his body. The gamin was getting close to passing him. Philippe moved his foot forward.

“Philippe!” Jean grabbed his friend’s shoulder. Then he flushed and stammered, “This is stupid.”

Philippe was as astounded as Jean, and he’d been spun off-balance momentarily, so his words came out in a harsh rush: “You’re the one being stupid.”

“Jean!” Leonard shouted. “What’s the matter with you? You ruined it!”

Rather than face Philippe, either to reprimand or apologize, Jean’s eyes veered to the gypsy boy. The grey eyes staring through the uneven curtain of bangs bowled him. The boy had paused, but all at once he hustled past both young men.

Leonard pointed at him. “Hey, he’s getting away!”

Philippe leaped like a jungle cat hungry for a second chance at his prey. His long legs bounded and brought him to the boy in a couple strides. His foot swung up and landed. The gamin fell hard on his chest and hands, skidding a little on the street. His bag spilled open. Fruit rolled free. He grunted, punched by the unforgiving ground.

A few gasps came from the otherwise passive vendors. Jean couldn’t gasp or move right away. His shock almost pushed a giggle out of his windpipe. Any fleeting humor was swept away by the likeness to seeing his nephews and nieces falling and crying out until Jeanne or Henri came to their rescue. This boy didn’t cry. He didn’t even get up. He must have been stunned.

“Good work!” Leonard called, catching up with Philippe. “Let’s give him a proper welcome—make sure he knows that he and scum like him should know better than to stir up trouble here.”

Both young men moved in. Jean could imagine the first kicks landing in the child’s ribs and legs and possibly worse. He must have imagined these while sprinting because in the next instant he was pushing Philippe and Leonard back with force he reserved for moving heavy branches and logs. He stood over the gypsy boy’s feet.

Philippe’s congenial face twisted with confusion. “Jean, what—”

One of the vendors hollered at them: “Take this somewhere else!”

“Get out of here,” Jean barked at the group.

Leonard put his hands on his hips. “Ho-ho! I didn’t realize we had a gypsy-lover in our town! Is that your problem, Jean? You like darkies? Your own people not good enough for you?”

“Why don’t you rough up someone who can fight back?” Jean didn’t know a thing about fighting. He didn’t raise his arms to anticipate a brawl. A fight was far from how he wanted this to end, but some part of him braced for it. Most of him silently yelled at the boy still on the ground to get up and run.

Leonard’s lip curled up. Philippe clapped his shoulder. “Forget it.”

More vendors were paying attention. A few started to step out from their stalls. Hard to say who they were defending. The message got through to Leonard, anyway. He shook off Philippe’s hand. He snarled at Jean. “I’ll take care of you later.”

The other lads gathered behind Leonard. Maybe they thought Jean’s strength was more trouble than they were prepared for. Or they anticipated jumping him the moment they were out of the public eye. Jean grimly accepted the second. Somehow the stone in his stomach had disappeared. But Philippe sent him a disparaging scowl and followed Leonard’s horde out of the square. That stung as betrayal only could from someone one has known since toddlerhood. Jean watched them all leave. Once they were gone, he turned around, ready to see an empty patch of street behind him.

The boy was just finished putting his fruit back into the bag. He sensed Jean’s attention, met it, and slowly stood, returning the bag to his shoulder.

“You all right?” Jean asked.

“I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think they’d do something so …”

“I should’ve known better. The moment I saw them, my feet told me to start running. I should listen more.”

At first, the boy’s mouth seemed to flinch into a smile. He gripped the straps of the bag with just fingertips. The knees of his trousers had split open, revealing red, open scrapes.

“Let me see your hands,” Jean said. “They’re bleeding.”

The boy clenched those same hands. He winced, no doubt about it this time. “So?”

“I can clean them for you.”

“I can clean them myself. Why should you?”

Jean didn’t have an answer. He did pull out a handkerchief—just a cotton rag. “I’m Jean.”

The boy eyed the rag. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Jean sighed. “Well, M. Fine Thank You, I have plenty at home. Take it.”

“I don’t want to. And my name is not Fine Thank You. Idiot.”

That sounded like a taunt his oldest nephew would make. Jean folded his arms. “How about this, M. Idiot: I walk you home while you use the rag to clean your hands and knees. When we get there, you can give it back to me.”

“I don’t need a gadje’s help.” The boy’s gaze dropped, all at once embarrassed. “I mean … I can take care of myself.”

“Well, I’m looking for an excuse not to go home and get a scolding. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

Gray eyes narrowed. They skimmed over Jean. “What about your friends?”

“Them? I barely know them.” Jean winced and was glad Philippe and Leonard were clear of the square. “I know them because we’ve lived in this town all our lives. I spend time with them when I don’t want to be alone. But I usually don’t mind being alone. It’s hard to be alone in a house that’s always adding new children.”

The boy sniffed and shifted his weight on his feet, teetering better two choices. Then his eyebrows went up. “Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

“Who?” Jean’s thoughts were with his sister and her children.

“Your—the boys who were bothering me. Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

Jean considered it. By now they had probably lost interest in the gypsy boy and were daring each other to sneak to the river and spy on the girls washing laundry there … oh.

The notion that occurred to the boy came to Jean, too. The boy’s stare and one raised eyebrow said it all: “You better catch on or you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

A chuckle tickled up Jean’s throat. “I bet they’re right around the corner of that house there.” He pointed to the end of the square. “Waiting for the moment I leave you alone.”

The boy nodded. “Then I should have you come with me. My very own guard.”

With his own nod and a restrained smile, Jean walked up to the shoulder that carried the sack. He handed over the handkerchief. The boy took it.

“Does that mean I can know your name?” Jean asked.

Another hoist to keep the bag in place. He began blotting his skinned palms. “Fine. I’m Danior.”

“And where are we going, M. Danior?”

“To the inn at the edge of town. Mama and I are staying there.”

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Jean still had questions, yet the wordless stroll brought contentment he was reluctant to disturb. A wanderer, a complete outsider to Jean’s world, was letting him escort him to relative safety after a minute or two of meeting each other. A rather fascinating boy—he walked with a purposeful gait and straight shoulders. He carried himself like he wanted to be as grown-up as Jean, if not more. A boy his age should have been running around or climbing every tree and hay bale he could find.

Jean did have one question that he dug up the courage to speak. “Do you live in a wagon when you travel?”

The pointed look from Danior summoned regret, but the boy answered: “No, Mama and I don’t live with other Roma. She left her people before I was born. I don’t think my father is Rom, so maybe her family didn’t like she married a gadje.”

“Does your father ever travel with you?”

Danior turned his head frontward and pressed his lips, unsure. Jean immediately guessed that, like him, Danior’s father was dead, or worse, had scarpered to live free of his family. Ears turned hot.

“He’s in prison.”

Jean’s throat closed. He swallowed to relax it. “Sorry.”

Danior’s face filled with fierceness and helplessness. “He’s been in prison my whole life. I can’t be sad about it. Mama and I get by.”

Perhaps they did in the barest sense. Not that Jean could say much for his own tattered cuffs on his shirt and trousers. But to be without a father and a settled home? Faverolles, for all its boring parts, was reliably here. He wanted to put a hand on Danior’s head the way he did his sister’s children whenever he passed them, or when they asked for help with their chores and games. Danior wouldn’t like that. He looked like he hadn’t played a game in years.

That he felt compelled to withhold the small gesture urged Jean to keep in close step with Danior, never mind the difference in their strides, and throw a glare at anyone who made the smallest grimace at the gypsy boy.

They reached the inn, a popular stop for travelers of all ilk, which meant Jean was advised to avoid it. A spark of illicit intrigue ran up his arm as he pushed open the front door. As it turned out, the ground-floor room, equipped with tables and chairs and a hearth, was just as ordinary as the rest of the town. A few renters were sitting inside on this fair market day. Danior skipped the tavern and marched to the stairs leading to the rooms. He stopped suddenly to spin around to Jean.

“I think I’m safe now. Thank you.”

The declaration rang with such a serious tenor that Jean had to laugh. He saluted. “All in a day’s work. Maybe I should go into the service.”

Danior shrugged and began to pivot, only to stop, peer up, frown with an unspoken question, and finally regard Jean with what might have been fear or longing. “I can pay you.”

“What? No, that’s ridiculous. After what you went through, it’s the least I could do.”

“But it’s not. You didn’t need to do anything. I owe you.”

This poor child. To think a harmless bit of kindness needed rewarding. Jean shook his head. He tried to be casual, affable, but accidentally gave away more tenderness than was wise to show a boy unaccustomed to it. “Danior—”

“Danior?” came a bark from above.

Their attention followed the voice to a steel rail of a woman leading over the banister. As with Danior, the woman’s colorful clothes had lost much of their vivacity with use. The hues looked as wrung as she did. The bones of her face pushed against her skin; the dark hair poking from under her headscarf was showing grey, though she otherwise looked hardly older than Jeanne.

“Sorry, Mama,” Danior quickly uttered. He skipped up to the first landing where the stairs turned before stopping again. “This is Jean. He walked me here. I had a fall and he lent me his handkerchief. Oh, here.” He reached for Jean with the rag, a little flecked with blood.

Jean’s hand stretched for it. It jumped away at the woman’s snapping voice. “Danior, don’t give him that when you’ve dirtied it! I’ll clean it and give it back later.”

“I don’t mind,” Jean said. “I’ll take it now, or Danior can keep it, which I know he doesn’t want to do.”

“I’ll clean it,” Danior said. “I can do that much.”

“All right. I’ll come for it tomorrow.” Jean found himself smiling again. The mother was a bit intimidating—and she and Danior shared a timbre in their voices—but the idea of having more time to know Danior brightened him.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” said the mother, dry and tired. It was as if she guessed his feelings and warned him of reality’s disappointment.

“I’ll come by early, I promise.” To Danior, Jean waved and bid him good day, and to clean his scrapes. Good God, he was sounding like Jeanne! Shaking his head at the thought, he left the inn.

Then a cloud settled on him, despite his having stepped into the glaring daylight from the gloom of the inn. They were leaving tomorrow. One last goodbye and they’d be gone. Couldn’t they stay a little longer? Maybe permanently if Danior’s mother found regular employment? But there was Leonard, and to a lesser extent Philippe, and the people who reacted to Danior’s abuse only when Jean stepped in. It was better the pair of them kept moving.

He went home, patted his nephews and nieces on the head, asked Henri if he needed help with anything at the workshop, went to bed early and rose early to run to the inn. The two Roma, staying there under the name Javert, were already gone. The innkeeper handed Jean the clean handkerchief.

#les miserables #jean valjean #javert #inspector javert #valvert #myfic

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factual-fantasy · 4 years

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21 asks, some old some new, all basically just heart warming compliments. ♡ඩᴗඩ♡

You’re welcome!! And thank you so much!! Something I always love to do with characters like this is give them some crazy depth. Give answers for things that the media they’re from never answers. I always work really hard to make it all fit together and really feel natural and I’m so happy you noticed! (இ﹏இ`｡)

I’ll be sure to. I’m still feeling really crummy mentally, but taking a break from my lovely community of fans certainly didn’t make me feel any better. XD

Pfff Kitty cat Pirate man XD

Well you’re sort of right. Captain Barnacles is my favorite character 100%, but the reason why I draw those two together so often is because the show has established that they are really good friends.

Where ever the Captain is, Kwazii is usually nearby. Kwazii was the only one that knew about the Captains fear, Kwazii is the Octonauts lieutenant, which probably means that they spend a lot time around each other. They share a bed pod, they have had these little interactions that don’t happen with anyone else. Like fist bumps, shoulder pats etc.

They’re even used as an example of symbiosis in the crab and urchin episode! Now, you can interpret that how you’d like, but I believe the show is somewhat subtly trying to push the point that these two are best friends, like family even.

So when ever I draw Captain Barnacles, I always have an incentive to draw Kwazii with him. :}

Honestly by my headcannons, I feel like Kwazii would need it more than anyone else really. But yeah, the Captain could really use me a pick me up. XD

Dawww you’re welcome, I’m just glad everyone likes my art so much. ♡●ᴗ●♡

Th-Thank you!! That’s so sweet!! I’ll Be sure to keep making them!- Be sure to drop in some suggestions you guys so I know what ya’ll want to see!! :}

COMMERE YOU

(before I left for a break)

Well I may have needed more time to “relax”, but I just missed you guys too much lol.

Wow! That’s a lot of shows! I don’t recall really watching.. any of them.. any way uh- that aside, there are several shows I used to watch as a kid. Some weren’t meant for kids but were still funny to me.

For one, like I’m sure a lot of people did, I watched SpongeBob.

I also used to watch, of course, Octonauts. Although that was when I was a wee bit older.

I also used to watch The Three Stooges.. this one was for adults I think but it was still hilarious.

I also used to watch Beetle Baily, although this one was kind of like a once a year tradition type thing we did.

There may be one or two more but I don’t recall.. I mean, we did have one episode of speed racer that I watched over and over and over again. Or.. was it a movie? Heh, I uh, cant really recall..

(after my break announcement)

Thank you, turns out taking a break from Tumblr kind’a just made me miss the community. I felt really awful while I was gone but feel a little better after returning sooo.... guess I’m hangin around for a little while longer! :}

No I don’t ship anyone personally, although I can see how some of their dynamics could be seen like that.

Oh! No worries, that’s alright, and that thing is in the description as a heads up kind’a. If I tag my own art as ship or explicitly say it is okay to do so, then go for it. I just don't usually ship characters and don't want my art to be perceived incorrectly..

I have watched both Octonauts movies and season 1-3 on Netflix. When it comes to season 4, so far I haven't had much trouble just finding it on YouTube.

When it comes to watching season 4 in order, just go to the episode wiki, find the names in order and keep searching on YouTube until you’re sure you’re on the right episode. Pretty sure you can find basically all the Octonauts episode this way, go ahead and give it a shot! Hope it works!

To keep the fourth wall breaking to a minimum, what would my Transformer OCs think of Octonauts?

Suburban, A.T.Dragster, Green Truck, Escort, Vega, Red Van, Brown Suburban, Miata, AND Honda, most likely wouldn't really be interested and wouldn’t really have an opinion on the show, but they don't make fun of anyone who does watch it. No matter how old. Volvo specifically would respect the educational aspect of the show and most likely wouldn’t pick on anyone for watching it either.

U.M.Dragster would kind’a poke fun at the show and its imperfections. But low key is peeking around the corner wanting to know what the characters do next.

White Truck thinks it pretty cool and kind’a likes to watch it with others, but wont really go out of his way to watch it on his own.

Beluga would probably think its really cute, bet 10 bucks her favorite character is Kwazii.

Ranger would be hooked. She loves everything about Earths water and want’s to learn everything about it. Including the creatures that live in it. She would appreciate the show “dumbing everything down” for her, because she doesn’t know these basic things that kids know. Having everything “dumbed down” makes it easier for her to understand everything.

Jeepy’s driver used to make fun of me for watching it, but now he thinks it neat. So maybe he’d think its silly but eventually come around?

Bash Buggy cant see the screen-

But really Its cool though, he wouldn’t be all that interested in it even if he could watch it anyway.

Daww thank you! ♡●ᴗ●♡

Oh how cool! I never thought so many people grew up watching this too, I thought this show was really obscure! Glad I can share the nostalgia and joy with ya’ll through my art! :}

You mean the Vegimals? These little dudes?

I just haven’t had a good opportunity to draw them yet is all.

Hmmmm.... let me think.. I feel like my Transformer OCs would mostly like certain aspects of seasonal things, not one season and all of its aesthetics as a whole.

Suburban, Red Van, Escort, Brown Suburban and Green Truck love the bonfire part of colder weather. The warm, bright and surrounded by loved ones aspect of it is what they enjoy. Especially Brown Suburban. He loves bonfires man. The more light and heat the better, that poor mech is freezing his aft off out there in that old manky dark shed all by himself. He just wants to be around his loved ones where its warm and bright.

Miata would probably like pumpkin spice lattes, and just that aspect of fall. Beluga and Honda however would be all over fall and all its traditions. They’d be all over every season really, always up to date with trends and having fun.

The Dragsters are all about summer and its aesthetics. Summer is the prime time for dragstrips and the weather they function most efficiently in so they’re all for it.

Vega is more about fall. Sure its not really racing weather, but he does like all the pretty colors and the temperature is just right for him.

White Truck would like summer the most. He’d like the attire, the swimming, the warmth, all of it. He’d function a little on the edge I’d think though, he does have a bit of an overheating issue.. but still, I think summers for the win.

Ranger would like summer. Summer = more fish in the water. She loves to look at fish and be out in the water and just explore everything. Summer is when most of the fish are around so she’d really enjoy that. When it comes to seasonal outfits and food? Meh, waters cooler.

Volvo doesn't care for any weather or aesthetics honestly. But would prefer fall for its cooler temperatures. Having so many layers of armor is bound to make you overheat eventually.

Jeepy would like the fall and winter most of all, because of MUD. Going slipin, driftin and slidin with Bash is a real hoot, so he’d really like those seasons. He’s just built for them you know? Plus he’d kill a man for a glass of eggnog so he likes that aspect of cooler seasons too. :}

Bash Buggy likes summer and spring for the temperatures mostly. He also likes winter and fall, but because of the mud, he doesn’t like them for any other reason. Just the mud and goofing around with Jeepy. Everything else about those cold seasons are terrible, and he cant even see all the pretty colors and aesthetics so what does it matter? His body has no insulation anymore so the cold just eats him up, and he cant go outside in the snow because of his blindness and the cold. So he’s stuck shivering indoors while his friends go goof around in the snow without him. Colder seasons suck besides mud, the warmer ones are a win.

I don’t know, it just kind’a makes me uncomfortable. Not all artists are the same, not all artists like that.

It kind of feels like stealing to me in a way, I just don’t like it..

I want to, but I am completely halted by the knowledge that these comics don’t get much traction. They only get a handful of notes when I post them, which just makes them feel like a waste of time.

I’m weird about time. I don't like talking about my interests with others because I know I’m wasting their time and they don’t care anyway.

I am heavily discouraged to draw things online, not just because people steal, but because only a handful of people truly care and get excited about them.

And I mean, a handful of lovely followers, is a handful lovely followers. But you can see how a people pleaser like me would drift towards what people want me to draw instead of what I want to draw.

And when it comes to what people want me to draw? Besides those lovely few, people don’t want to see my comics.

#my response #octonauts #transformer ocs #about me

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

Text

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 11

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 11 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 11/? SUMMARY: The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret, because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - I’ve enjoyed writing this episode so much! I hope you like it too!]

“And then we discovered it wasn't the Robot King after all, it was the real one. Fortunately, I was able to re-attach the head,” the Doctor told Rory, who was sitting in the pilot seat.

Amy came down the stairs.

“Do you believe any of this stuff?” he asked her.

“I was there.”

Elise smiled from her spot on the stars where she was sketching the TARDIS rotor.

“Oh, it's the warning lights. I'm getting rid of those! They never stop!” the Doctor yelled, kicking the console. At one point in time, Elise would have yelled at him for it. But she ignored him.

There was suddenly a knock on the TARDIS door.

“What was that?” Amy asked.

“The door. It knocked,” the Doctor said.

“Right. We are in deep space,” Rory reminded him.

“Very, very deep”.

The knocking came again.

“And somebody's knocking.”

Elise briefly wondered if it was River coming for a visit.

The Doctor opened the doors.

There was a small glowing box floating outside.

“Oh, come here. Come here, you scrumptious little beauty.” The Doctor reached out for it, but before he could touch it it flew inside and darted around the console. It slammed into the Doctor’s chest.

“A box?” Rory asked.

“Doctor, what is it?” Amy asked.

The Doctor picked up the box. “I've got mail!” He ran up to the console. “Timelord emergency messaging system. In an emergency, we'd wrap up thoughts in psychic containers and send them through time and space. Anyway, there's a living Timelord still out there, and it's one of the good ones.”

“You said there weren't any other Timelords left. Besides you and Elise,” Rory said.

“There are no Timelords left anywhere in the universe. But the universe isn't where we're going. See that snake? The mark of the Corsair. Fantastic bloke. He had that snake as a tattoo in every regeneration. Didn't feel like himself unless he had the tattoo. Or herself, a couple of times. Ooo, she was a bad girl.”

The console sparked and popped.

“Oh, what is happening?” Rory asked.

“We're leaving the universe!” the Doctor yelled.

“How can you leave the universe?” Amy asked.

“With enormous difficulty! Right now I'm burning up TARDIS rooms to give us some welly. Goodbye, swimming pool. Goodbye, scullery. Sayonara, squash court seven.”

The console continued to spark as Amy screamed.

The TARDIS landed and everything went quiet.

“Okay, okay. Where are we?” Amy asked.

“Outside the universe, where we've never, ever been,” the Doctor told them.

The lights in the TARDIS started to go out.

“Is that meant to be happening?” Rory asked.

“The power, it's draining. Everything's draining. But it can't. That's, that's impossible,” the Doctor said.

“What is that?”

“It's as if the Matrix, the soul of the TARDIS, has just vanished. Where would it go?”

They stepped out into a junkyard.

“So what kind of trouble's your friend in?” Amy asked.

“He was in a bind. A bit of a pickle. Sort of distressed,” the Doctor told her.

“Ah, you can't just say you don't know.”

“But what is this place? The scrap yard at the end of the universe?” Rory asked.

“Not end of, outside of,” the Doctor said. He threw his arm around Rory’s shoulder as Amy rifled through some junk.

“How we can we be outside the universe? The universe is everything.”

“Imagine a great big soap bubble with one of those tiny little bubbles on the outside.”

“Okay.”

“Well, it's nothing like that.”

The Doctor tapped the doors of the TARDIS. “Completely drained. Look at her.”

“Wait. So we're in a tiny bubble universe, sticking to the side of the bigger bubble universe?” Amy asked.

“Yeah. No. But if it helps, yes. This place is full of rift energy. She'll probably refuel just by being here. Now, this place. What do we think, eh?” the Doctor picked up a rock and threw it.

“Gravity's almost Earth normal, air's breathable, but it smells like…”

“Armpits,” Amy supplied.

The Doctor jumped inside a bathtub. Was he incapable of standing still for one second? “Armpits.”

“What about all this stuff? Where did this come from?” Rory asked. He twirled a light fixture.

“Well, there's a rift. Now and then stuff gets sucked through it. Not a bubble, a plughole. The universe has a plughole and we've just fallen down it.”

“Thief! Thief! You're my thief!” A woman ran towards the Doctor. She was wearing a ratty blue dress.

A man and an older woman followed.

“She's dangerous. Guard yourselves,” the older woman said.

The younger woman ran up to the Doctor, frantically touching his arms and chest. “Look at you. Goodbye. No, not goodbye, what's the other one?” She launched herself on the Doctor, kissing him.

The man pulled her off the Doctor, who was wiping his lips and running a hand through his hair in shock. “Watch out. Careful. Keep back from her. Welcome, strangers. Lovely. Sorry about the mad person,” the man told them.

“Why am I a thief? What have I stolen?” the Doctor asked.

“Me. You're going to steal me. No, you have stolen me. You are stealing me. Oh tenses are difficult, aren't they?”

The woman walked over to Amy and played with the ends of her hair. Something about her felt familiar to Elise. Like she knew her from somewhere. “Oh! Look at you!” the woman said, kneeling in front of Elise.

“Oh. Oh, we are sorry, my dove. She's off her head. They call me Auntie,” the older woman, Auntie told them. She stepped forward and shook the Doctor’s hand.

The man did the same. “And I'm Uncle. I'm everybody's Uncle. Just keep back from this one. She bites!”

“Do I? Excellent,” the woman said. She grabbed the Doctor and bit him on the ear.

“Ow! Ow!”

“Biting's excellent. It's like kissing, only there's a winner.”

“So sorry. She's doolally,” Uncle said.

“No, I'm not doolally. I'm…I'm…It's on the tip of my tongue. I've just had a new idea about kissing. Come here, you.” She reached for the Doctor, who ran and hide behind Amy and Rory.

“No, Idris, no,” Auntie said, grabbing her.

“Oh, but now you're angry. No, you're not. You will be angry. The little boxes will make you angry.” The woman, Idris, looked at Elise. “And you. You’re going to learn something that is going to make you sad. Sad and angry.”

“Sorry? The little what? Boxes?” the Doctor asked.

Idris started laughing. “Your chin is hilarious!” She turned to look at Rory. “It means the smell of dust after rain.”

“What does?”

“Petrichor.”

“But I didn't ask.”

“Not yet. But you will.”

“No, no, Idris. I think you should have a rest,” Auntie told her.

“Rest. Yes, yes. Good idea. I'll just see if there's an off switch.” Idris collapsed.

The Doctor and Rory caught her, setting her down on a chair nearby.

“Is that it? Is she dead now?” Uncle asked, “So sad.”

“No, she's still breathing,” Rory told him.

“Nephew, take Idris somewhere she cannot bite people.”

The Doctor turned around. “Oh, hello!”

Amy, Rory, and Elise turned around as well. Amy jumped back and hid Elise behind her.

The alien was wearing a jumpsuit. It was bald and had tentacles where its mouth should be.

“Doctor, what is that?” Amy asked.

“Oh, no, it's all right. It's an Ood. Oods are good. Love an Ood. Hello, Ood.” The Doctor approached the Ood. “Can't you talk? Oh, I see. It's damaged. May I?” He picked up the white ball attached to the jumpsuit and disassembled it. “It might just be on the wrong frequency.”

“Nephew was broken when he came here. Why, he was half dead. House repaired him. House repaired all of us,” Auntie explained.

The Doctor got the ball working again and a voice came out of it.

“If you are receiving this message, please help me. Send a signal to the High Council of the Time Lords on Gallifrey. Tell them that I am still alive. I don't know where I am. I'm on some rock-like planet.”

Several other voices were trying to come through as well.

“What was that? Was that him?” Rory asked.

“No, no. It's picking up something else. But that's…that's not possible. That's…that's… Who else is here? Tell me. Show me. Show me!” the Doctor demanded.

“Just what you see. Just the four of us, and the House,” Auntie told him, “Nephew, will you take Idris somewhere safe where she can't hurt nobody?”

“The House? What's the House?”

“House is all around you, my sweets.”

Uncle jumped up and down where he stood.

“You are standing on him. This is the House. This world. Would you like to meet him?”

“Meet him?” Rory asked.

The Doctor hushed him. “I'd love to.”

“This way. Come, please. Come.”

Auntie and Uncle walked off.

“What's wrong? What were those voices?” Amy asked the Doctor.

“Timelords. It's not just the Corsair. Somewhere close by there are lots and lots of Timelords.” He took Elise’s hand and they hurried after Auntie and Uncle.

They led them into a spaceship.

“Come. Come, come,” Uncle told them, “You can see the House and he can look at you, and he...”

The Doctor walked over towards them and looked into metal grating on the floor. “I see. This asteroid is sentient.”

“We walk on his back, breathe his air, eat his food,” Auntie said.

“Smell its armpits,” Amy commented.

A deep, sophisticated voice came out of Auntie and Uncle. “And do my will. You are most welcome, travelers.”

“Doctor, that voice. That's the asteroid talking?” Amy asked.

“Yes. So you're like a sea urchin. Hard outer surface, that's the planet we're walking on. Big, squashy, oogly thing inside, that's you.”

“That is correct, Timelord,” House said.

“Ah. So you've met Timelords before?”

“Many travelers have come through the rift, like Auntie and Uncle and Nephew. I repair them when they break.”

“So there are Timelords here, then?”

“Not anymore, but there have been many TARDIS’s on my back in days gone by.”

“Well, there won't be any more after us. Last Timelords. Last TARDIS.”

“A pity. Your people were so kind. Be here in safety, Doctor. Rest, feed, if you will.”

Auntie and Uncle relaxed, now back to normal.

“We're not actually going to stay here, are we?” Rory asked.

“Well, it seems like a friendly planet. Literally. Mind if we poke around a bit?” the Doctor asked Auntie, Uncle, and Nephew.

“You can look all you want. Go. Look,” Auntie said. She walked up to Amy and touched her face and hair. “House loves you.”

“Come on then, gang. We're just going to, er, see the sights.”

They quickly left the spaceship.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagines #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #amy pond #amy pond imagine #Rory Williams #rory williams imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the death of the doctor

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squidbobpops · 4 years

Text

20 years

“Sometimes all the little things start closing in on me, but when I’m feeling down, I want to lose that frown and open my window and look around!”

//////////////////:::

The cashier frowned, his expression from one of irritation to that of concern, he felt his body anxiously tapping the ground and rubbing his arms.

“Spongebob?”

The young fry cook glanced up from where he was cleaning one of the many tables, it was a Saturday after all, so there weren’t really any customers. Their boss just decided to order them to clean the grease trap up, though it wouldn’t really be the first time he asked that of them.

“Yes Squidward?” The happy go lucky boy said

“Um..it’s about...uhh..”

Squidward didn’t really think this through, did he? Still he felt his hand reach back and nervously scratch the back of his neck, often his hand would brush up against his teal locks, but it didn’t really matter. The sweat though, was a different story. He coughed. stumbled, and stuttered. Why couldn’t he just speak?

Why couldn’t he had just said what he wanted that day?

///////////////////////

20 years later

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The bell above the door rang, signaling a new customer into the restaurant, Squidward reading his magazine didn’t even glance up at the individual who had decided to bother him at his break time, muttering something Squidward sighed and spoke the dull questions of what the customer would like, Ever since...Spongebob left, it had been lonely. The painful reminder of the kid was gone, as he shook his head in despair. Spongebob had left twenty years ago and moved out. Nobody knew why and without any warning he had just vanished. No one had seen him since then and over the years soon the once active town was..quiet and dreadfully boring. He didn’t bother to contact any of his friends, only taking his clothes and snail.

“Welcome to the Krusty Krab, What do you want?”

He grumbled, he waited for a response, but to no avail. The customer was silent and that’s when Squidward had enough, who had the audacity to come in here and bother him, just to not order anything? He was going to give this patron a piece of his mind, whether Eugene promotes it or not! He stood up eyes closed in frustration and rubbed his temples, hands brushing through his teal hair.

“Sir, if you’re not going to order anything and bother me while I’m on break then I’m going to have to ask you to leave”

“I just got back though.”

At the sound of the all too familiar voice Squidward opened his eyes instantly and rubbed them, he did a double take and got out of his boat register and walked in front of the former fry cook in shock.

“S-Sponge... is that really you?”

He felt his heart beat a mile a minute and his face flush, his eyes burned with tears stinging at the edges. What was he doing back here? Twenty years of nothing and suddenly he come back?? Why? Squidward felt so many emotions all at once. Anger, Resentment, Curiosity, Fear, Relief, Joy, Sadness, and an old but all too memorable feeling came back.

Love.

Squidward felt himself stiffen not moving or saying anything and according to spongebob’s concerned expression he did not expect to see his former co-worker looking at him as if he was a dead person.

Spongebob did a glance over Squidward’s body, tall, well built, teal locks messy and curled. He took in his face as well, his mouth with those pale pink lips, and a light blush on his pale skin. His eyes dark red and still beautiful as ever. But tears, were building up and immediately the lips were also teeth clenched, and his knuckles white from gripping them so tight. His eyes filled with hate and sadness.

Squidward kept his eyes trained on the moron, afraid if he looked away, he’d be gone. The tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. Same stupid adorable freckles across his face, and the same stupid blond ruffled hair. His clothes were different, notably the difference was the suspenders instead of pants and a yellow shirt with a grid pattern. Other than that, the same tie, shoes and socks. Only the socks were rolled down. His eyes still as blue as the ocean itself. His pale lips and light color on his cheeks. Yep it was his Spongebob alright.

“Yeah, it’s me Squid.”

Spongebob smiled warmly at him, causing the older man to loosen up slightly, his pose from that of fear to casualness.

“Where the *dolphin noise* have you been?”

“Out, just exploring.”

“You..you left for twenty years..that’s it?! You could’ve done this without moving away you..j-jerk!”

“J-Jerk? Squid you have to realize that-

“No! You don’t get it, do you? You left this town and look at what has happened since then, Conch Street is barren, The Chum Bucket is thriving! Eugene only gets four to five customers nowadays, Sandy decided to go back to Texas, When you left..everything fell apart!”

He glared at the man in front of him, a finger jabbed into his chest accusingly pointed.

“Why come back now? What changed your mind?!”

Spongebob frowned, something Squidward didn’t expect. A frustrated sigh left his mouth as he grabbed squidward by the arm and led him towards the kitchen.

“Listen Squid, It doesn’t matter why I left, I’m back now aren’t I?”

Squidward growled, How could he act like his disappearance was nothing?! How could he just leave everyone like that? How could he be so selfish?

“It really does Robert.”

He flinched, Squid never used his real name unless he was serious. He stepped back, surprised at how much this had truly effected his home.

“Squid...I...”

“No more playing around, I’m sick of this.”

“....”

Spongebob rubbed his arms, eyes refusing to meet Squidward’s, which only fueled Squidward’s anger towards him.

“Why are you here now? Was twenty years too long for you?”

He sneered.

“I..never meant to leave for so long..”

“Yeah well you could’ve at least warned us! Everday since your little “adventure” Bikini Bottom has changed for the worst.”

“W-What do you mean?”

Sponge in grimaced, what exactly happened in those twenty years that got Squidward so mad?

“Like I said before, look at this town! The people barely say anything and if they do, it’s professional. No one visits and the population has decreased further! Sheldon and Eugene although are the same, there is always a look of despair on their faces, nothing was the same as it is before Robert, and now look at us! You honestly think that you didn’t have any impact on these people at all?!”

“I didn’t think..that they..”

“Yeah? Well you were wrong! Everyone has fallen into a depression cause of you!”

“.....what about you?”

Squidward tensed..what about him? Did it even matter to the man standing before him? Furthermore, despite everything that had happened..Squidward never did truly move on. How could he? It was hard to forget the little ball of joy that started his morning and ended his evenings..who had always smiled and giggled cutely. It was so hard to forget his face, and he spent nights, sitting on the floor of his bed room looking through photo albums, wondering if he’d ever see his sunshine again..it destroyed him, and tortured his mind at night. little urchin. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he refused to continue forward. So much had happened in that blip of time, just for him to come back..So, how was he? He was unsure, confused, and terrified..what if Robert left again? What would he do then...?

“.....I stayed the same.”

He lied through his teeth, he watched as Spongebob glanced away..yet again.

“I’m so..sorry Squidward I never—

“Don’t apologize to me Squarepants.”

Spongebob gulped as he knew exactly what he was about to face..alone.

“..Where?”

“Where else? Their at conch street. They never really stopped passing by where you lived. Sandy sometimes visits too.”

“...”

“Can..you maybe..?”

Squidward sighed...typical Spongebob. He reluctantly agreed and walked him there, as they did, a few residents were shocked. They looked at the two and a few tried to call out to Spongebob, while others grumbled curses. Finally as they arrived, There was the gang. Plankton and Krabs has grey hairs by now and stood next to each other staring at the empty space, it looked as if they hadn’t bothered do anything with it. Patrick and Sandy cried a tearful reunion, Pearl was there too. Karen watched from a distance, but Squidward had stopped walking and Sponge immediately turned to him, confused.

“...aren’t you coming?”

“This is as far as I go Robert, and I’m sure you know why.”

Spongebob shamefully nodded, as he started to head forward he gave one final wave as he headed towards them. Hoping that maybe..he could at least do this one thing right.

He approached, slowly at first..but the first one to see was Sandy. She pointed and cried..Everyone then immediately rushed over pulling Spongebob towards them. They had started loading a barrage of questions towards him, asking him why he left, or why he returned. But Patrick hadn’t come over yet, and Spongebob sighed. He walked towards Patrick and tried to reach out a hand. Only for Patrick to swat it away.

“Pat I..I’m sorry I left you..I truly didn’t mean to.”

“Bull shrimp.” Patrick mumbled.

He turned towards his old friend and had tears in his eyes and a scowl present in his face.

“B, F, F, that stands for us. Or..it did anyway. You said you’d never leave rob, why come back now?”

Spongebob swallowed, So Patrick was mad too huh? He guiltily tried to come up with something..anything to soothe his friend’s hatred.. but to no avail.

“Patrick I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you all behind I just thought..it’d be for the better.”

“Better? Better?! You call this (he motioned towards their friends looking tired and lifeless) better?! Rob, I tried to stay hopeful, I really did. Everday I told myself he’ll come back, he didn’t mean to hurt us. I told myself this for years until finally, I realized you weren’t and that broke me.”

“.......”

“So what? Apologize for twenty years of nothing?! Actions have consequences rob and I thought you of all people knew that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you guys.”

“But in the end, look around. This isn’t your home anymore. It’s nothing like it was.”

“....Pat...I know..my words probably seem meaningless to you right now and I can’t blame you, but please know..I do still consider you one of my bestest friends. B.F.F stands for us, and it still does. Please at least try to find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“.....You have no idea how much I am torn between wanting to accept that apology or punching you.”

SpongeBob’s eyes widened and he chuckled nervously, “Maybe..not the l-latter!”

.......

2 hours later.

————————

“I’m glad we’re all friends again, and I’m happy that at least one person was ok in this entire epidemic!”

“Who would that be exactly?” Pearl asked

“Squidward!”

Everyone immediately stopped smiling and frowned sending sad glances to one another.

“What? Did I say something?”

“Spongebob..Squidward was the one who was the most devastated by this.”

Karen chimes in

And just like that Spongebob felt something shatter.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“...He hasn’t played music in years, last time I saw him he was thinner than a nail”

“..oh my god.”

SpongeBob’s tone was laced with fear, as he ran to find him. He went to where he left him and panicked.

Where could he be??

“SQUIDWARD!”

He called out voice cracking, tears forming but he didn’t care, where did he go? He frantically glance around. The world was shrinking and the pounding in his ears wouldn’t shut up. It was all just static...

Until finally, he was grabbed into the tightest hug ever, it happened so fast he didn’t see who it was. He immediately embraced the person and cried, they were much taller.

“I’m here..”

The voice...it was squid’s and he smiled letting out a choked sob.

“Twenty years wasn’t enough to keep me away from you, you dimwit.”

He smiled as he chuckled, gripping Spongebob harder. Tears forming again in his own eyes as he held him closer.

#squidward tentacles #sbsp #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #humanization #alternate universe

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aj-the-satyr · 5 years

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All the Questions......

So Tag games...... Used to do ‘em a lot then kinda fell off writing for a while and then it got quiet. Well now I got tagged in 3 of those 11/11/11 things. You know the ones answer 11 questions, ask 11 more to the 11 people you tag. Well I’m not going to tag anyone other than the 3 people asking @writersblockandapotoftea @carrotgirl-1 and @rosewinterborn and say thankyou for doing so. So here goes..... the goat tries to get through all 33 questions.

1) Do you hide any secrets in your books that only a few people will find?

Hmm.... I suppose that I have a habit of making the names of both things and characters have deeper meanings. Like Grigory Zmeya, his last name means snake and he is a snake shifter type person. So stuff like that.

2) If you could ask one successful author three questions about their writing, writing process or books what would they be?

Not sure about this. I’ve read interviews with many authors where they have dispensed their advice and advice is not a one size fits all thing but I would lie to ask more personal things like favorite characters, Least favorite scene to write and most surprising side character. Stuff like that.

3) Do you have a library membership?

Nope.

4) Ebooks, yay or nay?

Used them and they are fine but I am the old school like to have the physical book in my hands kinda goat.

5) What feeling do you want your readers to get from what you write?

Wow, deep question. Enjoyment? Other than that I’d like them to have feelings for different characters, to pick favorites, to hate some and love some. I suppose I’d like my characters to be memorable but I will settle for the “That was Good” feeling after reading, even if nothing gets carried with them.

6) What time of day are you most productive?

Considering how many times I’ve written my snippets after 10pm and into the wee hours of the morning, I’d say then.

7) What is your writing Kryptonite?

Myself really. There are times I just get conflicted about my writing and rather than just let it flow and let the characters lead I will find myself deleting things and starting over many times. I’m trying to do that less but it’s hard sometimes to just let go and see what happens at the keyboard.

8) Which scenes are your favorite to write?

Huh....... I’m a dialogue heavy writer trying to get more description into my scenes so I favor just talking but am trying to change that a little.

9) What comes first in your development/outlining process plot or characters?

Well considering I don’t outline anymore (Used to waaaaay back) It would have to be characters. Make the characters and pop them in a setting. Plot will happen, hopefully.

10) What is your favorite novel to film/TV adaptadion?

Comic books count right? I love the Constantine TV show. Shame it got cancelled, love the fact they brought the character back for Legends of Tomorrow and the fact he might be getting his own show again is awesome. Love Constantine.

11) Do you think yourself as more of an artist or entertainer?

Neither really. Not something I’ve ever thought about, since you are asking me to think about it...... entertainer??

Right onto the second set of questions gonna add a read more break here to avoid taking up huge chunks of Tumblr real estate and for those people that don’t really care what this old goat has to say

12) Play fuck, marry, kill with Gandalf, Aragon and Arwen.

Er........ Kill Gandalf.... no wait he’ll come back for revenge..... Kill Aragon..... man that would be hard to do..... Kill Arwen then? But I wanted to marry her.......... Man...... Kill Aragon with Gandalf’s help, fuck Gandalf as payment and then go off to marry Arwen. Problem solved.

13) If you had to set fire to a famous building, which one would you set alight?

The Vatican?

14) If you could bring someone back from the dead who would it be?

It would be Sandra, a friend I made for a brief time on the internet who I RP’d with and had a good rapport with. She died of cancer at 20 I think, it’s hard to think about. I do always remember that I talked to her through her brother in her final days and managed to make her smile, something her brother told me she hadn’t done for weeks. Crying typing this. Yeah. Fuck yeah I’d bring her back and let her live her life. Fuck Cancer.

15) Which fictional Universe would you go into?

Star Trek. No need for money, could sit at a cafe and write all day. Great.

16) Where would you go if the world ended?

Hell. Oh wait that’s not what you were asking. Er...... nowhere. No point if it’s all gone is there? I’d stay here and still be a loner. Wow..... fun goat answers.

17) What’s you alignment?

Chaotic Neutral.

18) Lovecraft or Shelly?

Er....... as much as I love Cosmic Horror Mary Shelly was one of the most badass goths there has been. Plus the whole creating the sci-fi genre as a fuck you to Lord Byron. She is amazing and doesn’t get enough respect.

19) What’s the weirdest food you have eaten?

Sea Urchin or deep fried shrimp heads not sure which I think was weirder.

20) How do you want to die?

Die? I’m immortal. Or is that immoral? One of those.

21) Who is your least favorite character to write?

Probably The Professor since he’s a homophobic bigot who killed his own son’s boyfriend (Though he claims that was merely an accidental oversight of his grander plan) since he is not a very nice character at all. Makes my skin crawl.

22) What’s your favourite fairy tale?

Can’t say that I really have one. None of them resonate anymore, neither the grimdark originals or the fluffed up modern takes. I do however enjoy the book Dragon’s Bait by VIvian Vande Velde which is about a 15yr old girl who is put out as a sacrifice to a Dragon and ends up allying with the dragon and seeking revenge.

One more set. Almost there with the goat interrogation.

23) When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

Probably in University where I started writing a little something called “Space Gerbils” and was sending it out via email to about a dozen internet friends. They were hooked, I thought it was garbage but voila! The spark ignited. Heavily got into tabletop RPGs at the same time so that probably helped my desire for storytelling.

24) What book/Book series have you always meant to read but have not yet?

The Long Earth series by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter. I have a boxed set of them all but I just haven’t cracked the cover yet.

25) Who’s you favourite writer?

Published? Either Sir Terry Pratchett or Eoin Colfer. But a special shoutout goes to @yuutfa for Caster. They are a wonderful storyteller and got many an emotion from me while I was reading an early draft.

26) What was your favourite book as a child?

It is one that sits on my shelf this very moment. It is called “Science Fantasy Stories” and is a collection of short stories that I read many times over as a child, back when I would consume a book a day almost.

27) Favorite music to work to?

Soundcloud generally has my back but it does sometimes throw up the odd track that makes me question if its algorithm has developed some sort of twisted intelligence Black Mirror style.

28) Hogwarts House?

Ah..... this question. I’ve read the books, saw a couple of the movies (Did not like the movies) and enjoyed every step of the way. I bought my first Harry Potter books when they were selling the first 3 as a set so I jumped in to see what the fuss was about. Never once have I thought about what House I would be in. Never. So Imma gonna say Slytherin.

29) Hobbies?

Writing?? Generally I play vidja games. Current faves being Monster Hunter World (PC), Endless Legend (PC) and Crash team racing nitro fueled (PS4) and I also daydream scenes with my characters in them. Trying to get back into reading regularly again.

30) Where do you draw Inspiration from?

Everywhere I guess. From random conversations to ideas had after playing games, watching TV or reading books. Sometimes I’m not sure where the inspiration comes from but I am just trying to let myself go at those moments, run with it. Who cares if The Simpsons already did it? Truly new ideas aren’t new anyway. (Except maybe for theoretical physics, that shit is bananas) I mean one of my characters basically declared themselves to be a God (At least in my head) after I read an article on Retrocausality. Inspiration can come from anywhere. Use it!

31) What do you consider your aesthetic to be?

Look I can barely spell that word you want me to have one as well?

32) Favorite mythology?

Favorite mythology of AJ the Satyr................

33) What do you think influences your work the most?

My co author?? But seriously working things out with them has been very helpful but also there’s this little writing discord that I’m part of that is really welcoming and a great source of inspiration and ideas. But all in all I think Neil Gaiman influences me the most when he answered a question about how he does it. He told the person asking that you just write everything down that happens in the first draft and then when you go back and rewrite you make it look like you knew what you were doing all along.

Right. One Goat, 33 Questions. And I won! Not tagging anyone else but I want this to get me going on these tag games. I can’t just hide in the dark corners of Tumblr anymore. I must face the light! Has @notanotherhour done this yet??

#Tag game I guess #Not tagging anyone else in this nightmare #Writeblr #About Me #I answered the questions #Yay writing!

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gondalsqueen · 6 years

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Things to Come Ch. 3: Aptitude

Chapter 3: Aptitude (linked to A03 here)

“Cute kid. When she dies, pack that thing up.”

“What if she doesn’t die?”

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom:Star Wars: Rebels Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Cham Syndulla/OC, Cham Syndulla & Hera Syndulla Characters: Hera SyndullaCham Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Gobi Glie, Kanan Jarrus, Original Characters Additional Tags: Backstory, Childhood, fathers and daughters, Mothers and Daughters …

“Once again, General Syndulla, I must advise that the Imperial detachment remain. The Separatists may be broken, but not all of their forces have surrendered. And there are other threats.”

“And once again, Commander Ackley, I thank you for the offer of continued protection. But seeing as the Separatist troops have left our planet and we are not children under your guardianship, I must insist that you leave. Immediately.”

The creases at the corners of the Commander’s eyes deepened, the only sign of his irritation. Standing guard by the meeting room door, Theri tried to look like he wasn’t listening. He didn’t know why the Commander wanted to stay, anyway. As far as he was concerned, this dried out prune of a planet had been trying to kill them since they got here.

“You forged an alliance with us—” Ackley argued.

“I forged an alliance with Mace Windu and your Jedi commanders,” Syndulla cut him off, harsh. “I do not see them here.”

Theri’s fist tightened at his side, but the Commander stayed cool as Chandrilan ice. “Nevertheless, they acted as representatives of the Republic, now the Empire, and we swore to—”

“We hear rumors, even here, of clone allegiance.”

Of all the asshole insinuations—as if the clones had been the ones to turn against the Jedi. But making more enemies wasn’t part of their assignment, so Theri held perfectly still and Commander Ackley pretended it wasn’t an insult.

Syndulla, for his part, didn’t blink. He’d been their strongest ally on Ryloth, and now that the war was over, he was the loudest voice for kicking the troops off-world. That’s gratitude for you.

The Commander wasn’t going to start a fist-fight, but he wasn’t any too happy, either. “Neither of us has the authority to negotiate what’s to be done with this planet,” he said, tight-lipped. “When the new Viceroy arrives from Coruscant, he’ll have plans. And your council will have to make its decision, of course--you don’t speak for all of Ryloth, General Syndulla.”

“I speak for the Tann province. And for my house, which you are using as your base. And I want you out.”

“Fine.” Yeah, Commander Ackley was definitely pissed off now. “We’re almost packed, anyway. We’ll withdraw today. CT-7724—”

Theri snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”

“—do a final equipment sweep. If the General won’t listen to reason, maybe the southern provinces will have a different view.”

If Syndulla took that as a threat, he didn’t show it. His face remained about as emotional as a boulder.

Theri threw a sharp salute and left, hoping his relief didn’t show. He’d rather scour the residence for more of their junk than listen to those increasingly hostile negotiations, anyway. He picked up another ten soldiers in the makeshift dining hall, apportioned the floors of the house among them, and put them to work. One more thorough sweep and they were out of here. Ryloth hadn’t been a bad assignment, but as far as he was concerned, it was time to leave, and he wouldn’t be sad if Syndulla got his way. At first, its inhabitants had been grateful, at least—and some of the prettier ones had been particularly, interestingly grateful. Ever since the war ended, though, all they got in town were sidelong looks, as if the tailheads were scared of them, or somehow resented them.

The adults, anyway. The kids were still pretty great, which is why he wasn’t too surprised to walk into one of the second-floor meeting rooms and find Krayt and Bo cheering on some little girl as she played a dual-stick hologame.

“Hey, Theri, come take a look at this!” Bo motioned him over.

“What’s so great about holo-pong, or whatever they play—” Wait a minute, he recognized those graphics. “Hey! Is that one of our flight simulators?”

“Shh! You’re going to throw off her game. Just look at this kid!”

Theri looked. He saw a big-headed, green little girl who might have been tall, or might just have been skinny—it was hard to tell. Or maybe that was the dress, which by their standards had probably fit her eight centimeters ago. Just a little tailhead urchin in hand-me-downs, frowning her way through a sequence on a military-grade flight simulator as if it were a game.

“So?”

“Are you kidding? Look at her SCORE.”

Theri looked closer and swore.

“Watch it,” the little girl said in Basic, the first sign that she was aware of their presence at all. “I’m not supposed to hear those words.”

“You two have been training her at this thing, like some mascot?”

Krayt held up his hands, innocent. “No! That’s the schutta of it. We just saw her eyeing it while we were getting ready to pack it up and thought she might like a try. Kid crashed into a mountain, but she got off the ground. Second time, she took out a TIE. This—” he gestured at the screen— “This is only round three.”

Son of a bantha. The kid dodged around the backside of a planetary ring and straightened up her ship, glowering at the screen. Sith if she wasn’t scanning for enemies! And while she wasn’t exactly combat ready or anything, a score like that fresh out of the gate would give their airborne trainees a run for their money.

They had the simulator set on easy mode. When the single TIE fighter rounded the planet’s edge, the kid brought it into her crosshairs and blew it to smithereens. Her smile, a grim little thing, was the first pleased expression he’d seen on her face.

“Hey—” Bo put his hands on hers to straighten them. “You can’t jerk the controls when you fire like that. See? You almost dipped into those rocks.”

“Mm hmm.”

“No, no, watch it! You want to stay away from the rings.”

“Well…” The girl considered. “I’m going to use them to blow up bad guys.” She zagged closer to the belt and the next slow-moving TIE cut an awkward angle towards her and exploded on the rocks. Her score climbed.

Okay, that was pretty badass. But Theri had a job to finish. “Cute kid. When she dies, pack that thing up.”

“What if she doesn’t die?”

“We have to be out by 1600. That means everything.”

“Or...we could just leave it here. This system’s been decommed anyway.”

“That’s Republic equipment.”

“Don’t you mean IMPERIAL equipment, soldier?” Now Bo was ribbing him, knowing he wouldn’t think it was funny.

“I mean it’s ours.”

“You planning on doing some intense flight training once we get to the next camp? We’ve got five of these things. And you know nobody’s really keeping track of the old equipment now that the war’s over, anyway.”

Theri frowned, and Krayt started in on him, too. “Give it to her. What’ll it hurt? Poor little thing, she just lost her mom.”

The poor little thing frowned intensely at the screen and narrowly missed a boulder. Another TIE fighter went up in flames.

“What’s some tailhead servant’s brat going to do with flight training? You planning on giving her a scholarship?”

“Careful,” Bo told him. “That’s Syndulla’s kid.”

Theri looked at her again and thought he could see a resemblance in the grim mouth and set brow. What was she doing bumping around this place with nobody but military personnel? Not that it was his business. “Even better. He’s not exactly our friend these days.”

“Don’t be a dick. She’s a tough little thing. Planted the detonators that gave you the advantage at Kella last month. Might have saved your life.”

Krayt did a double-take. “That true? Syndulla sent his own kid in with explosives?”

“Unarmed, I think, and two days before anything went down.”

“Still, balls of durasteel.”

“And all the fatherly instincts of a rancor.”

“He didn’t send me,” the kid said.

“What? Hey, keep your eyes on the display!” She narrowly avoided dipping into a spray of pebbles.

“He didn’t send me,” she repeated. “I went.”

Theri watched her play for a minute. Cham Syndulla may have raised a decent-sized army, but this whole planet was still easy prey for any greedy paramilitary group that wanted a foothold. Not poor, exactly—they could have been rich if all their resources weren’t stripped by Coruscant-owned corporations. Nobody here was going to get a whiff of it, though. Best thing the kid could do would be to get away.

Okay. She was good. Might as well give her a chance. “What the hell, keep the thing.”

Bo howled in triumph and rubbed the kid’s head affectionately. She shook him off in annoyance. “You’re gonna make me crash!”

“Don’t tell the Commander,” Theri ordered belatedly.

“What, that Ghost Company’s gone airborne again? Not a peep."

#hera syndulla #cham syndulla #flying #fanfiction #post clone wars #things to come #aptitude

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thefaeriereview · 4 years

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Tour: A Perfect Storm

https://ift.tt/3nKciN7

A PERFECT STORM

Mike Martin Mystery

Sgt. Windflower is back, untangling another swirling mystery, this one bringing the meth crisis and biker gangs to the quiet Newfoundland town of Grand Bank, feeling the sting of their deadly tentacles reaching all the way from Las Vegas. He’s working with his familiar crew of RCMP characters – but wait, are some of the faces changing? New challenges for Jones, an unknown side of Smithson reveals itself, and what ever happened to Tizzard? In the midst of putting the pieces of the puzzle together, Windflower and his beloved Sheila also find themselves navigating sorrows and surprises on the family front.

Come back to Grand Bank for more fun, food and cool, clean, Canadian crime fiction with Sgt. Windflower Mysteries.

MY REVIEW

5 out of 5

A Perfect Storm is a great mystery. I really enjoyed this cozy mystery following various members of the RCMP stationed out of Newfoundland. Although this is a cozy mystery, it is far from fluffy. There's a wonderful balance between the hard and rough parts and the softer, sweeter side of life. At first I wasn't sure how much I would like the focus changing between characters, but Martin handled it seamlessly, and I was quickly lost in the story. This definitely made me want to read the other mysteries in the series!

Amazon → https://amzn.to/36sHEBz

Chapter One

Eddie Tizzard passed his card over the sensor and pushed the door open. He flicked on the light. “Holy jumpins,” he said when he saw what was on the bed in his hotel room— thousands of dollars strewn around like confetti. When he looked closer, he saw something else. There, right in the middle of the bed, was a very red, very large bloodstain.

His first instinct was to run. But his years as an RCMP officer got the best of him, and he had another look around. Soon the source of the blood became obvious. It was a man in a suit lying face down in the bathroom with a visible hole in the back of his head. Tizzard should have trusted his first instinct because when he did decide to leave the room, he walked directly into the path of who he would later find out was the head of hotel security.

He was remembering all of this as he sat in a holding cell with a dozen other men in the Las Vegas jail. Tizzard had gone to Vegas for private detective training, having decided on a new career path after leaving the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or the Mounties. Technically, he was on leave for the rest of the year, but he doubted he’d ever return to his old job. He’d applied for and received his firearms license, but he wanted a certificate to put on the walls of his new office, that is when he got an office. That seemed very far away right now, about as far as he could get from his home in Newfoundland on the eastern tip of Canada.

He’d watched enough police shows on TV to know that he could make one phone call. But nobody had said when he could do that. The duty officer kind of smirked when he pushed him into the lock-up with his dozen new friends and told him, “Yeah, yeah, coming right up.”

Tizzard was confused but tried to look like he fit in with his fellow cell mates. They, in turn, looked like they were measuring his clothes to see if they might be a fit. As long as they don’t find out that I used to be a cop, I’ll be OK, thought Tizzard as he backed up as far as he could into a corner.

It seemed like he had waited forever, but as several of his new friends came in for a closer look, he heard his name called, “Tizzard, Tizzard.”

“That’s me,” he said and pushed by the two large men who had got the closest.

The duty cop opened the door, and Tizzard walked along the hallway to an interview room. He was pushed inside, and the door clicked shut behind him. It was a small, windowless room with a camera in the ceiling, a mirror on the wall, a single chair on one side of a table, and two on the other. Tizzard knew the drill and took a seat on the one-chair side. Then he waited, again. Feels like home, he thought. Just not my home.

On the other side of the continent Mayor Sheila Hillier was wrapping up her town council meeting and was on her way to meet Moira Stoodley who was babysitting her daughter, Amelia Louise. The meeting had been made unpleasant by a couple of contentious issues, including whether the older buildings in the downtown core of Grand Bank should be modernized or restored to maintain their historic character. But Sheila also realized that most of the tension was really about who would replace her as mayor in the election only a couple of weeks away.

Jacqueline Wilson was Sheila’s preference, but there was another candidate, Phil Bennett, who was leading the anti-tax faction of council. Every meeting, Bennett would try to disrupt things to show how influential he thought he could be, but Sheila would have none of it and would put him back in line. Bennett’s behaviour in itself was more than enough reason for her to want to leave, she thought.

Sheila had decided to go back to school part-time, eventually do an MBA once she had cleared up her scholastic records and completed the course load for an old degree program she had started several years earlier. Politics had never really been her thing, even though she was very good at it. She had only taken the mayor’s job to try to improve the town’s economy. And she had succeeded, mostly. The Town of Grand Bank’s fish plant was now operating on a regular basis with a quota for crab and the sea urchins considered a delicacy in Japan and China. The town also had a recycling factory and a solar panel fabrication plant.

Half of the town’s people wanted to not just preserve the past but to live in it. The other half wanted to blow it all up and start over. They had no use for the old and wanted everything to be modern, like the way it was in St. John’s or even nearby Marystown. It seemed there was no middle ground for the residents of Grand Bank, yet Sheila was sure you could have the best of both worlds. Getting others to agree with her, though, seemed impossible.

Sheila gathered up her things and drove to the Mug-Up, which was known through much of the province to be the best little café there was in Grand Bank. That it was the only café in Grand Bank was usually not mentioned. Sheila had owned the place years ago but gave it up after a horrific car accident left her with a slight limp and no desire to stand all day. Moira and her husband, Herb, had taken it over, and it was there that she found Amelia Louise sitting at a table with her Poppy Herb.

“Mama, mama,” she shrieked as Sheila’s heart melted. “Ook, ook.”

“I think she’s got talent,” said Herb Stoodley.

Sheila examined the crayon scrawls on the paper and murmured her approval. “It’s so nice,” she said. “Is it Lady, your doggie?” she asked, making a leap of faith based on the fact that there was one small circle on top of a large mass of scratches.

Amelia Louise smiled and nodded her head up and down emphatically. She had always been able to somehow say no, but now the 20-month-old toddler was happy to signify yes with a grand gesture.

“Well, thank you,” said Sheila. “And thank you, Herb. And here’s Moira, too. Thank you, Moira, for looking after her.”

“It’s our pleasure,” said Moira, wiping her hands on her apron. “I was just finishing off some baking.”

“Em,” said Amelia Louise. “Ook, ook,”

“I can see,” said Moira. “Has Poppy Herb been nice to you?”

“She’s like our baby, too,” said Herb. “It’s easy to be nice to her. ‘Those that do teach young babes, do it with gentle means and easy tasks.’”

“Okay, my soon-to-be-famous artist, let’s go,” said Sheila as she put on Amelia Louise’s jacket. Once outside again, Sheila noticed the November air had lost any tinge of summer warmth, and the wind was picking up, making it a bit of an adventure to walk the short distance to their house. Sheila tried to carry her daughter, but Amelia Louise was determined to walk on her own, while examining every leaf that blew their way.

When they got home, Molly the cat watched them carefully as they came up the walkway. The dog, Lady, was more directly affectionate and showed how much she had missed them both by almost knocking them over in the hall. The only one missing from the happy family was Sheila’s husband and the father of Amelia Louise, Sergeant Winston Windflower of the RCMP Grand Bank Detachment. He was at work, but Sheila expected to hear from him soon because his stomach would be rumbling any minute now, and he’d want to know what was on for dinner.

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand. He is the author of Change the Things You Can: Dealing with Difficult People and has written a number of short stories that have been published in various publications across North America.

The Walker on the Cape was his first full fiction book and the premiere of the Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series. Other books in the series include The Body on the T, Beneath the Surface, A Twist of Fortune, and A Long Ways from Home, followed by A Tangled Web, which was shortlisted for the 2017 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award as the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn, which won the 2018 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. Fire, Fog and Water was the eighth in the series. He has also published Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries, a Sgt. Windflower Book of Christmas past and present.

He is Past Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writing Guild and Ottawa Independent Writers.

A Perfect Storm is the latest book in the Sgt. Windflower Mystery series.

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/mike54martin

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheWalkerOnTheCapeReviewsAndMore

via Blogger https://ift.tt/3nKmRQb

#Blogger #pumpupyourbook #book review #Book Tour #cozy #Mystery #Mystery & Thrillers #review

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