[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
short, random, on-the-go stories by AMB tanz

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[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

[spoiler=the story of one, the perspective of another]originally written as a red and tsun shipping

[/spoiler]supposedly an exactly-500-word-only challenge[/center]
Whenever the rain falls, it feels like the sky is collapsing on top of him. The burden on his shoulders double and he wonders vaguely as he stares at the distant pendulum of car lights, if he’ll be able to move and walk to the other side of the street.

“God damn it,” a woman curses beside him. “It’s raining again!”

God damn it, indeed. The roof in his sight flashes with light, rolling with a massive thunderclap. There are screams and flinches, followed by humoured plasters of smile. It was an exciting moment for those who did not fear streaks of lightning or the slams of God’s fist. He doesn’t flinch, but he smiles a little.

“What, you like the thunder? You weirdo!”

It isn’t until the last word that he thinks he is being addressed to and turns. She doesn’t see her face; the woman who cursed God. She’s two feet away and he wonders how he even heard her earlier.

“No umbrella?”

She’s talking to him after all.

His smile remains, but only out of reflex. “Nope.”

“God damn it,” she curses again. “Yeah, me too. This weather sucks.”

He chuckles, shifting his eyes to his shoes, watching the blinking lights flash on his muddied sneakers.

“Think the rain’s going to stop soon?” she asks as if asking a survey question.

“Probably.” Maybe, maybe not.

“Are you heading in?”

He reconsiders.

“Are you?”

He looks up at the street light. The shape of an idle man glows in red. Though he isn’t looking at her, he can imagine that in the brief pause she makes, the woman is looking at her left and right.

“No one’s doing it,” she observes as if to answer his question. “I’m not in a hurry.”

Neither of them speaks again for a while. The red light hasn’t changed. He’s been watching it go from red to green but this one seems to take longer.

The signal goes green. Instantly, everyone starts walking forward. The cluster of people huddles within the vertical stripes of white on the road, their umbrellas forming a canopy against the rain. Inconspicuously, the others sneak under them, navigating through people and keeping a low duck in their heads. The chance is there and he looks left and right for that person. Did she go in yet?

The crowd disperses and he sees her within the grey of darkness. She’s looking at him too, thinking the same thing. When she meets eyes with him, she moves toward him with her hand stretched out. In that split second, he panics at that hand, wondering what he is supposed to do, wondering what is expected of him.

She moves past a person and puts the hand down. He doesn’t know if he misread her gesture or disappointed her feelings. She’s still smiling though but so is he. Too many puzzles hide behind them.

“Think it’s going to go again?” She looks up, her face suddenly closer. “The thunder.”

“Probably.” [/blockquote]

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
sudden urge to write this shipping

The wind was stale. He couldn't hear a single whiff in the air, couldn't feel the slightest push on his skin. He pressed onward, lest he waited for the sand to swallow his feet and burn his skin particle by particle.

He listened to the other pair of footsteps following closely behind him. Sand was a difficult surface to read noise from. He couldn't tell how well Thalia was faring. He rather not look and find another more reason to be worried. Shamees could only multitask actions, not emotions. More importantly, his mind needed to stay attuned. In such terrible scenarios, it was more often a battle of will than physical endurance. He needed to stay indifferent to the passage of time, to the seething heat and to the empty spaces miles across them. He only needed to keep walking and not think of fear or hope.

He'd done it more than once; Shamees had defied death in worse situations but in those times, he was alone. And in those times, he was always the sole survivor. He didn't think how different this could be, if his tactic was going to help the other person survive.

“You look tired,” he heard Thalia say.

“No,” he replied. His back was slouched and his shoulders was sagging. He was walking like he couldn't take another step, but he was. “Conserving energy. Less effort in moving.”

“Does it make a difference?”

Shamees didn't answer. Irrelevant question, irrelevant answer. Better not to talk all together.

But Thalia didn't let the conversation die. “What was your first impression of me?”

He gave her silence but he would endanger her of rambling. The point of this was for her to survive.

“Later, Thalia.”

“There might not be a later.” She didn't sound despondent or remotely disturbed. She was stating a fact.

“I'll make sure you survive,” Shamees said, neither optimistic, encouraging nor determined either. He, too, was stating a fact.

She was silent for a while but her gaze behind his back was too strong for Shamees to ignore. He couldn't go back blanking his mind. To his dismay, the longer the silence was holding, the more he was giving into it, letting the little voice in his head talk.

“You should have stepped away since the beginning. When people become connected, it's harder to throw your life away.”

What's done is done. Shamees was used to the hard life...but what about Thalia? She braved through many challenges in her life before and she would take on those obstacles ahead of her. That was her problem – Shamees fought the walls hitting him, never the other way around. Thalia was constantly on the offensive and Shamees feared her internal battles would be causing her demise. Her decisions were never easy on herself. Each blade she swings wounds her back.

Shamees panted, beads of sweat merging at his chin. He stopped his thoughts immediately and focused on the gold dust of the dessert. He didn't like looking too far back in the past or beyond the future. He focused only in the present. That was what they had to overcome.

But he couldn't shrug the silence Thalia was keeping. Was she still behind him? It was hard to tell.

“Thalia.”

“Yeah?”

Shamees turned his neck around. Thalia wasn't as red as he thought. She had a slight tan that became more visible under the sun. She had always been outgoing as a child so she must have acquired the darker tone from her adventures. Her hair was damp with sweat and her face slightly glittered from the beads that dripped from her temples. Her eyes were still dancing emeralds. She wasn't looking as bad as he thought.

He took her hand – not sudden nor slow. He had reached for it and Thalia, more focused on keeping her feet out of the sand, grasp on the air where it was without looking up. Their hands held onto each other like a loose chain link. It didn't matter how tight they might hold onto each other as long as Shamees knew she was still there. He let his mind go back in meditation and he found all his fears and worries suddenly vanish. Something pulsed on where their hands touched like there was a second beating heart there, giving them both the energy to keep on moving.

He'd always survived on his own. To save a life, another life had to be sacrificed. Breaking this law increases the risk of failure as many idealists harshly learn. But when the risk is worth it, it didn't feel so dangerous. It only felt right.

thalia is property of tsundere

[MASTERMIND NAEGI]

I just want to say that you are a bastard for using that .gif because that still gives me feels.

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
one of the considered endings for my plot as Wallace in PRE

He could feel the pain go with the blood streaming from his side. There was absolute physical numbness as his body prepared for this inevitable end. It left him comfortable enough to think one last time before light abandoned him forever. Death was being extremely merciful, perhaps out of pity with what fate had done.

“Mikuri! Mikuri!”

He gave no response, not even the desire to call back. He felt no desperation, no need to think or go back to past mistakes and make amends at the last minute. He thought of the good things, savoring them before the eclipse of the darkest dream. But Steven made the slightest pause he could read as shock before recovering and wailing in agony, finding him bleeding to his death.

Steven dropped to his knees. His hands hovered above Wallace, almost like he was already feeling the surface of the casket..“No...no...”

This man was his best friend, the friend who turned his back on obligations for personal desires. At first, Wallace relented to allow him peace, gave him space to give him solace. But the distance he made grew further when he looked back, time having gone ahead to not inform him of the miles he'd walked further away, until their destiny became a forked path. His patience lost reason to believe in friendship and his dignity rose to become haughty. The kind words he'd given, when not reciprocated by his expectations, were followed by righteous judgments. Something unpleasant had crawled in him since then and he could feel it wiggling on his throat to come out, bigger than before as he had unwittingly festered it for the past months.

“Mikuri, please...please – don't - ” Steven choked, hands twitching in confusion of what to do. He cried with big balls of tears. The more he shed, the tighter Wallace's eyes became. Wallace couldn't smile and comfort him in understanding. It wasn't because he can't. His grieving encouraged the monster to puppeteer his lips.

Steven saw his mouth twitch, so for a moment he held his breath to listen. Wallace felt the great opportunity knock and he was ready to spill out everything that he would regret if he would have been still alive to repent. But he remembered something and the resentment seemed to fade away all for the thought of one thing.

“Daigo...Alice...” Wallace whispered urgently, struggling to say a word. “Her...Po...Pokeball...find her...”

He was confused, twitching to move at once but hesitant to leave him. Wallace caught a little ray of hopefulness in Steven's eyes. Did he think Wallace came up with a plan to survive?

Steven rummaged around the wreckage. The seconds stretched to minutes for Wallace. He felt his heart pound faster. Alice. How could he forget Alice? He thought nothing but her. He forgot his own death and thought only of her safety. His mind was looking around at every corner, seeking her gentle smile and loving gaze. She would save him. Not from death, as Steven was hoping for, but from making further mistakes.

“Mikuri – I think this is...” Steven gave the Pokeball he found a try. Wallace didn't wait for the light to die. He moved his face to the side, reaching for the serpentine form that began to take shape.

“Alice...” He reached for her sleeping face. There was no pacifying aura from her, no life beating from her. Her peaceful face became smudged from his teary vision. She'd left him. She'd gone ahead and left him.

Steven thought he finally recovered from shock. He paid no mind to his tears and thought only of saving his friend.

With an audible swallow and a crack on his voice, he said, “Mikuri, I'll...” he hesitated. “I'll get you out of this. Don't die on me. You can't die on me or I'll never forgive you.”

In waves, Wallace felt himself rise. He thought he had enough anger to reanimate him and he did – Wallace grabbed Steven by his collar. “Fo...gi...ve...me?” he repeated, each breath expelled for each syllable. “You...you...” He wanted to shake him. He wanted to shove him down the ground and kick him. He wanted to shout, to scream and to pound on the dirt like a child. He didn't know where to begin and he knew that he shouldn't even. But the monster inside him kept pushing him, reigning him with emotions he'd refused to acknowledge for him – for Steven. He was about to break everything he tried to protect and destroy the life he was about to leave behind.

Wallace didn't want to say it but he was unable to hold it in any longer. Why did you have to come, Daigo?

“I...Daigo, I...” His teeth chattered, his throat tight and his entire vision swallowed in by blurriness. He hiccuped, wheezing in painfully as his mouth closed and opened. “I...hate...you.” Clarity in his vision returned as the tears streamed down to his temples. “I wanted to fight...Steven...one last...time...” Wallace cried, clenching his grip on the collar even more. He could feel his own cold hand and hear the voiceless cry go on in his throat. As the monster finally left, all prejudices were dispelled in his head, no logic or principle holding him back. The image of Steven before him no longer registered. He was brought to face his last desires – back on the caldera surrounded by the sea, on the stage with Alice and Steven, Juan with a proud smile in the empty audience.

He felt free. He soared and was finally free.

PRE-Steven by [red]
PRE-Juan (appearance only) by lurker

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
PRE-verse; 1/3

Eight council members have been killed for the past four nights. With all the blood and gruesome executions, day hadn't cut through Shamees' mind recently. The rebels were on a roll and Lux was beginning to tear asunder from the inside. The people closest to the capital knew nothing of fear, of the battlefield. The moment they were attacked from the inside, panic was bestrewed. Opportunists gave out their best criticism, climbing social ladders to attack the white-haired figure of Lux. Scheduled meetings and speeches came from the plenty advices asking him to placate the public and give in to the demands of the hungry dogs.

He agreed. Later on, he had all the troublemakers killed and his time table was suddenly clear.

He made one appearance in public. Shamees made sure he smiled.

A reporter had asked him, “President, do you believe the De Luca Faction was responsible for the deaths of your critics?”

“Mmm.”

“Isn't that a bit strange? Why would she kill potential alliance with your political enemies?”

He turned his eyes to him, memorizing his features in one glance. He smiled invitingly. “Quite a lengthy topic you're asking. Would you like to join us in our private meeting later?”

The reporter's brows furrowed. “I haven't heard of...”

The station's cameraman ceased recording at once and frantically pulled the bemused reporter away, squeezing away from the crowd, and imprisoned themselves in their van. But a disguised sentinel was already positioned nearby it and all he needed was a confirming glance, his deadly utilities all prepared.

Shamees skipped him over and laughed before the other cameras. “I guess he didn't get my joke.”

The pressing matters were waiting but a visit in Saffron was in order. He received word of Balendin's return. His mission had not been a success. More than that, Balendin came back with a mortal wound and lost a few Pokemon.

“I told you so.”

The nurse stitching Balendin's wound frowned. Had his eyes not been on his work, he would have been giving Shamees a disapproving look. “With all due respect, sir, the good man is currently being treated. You can speak to him after he's gotten a good amount of rest.”

“He's been through worse,” Shamees said. “Could you leave us alone for a moment? I'll continue where you left off.”

The nurse silently stitched on the wound for a few seconds. Shamees stared at him intently. Finally, the nurse gave in.

“It's not like I doubt your skills,” the nurse said with a sigh, standing up. “But I wish you would let me do my job.”

Shamees laughed, leading the nurse out of the room on the shoulders. “Fortunately, you'll never run out of patients to treat. I'll look forward to becoming your patient someday.”

“Actually, you already did," the nurse said with a twitching smile. "You were unconscious. Concussion.”

“Ahhhh, my bad. See you again, then!” Shamees bid him a wave once he was outside and closed the door. He took the nurse's seat and didn't pick up the thread and needle. Balendin did.

“Thanks,” Balendin grunted, pulling the thread close to his eyes. “I don't trust that young man. He might be a spy. Where do you think the poison is? On the needle or on the thread?”

After a few minutes, Balendin was satisfied with his inspection and continued stitching his wound.

“What was that concussion the nurse was talking about? If you can't keep your head in the game, you better steer clear of the battlefield. Lux will collapse without its leader. Are you keeping track of the medical staff treating you? One infiltration amongst your doctors and you could be injected with anesthesia mixed in with the colorless venom of an Arbok. With your recklessness, the only reason I could assume why it hadn't happened is because of Nox's preferred methods of terrorism and senseless destruction over silent assassinations...”

Shamees found Baledin's sunglasses over the table. He picked it up and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said again, wearing his shades indoors. “I haven't checked this room clean of cameras or listening devices. I have no identity to protect but I would rather not be identified. You're known over the country though. You should come up with disguises more.” Balendin paused, slicing the thread with his pocket knife. “As clever as your female disguise is, I think our enemies are catching up on it.”

“I'm pretty creative,” he said, humoring him. “I'll come up with a lot. I can make one for you, if you want.”

Balendin leveled his eyes on Shamees'. He stared at him from behind his sunglasses and steadily said, “No.”

Balendin reached for his daggers and Shamees automatically handed him a rock. Not questioning where he had gotten it, he thanked him for the third time and began to sharpen the blades.

“Not that it matters anymore,” Shamees muttered, bending forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. Balendin kept sharpening. “How quick did it go?”

“De Luca overestimated me,” Balendin answered. “I fell harshly into her trap. At least she didn't try deceiving me. She knew I wouldn't listen to the word of traitors.”

“She knew it would be you coming after her.” The blade screeched rhythmically. “She knew you wouldn't have let me.”

Balendin looked at him critically. “She would barely have the need to spring a trap onto you. She would be your very own trap and you would foolishly jump into her pit of snakes.”

“That would make her complacent,” Shamees countered. “I can take care of her.”

“But can you take care of yourself?” Balendin said, setting down the stone. “I don't know how much you've changed, Shamees, but you're less of the man I once knew. I trusted you to bring together the ideals for the greater good the Pokemon League couldn't but you've needlessly made yourself susceptible to all sorts of danger.” He looked at him directly in the eyes. “Like love.”

“I...” He felt himself rise but Shamees tried to stop the ridiculous notion that was about to leave his throat. Balendin was right. Being defensive about it wasn't going to fix anything. He sat back down and took a deep breath. “It happened to me before, years before we've met. It was my first time in war. I was fourteen.”

Balendin resumed with his sharpening but Shamees knew he was listening. Balendin would always talk about business, never with idle chatter. When there was no immediate matter to talk about, he would talk about his suspicions, ask Shamees questions and give the everyday reminder regarding spies and assassins. When it wasn't Balendin talking, it was Shamees and it was his turn now. It seemed like a heart-warming discussion to talk about Shamees' love life but he didn't talk to Balendin for emotional support. He wanted his input to be rid of it.

Shamees didn't know how much Balendin could help him on this one. Had Balendin ever fallen in love? Surely even a man like him must have fallen in love at least once, at least prior to his marriage with justice.

“The circumstances are nothing of the ordinary so I need you to take my words for granted,” Shamees warned. Balendin didn't nod but he seemed unconcerned. “I fell in love with a ghost.”

Balendin's hand visibly twitched, the blade cleanly cutting off a layer of skin from his thumb.

“...as I've told you before,” Shamees continued, avoiding the blood profusely leaking out of Balendin's thumb. “I can see the spirits of the dead.”

Balendin looked at him slowly. “...I didn't think you mean it literally but it's not surprising. I've met a number of mediums in the past and I've seen my deceased Pokemon turn to ghosts. But to fall in love with it? You're more emotional than I thought.”

“I was fourteen,” Shamees repeated, trying to stop himself from ripping Balendin's wound open. “It was a civil war instigated by the two heiress to the throne to overthrow the queen, their mother. The eldest was killed and the younger one fled along with half of the nobility. The surviving princess was too young but against everyone's expectations, she led the rebellion well. When I met her, I saw why. She was being possessed by her older sister. When I was captured by the enemy, I...joined her side.”

The picture of her transparent face formed in his mind particle by particle. He forced himself to continue, trying not to notice her straight, short golden hair and pensive blue eyes.

“That was a different time. I only had something to gain by changing sides and it made no difference to the entire war - ”

“Didn't it?”

“No,” Shamees said firmly. There were things he didn't want to divulge to anyone, not even Balendin. “I was a mere soldier with orders to shoot and kill. I wish it had always stayed that way. It was easier. But just the same, I am still a soldier with a task. My loyalties are to the completion of the mission, not to any side or per - ”

The chair Shamees had been sitting on toppled to the floor and a bullet had pierced a hole on the door. Shamees jumped to the side and sprung to the window, dodging the next bullet that had hit the spot where he once stood.

Balendin rose from the bed, Pokeballs out.

“I didn't want it to come to this,” Balendin said, throwing the stone at Shamees like a bullet. Shamees caught the stone at his palm before it shot his right eye. “Traitors everywhere. I trusted you, Shamees but De Luca had completely charmed you.”

“A soldier only kills in cold blood. Or else, no matter where he is, it's murder. Love has happened to become the fact-” Shamees ducked forward and kicked the table up as shield. Bullets were easily piercing through. Shamees threw the table at Balendin but he had already anticipated that. With his giant sword, Balendin sliced the table in half and kept firing.

Shamees was a traitor to his eyes now. Balendin would not listen anymore.

Shamees waited for Balendin to pull out the big guns. He wasn't going to be able to escape through the doors.

Balendin had taken out his Rhydon. At once, it was charging at Shamees at full speed. Balendin knew what was coming but that was if Shamees could dodge on time before he's crushed from bone to bone. Shamees waited until the last minute to jump when the Rhydon would stop too late and galvanize the wall instead. He took the chance to escape through the hole, jumping off the fourth floor of the headquarters. Shamees caught the branch of an oak tree and swung around it with the force of his fall to hide among the leaves of the tree.

“Consider retiring early, Balendin,” Shamees shouted, ducking low while bullets shoot above him. Though he couldn't see him, he knew Balendin could hear him loud and clear. “This is the end for Lux.”

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
dedicated to all children, teenagers, adults, elders, and the dead
who grew up with a broken family

Each time Jack looked at his future, he kept looking at his past. Often his friends - in grade school, high school, college - talked about a destiny with their dreams. From the fantasies of swinging swords, imaginary projectiles and made-up bombing situations by the school gate after classes on an ordinary afternoon, to the ramblings of alcohol-breath men on homemade benches, strung together by recycled nails from their old Panday sword, they continued to dream in the face of changing times, of growing boys, of maturing men. There would be some stories of success kept to the amount that would not be bragging; of branded cars, wristwatches and rubber shoes that they had been saving for; and of other embarrassing stuffs that they wanted everyone to laugh at, before climaxing to their adventures with love, relationships and sex. Like artists they would paint to others the image of their dreams, the one true goal that waited for them at the end of the road. Passing it on, they called it. You got to have a family. Something like that had to come one way or another or you would be alone while you wrinkle into raisins. Unless you were insanely rich there wasn't that much choice, but Jack had a different idea, one that did not leave him as he grew, one that did not change as he matured, one that he first knew he had when he was a teenager, walking along a newly constructed park outside the baranggay where packs of people were enjoying the food-scented air. He had been lured by the atmosphere, almost amazed they had been so many families all at once. He had caught a couple using one of the grills kissing over the smoke of their chicken before turning away in flushed embarrassment when their son pointed at him. As he had rushed without running, he had seen the couple flash with knowing smiles and the grown-up roll of eyes, proceeding to kiss one more time to tell him how young he was. But it hadn't been his hormones or immaturity that had been mocked, not the pride and stubbornness of a young man whose confidence was founded by ten girls enchanted by his charm, for at that moment he had been turned back to a boy, wiping old tears with the sleeves of his shirt, running to a house that had been left behind by a person he'd watched shout, yell, beat the other one that had been in the altar. Having been too young to understand the misery, it came overflowing to him as bits and bits of the cork degrade and a hole was left to never heal again.

He didn't want to be the bearded man in the Lacoste shirt, the lucky husband to have the perfect, gorgeous woman laughing gaily at his arm. He wanted to be the boy starring up to their tall forms while they work together grilling barbecue for lunch, their six-year-old son with the glistening pride who knew with his very own eyes that his parents loved each other.

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
old fma:b fanfic I wrote up 3 years ago that's now in the dusty to-do-list

Jaime was getting hungry. He’d looked at the window outside constantly, reminded in each glance how hungry he was. His mom promised an apple pie later, but it was already dusk. He looked at his classmates, all once chatting energetically, now whining aloud of boredom and hunger. Their teacher was nice to them but he wouldn’t let them go home yet. He said something about it, but Jaime wasn’t listening. No one seemed to understand what it was, so it wasn’t probably important.

The door suddenly burst open and Jaime smiled widely for what seemed like ages ever since he was shoved earlier this morning. It was his dad and Jaime waited with gleeful anticipation to be noticed by those gold eyes scanned the faces of his gawking classmates. His dad was pretty tall, after all. Jaime glowed with pride.

“Dad!” Jaime cried out, jumping out of his chair as soon as they made eye contact at each other. But his dad didn’t hear him. His classmates didn’t even turn their heads since he was always at the back of the classroom. Jaime had a soft voice so whenever he talked, he got ignored sometimes.

Jaime’s dad turned his head away and addressed the teacher loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who’s the Silverwind kids?”

“Acel and Theode,” Jaime’s teacher anxiously answered. “Edward, is it true that Aurego—”

“Your grandma is outside to fetch you,” Edward swiftly said to Jaime’s classmates. “Well, what are you waiting for? Don’t make her wait! Where’s Hazel’s kid?”

Jaime silently stood beside his desk as his dad called his classmates one by one. The popular girls squealed in excitement when Jaime’s dad said they’d be staying with Ferris’s family for a while. Rolo, the class beadle, asked about school tomorrow but the teacher said there won’t be one for a while. Everyone went off in groups or individually where his dad would take them home personally and come back many minutes later. Jaime’s chest felt emptier like his stomach whenever his dad would hold them by their hand in a tight squeeze. He was horrified the most at the unsightly back turning to him like that of the closing doors of Purgatory leaving a room in darkness.

His teacher told him to sit down. Jaime obeyed and his teacher sat with him beside his desk. He was a polite student so they always called him tattle-tell even though he never told it was Harry who played with the chalks. His teacher asked if he were hungry, but Jaime shook his head. He didn’t feel like talking right now. Jaime’s teacher had gone quiet. Jaime thought he offended him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jaime said. They were alone in the classroom now so his voice could be heard. His dad also told him sounds were louder at night and in enclosed rooms.

“It’s fine, Jaime. There’s nothing to apologize about,” Jaime’s teacher said. Jaime was able to sigh in relief, and so was his teacher for some strange reason. He began to talk and Jaime failed to listen again. He could hear someone running at the hallway.

“…Resombool’s so far from Central, but your father has connections to the military, right? He’s friends with the Fuhrer, isn’t he? We should be fine—Jaime?”

Jaime’s teacher looked shocked when some very tiny rock went inside his head and blood came out. There was a loud noise that went with it.

Jaime had very good senses. He ducked underneath his desk, shaking at the man that wasn’t his dad at the doorway. He saw his teacher’s shocked face forming a pool of blood on the wooden floor and he just stared at it mutely, half-fascinated, half-confused, becoming deaf to all sounds except for the loud noise still ringing in his head. It hypnotized him.

He saw his dad, finally coming to fetch him. He turned his eyes away from the object of his interest in an unexplained shame.

“Jaime,” his dad said gently, taking his hand. “Let’s go, hurry.”

Jaime resisted, not wanting to leave his desk. His dad pulled him harder with even a gentler voice, calling him by Hohenheim, though he only did that when he was mad. His dad tugged him again and he feared him all of a sudden. Jaime, in a wild outburst, cried, begging not to be taken outside. After that, Jaime was too focused on crying to resist when his dad carried him close to his chest. He remembered his backpack and thought of reminding his dad to bring it with him. But his dad just went past his teacher’s body and past the unconscious man at the door.

They got to their house and Jaime, seeing his sister, Pina, crying too, stopped crying. He felt bad for their parents whenever he and Pina would cry at the same time. They would look like they had a terrible sleep.

His mom took him from his dad and hugged him tightly. He could hear her sobbing.

“Jaime, you’re okay!” she cooed him and Jaime just blinked owlishly at her.

“Winry, did you pack up?” his dad asked her, taking Pina who hushed instantly. Pina was Dad’s favorite and Pina followed him wherever he was ever since she could walk by two.

“Here,” Winry answered, pulling out a suitcase that his dad carried with his other free hand easily. Jaime’s mom put Jaime down and adjusted the chains on her purse on her shoulder. “Jaime, hold my hand and don’t let go.” A void seemed to fill up when he felt her squeeze his hand. His classmates weren’t anything more special than him.

They briskly left the house by foot. His parents appeared to be determined not to look around. On the contrary, Jaime took in every detail of fire burning the houses and men, like the man he saw earlier, clad in iron at the distant while riding fire-breathing reptiles holding a banner with a foreign coat-of-arms flag he would never forget.

He realized the shame in this might be and turned away as if he never looked, searching his dad’s face for approval. He couldn’t get a clear answer no matter how hard he looked, but his dad certainly looked like as if someone had just lost a limb.

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
an idea of kaldur with a pokemon team. wrote this weeks ago but forgot to post it here.

Kaldur had quite the experience as leader but he wasn't sure anymore how to deal with his team. He massaged the creases between his brows, deeply troubled by the behavior of his team.

Robin was missing again. Last time, Kaldur had surfed through the seven seas looking for him. By chance, he happened to stop by a dark, damp cave and found out that Robin had been adopted into a colony of Zubats.

When he wasn't looking for Robin, he was trying to keep peace at home. Kid Flash was siphoning on food as fast as a whirlpool and Artemis didn't sit by idly letting him take everyone's lunch. Kaldur was too preoccupied keeping the two from killing each other to teach Kid Flash gulping manners.

Meanwhile, Kaldur was trying to find out why fire is effective against Miss Martian and where the hell Superboy got a pair of scowling eyebrows. Kaldur sighed, shaking his head. The only comfort he has in this increasing terrible situation was Tula.

"I'm glad you're always there to keep me sane, Tula," Kaldur said.

"Luv luv!!!!"

Kaldur smiled. "I love you too."

Later, Kaldur found out that Tula was missing. She was reportedly last seen with a dark-pinked Luvdisc named Garth, walking with her in the sunset. They made it to the cover of the hit Pokemon magazine, YOUNG POKE-JUSTICE.

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
kirbop loves her sweets so here's a fairytail

[1:10:55 AM] AMB Tanz: once upon a time there was a girl who enjoyed eating sweets
[1:11:07 AM] AMB Tanz: she ate to her delight until she was at the limit of her happiness
[1:11:24 AM] AMB Tanz: she thought of the fluff and mush of every cotton and cake
[1:12:05 AM] AMB Tanz: and flew with its sweetness and sugar with a pink-blushed smile
[1:12:47 AM] AMB Tanz: "ohh, this cinnabon is too good! I don't want to finish it, but I do!"
[1:13:25 AM] AMB Tanz: the girl, unable to decide, set the last piece of cinnabon aside and bit her nail in thought
[1:13:43 AM] AMB Tanz: where shall she get more cinnabon? would there be more out there more delicious than the cinnabon?
[1:14:22 AM] AMB Tanz: the girl walked out of her room and paced through the streets, in search of a better sweet to satisfy her
[1:15:13 AM] AMB Tanz: her worries begin to build and she thought of returning to finish the last piece of cinnabon
[1:15:48 AM] AMB Tanz: but at the moment a pink palace of belgium chocolate waffles and mango pudding glittered across the street
[1:16:05 AM] AMB Tanz: but as she crossed, the lights turned red and a car sped through her
[1:16:10 AM] AMB Tanz: the end
[1:16:33 AM] Kirbop: ...........
[1:16:36 AM] Kirbop: what kind of ending is that
[1:16:51 AM] AMB Tanz: the kind where the author got lazy and decided to call it a plot twist

[Egao, Egao Everywhere]

the story of one, the perspective of another
PRE-verse; 1.5/3

It took less than four months for Nox to swarm through the military, taking city after city. The phenomenon was not planned but it seemed Lux had unwittingly placed themselves in danger over the two years of their militarized regime. They had planted bombs waiting to explode the moment they had a chance and that chance was a revelation that woke people with a start – they revolted one after another, overwhelming Lux amidst their confusion of their missing leader. Kanto burned in flames for many days and nights and like a phoenix, it would rise from the ashes anew.

That was part of the speech Thalia imparted to the people two and a half months ago where she put to glorious terms the mass destruction that swept throughout the region. She knew it was nothing more than chaos that happened to have played favorably for them at that time. She was able to seize the opportunity to gain control but if she could not contain the chaos soon, it was about to turn against her.

Celadon City was one of the first cities to have freed itself from Lux control but it was beyond the image Thalia wanted. Saffron, Cerulean and Viridian were all applauded with great, heartened cheers after the news of their freedom. Hearing the same from Celadon, they readily took it for granted as great news. But when they saw Thalia’s first officer who had returned from Celadon with no more than scratches and cuts was staggering to the outpost with a broken faith, they realized something more sinister had happened.

The people of Celadon did revolt but for a different reason. Allying themselves with the armed forces of Nox positioned in the city, the people from the slums violently tore through the city hall, killed every soldier and civilian in sight and ransacked houses and establishments. Bombs were being fired like firecrackers with howls cheering in delight at each explosion they left on their wake. It was difficult to tell friend from friend. Nox didn’t realize they had unwelcomed allies fighting for the sake of the spoils of war.

Lux did leave bombs within themselves. It turned out they were failsafe devices to prevent Nox from completely taking over should they manage to get the opportunity to. Thalia anticipated the opportunists to come but she realized too late that this might have been a trap all along. Since they had failed to seize Indigo Plateau and Blaine was untouchable in the Sevii Islands, Thalia knew they were about to destroy themselves.

They were not about to help themselves. Kanto Nox was struggling to keep themselves together enough. There was only one option left for Thalia. She didn’t want it to come to this yet considering her history but the inevitable was approaching quickly.

She needed to ask for the help of Johto Nox.

Thalia had been desperate to find alternatives. She had sent messages to Hoenn Nox and Sinnoh Nox for support but there was no response from Hoenn. She didn’t have high hopes for Hoenn but Thalia thought they would be more capable to give a lending hand since Xander was still under their captivity, last time Thalia was informed. Sinnoh informed them that it would take a month for them to gather and send enough reinforcements and that was if all things went well on their side. It was too much of a small hope to make a bet on. Thalia had to expect the worst with their closest neighbor.

It was time to get to know her former enemies.