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prorevenge · 4 years ago

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Bridezilla Karen ends up looking like a pauper at her own wedding.

I (F48) have known “Pat” (F48) for decades. As far as I can remember, she was fixated on having 5 children and a picket fence dream life. I slowly cut ties with her in college because she was an opportunist and I didn’t trust her. She is both manipulative and forceful. Her idea of cute rubs me the wrong way. Pat likes to walk like a penguin when she wants to elicit pity, and she usually does this when she wants to evoke the underdog narrative. I’ve never seen someone act so despicable and ridiculous at the same time.

I moved on with my life. Happily got rid of her for years. Pat eventually found me on facebook. I accepted her friend request out of politeness.

Pat has become the epitome of a permissive mother. Her (5) kids do as they please and she never calls them out. She tried to force a relationship between me and her daughters and made them call me Auntie. Pat tried to drop them at my house uninvited. Her phone calls were insistent, she tried to monopolize my time and she began to show up at my job. I created some boundaries so she tried to find loopholes. It was a nightmare.

My husband and I hosted a party for the community center (not the real name) new members. The community center is actually a very informal initiative and my husband and I mainly serve the homeless population. We prefer to help strangers instead of catering to potentially narcissistic acquaintances. We don't mind lending a hand but we have encountered truly dishonest choosing beggars.

There are other services, like one of the members who helps women get their wedding and prom dresses for free.The community center location “headquarters” is actually a farm owned by an elderly couple. There is a barn, a venue and a very nice green field with an artificial lake and some fowl. They charge for the use of their facilities (weddings , etc.) but not for community oriented stuff.

Pat had always been salty at her husband for demanding that she go back to work after baby #3. In the meantime, he worked three jobs. She demanded he get her pregnant to fulfill her dream of having 5 kids. He didn’t agree, because he was already nearly 45 and felt like he might never be able to retire. She got away with bringing new babies into this world anyway. Her fascination with being pregnant comes from all the attention she gets. She had at least one miscarriage in between each kid.

Pat latched on to our group. She never missed any of our activities. I hated having her in my house, but it was an open invitation that included virtually everyone and she was very active as an event organizer. I didn’t like the way her kids behaved. We have a designated area for parties and entertainment, but her kids ended up inside my bedroom. We ended up having to keep watch of them and enjoyed zero of our own party.

I called her days later to get my point across (regarding their overall behavior) but she completely cut me off and began talking about herself and said her kids wanted to come visit again and use our pool. I never answered that. I didn't want to say “no, I will not have your brats over”.

She also called me as summer was approaching specifically to let me know her middle daughter was bored and wanted to spend a WEEK at our home. I politely declined, citing that me and my husband have to work and cannot entertain guests. .

Pat paid no heed. Her kid called me on the weekend,calling me “auntie” and attempted to coax me by saying “Mom says you invited me to spend SUMMER with you”. I quickly clarified, and offered an explanation to avoid hurting a kid’s self esteem. Nevermind. Her daughter just hung up on me.

Pat’s facebook also showed some red flags. Some cryptic rants here and there were visible, along with friends’ comments and complaints on how she asked a particular person to watch her kids only for a couple of hours and ended up leaving them all day. Another of her friends criticized her “girls night out “ because Pat had just asked them to be patient and wait until she could pay back some money that she owed them, yet she had money to spend on Friday night outings. I thought those very public comments on private matters were more like a cry of lost patience.

Unpleasant things began to happen. Like the time she volunteered to wrap the Xmas presents for underprivileged kids. We all wanted to create a mix of less costly gifts with really nice ones. Surprisingly, some nice and eye-catching toys and games went missing but turned up under her Christmas Tree (courtesy of her mother in law’s FB posts). No one could prove anything but it was hate-inducing. Or the time my daughter called me in tears to pick her up after she attended Pat’s daughter’s birthday (Casey). My daughter had been ignored all night because she didn’t gift her the expensive gaming stuff Casey practically demanded. My daughter did ask, but I said no. We would buy her a very nice and thoughtful present according to her taste. So when I went to pick her up my daughter was sitting alone in the living room while Casey and her friends stayed outside.

Stories about Pat and her family multiplied. The owners at the farm (community center) decided keep their their gates locked unless they had guests or events because Pat got in the habit of driving in whenever she pleased and it was either her kids screaming and disturbing on-going weddings, throwing rocks at the koi in the lake or harassing the geese in the yard. Or how she stiffed another soccer mom with the lunch bill and then pulled the struggling financially card. Or how other parents hated her because she created unnecessary hostile competition.

When my daughter turned 13, I allowed her to wear my grandma’s ring. It's not an expensive piece of jewelry, but it's vintage and girls nowadays wanna look boho. My Granny gave it to me when I became a teenager so I passed it on to my kid so she could wear it on her birthweek.

It was weird that she became quiet and distracted after that. She also didn’t want to go to school and my husband and I became suspicious. She never opened up, and my other kids had no clue.

We went to her school but her teachers assured us nothing had changed in her environment. My husband and I suspected she was being bullied but our kid gave us no tools to support her. My kid is very sunny, and very compassionate. She has never had any problems with other kids. I called her best friend’s mom. Natalie, my kid’s BFF, told us what was going on. Casey (Pat’s eldest) and my daughter had become “close”. I knew this and wasn’t too thrilled. I found the age (Casey was 17) gap not exactly inappropriate but I’d rather see my daughter spend time with friends in the same age range. Casey is very beautiful and a gifted student. She is also very conceited. To make this story short, she asked my daughter if she could try on the ring and refused to give it back. She later claimed that she lost it but “would look for it” so my daughter was distraught. My daughter kept asking for her ring and as a result, Casey shunned her and spread the word that my kid was trying to steal HER ring. Some kids at school took Casey’s side. So now Casey just wore my kid’s jewelry to school like nothing happened. If that doesn’t qualify as taunting I don't know what does.

My guilt comes from not being able to get my daughter to open up and feel safe telling me the truth. I talked to her and she burst into tears. I was both pained as a mother and furious that some teenage b!tch was doing this under our noses.

I went straight to Pat’s car after school. I asked to talk as Casey was about to go in. So I grabbed Casey’s hand and asked to see her jewelry. Casey froze and she tried to make a fist, so I became relentless. Casey yelled “Mom!” and Pat struggled to get out of the car. I slid the ring off (Casey has tiny hands and wore the ring on her index finger). First Pat yelled at me. After I confronted her with the engraving on the band (my grandma's maiden name), she argued it was loaned to her daughter by my kid. Then she said she bought it. I paid no heed. I did warn them that I knew Casey had become an abusive friend to my daughter.

Pat called me to tell me off. She said she was trying to raise an assertive young woman and I had just messed that up by being “overbearing”. She never apologized for her thief of a child.

Pat's husband ( Hank) is what can be described as a doormat. Pat wore him down to a knob. He had no choice but to “obey” her to keep the peace. She was a bully who actively withdrew affection when he didn’t follow her wishes, even in public. So she got kids #4 and #5 after a relentless campaign that included leaving him for two months. Her pregnancies were a nuisance because she expected to be treated like the only lady who has even been pregnant. She strolled around in a wheelchair almost immediately after getting pregnant and she would “get very sick” on weekends, so her kids were often sent to friends and family so that she could “rest”.

Pat systematically bullied Hank. She would leave town and take the kids with her. Poor Hank would look distraught, drinking on his porch or just looking really lonely. This is how she got off the hook and was able to leave her job. Hank had virtually no voice, so he struggled to keep the marriage together. Everyone liked him, but hated her equally. Hank loved to talk to other people but seemed concerned that Pat would be upset. Over time, according to my husband, Hank began to show signs of depression and mental distress.

Our friend, Lenah, runs the wedding/prom dress initiative. It's not complicated. Dresses are sourced from donations, ebay, trunk shows, etc. Unusually beautiful dresses are retained so that more than one bride gets to wear them. In some cases, a bride will pay 50 bucks, but most of the time, the dresses are donated to the bride.

Pat was involved in this. Lenah kept her in because they never had any issues and her task was limited to just shipping the dresses out.

Pat decided to renew her vows and her bridezilla Karenzilla attitude became the icing on the cake. For starters, she bullied another couple into giving up their wedding date at the farm because she “needed her renewal to match her exact wedding date”. They were not impressed with her harassment, so they booked another venue. As a result, the farm owners were pissed because Pat was already costing them money after she had successfully negotiated a cut in their rate “because she couldn't afford it but will repay by doing maintenance work around the venue” (she never made good on her word).

Pat became attached to a particular dress that was already assigned to another bride. Lenah made it clear that she would need to pay for her own dress. So Pat played it cool and shipped the wrong gown instead. She was adamant that it was the right dress, despite all the notes on Leah’s agenda. The other bride was truly gracious about it. She was obviously disappointed, but never made a scene.

What bothered me most is that I picked that dress and bought it for 40 bucks at a garage sale (not my money, Leah’s money). It was a vintage dress, ankle length, white with lots of lace and a huge bargain. Again, when confronted, Pat “did a Casey” and used the “this is mine” strategy. We felt so bad for the other bride that we did our best to get her something nice to wear. The other bride was a true fighter, she had pulled out of welfare, earned her high school diploma and was working to get on her feet by trying to earn a certificate as an acrylic nail technician. So, her reward was to have some Karen steal her dress? Pat never admitted to messing up, but just by the fact that she claimed it was her dress, we knew.

Lenah never allowed her in her warehouse again. Their last phone fight ended with Pat bringing up the other bride’s past (like it mattered) and “this conversation is over, it's my dress and you are mistaken”. That was weeks before the other bride’s wedding.

Pat went all out on her wedding decor. She spent way too much. She hired a caterer for some food (mainly mimosas and appetizers), but the wedding invitation included a request for specific dishes for her Sunday brunch wedding. Either she ran out of banquet money or was on a complete moocher mode.I picture the penguin walking upon practically asking everyone to supply her wedding reception grub and I cringe.

There is nothing wrong with potluck weddings. In fact, they can be a nice addition to a very cozy and family oriented wedding reception. But, don’t you need to at least be close to your guests in order to ask for such a thing? Even I got an invitation. I told everyone I wasn’t going because I was very uncomfortable being told what to bring and was probably expected to give them a cash gift on top of that. Some of the older ladies in our group agreed. Some said they would not decline in advance because she is a bully and they didn’t want a confrontation.

Lenah called me the night before Pat’s re-wedding. Lenah was there to close the Saturday night bingo and Pat was awfully friendly, but that’s what she does whenever things are going her way. Lenah peeked into the garment bag and saw the exact same dress while Pat was caught up supervising the wedding decoration.

The thing with Karens is that they expect everyone to suck it up, or make their dreams come true, or they simply underestimate everyone and think we are all fools.

Lenah is a very straightforward person with a “so sue me” attitude. She told me she would just ruin the dress. After all, it was hers, so she could do whatever she wanted. If Pat wanted to take legal action, and should things get ugly, she needed to prove ownership. However, the dress was the same, the marks inside the hem and the tags were the same. Even the tag numbers that were punched to identify each dress for logistics purposes matched.

Pat had the dress altered, with some extra beading and dyed to a deep cream color. But it was obviously the same garment. Lenah and I snuck in before the venue was closed for the night. All brides are allowed to stay in a small bedroom for a small charge, so that they don’t need to drive in on their wedding day. Honestly, the makeshift chapel was gorgeous, I don’t know how she paid for it but it was full of flowers and presumptuous details. I naively brought in some ink to spill on the dress, but Lenah said she wanted “something more awful, like a nasty surprise”. Ink would be too obvious and if she saw it ahead, she may be able to snag another gown from somewhere. No, the ideal thing was to have her trust the dress was fine. So Lenah locked herself in a bathroom stall and completely cut out the back panel. She patiently put it back on its hanger and zipped the bag. We left through the emergency door with the back of the dress stuffed inside Lenah's purse. I completely hate people who target and steal from anyone they (Pat and her kid) calculate to be in a weaker position.

The wedding was scheduled at 9 AM. Pat called me at 7 AM, but I ignored her calls. I picked up by 8 AM, both curious and wondering if she suspected anything. Pat was frantic.She was crying that her dress was “missing by half”. I purposely made her explain, being annoyingly dense and continually interrupting like she does, and stalling the conversation. She asked me if I could lend her my wedding dress. I said no, sorry. She then asked me if I would help her get a dress. I was satisfied to remind her that the town's bridal shops were closed on Sunday and the others that would open were almost an hour away. The farm is already almost one hour away from our town.

If Pat could get a shop to rent a dress, she would need to try the dress on, and get it steamed. Even if the dress was ready to wear, it would easily take more than two hours (roundtrip). She tried to ask me to go pick a dress (who would pay for this??). Even if a shop were open and brought her a dress, it would add to the cost. Also, these shops open at 10 or 9:30 at earliest. By time they got to her, it would be time to wrap up the wedding because she needed to clear the venue by 12:00 for the next event.

She broke down and mumbled some stupid stuff I didn't understand. So Pat hung up on me and called Lenah instead.. She asked Lenah to bring her “anything she had available”. Lenah and I ended up delivering the most outdated, moss smelling, oversized dressed. Pat’s disappointment was a mix between angry and emotional. She also tried to wear her knee length silk bridal slip as a wedding dress but it was too obvious and it really looked cheap. She tried to get her daughter to give her her own dress to wear with an open back zipper (due to fitting issues) but Casey refused, asking if she was supposed to attend the wedding naked (she got a point, plus Casey is petite).

The dress needed a petticoat to plump up the skirt, which wasn’t available. So it dragged all over the floor and Pat had to keep pulling it up. Pat walked down the aisle with one hand on her bouquet and another one grabbing her dress. The dress looked limp and weird with the arrangements of pins (they didn’t show) that caused the sleeves and neckline to pucker into messy rims. She spent the ceremony looking uncomfortable and out of place. Very few people attended but that was not part of any revenge, that was just how people reacted to her entitled attitude.

The dress looked awful. The reception portion of the wedding had all this princely decoration, a very nice cake and a bridezilla with a dress from hell. I didn’t stay, but I was told, she was so disappointed she spent her wedding sulking. There was no dance, no actual speech. She had to change into a shirt and leggings because the dress was too uncomfortable. Everyone talked about how Pat put on her flip flops and walked around aimlessly until she ordered the ushers to start folding up the chairs within one hour of the reception. So she practically kicked everyone out and the cake was never cut.

Pat wasn’t the same after this.She was not as loud and avoided everyone. I think she was disappointed that nobody ran to her rescue, not even her family who came from out of town.

Her husband finally cracked under all the pressure and sought some help. He was slaving away and coming home to clean the house while Pat used her kids as an excuse to spend like crazy. Hank also had to do kid homework because Pat never had time or never had patience. She also refused to get a partime job so her kids could attend an afterschool and get help with their school stuff. Therapy seemed to help Hank because the last time Pat left with her kids, he didn't seem distraught. He would be riding his bicycle and could be seen more relaxed while mowing his lawn. Hank told my husband that he had contemplated suicide after their third kid. When Pat returned, he maintained the routine but was interested in going out by himself and doing things for himself. We began to see Pat alone all the time. Hank was seen less and less in the same car and eventually moved in with his parents. He filed for divorce on the grounds of emotional cruelty and I don't think he won. Instead (I’m not sure of this because this is what I was told) there was some sort of a settlement or agreement that she would not get close or interact with him unless it has to do with the kids).

I also don’t know if Pat even actually suspected who/what happened to her dress. She slowly pulled away from the community center and became less active in social gatherings. Pat also removed me from her facebook as well as mostly everyone else from school and the center.

TLDR

Bridezilla stole a wedding dress from an underprivileged woman. The actual dress owner destroys her big day.

(source) story by (/u/forestcabin123k)

#prorevenge #by /u/forestcabin123k #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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gaymer-hag-stan · 3 years ago

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Lara Croft's Biography

This is my attempt at consolidating Core Design's two biographies for Lara Croft as well as Crystal Dynamics' revised version for Legend into one, cohesive background story that includes all key events from her past adventures. Certain elements of the first nine games and their backstories are bound to be included in the new, unified timeline so any Reboot fans that are not as familiar with Classic Lara may find this interesting to read :) Hope you like it!

Name: Lara Croft

Nationality: British

Date of Birth: 14 February 1968

Birthplace: Wimbledon, London

Marital Status: Single

Blood Group: AB-

Height: 1,75m

Weight: 58 kg

Hair Colour: Brunnette

Eye Colour: Brown

Distinguishing Features: 9mm Handguns

Bio

Lady Lara Croft is an 11th generation Countess. The Croft family was granted the title and rights to Abbingdon, Surrey by King Edward VI in 1547. The Croft Estates are comprised of three separate manor houses, two of which are maintained by the National Trust, and the third is home to Lady Croft.

Lady Croft herself has suffered several personal tragedies, including the deaths of both parents on separate occasions before she came of age. Reputably an accredited genius and Olympic-standard gymnast, Lady Croft is the focus of wild speculation and intense debate in both the scientific and political communities in addition to the popular press. Idealized and vilified in equal measure, she is perhaps one of the most fascinating and enigmatic figures of our time.

Lara Croft was born in Surrey's Parkside hospital on the 14th of February in 1968 to Lady Amelia Croft and the notorious archeologist Lord Richard Croft, the late Earl of Abbingdon. She was raised to be an aristocrat from birth, and had lived in luxury and security aloof from the world at large. Between the ages of three and six, she attended the Abbingdon Girls School, where it quickly became clear that she was an exceptionally gifted child.

At the age of nine she survived a plane crash in the Himalayas that took the life of her mother. In perhaps the first story of her prodigious indomitability, she somehow survived a solo ten-day trek across the Himalayan mountains, one of the most hostile environments on the planet. The story goes that when she arrived in Katmandu she went to the nearest bar and made a polite telephone call to her father asking if it would be convenient for him to come and pick her up.

For six years following the plane crash, Lara rarely left her father's side, traveling around the world from one archeological dig site to another. During this period she was ostensibly given a standard education from private tutors, but it would probably be more accurate to say she was her father's full time apprentice.

When Lara was fifteen, her father went missing in Cambodia. Extensive searches by the authorities and Lara herself turned up human remains that could not definitively be identified. Since Lord Croft's body was not officially recovered, Lara could not directly inherit the Croft title and Lara was thrust into a bitter family feud over control of the Abbingdon estates with her uncle Lord Errol Croft. Lara eventually won the legal battle, and took possession of her inheritance but at the cost of a deep rift in the Croft family that left her estranged from her living relatives.

At 16 she began studying at Gordonstoun, one of Britain's most prominent boarding schools where she discovered the mountains of Scotland. One day Lara came across a copy of National Geographic on the hall table. The front cover featured a familiar name - Professor Werner Von Croy. A respected archaeologist, Von Croy had once lectured at Lara's school to pupils & parents alike.

The experience had a profound effect on Lara, triggering a desire for travel to remote locations in search of adventure. In some ways Von Croy had become an inspirational figure for Lara. As Lara read further, she learned that Von Croy was currently preparing for an archaeological tour across Asia, culminating in a potential new discovery to be made in Cambodia. Unable to pass up this opportunity, she walked over to the desk & penned a letter to Von Croy. She Introduced herself and offered financial assistance in exchange for her place on the expedition. Von Croy's reply assured her that the territories were friendly and that he had ample experience to look after both his & Lara's well being.

Lara's company as an assistant would be welcome, as was the offer of such a generous cheque. He remembered Lara from his lecture - her incessant yet insightful questions had made quite an impression upon him. And so it was agreed that Lara would accompany Von Croy for the duration of the tour.

At 21, while in college, she was part of a team of aspiring archaeologists in charge of a dig in Paraiso, Peru. Her closest friends, Amanda Evert, aspiring anthropologist, and Anaya Imanu, engineer, among them. They were attempting to break through the tomb of the Queen of Tiwanaku. The expedition was cut short however, as a tragic accident led to the deaths of most of Lara's friends and colleagues, including Amanda, with Lara and Anaya emerging from the dig as the only two known survivors.

Lara probably should have died there, as most did, instead she learned how to depend on her wits to stay alive in hostile conditions a world away from her sheltered upbringing. Her experiences had had a profound effect on her and in that process transformed herself as well. Her Peruvian odyssey was both miraculous and enlightening, as the young woman not only survived, but gained a perspective on herself and the world that made her past appear shallow and naive. Out of the darkness of her ordeal, she saw her future reflected in a different light.

She felt profoundly that there was more for her in this life than the coddled existence that had become her numbing habit. Unable to stand the suffocating atmosphere of upper-class British society any longer, she realized that she was only truly alive when she was travelling alone. Over the eight following years she acquired an intimate knowledge of ancient civilizations across the globe. Despite this drastic life change, Lara still retains the essence of her upbringing - most notably with her polite, upper-class accent. She turned to writing to fund her trips.

While in England, Lara lives in a mansion in Surrey which she inherited many years ago. At one time she saw little use in it but now realises that, if nothing else, it is at least handy for storing all the artifacts she has acquired on her travels. She has also had a custom-built assault course constructed in the grounds for training purposes.

Lady Lara Croft has already eclipsed her father's career; as of this writing she is credited with the discovery of some fifteen archeological sites of international significance. These sites are still yielding new and exciting insights to the past on an ongoing basis. No one can deny Lady Croft's incredible contribution to the field of archeology, however she is not without her detractors.

Lara's methods have been frequently called into question by government officials and other practicing archeologists. She has been described variously as anything from cavalier to downright irresponsible. Some scholars have suggested that her notorious lack of documentation and brute force methodology have contaminated countless sites and done more harm than good. There have even been (unsubstantiated) allegations that Lara actually takes items from these sites before informing the international community of their locations, and that she is nothing more than a glorified treasure hunter.

Despite the tabloid press's infatuation with her, Lara Croft guards her privacy with complete determination. She has never granted an interview nor made any personal comment to any of the rumors associated with her, preferring to express herself through brief formal statements given by the family solicitors, Hardgraves and Moore.

Predictably there have been a number of unofficial biographies printed about the young Countess, that attribute wild and fantastic feats to her exploits, ranging from the discovery of living dinosaurs in the Congo to infiltrating the infamous Area 51 in Nevada. The official line from the Croft Estate to these works is simply that "...these books are utter rot: disgraceful, trashy works of total fiction."

Nevertheless if you even make a cursory search on the Internet for the Unexplained, the Mysterious and the Downright Unbelievable, time and again you will find Lara Croft's name appearing. She appears to be a hero to conspiracy theorists and alternate history aficionados alike.

It seems the further you dig into Lady Croft's life, the more bewildering and mysterious she becomes. Perhaps like the archeological sites she discovers, we have only scratched the surface of this incredible woman and the complex and inscrutable secrets buried deep within her.

Lara Croft became the seeker of truths, both large and small, and in that pursuit she continues to this day.

Employment

Lara doesn't consider tomb raiding as a job, merely a way of life - although she has been known to uncover archeological artifacts on commission. To fund her radical lifestyle, Lara writes travel books. Titles so far have included 'A Tyrannosaurus is Jawing at My Head' and 'Slaying Bigfoot'. Her common complaint though is that she doesn't have enough time to put pen to paper.

As well as uncovering many notorious archeological sites - including the Atlantean pyramid and the last resting place of the dagger of Xian, Lara has found fame in other areas - she has driven the dangerous Alaskan Highway from Tierra del Fuego in South America in record time (although this was later denounced by the Guinness Book of Records due to her "reckless driving") and she hit the headlines again when she hunted out and killed Bigfoot in North America.

Sports

Not much of a team player. Discovered rock climbing while at Gordonstoun and used to set off into the hills alone during netball practice. Also took up shooting as an extra-curricular activity but was instantly banned for showing "too keen an interest'. However, the strength that climbing gave her fingers was to become useful when she started pulling triggers for real.

Music

Lara was brought up to appreciate classical music but having been a guest on U2's Popmart tour, has since become a fan of their music. She has also been introduced to the sounds of Nine inch Nails by her Aunty and considers it "good easy listening". Finds trance music, in general, good for training.

Food

Despite being a proficient cook from her days at finishing school and having sampled most of the exotic delicacies of the world, Lara usually opts for beans on toast when at home.

Hobbies

Any challenging sports. Has a particular interest in experimenting with different, often extreme forms of transport. Has also once admitted to stitching a kind of Bayeaux tapestry of her own adventures while at home.

Ambition

With her unique physical abilities, Lara is certain of being able to break many world athletic records and so sees no challenge in this herself. Her main ambitions still lie in the undefined world of tombs and the past. She has also however, developed a personal regard for Brian Blessed's attempts to climb Everest. If he never succeeds, she is determined to piggy-back him up there.

Heroes

All the great ancient figures who respected themselves enough to design such intricate tombs to be buried in. "Nobody goes to trouble like that anymore..."

Fears

Her Aunty's Corgi which has bitten her on several occasions - about which, for once, there is little she can do.

Lucky Charm

Any gun at hand.

#Tomb Raider #Lara Croft #Lara Croft Tomb Raider #Lara #Video Games #Gaming

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godsporncollection · 4 years ago

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Saturday Morning Session

(personal commentary in italics) (sorry for how inconsistent i am at this, i’m trying new medication, so my focus comes and goes unpredictably, but i didn’t want this to take weeks)

Russel M Nelson - strengthen your testimony (?)

"I understand better what he meant when he said 'behold, i will hasten my work in this time.'"

Y'all have been strengthening your testimonies and i, and your children, thank you. did that inclusion of "your children" feel off to anyone else?

I can see the work on the temple outside my window and that makes me think about how we need to remove the old debris from our lives. I too think of the temple as 'old debris' that should be removed from my life.

"the gospel is a message of joy" I cannot roll my eyes hard enough

that was short. what was the topic? blab for a five minutes?

Dieter F. Uchdorf - god is Among Us

I had to move lots when I was a kid because there was a war on. i thought about the missionaries who came to the country of their enemies to bring us the gospel.

i was a kid in a war-torn country > missionaries > god has not forgotten us > we will be heirs of god > how could we complain when we have that? > the atonement > mistakes are okay, just gotta keep repenting.

what would jesus teach if he was among us today? the same thing he's always taught. "the savior always teaches timeless truths, to everyone, a message of hope and belonging, a testament that god has not abandoned his children that god is Among Us."

jesus says to love one another and to be full of charity towards all men. i would like to see it.

anyone else feel like these talks are just. empty? like, they're not feeling it either?

if jesus came into your home today, he would see into your heart and i'm gonna waste a couple more minutes by expanding on that. one look into his eyes and we would be forever changed by the realization that god is Among Us.

back to me, i wish i could go back and tell myself to stay on the right track because god is Among Us, so i'm gonna tell you instead. god is Among Us.

"line upon line" *gag*

god is Among Us

Joy D Jones - abuse is wrong unless you use it to teach kids about the gospel

"have you ever wondered why we call 'primary' 'primary'?" as someone who understands how language works, no.

because kids are importanter than everything else

god trusts us to be nice to our kids; that means no abuse, even if we're angry. whoever needed this reminder should be shot.

hey, maybe you can "combat the evils of abuse" by not fucking raising your kids in an abusive cult!

analogy of a kid who fell out of bed because he "didn't get far enough in" = he wasn't indoctrinated enough, with awkward collage of pics of kids for a minute.

eyring said to get 'em while they're young

love all the pics of black people that try to say "see? we don't think black people are inherently evil (anymore)!"

analogy of a soldier in boot camp. drill seargants are mean, but that was necessary because apparantly it's the only way this guy can learn how to hide. also, apparently this guy is "our friend". not my friend, thanks.

"how can we do the same for our children?" don't fucking act like a drill seargent to your kids! ffs

"wouldn't we rather have them sweat in the safe learning environment of the home than bleed on the battlefields of life?" first of all, fuck you. second, dramatic much? third, fuck you, kids shouldn't have to learn about life in a hostile environment. does this woman have kids? are they okay? fucking hell, five kids were raised by a woman with this mentality. what a bitch.

"eternity is the wrong thing to be wrong about." i got news for you. of course, if i ever spoke to this machine, that topic wouldn't be my top priority.

I need a fucking drink.

Jan Eric Newman - teaching the gospel is good, but you can't force a testimony on others

anecdote about a local old woman getting birthday gifts. she taught us some good things when we were growing up, so thanks, sister davis.

another teacher, at college, was a "master teacher." he loved me and the lord. he taught me to learn doctrine on my own and that "changed me forever."

just sayin', if you're taught how to learn on your own, but didn't exercise enough critical thought to gtfo of this cult, maybe the teacher wasn't the best.

it's good to have good teachers.

the ancient nephites and lamanites had good teachers, and "there was no contention among them!"

"how can we teach more like the savior and help others become more deeply converted?" nope, nope. nope.

1st, "learn all you can about the master teacher hismelf." so, we're sticking with the term "master teacher." cool. doesn't sound weird at all.

ask yourself questions about how he taught, then do that.

read "teaching in the savoir's way."

2nd, use bullshit stories. oh, no, it's a story about how somebody is grateful for the pandemic because her adult child read the BoM for the first time during it. she said it had made "literal miracles."

3rd, "remember that conversion must come from within." guess jan and "joy" should have compared notes before speaking.

"children inheret many things, but a testimony is not one of them. we can't give our children a testimony any more than we can make a seed grow; but we can provide a nourishing environment, with good soil, free of thorns that would choke the word."

Gary E. Stevenson - kindness

story about a study where rabbits were fed a high-fat diet, but those under the care of a loving researcher didn't gain as much weight.

only christians can intuitively understand that this means there's a reason to be kind to others.

jesus said love one another.

addressing primary kids - be kind. here's a story about a kid who stopped being a bully because the bullied kid said it hurt.

to the teens - social media makes bullying worse, clearly satan is using social media against your generation. do what you can t make these spaces safer. if you're a bully, "stop it."

to the adults- "we have a primary responsibility to set a tone and be role models of kindness (get wrecked "joy"), inclusion and civility."

from ballard- "i have never heard members of this church to be anything but loving, kind, tolerant and benevolent to our friends and neighbors of other faiths." k, but, like, you know it's not just a difference of religious belief that’s the problem, right?

i'm heartbroken to hear about prejudice against blackasianlatino people or of any other group. i love how that section was really only about race, with a blanket "any other group" thrown in as an afterthought so they can't be accused of being homophobic.

in the winter of 1838, jo smith was in prison and why do you think that happened, gary?

church members were driven from their homes and the residents of a town across the river gave them food and shelter. that generosity saved the lives of many of them.

god is a compassionate care-giver.

Gerrit W. Gong - disjointed anecdotes of human experiences, idk

i miss my dad. he was adventurous, except regarding food.

i saw a guy be mean to a lady selling ice cream. he smashed all of her cones. the image of her trying to salvage the cones haunts me to this day.

story of the good samaritan.

be like christ this easter.

"we recieve inspiration as we counsel together, listening to each person, including each sister and the spirit."

does this guy have a topic?

he’s is just giving a list of random human experiences and parables.

*displays a lack of understanding of instagram.*

he's listing something throughout this, like, he keeps counting, but i have no idea what and his voice is making my adhd medication run away, so i'm not listening to this again.

Henry B. Eyring - temple worthiness

today i'm feeling light and hope, like the first day i went to the salt lake temple

i'm an oblivious fucker who didn't notice my name being pinned on me, so i thought the woman who greeted me was an angel because she knew my name.

thought he could remember being in the temple before, but a voice that was not his own (that's how you know it's true and not something he just told himself) told him he was remembering heaven.

confused "holiness to the lord" with "this is a holy place." i know both phrases use the word 'holy', but like, those contexts mean separate things.

i also had this feeling during my wedding in the logan temple.

i think henry should get checked out, he suffers from frequent hallucinations and it's good to know how your brain works differently from others when in a leadership position.

during my wedding, i had a vision of a house and the officiant said to live in a way that you can walk away easily. a year later, my father in law bought the exact house and my wife and i lived in the guest house for ten years. then i got the call to move somewhere else on assignment from the church and we walked away easily.

scripture from jesus about temples.

if you're unworthy in the temple, you won't be "able to see, by the power of the holy ghost, the spiritual teaching of the savior that we can recieve in the temple."

"when we are worthy to recieve such teaching, there can grow, through our temple experience, hope, joy, and optimism throughout our lives. that hope, joy, and optimism are available only through accepting the ordinances performed in holy temples."

i forgot how simple a baptism is, so i'm gonna tell you how amazed (and a little concerned) i was when my youngest daughter stayed to do baptism for the dead for all of the names on the list that day. maybe i'm just super comfortable in the water, but that doesn't sound hard, actually. i used to almost enjoy doing those.

quotes the primary song 'i love to see the temple.'

remember to be worthy so you can live with your family forever.

#exmo #ex mormon #exchristian #ex christian #excult #cult stuff #exlds #ex lds #former mormon #apostake #ex religious #agnostic #mine #gc april 2021 #gc summary

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judesommer · 3 years ago

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[ JUDE SOMMER. 36. FEMALE. SHE/HER] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 3 YEARS ] and are originally from [ SAN FRANCISCO, CA ]. They are a [ PARK RANGER ] and in their downtime love [ TRAVELING ] and [ JOURNALING ]. They look a lot like [ JENNY SLATE ] and live [ IN REDCLIFF ]

LINKS

stats

wanted connections

musings

playlist

ABOUT JUDE

birthday:

may 13, 1985

sexuality:

bisexual

astrology:

taurus ☀, leo ☾, aquarius ↑

traits:

stubborn, friendly, calculated, adventurous, passionate, affectionate, resentful, closed-off, insightful, independent, quick-witted, resilient, private, self-assured, motivated, clumsy

aesthetic:

redwood trees, sundresses, farmer’s markets, sage green, curly hair, scribbled notebooks, airplane windows, mountain tops, old poetry, field of poppies, hiking boots, afternoon wine, hidden details, firecracker, canine cuddles, haunted

BIOGRAPHY

[ tw: drugs, abuse, abortion - brief mentions ]

jude cecilia sommer grew up san francisco with two other siblings and found her peace in poetry and towering trees. her only good childhood memories always revolved around walking through the redwood forests and feeling so small in a world so large. it made her world, her worries, her pain seem so insignificantly small. it was her safe haven.

her parents divorced when she was fairly young and her father was quick to move on to a different life of his own. jude, nor her siblings, every really fit so well in that new life, and soon enough, her father became a mere stranger. just a simple phone call on a birthday and an empty card. he remarried and had more children, but they never felt like family to jude.

she was raised by her mother, but the word raised was a term best used loosely. her mother was dependent on just about one too many things - men, drugs, her children, the list goes on.

in the earlier years of her youth, she remembered the hostile environment she and her siblings grew up in due to their mother’s abusive boyfriend. he’d take his anger out on all of them, her eldest brother especially, and their mother continued to stand by him. her excuse was that he paid their bills and kept food on their tables. they had to be grateful.

it was then at a very young that jude experienced resentment. though she hated the man in their house, she hated their mother more for allowing them to live this way. jude grew up angry.

there was a moment of peace in the sommer household the day the awful boyfriend decided to leave their mother. despite their mother struggling with her drug addiction, there was a moment where the weight of the world didn’t feel as heavy on jude’s shoulders. but it was short-lived, fleeting just like every other happy memory.

her mother found a new boyfriend to take care of them. he felt different than the others - nice, for starters, but jude was no fool. she knew the man was shady and did illegal business to keep food on their table. he later even got her eldest brother involved in that life.

jude wanted nothing to do with her mother and the chaos she brought. she went on a different path and self-funded her way through college. she focused on the one thing that brought her peace - the trees, parks, and nature. she went to school to study environment and parks in hopes of being a park ranger.

finally, jude had a life of her own. she made new friends, people who knew nothing of her past- and she kept it that way. jude even spent a few summers studying abroad in japan, catching the travel bug pretty early on. some of her fondest memories comes from her time in japan and she still practices japanese till this day.

jude worked hard and endlessly, always saving her money so she could do the things she wanted in life. she’d travel, backpack and stay in hostiles, all the while creating travel journals and documenting her time and studies in the places explored. japan, machu picchu in peru, iceland were among her favorite places.

jude was in a serious relationship when she was in college and it felt like love. then again, what did the girl know about love? they often traveled together and study abroad in the same places.

once she graduated, she took some time off to hike the pacific northwest trails alone. it was the most grueling, exhilarating, and beautiful experience. it felt liberating and she felt stronger than ever. it made her feel like she truly broke away from the mold of her family.

still riding that high, she and her boyfriend decided to elope. it felt right in the time.

jude became a park ranger and worked for the state of california and all the state parks as she focused on paying off her student loans.

not long after, she discovered her eldest brother had gone to prison. though she loved him dearly, she kept this under wraps just like everything else about her past. not even her husband knew. she’d find time on the weekends whenever her husband was working to visit her brother. she felt sympathy for him, knowing he wasn’t lucky enough to break from that mold like she had.

a year or so into her marriage, jude discovered she was pregnant. the concept of being a mother terrified her to her very core. she and her husband had talked about having children only a few times, mostly because jude would change the subject. he wanted a family and jude didn’t want to become her mother. without telling him of her pregnancy, jude made the decision to have an abortion.

but nothing stays secret forever. her husband eventually discovered she had an abortion and he was heartbroken. of course he wanted a family, but he also wanted a wife that was willing to confide in him about those things. she never told him her fears, doubts, or her past. she was practically a friend living beside him. jude tried to defend herself, but there was no defending it. her husband couldn’t move on from her decision and the disconnect between the two caused a huge wedge between them. they decided to divorce.

jude realized then her own protective decision was already pushing her on a similar path to her mother, but she refused to become her. jude, independent as ever, didn’t need anyone but herself. even though it caused a lot of heartache, jude doesn’t regret the abortion or the decision to split.

realizing the bay area no longer felt like home to her, jude decided to move to southern california to be closer to the prison her brother was in. she rented a small house in the silver lake area and moved to working at state parks outside of los angeles. it didn’t have the same feeling of towering trees, but the amazing hikes made it worthwhile.

her brother was eventually released from prison and currently lives with her until he can get back on his feet. it’s nice to have him away from san francisco and even nicer to have him not behind bars.

their mother later got clean from drugs and now lives life as a single woman, on some sort of spiritual journey. she tries to have a place in her children’s life, but jude hardly allows it. jude’s brother often tries to convince jude into forgiving their mother, but it never happens fully. she will go visit with him for holidays, and though she goes in holding her tongue, it almost always ends up in a fight between jude and her mother. both can never be quiet for too long and her mother will never own up to her mistakes. it drives jude mad.

though jude had endured a lot throughout her years, she continues to find peace in nature, travel, and journals. she focuses on the little things in life and finds joy where she can. all the while presenting herself like the moon in the sky, only half there for people to see.

HEADCANONS

jude truly doesn’t share much about her past, but doesn’t come off as secretive either. but even her closest friends might learn something new every day about her that they would normally know long before with anyone else.

she rents a small two bedroom home in the redcliff neighborhood and has decorated it to her liking. it’s important for her to feel at home.

jude has an australian shepheard dog named wickett - then name coming from a star wars character.

she enjoys spending her weekends at the farmer’s market, eating fruit, and day drinking wine.

jude is always hiking, journaling/writing, and reading books she has already read a thousand times. she’s a creature of habit.

she hasn’t been in a real relationship since her husband, only hookups and casual flings.

jude is jewish, but her family never paid much attention to religion. they celebrate the holidays and would attend service one day out of the year or so.

she has several scars on her legs and two on her arms from hiking the PNW trails.

she’s into cheesy and weird things - science fiction, conspiracy theories, paranormal stuff. she says, “it makes life exciting.”

to be added ....

#slintro

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metvmorqhoses · 5 years ago

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Why do you think Voldemort never hooked up with another woman but Bella ? Were his choices limited to his ranks ? Were most women afraid of him ? Did he find Bella convenient since she was his DE and married? Don't men get bored with too much devotion ? She let him know how much she cared about him . Was she simply good in bed so he didn't need to look elsewhere? Was her being married another thing he found convenient? Was she convenient or special ? How was he as a 'lover' in your opinion ?

well, you provoke me and i oblige - or as i like to call it: the 100th novel-length essay on bellamort.

the reasons that in my eyes ultimately made bellatrix “the only one” for voldemort are many and various, but at the end of the day it has everything to do with who and how i think he was as a person.

as i said many times before and i feel the duty to keep specifying, over the years i started to consider these characters in a more adult and complex way, imagining them as real life persons and not fairy-tale villains and that’s where my analyses of them come from. sadly what jkr told us about their relationship is close to nothing, so all we have here is thought processes and fervent opinions about their few, filtered by harry’s eyes and painfully public interactions.

now, voldemort’s character, if looked at beyond the pure ideal of power and darkness that he so carefully built around himself, is clearly a human being as deep as the very pit of hell and full of contradictions, twistedness, beauty and voids to fill.

bear with me, because you cannot really understand what i think bellatrix was for him without explaining how i see his psychology first, which i think many many times is overly simplyfied and excused with a shrug and a “well, he’s evil”:

voldemort was born with a genius intelligence and magical talent, the most handsome looks and yet he was not only completely and utterly alone, but also a completely broken human since birth. his mother porpuselly conceived him putting his muggle father under a love potion, so he’s basically the direct offspring of the worst kind of rape: not only his mother abused his father physically, forcing him to have sex with her without his consent, but even emotionally, because she forced him to have feelings for her - as untrue as they might have been. not only that, but voldemort was clearly unloved by his parents from the very start, abandoned by them both in different ways before he was even capable to remember them. he had then been raised and abused since the most tender age in a filthy orphanage where everyone shunned and feared and made him believe he was insane, treating him god’s knows how badly, because he was able to do “things” no one else could, things that made people uncomfortable (think at how bigots can abuse children nowadays with the excuse of possession without magic or the devil even existing, i wouldn’t be surprised if tom as a child was put under monstrous rituals with the hope of exorcising him, it was after all the 30s in a really degraded and poor environment). imagine the hate, the resentment, the fear, the basic instinct to survive and only caring about himself that must have started to boil inside of him in the most dangerous of ways. he surely had the inclination to became what he ultimately became from birth, but goodness how life helped him. he learnt to defend and avenge himself from such a hostile world from the very start, it was a matter of surviving or succumbing. and then, at some point of his young age, he finally started to master and taste something that made him feel good, that made him feel right about himself, he started to enjoy the feeling of being in control of his abusers, of manipulating them, of hurting them, of taking what he wanted from them, the feeling of power - and moreover, a power that directly originated from inside himself - his power. he obviously started to consider himself his own savior, he started to intimately feel special, better than anyone, superior. at the same time he started to hate muggles, because muggles had been his first real source of utter isolation and pain (thing reinforced by the discovery, many years later, that his father, the reason he had to go through all that, was one of them). then, out of the blue, he was told that “more” he had so strong inside of himself was indeed magic. imagine the feeling of validation he must have felt about his uniqueness and superiority, imagine how powerfully his addiction to this wondrous thing he could finally name must have taken definitive root inside of him. magic became his everything, his religion, his purpose, his assurance of never having to feel weak, vulnerable or defenseless ever again. magic was the fuel that alimented everything he literally had in the world and that he ever felt comfortable to ever want (uniqueness, power, superiority, extraordinariness). human relationships were ludicrously out of the question in his eyes since he was a child. human beings were not reliable nor trustworthy. human beings were an utter disappointment, everyone was beneath him and no one really deserved his consideration anyway. magic was everything that really mattered. without magic, he was literally nothing - or at least that’s what life had convinced him of. an existence of his not desperately clutched on and inextricably intertwined with it was not something he even dared to fathom for himself. if you understand this, if you understand the perversion of his dependency towards magic, everything he ever did becomes painfully clear. magic for him was something so fundamental, so deeply mingled with his very being (and this is probably also the reason he indeed was the most powerful wizard that ever lived), that growing up he became more and more desperately obsessed about preserving and strengthening it. this is the root of his every choice, from venturing into the dark arts turning out completely disfigured but incredibly more powerful, to believing he could actually be the first immortal in history, to his entire anti-muggle politics. not only muggles were inferior and disgusting to him, but their mingling with wizards was in his eyes a dreadful threat to the very existence of magic and therefore everything special he ever had been. as a result, he ventured deeper and deeper into it, never to come back. no magic act seemed against nature to him, because he considered himself one with it. this is where his iron-rooted god complex comes from and i think it’s something a little more complicated than simple megalomania. but this is also where his problems with his own humanity (and other’s) started. at some point he really considered himself more than human, of a different species. no aspect of humanity meant anything to him, on the contrary, i think he had terrible problems with every basic human behavior, from caring, to having to eat and drink to survive, to sweating and having sexual impulses - and, of course, to the ultimate form of humanity, dying. i think he was profoundly disgusted by his and other’s physicality, to anything that could remind him of his mortality, even a breath.

and that’s why i don’t really think even as a most handsome young men he even spared girls or women a glance. i think he considered the whole thing far beneath him, as if a god was interested in exchanging fluids with worms. i also think deep down there was simultaneously an intellectual and not only a physical element in his disgust: i think he considered his good looks something pleasant to look at in a mirror (he only deserved the best, even in a face), quite useful, but in general absolutely meaningless and void. not to mention that was his muggle father’s face, the revolting beauty that doomed it as a child and that shamed him every day looking back at him in the mirror. the entire crowds of girls that without any doubt must have fawned over him at school were probably amusing to him in rare particularly good days and insufferable and despicable the rest. no one deserved to be around him, no one could understand his real greatness or void anyway, no matter how low they rightfully bowed - and they had to bow, but from a fair distance. i think the mere thought of sex was something absolutely revolting to him.

until.

now you are probably starting to understand why i needed this endless preface to answer your question.

i think bellatrix was something really unexpected for him, that came relatively late in his life while he was busy with everything else, building an empire and becoming a most powerful immortal creature, and it was extraordinary enough to enkindle something in him, in his humanity, at first even without his consent or him even noticing.

yes, you heard me right, despite all i have just written, lord voldemort was still human being and of a really damaged and flawed kind, no matter what he stubbornly wanted to believe about himself.

i think the first immediate reason that sparkled voldemort’s interest was that bellatrix somehow reminded him of himself. and we do know that he was really able to love only himself. this is the ultimate narcissistic thought process. she was everything he admired of his own qualities: beautiful, dark, incredibly intelligent and magically skilled, proud, ambitious, ruthless, power-angry. they were incredibly similar. but she was at the same time somehow more than him, she actually was what he thought he was supposed have been: the heir of one of the most noble and ancient magical families of britain, pure powerful blood in her veins. it’s obvious he took her under his wing, thinking such a talent was a most valuable addiction to his cause, especially because along all that, bellatrix was able from the start to show him a loyalty, usefulness and adoration of a different, truer kind from all the others. and i think he really valued that, i think he was completely aware she was the only person he could really trust and i think it wasn’t a secondary thing for someone who had never really trusted anyone from the day he was born - that he was aware of it or not. one thing is believing your followers are loyal to you and your cause (an example is snape), another is having the absolute certainty that someone will always be at your side, no matter how desperate the situation - and only bellatrix was ever able to provide him that. he was intelligent enough to tell the difference. i think bellatrix’s unfaltering loyalty and mind-presence at azkaban for fourteen years after his apparent demise was something that really won his respect and admiration. and no, i don’t really think voldemort was the kind of person that gets tired of too much devotion, at least not a true, sincere one, as the kind bellatrix’s provided him from day one. i actually think he was in desperate need of it, consciously or not. voldemort probably had, in my vision, a peculiar relationship with devotion and servility: he thought everyone owed him as much, but was at the same time quite annoyed by too much of it (killing people who said too much “my lords”). but not too much of bellatrix’s, and it’s probably because of the fact hers was of a deeper and more honest kind of devotion.

we don’t have to forget bellatrix was almost as egocentric, proud and vain as him, this is the woman who sits on chairs as if they were thrones. she was wizarding royalty and she sure as hell acted accordingly, she was used to have everyone bow to her (and if they didn’t, she made them). and the fact that she, this fearless tigress, only bowed to him, out of admiration and not blind fear (even if a healthy component of fear was indeed present in her as well), was certainly a reason of great pleasure and amusement to him. don’t even forget i totally believe bella amused him as hell. can you imagine anyone else rendered a blathering idiot in front of him, following him so closely, too closely, speaking without asking, etc, who would have lived to tell the tale? bella was allowed things no one else was, pet name included.

she was one hell of a woman, painfully like him, that literally melted and would have died any moment for him. this started to move things inside of him that i’m sure at first he didn’t like, especially the physical impulses. i said many times i’m convinced at first he was resolute into killing her. the fact that in the end he didn’t tells the tale for me. who knows, maybe the killing in the middle turned into other primordial activities. sexually, i do think he had the need to use a fair amount of violence, not so much because he wanted to hurt her, but to deal with the mortality/humanity aversion, and i think bellatrix was the only woman who was mentally built to not only understand, but enjoy that. i think bella’s legs went week in front of his displays of power, no matter if the victim was her. i wasn’t really a matter of dominating her spirit, but totally possessing her body for him. funnily enough, i think he absolutely respected her in his own twisted way and that she totally thought the same. that respect had nothing to do with their physical and political power dynamics.

again, they were absurdly similar and well-matched. i think at some point she became invaluable to him in a similar way magic was, so much he actually risked his own life and failure to ensure she wasn’t captured again. everyone else was disposable, but not his bella. he could have punished her the rare times she let him down, but as a death eater, not as a person. i think bellatrix was the only case in which the two things in his mind were actually separate even if linked.

they fond each other in darkness and voldemort, lover of uniqueness, surely understood the extraordinary quality of such a relationship. he wanted only the best for himself, he deserved as much, and bellatrix was the actual best in his mind. she, having a similar thought, had inside of her a dramatic and overwhelming pull towards darkness, power and violence, and he embodied them all and much more in her eyes.

so, in conclusion (because i could go on for several other hours), for sure bellatrix was also, along with all the other things, convenient to him, not so much because she was married, because i think neither of them gave an effing fuck about it, but because she was perfect for him in basically every single way (best death eater, genius, skilled, pureblood, devious, not afraid of his darkness but drawn to it, loyal, submitted to him but only to him), as if he himself had carefully molded out of clay his ideal match.

as to how i think voldemort was as a lover - really, really painfully disturbing, as his whole character. i don’t think him really able to separate passion and violence, for example, and i see him really prone to dangerous mood swings, trust issues and destructive tendencies. he was also surely overly possessive of bellatrix, his bella. he was the only one entitled to treat her as he pleased, no one else, no matter if he had just crucioed the hell out of her. lay a finger on her and you are dead. also, i don’t really think he ever told her just how much she meant for him, on the contrary i think whenever he thought she was getting too close and him too attached, he would mercilessly push her away, even violently.

but at the same time i see him quite thoughtful and appreciative of everything bellatrix was, much more than any other man or husband of that society. he really thought she was the best besides himself. that he told it out loud or not, i think he was well aware of all bellatrix’s qualities, especially the ones she directed towards him, and was intimately and very deeply proud of her. i think he was really grateful for her existence and the moment she died he just knew everything was lost.

#bellamort #here i am voldemort's psychologist welcome to my office #lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #hp #in the land of gods and monsters #villains #one and one thousand stories lis told #asks/replies #anon

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gillywulf · 5 years ago

Text

Rain Come Down, Forgive This Dirty Town

And now for something completely different. I blame this on 2016′s The Magnificent 7.

AO3

Summary:

“Are you Bellamy Blake?” she asked once she came to a stop a little too close to their table. He forced himself not to react to the unexpectedly light voice.

“I am. Who might you be?” he asked. He let his hand carefully hover near the revolver facing away from her. If she planned to attack him for something, he was ready. He almost pulled at it when she dug into the satchel hanging off her shoulder. The hefty coin purse she dropped onto the table was a surprise.

“A client.” Bellamy’s eyes shifted from the purse to the woman. Then back again. And again.

“Please,” he gestured to the empty chairs nearby, “join us.”

U.S. Marshall Bellamy Blake is good at rescuing people. Some would say he’s the best in the business. That’s why Lexa Woods hires him to find Clarke Griffin.

~~~

Bellamy Blake prided himself on a few things:

1. He was handsome. It wasn’t up for debate.

2. He could be devilishly charming when he needed/wanted to be. Turning it on was as easy as pulling the trigger on his revolver.

3. He did a fine job at raising his sister Octavia, damn whatever the harpies said at the saloon in town.

4. He was good at his job. Really good at it. Calling himself the best might not be a stretch given his track record.

Tracking people down and pulling them out of that location was a science. He had rules and protocol for everything. He did research and prepared more than anyone he knew. Any partners he briefly pulled into a job were vetted until he was 100% sure he knew how they would react in any given situation. All risks were calculated and decided upon in advance. Bellamy did not do ‘hope and pray’. Randomness was not tolerated.

Frankly, Finn Collins was unusual for him. The man across the table from him was exactly the kind of person who would walk into a hostile environment with no plan and still manage to make it out with the asset. He was all charm with just enough brain between his ears to keep him above the rest. His eyes lingered on the breasts of every woman who walked by and winked at the ones who wouldn’t. But Bellamy was stuck with him until they found a lead.

“Are you finished with that meal, or do you want to play with it some more?” he asked Finn with a sigh. They’d been sitting in the saloon for over an hour listening to bad piano playing and listening to the local rabble get riled up. If Bellamy was going to be away from Octavia for so long, he wanted to actually be productive in that time. Finn clearly just wanted to be satisfied.

The long haired man leaned casually back in his chair. “What, you in a rush?”

“Yes, I have a reason to get home.” He didn’t point out that Finn also did, if the letters he reread at night were anything to go by. His impatience was met with indifference.

“Ah, take a load off. That girl of yours will be happy for some alone time away from her big, scary brother,” Finn argued with another swallow of beer.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Bellamy mumbled under his breath. He’d done a good job raising his baby sister, but that meant in no way was she civilized. She was always stealing the pants he’d outgrown and getting into situations that young ladies should not be involved in. He’d been to the sheriff’s office more times to pick her up than to collect on bounties it felt like.

He certainly refused to think about Lincoln who he was sure would find time for Octavia in his absence.

The argument was on the tip of his tongue when the door burst open for a wild looking woman, shocking the saloon into silence. Her brown hair may have been neatly braided a few days ago, but now if was wild and frizzy and windblown in every direction. A wide brim hat had settled around her neck by its string right above a red bandana. Her white shirt was dusty and sweaty, as was the dark skirt riding her hips. All of that would have been enough for Bellamy to declare her some shade of insane had it not been for her face.

She was pretty, uncommonly so for the women Bellamy had seen in these parts. Her nose was set with a regal line and high cheekbones. Her eyes - though hard to make out from the distance - were tight with focus, determination, and - possibly - some sort of lunacy. Those eyes settled on him and he decided to drop the ‘possibly’ from the previous statement. She marched over to their table with a single-mindedness that startled Finn into sitting upright for the first time in weeks.

“Are you Bellamy Blake?” she asked once she came to a stop a little too close to their table. He forced himself not to react to the unexpectedly light voice.

“A client.” Bellamy’s eyes shifted from the purse to the woman. Then back again. And again.

“Please,” he gestured to the empty chairs nearby, “join us.” Some of the noise in the saloon resumed as she fell into the seat with a tiredness that hinted at a multiple day journey, but Bellamy was sure unsavory eyes were still focused on their table. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. This is Mr. Finn Collins, he is working with me for the time being. Might I ask your name?” He waved towards the bar for another drink.

“Alexandria Woods. Mr. Blake, I have been looking for you for four days, I do not have time to dawdle. If you cannot help me, please say so for I am on a time limit and must find someone to help me.” Miss Woods ignored the drink when it was set in front of her on the table. Bellamy had to applaud her focus.

“In general, I have the confidence that I will be able. But I must ask some particulars first.” He leaned in close on his elbows. “What is the time limit and what is the reason for it?”

“Five days; the end of the month. The Wallaces have kidnapped my- my friend as collateral against what they believe the town owes them. They are trying to take control of the mine nearby,” she explained, digging once more in her bag. This time she pulled out a flimsy piece of paper. A photograph Bellamy realized after a moment. That boded well for the money to be made in this job.”This is Jacob Griffin. He was the Sheriff’s deputy. The Wallaces killed him in front of everyone and took his daughter, Clarke, as leverage.”

The photograph was of a good looking family, a proud father, stern mother, and a truly beautiful daughter. Miss Woods pointed first to the man, then to the daughter.

“Wow, dibs when we rescue her,” Finn laughed with a playful punch to Bellamy’s shoulder. He caught Miss Woods tensing her jaw, but something else in the explanation had caught his attention.

“You said the name ‘Wallace’.”

“I did,” she clarified. Bellamy shot a look to Finn (and was relieved to see he’d paid enough attention to catch it) and leaned back in his chair.

“Then keep your money.”

She blanched. “What? No, I-”

“I’ll do it for free.”

“You-” Miss Woods couldn’t seem to find the words. The conversation had taken a turn she was clearly not expecting and she didn’t know how to react to that. “Okay. Thank you. When do we leave?”

“You’re not coming.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“Then I will take my money and the Wallaces’ location with me.” Her eyebrow raised in challenge and Bellamy growled. He couldn’t argue that.

“In front of the church at sun up. If you are late we will be leaving without you.” he decided, downing the rest of his drink. She beamed at him.

“Then I best get my rest.” She stood up from her chair - much less aggressively than when she’d sat in it - and pushed it into the table. She almost began walking away before she remembered the photograph and purse. Thankfully, Finn waited until she was out the door again before hissing at Bellamy.

“‘Free’? What the hell are you thinking? I know it’s the Wallaces, but we still need to get paid. I got debts!” he spat. Bellamy reached for the drink Miss Woods left untouched.

“I am not looking a gift horse in the mouth. We have been on the road weeks looking for a lead when it turns out the lead is chasing us. I want my vengeance now. Consider it her informant fee.” Bellamy downed it in one gulp.

“I like vengeance and money,” Finn said sullenly.

“Mr. Collins, if a woman if going to chase me through the Blistering West of this great nation all the way from her dinky mining town just so she can pay me to rescue her friend, she probably needs that money more than we do. In this circumstance, you must be satisfied with only one.”

Bellamy trudged out from the inn just before the skies had changed from their mess of pink hues into the calm, smooth blue of the early morning. Sleeplessness clung to his limbs and made his steps heavy and slow. He’d never been quite close enough to his goal, not in 15 years, and he could taste it. He was almost able to live the life he’d promised Octavia when she was young. Just them, a farm and no one else. No more killing, maiming, or murder. There was no way he could miss it.

“Good morning, Mr. Blake.” Either he was more exhausted than he thought or Miss Woods was stealthy in ways he never expected. She stood just outside of the inn, her horse reigned and saddled. She herself looked for more put together than she had the previous night. The dust and sweat she’d accumulated from her search had been washed away. Her shirt was now a navy blue and her hair had obviously been brushed to perfection and then neatly tied into a braid. The bandana and the look of absolute seriousness had stayed.

“Miss Woods. Glad you will be able to join us. You seem to me like you are ready to go,” he said, tipping his hat and turning towards the stables next door.

“I am. I promised you, I would not be left behind.” He could feel her hesitation as he opened his horse’s stall to ready him. “Is...Mr. Collins not coming?” Bellamy hid a grin behind his horse’s thick neck. Her hope was palpable and, while shared, not great for the idea of the three of them being stuck together for the next few days.

“Oh he is, he will crawl out from his crevice in the ground shortly, of that I am sure. He always seems to.” No sooner had he said so, than the man himself stumbled into the stables, clearly heavily hungover and smelling foul. Bellamy shot a sarcastic grin to Miss Woods. “Speak of the devil.” She huffed in disappointment and left them to finish preparing.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Finn murmured as he tended to his own horse. Bellamy could only laugh.

Saddling their horses was only the matter of a few minutes and then they led the animals out of the stable, dropping a few coins into the hands of the stable master as they went. The moment Miss Woods caught sight of them, she swung onto her own horse and turned westward.

“Lead the way, ma’am.” And lead she did. They set off at a steady pace. Bellamy was sure his and Finn’s horses could handle it, but Miss Woods’s thick draught horse was only just managing. It was a beautiful white spotted mare, but why would she take a horse like that on this kind of journey? Maybe he wasn’t too far off the mark when he’d guessed about her money issues the night before.

“I need to slow down,” thankfully Finn’s condition saved the day, “I am not awake enough to be at this pace for too long. Also, the pair of you made me miss breakfast. I would be fine for a journey such as this if I had breakfast.” His complaints could just be heard over the sound of hooves slowing down to accommodate his pounding head and dry mouth. An apple flew past Bellamy’s face into Finn’s. He bobbled with it a moment before he finally had a firm hold of it. He nodded appreciatively to Miss Woods before biting down. Bellamy decided to take advantage of the situation.

“Miss Woods, How far is it to the Wallaces’ location? Do you know how many men they might have?” he asked.

“Their compound is about a day and a half’s ride from our starting point. I know it to be large, but the number of men,” she shook her head, “I don’t know for certain. It could be anywhere from thirty to sixty. They employ men on a rotating basis. Though, I am sure, if they need them all, they will have them all.” Bellamy frowned. Sixty was an exceptional number. So was thirty, but thirty - with good planning and careful execution - was doable. By the time they arrived to the compound they would have only three days to prepare. It was tight, but Bellamy Blake was good at his job.

“What about you, Miss Woods?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have a secret weapon or skill that will make this all suddenly very easy?” From this speed and distance it was easy to see the way her face tinted pink.

“If I had the skills or experience necessary for this task, I would have saved myself the trouble of finding you and gone myself. I can shoot a rifle, but I have not had as much practice as I would prefer. I will do whatever I can to help, Mr. Blake, make no mistake about that.” He shifted his gaze from the road ahead and found her jaw steely. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and would do everything in her power to obtain it.

“I would never make that mistake, Miss.” The ride from that point was mostly quiet. Finn made all kinds of noise once he finished his apple; singing, chattering about a woman from the previous night, how many men he would kill in the compound. Both Bellamy and Miss Woods flat out ignored him and it became clear he was only speaking to himself. Thankfully, by the time they’d picked up the pace again, he was hard to hear. Bellamy did not mourn it.

As they sky darkened, his eyes scanned the horizon for a decent enough camping spot. They eventually found one and set about bunking down for the night. After the horses had been settled, the campfire made, watches established, and dinner eaten, they let themselves relax. Finn fell asleep in minutes. The silence of the camp was broken with the snapping fire and the distant bugs. It was not uncomfortable.

“Mr. Blake, may I ask you a question?” Miss Woods asked after a considerable amount of time. He shrugged.

“You may.”

“Why did you refuse my money, but accept my job?” Bellamy could see now over the fire that her eyes were a shade of green that could almost pass for grey in certain light. An unusual woman indeed.

“Seemed to me like you needed it more than we did,” he replied.

“Then why accept? What is it about the Wallaces that lit a fire under you?” He grimaced at her wording.

“It will surprise you, I think, to learn that I was once married. Echo and I - that was my wife - lived with my mother and my baby sister. It was a good life. One I’d like to return to one day. Our town had a mine as well, and like yours, that attracted some rich people who only wanted to get richer. They got violent and started burning houses of those who did not want to sell their land. My mother had been born in that house and was one of those. My sister and I had been out on an errand. When we got back, all that was left was ashes. Turns out Dante Wallace had lit our house himself.” His speech met the air with quiet, as if the cicadas and grasshoppers and paused to hear his story.

“I am sorry to hear that.” Miss Woods’s voice was softer than he’d heard it before. He shrugged.

“Finn has a similar story. Both parents and girlfriend who can now never walk right again. It’s heartbreaking, but it ain’t special.”

“That does not make it unimportant. I lost someone close to me as well. Her name was Costia. If it weren’t for Clarke, I-” she sighed and shook her head, “I would never have moved on. I would never have stopped surviving and started living.” Bellamy looked at her. Is that what he’d been doing? Surviving? Likely. In the years since he left after the fire, he’d seen Octavia only a handful of times and each time she was so vastly different from the previous. He did a good job raising her, not being present.

“Maybe I should try that,” he wondered. “This Clarke sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” That earned a laugh and he was almost startled by the sound of it. So joyful a sound out of so serious a person.

“Don’t tell her that. She will become insufferable. She is wonderful, but she is often pig headed.” Miss Woods’s smile changed to something more far off as her gaze was lost in the fire.

“Why are you putting yourself through this for her?” Bellamy asked.

She sighed again. “Besides knowing she wouldn’t have even stopped to find help if our situations were reversed? Do you remember when I said the Wallaces killed her father, the deputy?” She waited long enough for a confirmation before moving on. “It was because of Clarke in the first place. She has been their most vocal opponent in town. Last week. Cage Wallace came into town personally and tried to intimidate everyone into finally submitting and Clarke went right up to him and told him to leave. Her father was trying to protect her. He agreed of course and was on her side, but we all know what kind of men the Wallaces are. He hoped to spare her from harm. It is debatable on whether or not he succeeded,” she mused. Bellamy furrowed his brow. She seemed more headstrong than anything. His question didn’t really feel answered.

“I need you to understand, Mr. Blake. I am not well-liked back home. People have found all manner of justifiable reasons to cast me out of their own lives. Not once has that mattered to Clarke beyond yelling at people who were maybe a little disagreeable to me. There is nothing I would not do for her.” The serious quality of her voice took a new edge to it and the fire in her eyes was more internal. Bellamy believed her.

“Then we will bring her home,” he promised.

After another early start, this time with a more mellowed Finn, they reached their destination when the sun was highest in the sky. They tied their horses a little bit away and then found an old dried out tree to crouch behind. The compound was almost ugly. That was the only way Bellamy could think to describe it. The paint was chipping, the structure was unappealing, and it seemed entirely unattended to. Strange for men who probably had more money than decent. Finn pulled out a spyglass and carefully scanned the compound.

“I’d need higher ground to confirm, but looks like there’s about 40 to 50 of these bastards. Most have one revolver and one lever action. Only a few have more. There looks like a nice ridge to the north with some green cover where we can park Miss Woods with a rifle. A couple of possible entry points. Dunno, need a better angle,” he murmured as he looked. Bellamy scratched down each note in a small notebook he pulled from his breast pocket, humming and grunting all the while.

“Horses?”

“Only seeing six.”

“Wallaces?”

“Neither in view.”

“Large windows?”

“Top floor to the east.”

“That’s likely to be the office for at least one of them. Is there a spot we can corral the men?”

“Maybe somewhere behind the building. Can’t see. We could make a diversion a mile or so away that only trips once we are far enough.”

“If we can find green branches, sure.” Bellamy wrote each thought and possible strategy down while firing more at Finn. The two went back and forth for another ten minutes before backing slowly away and going around to the ridge Finn had spotted earlier. The new view helped him answer some of Bellamy’s earlier questions.

“What do you think, Miss Woods? This a range you can handle?” Finn asked as Bellamy wrote.

“I will make it work.” That determination leaked out of her again.

“You ever kill a man before?”

“Finn,” Bellamy called out in warning. The man had little tact, but Miss Woods had done nothing to earn his derision.

“I aim to have one novel experience a day.” Bellamy’s head shot up. Finn’s face was long in surprise and startled amusement.

“Well okay, Miss Woods,” he laughed. “Let’s get you another novel experience and set up camp outside a criminal compound.” Bellamy finished his notes and together they found a spot far enough away that their smoke would not attract attention. The afternoon was spent running possible scenarios and brainstorming. Even Miss Woods contributed an idea or two. After dinner, Bellamy pulled his hat over his eyes and leaned against his saddle to sleep.

“You know Miss Woods,” he heard after a long silence, “you’re not bad.”

“You’re not quite terrible either, Mr. Collins. I might even pay you once this is over.” Finn’s laugh followed him to sleep.

The morning was fraught with frenetic energy. It would be a long day consisting almost entirely of observation, but Bellamy figured the fact that they were there and preparing set everyone’s nerves on high. Miss Woods was more still than he’d ever seen her and Finn had started to get that look in his eye that was a precursor to all of his raids. The three of them laid out on top of the ridge they’d discovered and went through each idea from the night before. Some, they were able to dismiss outright, but others proved their viability.

“We would need at least three of them to bite for it to work,” Bellamy argued. Finn shook his head.

“Two would make enough of a disturbance-”

“How are we supposed to find Clarke?” Miss Woods’s soft voice cut through the conversation. “We do not, at this moment, know where she is being held.” She was right, Bellamy noted, looking down at his book. With a frown, he reached for Finn’s spyglass.

“How sure are you that they want her alive?” he asked. Miss Woods hesitated before answering.

“I’m confident, but not enough to stake her life on it.”

“That may have to be enough.” He handed back the spyglass and jotted another sentence down in his book.

“Pardon? What do you mean?” Miss Woods’s alarm was almost endearing.

“Smoke ‘em out?” Finn asked.

“Smoke ‘em out.”

“Now just a minute here.” The men ignored her as she became increasingly nervous at the prospect of just setting a fire in the hopes that criminals cared enough to pull out her friend. But Bellamy knew he was good at his job and didn’t let her shock and disbelief bother him.

“Finn, I need you to go and find green wood. A lot of green wood. Enough for the distraction and smoking out,” he instructed. Finn offered a quick salute and disappeared from the ridge. “Miss Woods, I need you to trust me. This is an enemy I know and a job I perform well in. You came to find me. I will rescue Miss Griffin, just as I said.” The odd colored eyes shadowed just long enough for Bellamy to catch her fear.

“If I must.”

“High praise,” he scoffed. She shrugged and sighed.

“I trust that you are my best hope at success. Mr. Collins is...not ideal, but he has proven in the past two days that he is capable. If you are able to rescue Clarke, I will not stand in the way of your revenge,” she promised.

“If we are not able?” he asked, curiosity nipping impatiently at the back of his head. He knew the question was a mistake when she leveled him with the most blank stare he had ever seen.

“That is not an option, Mr. Blake.” Her word on the subject was law and he was not about to break it. Good thing he was a man of the law.

“That’s settled. Tell me if you can see any men through that window there.” They continued on as if nothing had changed, because really, nothing had. No one’s stance had been revealed to be anything other than initially thought and no threats were made. A successful conversation as far as Bellamy was concerned.

Finn came back after a few hours. He had found - somehow - more than enough for what they’d need. He’d set a large pile where they’d planned the day before and brought brought back more to their campsite. The afternoon was spent narrowing down their plan until it was one that they all agreed on and knew backwards and forwards. Bellamy didn’t stop quizzing them until long after everyone was in their bedrolls and half asleep.

The air when they woke was thick with tension. It was different than the previous morning in that everything had become real over night. The plan they had settled on was happening today and not being ready had real life consequences. They broke down camp and prepared their horses for quick departures. Bellamy went over the plan again as they worked.

“If you run out of ammunition or your part is done or you have Miss Griffin, get out, leave. Two hours east of here we passed a rock formation. We will meet there. If you’re not there in two days, we assume you are dead. Understood?” He waited for agreement before hauling himself up onto his horse. “Okay. Shoot straight. Stay out of sight. Good luck.” And they separated.

Bellamy circled around and hitched his horse out of sight, yet not far enough that he couldn’t sprint to it. He took position and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, a plume of thick, black smoke rose from the horizon. He watched some of the men begin to take notice and point it out to one another. Eventually enough of them noticed the potential security threat that someone who was clearly in charge, ordered the horses to be taken to investigate. Bellamy grinned. All of the horses was even better than the two he’d expected.

He waited again, watching the horses and riders disappear into specks in the distance. This time he kept his eyes on the compound itself and was rewarded when another thick stream of smoke began to rise from the basement. Slowly, the inhabitants of the house trickled out, each coughing more than the last. He took careful stock of each one, but didn’t see a head of blond hair or the two men he’d sworn to kill.

The three of them came out last. Dante Wallace strode out, irritation written into his very and step. His son, Cage, seemed half dressed and gripped the back of Miss Griffin’s dress as he stormed out, just about dragging her behind him. He threw her to the ground and began shouting at his indifferent father. Bellamy took the opportunity to shift closer to the compound. He still couldn’t hear what was being said, but he didn’t need to. A man stood two feet in front of him, back turned. The others would be waiting on him now, and all he had to do was act.

So he went to work, silently taking out those he could with a knife and hiding the bodies in the brush or just around the corner of the compound walls. Finn should have been doing the same on the other side and he honestly thought they could take out everyone in that way when a shot echoed through the valley. He froze, glanced up at Miss Woods, but instead, found a man looming over him, gun pulled, red spilling from a shot on his neck.

And then all hell broke loose.

He was in the open now, fielding shots from his aware enemies. Every now and then, a shot would ring louder than the rest and a man he hadn’t seen would collapse to the ground. Bellamy had to laugh. ‘Not had as much practice as I would prefer’ indeed. Finn seemed to fly in from no where and tackle a man to the ground with a knife in hand and then popped back up instead with a revolver. The hectic noise and adrenaline sharpened Bellamy’s focus so he could easily count the remaining men (7) and land a single shot on each of them before silence rang out.

He could hear simpering and rose from his hiding place. Finn held the Wallaces at gun point while ignoring the bullet wound to his arm. His eyes glinted again, more severe than two morning’s previous. Now they looked liked jewels reflecting in a tropic sun, promising, promising. He’d shot each of then in a knee to prevent escape. Dante clearly took it better than his slobbering son.

“Dante and Cage Wallace. My name is Bellamy Blake, I am a US Marshall. You will be delivered to justice.” The script felt different than it usually did. Maybe because this time he really meant it. Dante laughed.

“You really think either of us will go to prison, son? After all you did here today? I will not, stupid, boy,” he cackled. Bellamy cocked his head to the side dramatically.

“Prison? I do not recall saying that word. I said justice. Have at it, Finn.” The screams that followed would join the rest of his nightmares, but, in them, he would find satisfaction.

Bellamy wiped the blood from his hands and knife as he and Finn turned from the bodies on the ground and towards the bound, blond woman who watched them from underneath an unused cart. Her blue eyes were vivid in rage and fear, so Bellamy dragged Finn to a stop a little farther away than he would have normally.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you Miss Clarke Griffin, daughter of Deputy Sheriff Jacob Griffin?” he asked as he crouched to be eye level with her. The mistrust in her face turned to confusion.

“I am. Who are you?” Her voice was raspy. He imagined a combination of disuse and screaming would do that to a person.

“I am US Marshall Bellamy Blake, this is my associate, Finn Collins. We have come to retrieve you and bring you home,” he explained. At the sound of his name, Finn plastered on an overly charming grin and took a step towards her. She immediately flinched back. “Are you hurt?”

Eyes flickering between the two of them, she shook her head. “They tied me up and threw me in a basement. Nothing but neglect here.” Bellamy nodded and gestured to her bound hands.

“Do you mind if I...?” He pointed to the ropes and she shook her head. Bellamy edged Finn out of the way and carefully ripped through the bonds with his now clean knife. “My horse is just beyond those trees there, can you walk?” he asked, gesturing to the direction he’d left his horse. Miss Griffin frowned.

“I do not believe so. My whole body is shaking. My knee do not feel quite strong enough.”

“May I carry you, then? It isn’t far, and if you want to try yourself, I will happily put you down.”

“Please.” He nodded and carefully scooped her into his arms, one beneath her knees and the other around her back. She looped a tired arm over his neck and let herself relax against him.

“Finn, take what you want from here, I will see you at the meeting place,” he called out as Miss Griffin settled against him.

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Finn gave him a sharp nod and disappeared into the smokey compound. Bellamy turned in the direction of his horse and began walking. He felt Miss Griffin’s head lay against his shoulder, then her hand against his chest.

“Mr. Blake,” she murmured, “thank you for saving me.” Bellamy was struck in that moment by how beautiful she was, even so tired, dirty, and weak.

“It was no burden to me.” He carefully hefted her into the saddle of his horse, checking all the while that she was secure and would not fall off. Then he swung himself up behind her and maneuvered the horse towards their meeting place. Miss Griffin was silent nearly the entire ride, her weight reassuring against his chest. She was clearly conscious which made his job considerably easier and lessened his urgency. The rock formation where they were meeting had just come into sight when she did speak.

“Mr. Blake, is there any news of my town? Have they hurt anyone else?” she asked. The rasp in her voice hadn’t really changed, so Bellamy first reached for the water skin on his saddle and held it out for her.

“I have heard nothing since you have been taken, no,” he answered. She sighed, relieved.

“Thank goodness.” They rode into the spot only minutes later and for a moment, Bellamy was nervous. Miss Woods’s draught horse was no where in sight. He slipped silently from the saddle and then helped Miss Griffin do the same.

“Stay close to the horse,” he said, pulling one of his revolvers from his belt. A shape shot out from a crevice in the rocks, the clear shape of a raised rifle. Bellamy’s own revolver was up and aimed before his brain registered Miss Woods, bleeding from a cut under her eye. The adrenaline caught up and both dropped their weapons.

“Mr. Blake, I am glad-” Miss Woods began to sag against the rock behind her when a shape flew past Bellamy’s peripheral vision. Miss Griffin, with all her exhaustion, threw her arms around Miss Woods with abandon. She could clearly barely hold herself up, but Miss Woods dropped the rifle without a second thought and clasped her arms around the woman in her arms, all but holding her up.

“Lexa, what are you doing here? Are you bleeding?” Miss Griffin pulled back just enough to caress the skin below the injury with her thumb. Miss Woods seemed startled by it.

“I must be. One of the men found where I was hiding and we had an altercation.” The explanation seemed lack-luster, but if she was mostly unhurt, that was fine for Bellamy, though, the soft nickname from Miss Griffin caught him by surprise. The blond clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“You idiot,” he raised an eyebrow at the affectionate insult, “you should have just left me.” Miss Woods’s face went impossibly soft at that and Bellamy came to think maybe he shouldn’t be present for this conversation.

“You know I would never.” And then she dipped her head and kissed her. A lot of things suddenly made no sense and complete sense. He turned around to give them some privacy and to give his brain a hell’s chance at catching up. He walked a little back the way they’d rode in just in time to see Finn and his horse grow bigger on the horizon. Finn’s smile took up the entire real estate of his face and the sound of coin in his saddlebags was the only explanation Bellamy needed.

“Ho! Did well on my scavenge. I think I found damn near $6,000. Since you decided Miss Woods does not need to pay for our services, you and I will do a fifty fifty split. We can count after dinner,” he finally hopped off his horse and looked around, “the ladies well?” he asked.

Bellamy hummed. “Let’s give them a little time to catch up alone.”

They set off again before nightfall just to put a little extra distance between themselves and the compound. They’d only distracted a group of them and no one knew if they would be on the hunt for their employers murderers. Granted, they had no real clues as to who that would be, but it was better to be safe than sorry. They made camp far later than they would have normally and Bellamy sent Finn off to do a quick hunt.

He wasn’t gone long, but it gave the women enough time to settle in. They’d shared the draught horse and now shared a bedroll, their bodies in some constant ind of contact as they made themselves ready. Finn wasted no time in falling asleep after eating so Bellamy spent his time cleaning his weapons and watching Miss Griffin tend to the cut on Miss Woods’s face. There was an obvious tenderness and familiarity there that he wasn’t sure he ever even reached with Echo. The insistence behind the words Miss Woods spoke each time she was sure they would rescue Miss Griffin put things into perspective, as did Miss Griffin’s question about the safety of her people.

Eventually, the day - or week - caught up with Miss Griffin and she fell asleep into Miss Woods who was half propped against her saddle behind her. Her fingers played with the golden strands and the smile on her face matched the interactions he’d caught between them. It was heart warming, to know he played such a role in getting them back to each other. Miss Woods’s eyes flickered up to meet his. He grinned at her and wiggled his eyebrows at the woman in her arms. Her face went pink, but her smile grew.

The town was no different than when Bellamy had left it months prior. Still half broken down with people who cared less about the buildings and more about their neighbors. His own house was a little more spruced up than he remembered. New shutters, patched roof, painted door. It made sense when he drew closer and found Lincoln sitting in a chair on the porch opposite his sister. He held a book in his hands and a soft smile on his face. Octavia’s was much the same and Bellamy couldn’t help but think of the two women he’d just escorted home.

“My, my, you’ve grown,” he called out when he was close enough. Octavia’s face whipped over to him and the rest of her body followed soon afterward, trapping him in a hug the moment his feet touched ground. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the familiar scent of her, the scent of home.

“Welcome back, big brother. How long are you here for?” Bellamy pulled back and made a show of looking for his US Marshall badge.

“If it is amenable to you, forever.” Her face beamed at him and he decided that Octavia should have always been his number one and now, finally, would be.

#fanfiction #the 1oo #mine #clexa #i dont know why ive never done anything like this before it was so fun

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detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman · 5 years ago

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Chapter 3 - Similar Minds

Part 3/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 8526

Warnings: Swearing, mild suggestive banter, implied character death, traumatic car accident related flashback/panic attack.

Genre: Self-insert/Angst

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Arriving in Camden, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detective Rachel, and Connor began investigating the AX400 case. Rachel is determined to show off her skills and impress Connor. However, things begin to go awry when the AX400 flees from the scene and the pair has to pursue it and the child in its care.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

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I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m not a fan of car rides.

Driving, or at least before self-driving cars became the norm, I was more comfortable with. Hell, I actually really enjoyed car rides before.

But now that I was more acutely and painfully aware of my own mortality? It was like sitting in a tin can of death and impending doom for me. It’s why I always tried to take public transit. Which is strange because for the longest time, I did not trust public transit until I had no choice but to use it.

I watched the first episode of BBC’s Sherlock way back when, and since then, I did not trust public transit, especially taxis.

Granted, it’s not like I panic. I used to. I wasn’t able to ride in cars for a good long while, but after putting in the effort as well as doing the steps to overcome my fear that my psychologist recommended I take, I’m now able to at least tolerate car rides.

Do I like them? No. Do they give me anxiety and perhaps trigger me? Yes. But can I deal with them? Yes, depending on the circumstances. I’m not perfect and I have off days like everyone else.

But I’d like to think I was pretty good at hiding my anxiety. That was until I had both the pleasure and misfortune of being temporarily partnered with Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife, as he introduced himself as. “Are you alright, Rachel?” He asked me. “I’ve detected a large spike in your heart rate as well as a drop in temperature and signs of hyperventilation.” If I had remembered that he could literally do a scan of my vitals and know what’s wrong with me, I would’ve avoided this altogether. I wasn’t exactly a fan of feeling vulnerable in the police environment, but there was something so sincere about Connor’s queries. Which was strange, since he was an android and couldn’t really portray truth or lies differently. But maybe that was why he came off as sincere as he did.

I looked up at him, clutching tightly to my left arm. He was seated in the front beside Hank, since they were the ones that were actually partners and I was just their backup. Although, I knew I was more than that to Hank. As sour as he was, he liked my company, as much as I enjoyed pissing him off. I wasn’t like Gavin, though. I just mildly annoyed people with dumb or lewd jokes or my weird quirks and random thoughts.

Gavin was, well, an insufferable asshole.

I always had a feeling that Hank had a bit of a soft spot for me, and not in the creepy “old man coming onto a young vulnerable woman” sort of way. I think he recognized that I did some really good work despite my oddities. Hell, he even admitted that I was a better detective than a lot of them on the force (always glaring at Gavin when he said that). If I wasn’t working on a case, he’d get me to tag along on whatever case he was working on. Or he’d recommend the better cases to me, usually the harder ones that he didn’t want to deal with but couldn’t trust the others to take on either.

That last part kind of annoyed me, but the pride I felt after solving them every time sort of kept me from stopping him. Especially if it came with a jealous glare from Gavin. That was sheer nirvana on the spectrum of my “smug bastard” metre.

“Rachel?”

Connor calling me by name snapped me out of my thoughts. “Oh, sorry. I zoned out.” I quickly apologized, nervously adjusting my short hair and pushing my glasses up my nose. “What was the question?”

“I was just asking if you were alright.” Connor repeated.

“Oh, yeah! I’m fine.” I said, shuffling in my seat, trying somehow not to focus on the outside and inside of the self-driving car at the same time. “I just...don’t like car rides.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We’ll get there in about a minute.” Hank assured me, glancing back at me with a gruff smile. “And on the way back, you can play your music and tune out.”

I smiled appreciatively. He knew that playing and humming and singing to my music helped me stay calm and relax. “Thanks, Hank.”

The greying man gave me a nod and turned back around, however Connor’s gaze was glued to me. As he stared at me, I stared back at him. It wasn’t really threatening as it was odd, and I wasn’t really sure what he was thinking of. I noticed his LED was spinning yellow for a brief moment before it settled back to its pristine blue hue. “What profession usually shares the best gossip?” He suddenly asked me.

I squinted my eyes at him skeptically. Is this a test? A trick question? I tried to think about what a real answer to his question would be. “Uhhhh, I guess NSA agent?” I answered.

“Landscape development.” I tilted my head at him curiously. Huh? “After all, they’ve got dirt on just about everyone.”

My eyes immediately snapped shut as I took in a deep and sharp inhale and let it back out when I realized that Connor was actually telling me a joke. And a really bad one.

“Ah, Jesus fucking Christ. Not you, too.” Hank complained with a groan.

As much as I wanted to agree with him, I was trying really hard to fight a smile and a laugh as I sort of blinked my eyes at my shoes. As hard as I tried, I could feel the involuntary grin start spreading across my face and the urges of a snicker erupting in my belly. Eventually, I gave in and conceded defeat, bursting into a fit of begrudging giggles. “That was so bad, Connor.”

He seemed to blink in confusion. “You didn’t like it?” I could’ve sworn you saw wounded pride in his deep brown eyes. But not the brazen kind, the kind that made me want to wrap my arms around him and apologize.

“No no! I love it, unfortunately.” I said, still giggling and trying to play it off. “That was so bad, but it was also really clever.”

“I have more, if you’d like to hear them.” Connor offered.

“Please don’t encourage her.” Hank grumbled.

I then gave the android, whom I had already decided was a dork, a confident smirk. “How about I tell you one, first?” I suggested. “And you’re not allowed to look up the answer for it. That’s cheating.”

“Oh Jesus, here we go.” Hank sighed.

“I won’t.” Connor assured me, his facial expression not changing very much, but the corner of his mouth was ever so slightly upturned.

I tried to rack my brain for some of my favourite jokes, and I quickly remembered one that was always fun to tell. “What do you get when you mix a dyslexic, an insomniac, and an agnostic?” I asked him, my right eyebrow raised expectantly, my hands folded in my lap.

Connor paused for a moment before he answered. “I’m not sure.” He replied. “What do you get when you mix a dyslexic, an insomniac, and an agnostic?”

I found it sort of endearing that he repeated the whole question even though he didn’t have to. I put on my biggest and smuggest grin before I delivered the punchline. “Someone who lies awake at two in the morning wondering whether or not there’s a Dog.” I said with a small dramatic gesture of my hands as I leaned back in my seat.

From beside Connor, I heard Hank snicker. I couldn’t hold back my swollen sense of pride. “Okay, fine, that one was pretty clever.”

“See? You like my jokes, Hank.” I pressed insistently.

He scoffed. “Yeah, when they’re good.”

I raised both my eyebrows at him. “So, all of them, then.”

I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Alright, listen here, smartass.”

But he didn’t really have a response to my joke as I felt the car start slowing down and I realized that I actually forgot about my anxiety for the remainder of the trip. “We’re here.”

As Hank got out of the car, Connor remained there for a moment. “I thought it was clever, and I enjoyed it. I appreciate your sense of humour.”

Connor then got up after Hank, and I sat there briefly for a moment before getting out of the car to follow them. There was one thought that was swirling in my head at that moment. Did he do that on purpose? To distract me from the car ride?

I pulled my hood up as we approached, as I was not a fan of the rain, but didn’t feel like bringing an umbrella. It wasn’t raining hard enough to need one, I figured.

I saw a familiar face. Hank’s buddy, Ben Collins. I didn’t know him that well, personally, but we were on a first name basis and in all the interactions I’ve had with him, he was pretty friendly. “Mornin’, Hank.” He greeted, eyeing Connor and then myself. “I see you’ve got that with you.” I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of displeasure. I knew he wasn’t hostile, more just neutral. But it still stung somewhere in me to refer to Connor that way. “And Rachel, your favourite detective.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Ha ha, he asked me to come along and since I had nothing else to do and didn’t wanna miss out on this action, I decided to tag along.” I said coolly.

“Alright, no need to be jumpy. I was just askin’.” Ben said, not trying to start a fight.

I knew he meant nothing by it, but I didn’t want to be known as just “Hank’s favourite.” I had my own merits I was pretty damn proud of.

“She’s one of the best detectives there is in this city, so count yourself lucky I brought her along.” I smiled a brief smile at Hank. It was nice knowing that he always had my back.

“Not denying that, Hank.” Ben replied with a nonchalant shrug.

I folded my arms and regarded him patiently. “So, what have we got, Ben?”

The stocky white-haired man flipped open a notepad and I took mine own to start jotting down notes. “Well, it was seen in the convenience store down that way.” He gestured to the place, and I took note of it. “The cashier said that it was with a young girl and it asked for some cash for a place to spend.”

I looked up at him. “And?” I asked.

“It left, taking the girl with it.” Ben replied.

“So, nothing was taken.” I conjectured.

“Nope.” He affirmed. “It just left.”

I quickly took note of that. “Where else was it seen?”

“The only other place it was seen was the laundromat just over there.” I looked over at it and took note of it. “And hanging around the motel that way.” I looked over in that direction and took another note.

My notepad looked a lot like this:

Model AX400

Took off with a little girl

Belonged to Todd Williams (scumbag, I don’t believe him for a second)

Was seen in the convenience store asking for spare cash, but didn’t take anything

Was also seen in the laundromat and around the motel

Given all this information, I had a pretty clear idea of what happened. But it still wasn’t completely conclusive. Not until I fully immersed myself and started doing what I did best.

“Alright, thanks Ben.” Hank said, turning around to look at the street.

Ben turned in the same direction as I eyed him. “We’ve got officers sweeping the neighbourhood, in case anyone saw anything.”

Hank nodded. “Okay. Well, let me know if they turn anything up.”

Ben looked over across Hank. “What are you gonna do with that?”

I followed his gaze and found Connor idling by away from us. He was sort of just standing there in the rain looking at nothing. It made me sort of chuckle a bit, seeing him just kind of there. “I’ve no idea.” Hank said.

I scoffed. “Why not use him?” I suggested as I started making my way towards the android. “Or, better yet,” I turned around to face Hank with a smug grin, “wait until I do my thing. I wanna see the look on his face.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I doubt you’ll be able to show him up, but I’d love to see you try.” He agreed. “It’ll at least be interesting whether or not you do.”

“And isn’t that the best kind of rivalry?” I said somewhat jokingly. As fun as it would be to be able to rival a prototype detective android, I did actually want to work with him. I just couldn’t help the smug bastard in me that wanted to impress him.

I approached Connor, noticing him staring off, his LED spinning a pensive yellow. “So, robo-cop.” I started off. “What’cha gettin?”

“It took the first bus that came along,” he started, turning towards me, “and stayed at the end of the line. Its decision wasn’t planned, it was driven by fear.”

I pulled out my notepad and I took note of that. I felt Hank approach behind me, scoffing. “Androids don’t feel fear.” He contested.

“Deviants do.” Connor corrected. “They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions.”

“I wouldn’t call it irrational.” I chimed in. “They may be rash and impulsive, but they’re not irrational. They’re not mindless. They’re still driven by rational thought processes unless under specific circumstances of extreme and persistent abuse of various sorts.” Hank raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. “It’s reasonable to assume. Besides, on the way here, I pulled out my phone and did a search on the AX400 and found an interview with its owner, Todd Williams, on channel 16 news. He claimed that the android attacked him unprovoked, but immediately he struck me as not being truthful. First, I find it extremely hard to believe that it attacked him ‘for no reason.’ No one just does shit like that for no reason, so he’s hiding something. He also didn’t mention anything about having a daughter.”

Hank shrugged. “So?”

“The AX400 model is designed to be a caretaker of the home.” I continued on. “Take care of chores around the house, take care of cleaning, preparing dinner, all of that. That also includes child care. So, the android was already looking after a little girl when it was living with Todd in his home. The fact that he didn’t mention anything about his daughter is really setting off my alarm bells that he shouldn’t be trusted. So, if the android felt that it had to look after the young girl, that also means protecting her. And if it recognized Todd as a threat to her, it stands to reason that it broke through its programming and became deviant in order to protect the girl and save her, escaping Todd and fighting him off.”

Connor’s LED was spinning a frantic yellow. “I don’t understand.” He said, and I could recognize vocal frustration. “What makes you so sure about this conclusion? Conjecture?”

“A very strong gut instinct.” I replied. “And when it’s mattered, mine haven’t been wrong.”

“You can’t make conclusions based on a ‘gut feeling,’ detective.” Connor shook his head, his brows furrowed. “Not without enough evidence to support it.”

I scoffed at him. “You think that humans are less advanced than machines like you just because we call processes and programs things like ‘feelings’ and ‘instincts?’” I challenged him. “The human brain is like a computer, constantly taking in, recalling, collecting, and retaining information. Hell, instincts are just your brain recalling similar scenarios and examples and patterns from several different situations in only a fraction of a second. So when someone has ‘a bad feeling’ about someone, it’s not just an irrational feeling. It’s their brain analyzing a bunch of different patterns they’ve seen or experienced and telling that person that ‘this person fits this pattern, do not trust them.’

“And that’s the feeling I get about Todd.” I let out a sigh. “Because he’s not the first ‘Todd’ I’ve had to meet, unfortunately. And people like him aren’t particularly original. And humans are very good at detecting when something is wrong with something or someone. And as much as I wish more cops were more unbiased and logical like you are, I’m gonna go with Occam’s Razor on this one.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Hank shut it down. He knew I had a tendency to ramble on, and tended to stop me before I got too carried away. On the one hand, I really didn’t like being interrupted like that, especially because I knew I was going to forget that tangent later. But on the other, it was nice having someone who could keep you on-track. “That still doesn’t tell us where it went.”

“It didn’t have a plan. And it had nowhere to go.” Connor said, his LED returning to a calm blue. “Maybe it didn’t go far.”

“Maybe.” Hank agreed.

“Well, you said that it got off at a bus stop at the end of the line.” I reminded Connor. “Which one would that be?”

He pointed at it, across the street. “That one over there.”

I nodded and closed my notebook. “Then that’s where we start.” I began making my way over, Hank and Connor following closely.

As I approached the bus stop across the street, I sat down and let out a long sigh. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on either side of my face. On each hand, my index and middle fingers were situated on my forehead just above my eyebrows while the other two were folded, and my thumbs were pressing into my cheeks. I was taking a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind and get into the right frame.

“What is she doing, Lieutenant?” I heard Connor whisper.

“You don’t have to whisper, I’m right here.” I said, not with hostility. “And I’m just getting into the zone.”

Connor paused for a moment. “To do what?” I could practically see his LED flickering yellow in my mind as I pictured him.

“You’ll understand in a moment.” I assured him. Hank and Connor were both silent as I found my centre. And after a few moments, I got up from my seat, clasped my hands behind my back and opened my eyes. “Alright, I’m a deviant android who has just escaped the home of an unstable and dangerous man who has proven himself to be a serious threat to his daughter, the child whom I was tasked to look after and whose safety is now my top priority.” I said, all the information we’ve gathered clear and at the forefront of my consciousness. “We’ve reached the end of the line, and now we have nowhere to go. It’s late, it’s raining, and - Connor, what was the temperature last night?”

“2° Celsius.” He responded immediately.

I turned to him. “You used Celsius instead of Farenheit, I’m surprised.”

“You’ve lived on the Canadian west coast for most of your life.” Connor said bluntly. “I figured you’d prefer it that way.”

“Well, you figured correctly.” I agreed. “Imperial is stupid and dumb and makes no sense. Imperial is for losers.”

“Hey!” Hank protested. I raised my eyebrow quizzically at him. He then shuffled in place before he shrugged. “Whatever.”

Getting back into my mindspace, I took another breath. “Anyways, it’s late, it’s cold, and it’s raining. I have a child with me who is very susceptible to the elements, and traveling any further from this street would be unwise, so my priority is find a place to spend the night that’s warm, sheltered, safe, and/or comfortable. So, I take the little girl’s hand and I start walking, walking, walking, walking,” I repeated going down the street and looking around, “walking, and walking until I see a motel across the street. A motel would be ideal for the girl. It’s comfortable, safe, warm, and dry, and sheltered. However, it is not discreet and we could potentially be discovered or turned in by the staff. I start crossing the street so I can get a closer look and I can evaluate my options. And as I get closer, I also notice the convenience store further ahead, so potentially I could get money or supplies since given the panic and desperation a few hours ago, it can be reasonably assumed we left with nothing but the clothes on our backs.

“And as I approach the motel, I see that you need $40 up-front and that androids weren’t allowed in. Seeing as I have no money and I can be very easily identified as an android because,” I then turned to Connor who was following close behind me, “correct me if I’m wrong, but all working androids are required to wear something similar to what you’re wearing to be easily recognizable, correct?”

“Correct.” He said with a nod. “It’s in accordance with the American Androids Act of 2029 that all androids must be clearly identified and distinguishable from humans.”

I got back on track. “Right, troubling implications of that aside, I would need money and a change of clothes, both things I do not have. So, I disregard the motel for now and go into the convenience store. Now, we know for a fact that the android did not take anything from the store, and I do not think that there is another realistically feasible way to scrounge up $40 for a room, so I think it’s safe to say that we can eliminate the motel from our potential hiding places.”

“What about the laundromat?” Hank asked. Connor was uncharacteristically quiet. “It may not have taken money, but it could’ve stolen some clothes.”

“In terms of whether or not we stayed in the motel, that doesn’t matter if we don’t have the money for a room.” I pointed out. “Stealing clothes could both be to disguise the android and keep the little girl warm and dry. Stealing money would only help with getting a motel room. So while the laundromat is a considering factor, it is not a determining factor. So, because we know that it did not steal from the convenience store, we can rule out the motel.”

Hank nodded. “Makes sense.” He agreed. “So what does that leave us with, then?”

“Working on that.” I assured him. I took another deep breath and resumed my role. “Okay, so motel is off the table. So, what other options do I potentially have? So, I cross the street again. And I’m walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, and I see a parking lot!” I pointed at the sign that said “parking.” I continued. “So, I go to check it out.”

I made my way towards it and peaked in. There was a car inside, but it looked abandoned. I opened the gate and stepped inside, getting a better look at the place. My gaze was fixed on the car. “I notice that the car is abandoned. It would safe, more comfortable than would honestly be expected, but not ideal, warm, and sheltered. But, it’s kind of open and exposed.” I glanced behind me at the gaps in the tarps surrounding the chain link fencing. “And the car has not been touched. Nothing. If they were here, they didn’t stay. So, what’s the next option?”

I turned around and saw the towering abandoned structure just on the other side of the inner fence. “A creepy, decrepit, abandoned house to squat in. Definitely not ideal. It’s sheltered, and it’s definitely hidden. Nobody would look for us in there. But I’m not sure if it would be safe or warm or comfortable. But, seeing as they didn’t stay in the motel and they clearly left the car undisturbed, looks like by process of elimination, we’re left with,” I groaned in defeated disappointment. “The creepy, decrepit, abandoned house. Great, one of every woman’s worst fucking nightmares.”

Hank nodded, standing beside me. “Well, that all makes sense to me.”

“There’s blue blood on the fence. Another android was definitely here.” I snapped my head in his direction. “That was incredible!” Connor exclaimed, to my complete surprise. Damn, that’s some high praise! But he then did something that was unexpected, but honestly, it was fucking adorable. He pretended to straighten his tie and cleared his throat as if he were embarrassed. And if I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he was. “Very impressive, Rachel.”

I smiled wide and beaming, soaking up the android’s praise. “Why thank you, Connor. That is quite the compliment, coming from you.”

“Your mental process as you were analyzing the different outcomes and evidence and possibilities piecing together the previous night,” he went on. “It seems to be a lot like reconstruction.”

I tilted my head at him, intrigued. “Reconstruction?” I echoed.

He nodded. “It’s one of my programs. By analyzing evidence and samples and compiling them, I’m able to create a theoretical reconstruction of the scenario that I can play back that can show more literally to me what took place.”

“Oh!” I said, taking in his explanation. “Interesting!”

“I am curious, though.” He interjected. “Why did you say all of your thoughts out loud like that? Is it necessary?”

“Well, it’d be pretty weird if I just walked off without saying anything, now wouldn’t it?” I said with a scoff. “But it also helps me remain focused and on-track. See, in my head, I’m holding so many ideas, clusters, thoughts, and pieces all at once. So, depending on the circumstances and the subject, information and details tend to get lost very easily. Saying it all out loud means I have to think about and focus on what I’m saying, which helps it stick. It keeps me in a rhythm and when I say my thoughts out loud, it helps me not only process it, but retain it. Because otherwise, I can potentially forget important details as soon as I turn around, as I know I often tend to do.”

Connor nodded, seeming to understand. “Ah, I see.”

“If you two are done sucking each other off, we have a deviant to find and a case to solve.” Hank interrupted.

I groaned at him. “Did you have to phrase it like that?” I asked.

“If it means you’ll stop talking, yeah.” Hank responded.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, point taken.” I conceded. “Let’s go into the creepy home that definitely won’t house my impending doom.”

Connor approached the fencing and looked up at the house. “Anybody home?” He called. He got no response, so he quickly knelt down and crawled through the fencing on the bottom, which I realized had been cut with fence cutters.

I grimaced up at the house. “Why did it have to be a creepy house straight out of a horror movie?” I complained.

Hank scoffed at me. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can just stay out here and I’ll go in after him.”

I did not like that idea. “Oh, Hell no! That’s worse!” I refused. “How about you stay here and I go in with Connor?”

I didn’t even wait for an answer from Hank before I crawled through the fencing on the bottom. “Well, that was easy.”

I glared at him from behind me. “Oh, shut up, Hank.”

“Yeah, speak for yourself.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Now hurry up, he’s already way ahead of you.”

Taking up a brisk pace, I quickly caught up with Connor, who quickly regarded me with confusion. “This could be dangerous.” He said. “You should’ve stayed behind with Lieutenant Anderson.”

I looked up into his eyes. “I didn’t like the idea of you going in alone, and I also didn’t like the idea of being by myself.” I answered. “At least this way, we can watch each other’s backs.”

Connor nodded, seeming to accept my justification. Dutifully, I followed in behind him, acutely aware of the gun in my holster. He seemed to be rounding the perimeter of the house before he found boards he could peek through. I sneakily peeked in from the corner and found what looked like a person just standing in the middle of the room. I didn’t get a good enough look at them, but I felt my gut tighten and my jaw clench. Connor, however, remained calm as usual, and walked on ahead whilst I followed him. Across from the boards was a green door with a silver knob. I saw that it had a little paw print on it, and I thought it was cute. This must’ve been a pretty nice place before it fell in shambles. I thought, briefly.

Connor wrapped his hand around the knob and twisted it, and the door gave way without much resistance. Connor and I stepped through and the green door closed behind us under its own weight.

When I saw him in the middle of the room, I felt my heart stop and my blood turn to ice. “Oh my God...” I whispered. He was unmistakably an android, but the left side of his face had been torn and his hands were weathered and he looked as though he was wearing only what he could manage to scrounge out of the garbage. Upon seeing his face, I instinctively grabbed my left arm. He was twitching uncontrollably, out of fear, no doubt. It took all of my will to keep my eyes from watering at the horrid sight.

Connor approached the disfigured android slowly. In a quiet voice, Connor began speaking to him. “Don’t be afraid.” He reassured the android, as he began making his way around the room, inspecting it. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the android, and I was quickly failing to keep my tears from welling. “What happened to you?” I asked in a hushed whisper. “Who did this to you?”

The android looked up at me and locked eyes with me, and I noticed that the eye on his left where his wounds were was damaged and had gone dark blue. “Humans.” He responded quickly. “Humans...” He answered. “Humans hurt Ralph...humans did this to Ralph.”

I felt my heart break into a million pieces and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. “I’m so sorry.” I said, quickly wiping away the tears from my eyes and taking a moist breath in through my nose as I tried to recompose myself.

Connor took notice of me as he continued to search, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I’m looking for an AX400. Have you seen it?” He asked.

“Ralph’s seen nobody...” The android replied hastily.

Connor continued analyzing various details of the room. “Are there any other androids here?” He asked.

“Other androids?” Ralph asked, looking up at Connor before looking back down at the ground. “No...Ralph is alone...”

Anytime he spoke, I just felt my heart break even more. I looked away and started to walk towards the stairs. “There’s blue blood on the fence.” Connor pointed out. “I know another android was here.”

“Ralph scratched himself coming through...” He answered immediately. “That’s Ralph’s blood...”

But as I approached the stairs, I noticed an odd, but unmistakable smell. Another aspect of my atypicalities was that aside from my eyesight, my senses were particularly sensitive. Although, I also had auditory processing issues and was hard of hearing, so my hearing was not always reliable.

But one of those senses was my sense of smell. I could pick up smells very easily and a lot quicker than other people could. Particular smells also tended to trigger sensory overload or just generally set me off. It’s one of the reasons I can’t fucking stand chewing gum in any capacity.

But this was a smell I’d experienced enough times to know it when I smelled it. And it was not pleasant. It was the smell of a human cadaver. At least a week old, it had to be. But from what I could tell, it was not on this floor with us. It smelled like it was coming from up the stairs

Connor noticed my attention on the stairs and walked towards me. My eyes kept going to Ralph and the scars on his face, and I could hardly find it in myself to blame him. After what he’d been through, what reason did he have to not lash out out of fear? What reason did he have not to think that any human would just hurt him more? Humans probably would hurt him again or did. And as much as I was not comfortable with the fact that Ralph was probably a murderer, I didn’t want him destroyed. I wanted him helped, and I wanted him not to have suffered through what he had suffered to make him this way. He didn’t deserve this. I thought, with a fury flowing through my veins. None of them do.

As Connor was slowly going up the stairs, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. When my eyes found it, I realized what was happening. Below the stairs was the barest movement of a crouching shape. The AX400 and the girl were hiding down there below the stairs. And Ralph was protecting them.

“Is anyone upstairs?” Connor asked, already up half the flight and peering up to the second floor.

“No.” Ralph replied. “Nobody.”

Connor looked over at Ralph, his gaze lingering for a moment on the disfigured android. But then his gaze locked onto me. I knew he was no fool. He knew I noticed something was amiss and he took that as his cue to investigate. Either the smell wasn’t strong enough for Connor to notice, or he just couldn’t smell at all. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if androids could smell.

I had a choice to make. If I gave Connor the idea that there was something up there to investigate, he would arrest Ralph and have him destroyed. Which, perhaps he did deserve. But I didn’t feel like it was my right to decide his fate. Not when we had something else more important to deal with at the moment.

Deciding to keep Ralph’s secret, I shook my head at Connor, telling him that there was nothing upstairs.

Connor’s yellow LED spun back to blue as he quickly made his way back onto the ground floor.

The android detective was making his way to check where I saw the fugitives hiding. I felt my heart start beating faster, until I heard Hank’s voice from behind us. “Connor, Rachel, what the hell are you doin’ in there?!”

“Coming, Lieutenant!” Connor called, kneeling down.

As soon as he did, Ralph wrapped his arms around Connor faster than I could react and I pulled my gun on him. “RUN! QUICK! KARA!” Ralph was yanking Connor backwards, and I quickly realized he wasn’t trying to hurt him.

He was allowing the others space to get away. From under the stairs, two people burst out and bolted around through the door on the left of the room, and Hank quickly came in the way we did as Ralph threw Connor onto the ground weakly.

The moment Hank entered the room, I saw my chance and took it, giving chase after them. From behind me, I heard Connor shouting. “It’s here! Call it in!”

I didn’t slow down for a moment as I was laser focused on catching up to Kara and the girl before Connor got to them. I didn’t want them dead, but I’d rather be the first to reach them than anyone else.

I rushed past an officer in pursuit, the pair still in my sights. It didn’t take much to keep pace with them. They were within arm’s length, but I obviously wasn’t going to just grab them. “Wait!” I cried.

But they didn’t stop. They kept running. I couldn’t blame them. When I almost had them in my reach, they quickly turned a sharp corner into an alley. When they reached a fence blocking their path, I pulled my gun on them. “Freeze! Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” A complete fucking lie, but I couldn’t let them leave.

They both turned around slowly, their hands in the air. As I approached them, stepping closer, I took notice of what the android looked like. Her hair was short and blonde. It looked as though it had just been cut. But most remarkably, I noticed her LED.

Or lack thereof. She didn’t have one. Which means she must have removed it. And without it, along with her human clothes, she looked nearly indistinguishable from a human.

The android known as Kara began to speak directly to me. “You care about androids, I know you do! I saw it! When you looked at Ralph! When you talked to him!” She pleaded. “We can’t stay here, you have to let us go!”

I wanted to. So badly, I wanted to let them be free and run away. But...I had to know the truth. “What happened between you and Todd?” I asked her. “Why did you run away?”

“He was going to hurt Alice!” Kara answered without any hesitation. So, Alice is her name. “She was in danger. I couldn’t let him hurt her. I had no choice! I had to protect her!”

As if being pulled down by a weight, my arms began lowering. “I knew it.” I said, more to myself than them, but they heard it anyways. “I was right.”

But a familiar voice quickly divided my attention. “Don’t shoot, Rachel!” Connor’s voice echoed from behind me. “We need it alive!”

Taking this opportunity, I mouthed one thing to them. Run! I then turned to Connor and glared at him. “Oh, wow! Thank you Captain Obvious!” I started, chewing him out. “It’s not like anyone in their right mind could tell that the android who’s responsible for the life of a young child needed to be kept alive!”

“They’re getting away!” Connor cried as he rushed past me.

Looking back to the fence, I felt relief that they were already pretty much over the fence and out of our reach. I quickly put the gun back into my holster and rushed to join Connor at the fence.

Kara locked eyes with Connor and then myself before she and Alice slid down the muddy slope. But then I looked ahead of them and I realized what they were facing.

The highway. They were going to cross the highway.

Immediately, I felt the worst kind of lightning pierce my veins. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I felt like I was choking on air itself. Feelings of helplessness, pressure on my chest and head, and sensations like shards in my skin began overwhelming my senses.

But there was only one thing going through my mind.

I couldn’t let them cross.

I grabbed the fence and started to climb up it, but I suddenly felt hands clutching onto my wrist and pulling me back down. “What are you doing?” Connor asked.

“They’re not gonna make it across the highway!” I cried, trying to scramble up the fence, but Connor kept holding me and then pulling me down with impossible strength. “If I don’t save them, they won’t make it! I can’t let them die out there!”

“If you go after them, there’s almost no chance of you succeeding!” Connor said, holding me down. “If you die on that road, there’s no coming back for you! Don’t you understand, Rachel?!”

“I don’t care!” I practically screamed, trying to fight my way out of his grip, feeling my breath grow rapid and frantic. “I can’t let them die out there! I can’t let them die!”

“I can’t let you take that risk!” Connor insisted, grabbing my face and forcing me to stare at him. “If you die, you don’t get a second chance. Do you hear me?”

“Don’t you dare, Rachel!” Hank’s husky voice called from behind us. He sauntered up and leaned against the fence, catching his breath. “Oh, fuck...that’s insane.”

He let go of me, and I couldn’t control the streams of tears that poured down my face as my limbs began to tremble violently. I hated that he was right, but every fibre of my body was screaming at me to stop them before it was too late. The sounds of the cars were practically deafening even though they were so far away, and the sounds of sirens only made it worse.

Suddenly, I felt Connor shift, and looked over to see Hank yanking him down. “Hey! Where you goin’?”

“I can’t let them get away!” Connor retorted.

I stared at Connor straight in the face. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I practically screamed at him.

“They won’t.” Hank said. “They’ll never make it to the other side.”

“I can’t take that chance!” This time, both Hank and I had to pull Connor down to stop him from jumping the fence.

“Hey, you will get yourself killed!” Hank shouted at him. “Do NOT go after ‘em, Connor. That’s an order!”

But Connor didn’t listen, and I felt my heart constrict so tightly I could hear my rapid heartbeat in my ears and pounding in my head. “CONNOR! God damn it!” Hank growled as Connor slipped out of our grasps and jumped the fence.

As I watched Connor slide down the slope, I lost all control. “IF YOU DIE OUT THERE, I SWEAR I WILL DRAG YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND KILL YOU AGAIN MYSELF, GOD DAMN IT!” I screeched at full volume.

But as soon as I did that, I collapsed against the fence, and as I saw Kara and Alice desperately dodge the oncoming vehicles, I completely shut down.

Images of being trapped in a flipped car at night began racing through my head. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. I slumped against the fence, my back to the highway, and I started rocking back and forth involuntarily mumbling incomprehensibly as horrible bloody memories began to thump and pound and bang on my brain and every nerve and vein in my body felt like it was doing to burst. Numbness in my left arm. Shards of glass embedded in my skin everywhere. Horrible pain in my whole body. The feeling of the rough pavement as I managed to crawl out of the flipped vehicle. The sounds of sirens and the flashing of red and blue emergency lights. A slumped figure against the pavement as I tried desperately to reach out and call for them.

Only to reach them, hold them, and watch my whole life slip from my fingers, my heart and soul dying with the light in their eyes as I clutched onto them, screaming and desperately willing them to come back to me. For all of this to be a horrible nightmare. That I would wake up in a second and I could confide in the love of my life about what I dreamed about that night in their arms as we slept.

Only to be pulled away and be forced under as I watched everything fall apart around me.

“Rachel!” I heard a voice breaking through my visions. “Rachel, it’s okay! I’m right here, just breathe!” I recognized that it was Hank’s voice, and I felt him clutching at my arms. I snapped my eyes open as the horrible echoes of my visions swirled in my tired and wounded head. “Breathe, kiddo. It’s okay. They made it. You don’t have to worry about them.”

They did? I thought. So it was all a bad dream? But then I realized what Hank meant, and I was quickly dragged back to reality. Oh. Right. Kara, Alice, and Connor.

Forcing myself to breathe deeply, the sounds and visions started to dull. “That’s it, kiddo. That’s it. Just breathe.” Hank said softly, gently holding onto me and kneeling in front of me. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be alright. Just look at me, listen to me, and just breathe.”

I did as he asked, and I started to remember my surroundings and why I was here. The case. This morning. The street. The house. The chase. As I kept breathing, my muscles began to relax, and I realized that I was clutching my left arm really tightly, and let go, putting both my hands on the ground on either side of me. My heart was still racing and my eyes felt sore, but I was beginning to come back from that horrible low place. I swallowed and I knew my voice had become hoarse. “There you go, kiddo.” Hank said, gently shaking me. I gently grabbed his arms with my hands and looked him in the eyes. “It’s okay, everything’s fine. Connor’s coming back right now. No one died. Everyone made it.”

Connor. His name repeated in my head. That’s right. Connor. My brows furrowed in complete anger. That fucking asshole!

“Looks like you’ve caught your breath, now.” Hank said, reassuring me. “Can you stand up?”

Letting out a long sigh, I nodded. “Yeah...I think so.” I croaked.

Without waiting, Hank hooked an arm around my back under my arms and started helping me to my feet. As soon as I was standing, he pulled me aside so I was leaning against the corner between the alley wall and the fence. I clutched my chest, taking in several deep breaths. My heartbeat had slowed, but it was still beating so fast.

As soon as Connor climbed back over the fence, my attention was completely focused on him. Unbridled rage began to boil in my veins as I glared at this selfish plastic moron. “You!” I snarled, lacing my broken voice with as much venom as I could bring myself to inject. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU COULD HAVE DIED OUT THERE!”

Connor looked taken aback for a brief moment, but for the most part, his face was relatively reserved. “I couldn’t let them -”

“Quiet!” I shouted, shoving him harshly. “Watching ONE person die in a road accident was one too many! I don’t want you adding to that list just because you wanna recklessly and selfishly risk your own life without any regard for anyone else!”

“If I get destroyed, my memory will simply be transferred to the next-”

“I DON’T CARE!” I shouted at him. Everything went quiet as I stared at him. But I felt so tired, and exhausted, and broken that I couldn’t keep up the tough love act for long and broke into quiet sobs.

Hank gently grabbed my shoulders, angling me away from Connor. Nothing was said for a long long moment. If not for what just preceded this, I would’ve considered this a moment of respite.

“I’m sorry.” Connor said, softly and meekly.

Taking a few breaths between my weak and stifled sobs, I turned to face him, but did not walk towards him. “The important thing...is that no one died today...that everyone made it.” I managed to get out between breaths and sobs.

Hank started gently walking me out of the alley. “Let’s just head back to the car.” He suggested. “We did what we could. There’s nothing more for us to do, here.”

I nodded, leaning on Hank, occasionally stealing a glance back at Connor. Even after yelling at him, I couldn’t help but feel a sharp stab of guilt when he looked at me like that. Like a wounded puppy.

We eventually made our way to the car, and I was able to walk without Hank supporting me. “You wanna sit in the front this time, Rachel?” He asked me.

I looked at him and gave him a weak smile, but it was as much of one as I could muster. “That would be nice.” I answered quietly.

“Yeah, just go on in and have a seat. I’ll just let Ben know what happened.” Hank assured me, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He walked off to find his colleague, and Connor came up behind me. He didn’t really say anything, and we just sort of looked at each other for a long moment before I opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as I closed the door, I let out a long sigh and wiped my eyes. I leaned back into my chair and felt my eyes well up again. I wasn’t going to fall apart again, but I clearly wasn’t done feeling all the horrible things. “Fuck...” I breathed as I slumped into my chair.

I felt Connor lean forward and I knew he was going to try to talk to me. Despite my outburst earlier, I didn’t hate him. Hell, I chewed him out because I was so scared I was going to watch him die because of his own stupid reckless bullshit. But...I definitely did not have the energy or patience to talk to him right now. “I’m sorry.” He said, and I hated the twinge I felt because he sounded so sincere. “I should’ve considered how you and Hank would feel if -”

I couldn’t do it. “Connor, I don’t wanna talk right now!” I cut him off. He snapped his mouth shut and gave me that injured puppy dog look again. I let out another sigh as I sunk further and further into my seat. “Just...please. Not right now. Maybe later, but...just let me wind down, please.” I begged him.

I couldn’t even look at him in the rear view window. I couldn’t bear to see his dark eyes boring into my soul. He was quiet for a good while until he spoke up. “Alright.” He agreed. “I’m sorry.”

I closed my eyes and let out another breath through my nose. As soon as I heard the driver’s side door open, I knew Hank was back. “Sorry it took so long.” He apologized. I quickly fastened my seatbelt as he started the car. “You can put on whatever tunes you want and just relax the whole way back, okay?”

I looked weakly up at Hank. “Thank you.” Was all I could muster. I pulled out my phone and connected it to his radio, scrolling through my playlists. I thought of playing an album full of easy-listening piano songs, but I decided that would be too quiet and sombre for a fifteen minute car ride. So instead, I scrolled to my usual ‘happy music’ that I played when I needed a good auditory pick-me-up. I put on an old Owl City album and let it play. As Hank started the car, it began driving, and very quickly, I managed to drift off to sleep, hoping to get at least some rest before the day was over.

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

Next Chapter

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archiefm · 5 years ago

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... claws my way up from hell once more and vomits onto the dash.... hello. its nora. i used to write rory bergstrom, but if u were here before that u might remember me as greta or alma putnam or..... som1 else.... an endless carousel of trash children..... this is finn, who i actually wrote for an early version of this rp abt 5yrs back now...... grits teeth..... so forgive me if im rusty i havent written him in a long time but seein honey boy gave me a lotta finn muse n im keen to get Back On The Horse yeehaww...

DYLAN O’BRIEN / CIS-MALE — don’t look now, but is that finn o’callaghan i see? the 25 year old criminology and forensic studies student is in their graduate year of study year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be judicious, adroit, morose and cynical, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living off-campus. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her )

shakes my tin can a humble pinterest, ma’am....

finn has a bio pasted at the bottom (n written in like.... 2015.... gross) but it’s long so if u don’t wanna read it here’s the sparknotes summary..... anyway this was written years ago n a lot of it seems really cliche and lame now but..... we accept the trash we think we deserve

grumpy, ugly sweater wearing, tech-savvy grandpa

very dry sense of humour and embraces nihilism.

if ron swanson and april ludgate had a baby it would be finn

he was raised in derry, just south of dublin.

from a big family. elder sister called sinead. he also has a younger sister (aoife), a younger brother (colm), and a collie named lassie because his father lovs cliches (finn hates cliches but loves his dog).

his father was a pub landlord and his mother worked at the market sellin fruit n veg when they met but got a job as a medical receptionist when she had kids cos it meant she cld be there with them in the day and work nights.

his parents met when they were p young and fiesty and rushed into marriage cos they were catholic n just wanted to have sex. his family were literally dirt-poor, but they had a lot of love i guess

hmmmmm his relationship w his father wasn’t the best cos i can’t write character who have healthy relationships w their parents throws up a peace sign. yh, had a pretty emotionally distant, alcoholic violent father n so gets a lot of his bad habits i.e. drinking as a coping mechanism and poor anger management from him BUT anyway

as a kid he was never very motivated in class, he always had a nervous itch to be off somewhere doing something else. struggled under government austerity bcso there just wasn’t the resources to support low income families where the kids had learning difficulties n needed support. fuck the tories am i right

his mum suggested he try sports to help w his restless energy but he was never any good at football so he took up boxing and tap dance instead. he took to tap dancing like a fish to fuckin water. as adhd n found this as a really good way to use his excess energy in a creative way

had a few run ins with the police in his early teens for spray painting and graffiti, but he straightened himself out n now actually considering becoming a detective inspector??? cops are pigs.

he had a youtube channel where he posted videos of him tapdancing and breakdancing as a kid, basically would be a tiktok boy nowadays, n had like... a small fanbase in his early teens. attended several open auditions unsuccessfully, until he was finally cast in billy eliot when he was fifteen.

during billy eliot he began dating an italian dancer called nina. they became dance partners soon after and toured across the republic with various different shows (inc riverdance lol the classic irish stereotype). their relationship was p toxic tbh, they were both very hot tempered people and just used to argue and fight all the time.

he went semi-pro at tap dancing, and nina couldn’t stand being second best so she moved back to italy with her family. ignored his texts, phone calls, etc, eventually he was driven to the point where he used his savings to buy a plane ticket, showed up at her house and she was like wtf?? freaked out and filed a restraining order accusing him of stalking.

he was fined for harassment and then returned home to derry, but after the incident with nina he quit dancing for good and finished his leaving cert before heading to university in the US to get as far away from nina and his past life as poss. and basically since he quit dancing to study forensics (death kink. finn cant get enough of that morgue. just walks around sayin beat u) he’s become a massive grump and jsut doesn’t see the good in people any more.

u’ll find finn in an old man bar drinking whiskey bc he is in fact an old man at heart or sat on his roof smoking a joint, drawing wolves and lions and skeletons and shit, playing call of duty or getting blazed or at the corner of the room in a house party ignoring everyone and scrolling through twitter. is a massive e-boy. always up-to-date on memes and internet slang. has reddit as an app on his phone

not very good at communication. rather than solve his issues by talking, he’d prefer to just solve them through fighting or running away from his problems hence why he has come halfway across the world to get away from an issue which probs cld have been solved w a few apology emails.

takes a lot to phase him, but when his beserk button gets pressed he can become a bit pugnacious like an angry lil rottweiler. in his undergrad he was in a few fist fights but doesn’t really do tht any more as he doesn’t condone violence.

in the previous version of this rp he was hospitalised like 5 times. pls, give my son a break. stop tryin to kill him. he literaly got a bottle smashed over his head and bled out all over his favourite angora rug that was the only light of his life

works at the campus coffee shop n always whines about how he’s a slave to capitalism. always smells of coffee

lives off campus with an elderly woman named Marianne, and basically gets reduced rent bcos he makes her dinner / keeps her company. they have a great bond

fan of karl marx. v big on socialism

insomniac with chronic nosebleeds

cynical about everything. too much of a fight club character 4 his own good n has his head up tyler durden’s sphincter

always confused or annoyed

statistics

basic information

full name: finnegan seamus o'callaghan nickname(s): finn age: 25 astrological sign: aries hometown: derry, ireland occupation: phd student / former street entertainer fatal flaw: cynicism positives: self-reliant, street smart, relaxed, intelligent, spontaneous, brave, independent, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. negatives: hostile, impulsive, stubborn, brooding, pugnacious, untrusting, cynical, enigmatic, reserved.

physical

colouring: medium hair colour: dark brown, almost black eye colour: brown height: 5’9” weight: 69kg build: tall, athletic voice: subtle irish accent, low, smooth. dominant hand: left scar(s): one on the left side of his ribs from a knife wound that he doesn’t remember getting cos he was drunk distinguishing marks: freckles, tattoo of a wolf howling at a moon allergies: pollen and the full spectrum of human emotion alcohol tolerance: high drunken behaviour: he becomes friendlier, far more conversational than when sober, flirtier, and generally more self-confident.

psychological

dreams/goals: self-fulfilment, travel the globe, experience life in its most alive and technicoloured version, make documentary films, help the vulnerable in society, grow as a human being.

skills: jack-of-all-trades, very fast runner, good at thieving things, talented tap dancer, good in crisis situations, dab-hand at mechanics, musically-intelligent, can throw a mean right hook and very capable of defending himself, can roll a cigarette, memorises quotes and passages of literature with ease, can light a match with his teeth.

likes: the smell of the earth after rain, poetry, cigarettes, shakespeare, whiskey, tattoos, travelling, ac/dc, deep conversations, leather jackets, open spaces, the smell of petrol, early noughties ‘emo phase’ anthems.

dislikes: the government, parties, rules, donald trump, children, apple products, weddings, people in general, small talk, dependency, loneliness, pop music, public transport, justin timberlake, uncertainty.fears: fear itself, drowning alignment: true neutral mbti: istp – “while their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, istps are actually quite enigmatic. friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, istp personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. istps can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.” (via 16personalities.com)

full bio (lame as fuck written years ago..... pleathe...)

tw homophobia

born in quigley’s pub on the backstreets of sunny dublin, young finnegan o'callaghan was thrown kicking and screaming into the rowdy suburbs of irish drinking culture. the son of a landlord and a fishwife, he never had much in the way of earnings, but there was never a dull moment in his lively estate, where asbo’s thrived, but community spirit conquered. at school, finn was pegged as lazy and unmotivated, though truly his dyslexia made it hard for the boy to learn in the same environment of his peers and only made him more closed-off in class. struggling with anger management, finn moved from school to school, unable to fit the cookie-cutter mould that school enforced on him, though whilst academic studies were of little interest to the boy, he soon found his true passions lay in recreational activities. immersed into the joys of sport from as young as four, finn was an ardent munster fan and anticipated nothing more than the day he could finally fit into his brother’s old pair of rugby boots.

his calling finally came unexpectedly, not in the form of rugger, but through dance. to learn to express himself in a non-academic way, he began tap dancing, finding therapy in the beat of his soles against the cracked kitchen tiles (much to his mother’s disgrace). it wasn’t a conscious choice, finn just realised one day that dance was something that made him feel. a king of the streets, finn made his fortune on those cobbled pavements – dancing and drawing to earn his keep. by default, finn became a street artist, each penny he earned from his chalk drawings saved in a jam jar towards buying his first pair of tap shoes. though many of his less-than-amiable neighbours called him a nancy and a gaybo, finn refused to quit at his somewhat ‘unconventional’ hobby, for the young scrapper found energy, life, and released anger through the rhythm of tap. soon he branched out into street dance, hip hop, break dancing, lyrical, his days spent smacking his scuffed feet against the broken patio into the night.

when he was thirteen he took up boxing, and as expected, his newfound ‘macho’ pastime conflicted with his dancing. the boxers called him ‘soft’; the dancers called him ‘inelegant’. he felt like two different people; having to choose between interests was like being handed a knife and asked to which half of himself he wished to cut away. he couldn’t afford professional training in dance, with most schools based in england and limited scholarships available. instead, he made the street his studio, racking up a small fanbase on youtube. when he was fifteen he made his debut in billy eliot at the olympia theatre in dublin. enter nina de souza, talented, beautiful and italian; ballet dancer, operatic singer, genius whiz kid, and spoiled brat. she was selfish, conceited, hell bent on getting her own way, and every director’s nightmare. finn fell for her like a house of cards. he’d always had a soft spot for girls who meant trouble. and so their hellish courtship began.

by the time they were seventeen, the two young swans had danced in every playhouse across the republic. they were known in theatres across the country for their tempestuous personalities, their raging arguments with one another, their tendency to drop out of shows altogether without any notice, yet the money kept rolling in and the audiences continued to grow. for three years, their families continued to put up with their hysterical fights followed by passionate reconciliations. he was too possessive, and she was too wild. their carcrash of a relationship finally came to a catastrophic halt when nina broke off the whole affair and returned to italy with her family. for months finn tried to contact her, yet his phone calls, texts, facebook messages were always ignored, until finally he was driven to drastic measures and used his savings to get a plane to her home town. when finn turned up uninvited at nina’s house she freaked out – and rightly so – she contacted her agent, accused him of stalking her, and had a restraining order placed against him. finn was arrested, held in a station overnight, and charged with harassment before he was allowed to return to dublin.

after the incident with nina, finn lost the fight in his eyes. he became far more hostile, far less likely to retaliate with his own fists, and picked fights not for the thrill of feeling his own fists pummel another into a wall, but for the sensation of his own brittle bones cracking. he dropped his tap shoes in a dumpster, stopped talking to his friends, followed his father’s advice and went back to school to complete his leaving certificate. a few short months later, and finn was packing his bags, saying his bittersweet goodbyes, and travelling half-way across the globe to be as far away as possible from his past self, his mess of a life, and most of all nina. it seemed somehow ironic that the boy who had been cautioned by the garda so much during his youth for spray painting, busking without a liscence, and raucous parties would become the grumpy, aloof overseas student studying a degree in criminology; that his once reckless spirit could be crushed so easily.

of all things that finn could be called, straightforward would never be one of them. ever since his first days in atticus, the boy was pegged as hostile, hot-headed, cynical, rude. he seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than engaging in conversation. like a ticking time-bomb, finn’s anger was of the calm kind, liable to explode without a moment’s noticed. his unpredictable personality make him something of an enigma to those who aren’t amiable with the lad, though hostile as he may appear, he harvests a good heart. loyalty lies at the centre of his affections, and whilst his friends are few in number, he makes a lifelong partner. somewhere within finn, there’s still some fight left, but mostly he has recognised that his hedonistic lifestyle did little to leave him fulfilled – mostly, it just emptied him out – and over his three years at university has resigned himself to a nihilistic predicament.

if u wanna plot with me pls pls pls im me or like this post!! i am always game for plots i love em so excited to write with you all here r some ideas

study buddies. finn is now a phd student so has to start takin shit seriously. he gon be in the library every day doing that independent study. if he had ppl who were also regular library goers n they get each other coffees to save time.... tht wld be sweet

ppl who love techno dj sets and going super hard on the weekends!!! fuck yea

friends with benefits. exes on bad terms. ppl he tried to date but couldnt because he’s always emotionally hung up on someone else. spicy hook up plots

ppl he met touring?? maybe ppl who were also in the entertainment industry..... anyone got a character who is ex circus hit me up

does anyone else study criminology / forensics / criminal psych / law? phd students sometimes lecture so he cld be an assistant lecturer / tutor if ur character is in a younger year

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

finn goes to the skatepark and all the young boys there think he’s a gradnpa which he is!

#huntingtonintro #is tht the tag....... idk..... msg me xo

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fangirl--of-everything · 6 years ago

Text

The Prisoner (Sihtric x Reader)

word count: 4530

request: nope

summary: the reader is one of Gisela’s ladies, drawn to the celebration after Uhtred’s little army thwarts Kjartan’s attempts to have him kidnapped. She finds herself drawn to their young prisoner. But just because he may have a young face, that doesn’t make him any less a Dane, a fact which she will be reminded of.

warnings: a bit of blood,

A/N. This takes place during the plot of season 2 episode 2, where Sihtric is introduced. I’ve been wanting to write this for a bit, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys like it :) (Also this title is totally unplanned and cheesy but oh well.)

Alright, enjoy :)

There were not many respectable ways for a woman to earn money in Mercia, and so it was a great opportunity to be a lady in waiting to the king’s sister. The prestige meant nothing to (y/n), she served Lady Gisela because she respected the other woman and felt she was worth her service, but it helped that her position brought money and reputation to her family, securing them a safe place within one of Mercia’s fortresses. It was there where she, and her lady, spent most of their time, but not today. Today she was inside a small tent, lit by candle light and lanterns, brushing out her lady’s hair somewhere south of Mercia, marching with Guthred’s army to face the Viking brothers.

“Is it warm enough in here for you Lady?” (Y/n) asked, finishing plaiting Gisela’s hair down her back.

“It is.” Gisela gave her a warm smile. “You look tired (y/n), I will be alright for the rest of the night. Go and get some sleep.”

(Y/n) gave the other woman an affectionate smile, and turned to take her leave, when the sounds of shouting and steel rang outside. The two women shared a look, and (y/n) led the way, peering cautiously outside. She signalled a passing soldier, asking what was happening, and the man explained that Lord Uhtred had been attacked by Danes, but the king’s army had fought them off.

(Y/n) opened her mouth to say that they should stay here, but Gisela was already outside, moving quickly through the crowd to check on Uhtred. (Y/n) cursed under her breath and followed.

The crowd of men was large, and loud, drunk on ale and victory, but they parted as Gisela passed, (y/n) trailing in her wake. They made it to the front of the cluster of men, and she could see Uhtred standing on the other side of a loose circle that was surrounding the king. She knew her lady wanted to go to him, and (y/n) put a hand on her arm. It was impertinent, and she knew if any of the priests saw it she would be punished, but Gisela gave her a grateful smile, reaching up and giving her hand a squeeze. The two women stood together as Guthred shouted to the crowd, the men cheering.

Something caught (y/n)’s eye, and she leaned to the side, squinting in the gloom as she looked through the crowd. “Do they have a prisoner?”

Gisela shifted, looking where (y/n) was pointing. (Y/n)’s eyes had landed on Clapa, the hulking, bald man by Uhtred’s side, and the boy he held by the collar. He was obviously a Dane, but she was struck by his youth, the fear on his face as the men around him cheered over the deaths of his companions. There was blood drying on his temple, and more trickling from his nose, and she saw him flinch as the men shouted, his eyes flicking around as he looked at the threats he was surrounded by.

Gisela’s face was soft and sympathetic as she looked at him. “He is just a boy.”

There was something about his face, the fear and tension there, that made (y/n) concerned. She knew it was silly, the boy had come with a group of Danes to abduct Uhtred and ultimately kill him, but she couldn’t help the sympathy that swirled in her stomach as she looked at him.

“What will they do to him?”

Gisela turned to look at her, her face soft as she realized (y/n) was concerned for the boy. “Uhtred has honour. If the boy can be spared then he will be.”

With a final cheer the crowd dispersed, Guthred reaching around (y/n) to press a kiss to his sister’s cheek. (Y/n) forced the boy from her mind, and focused on her task, her job as a lady in waiting, leading Gisela back to her tent safely. Once her Lady was settled she went to her own tent right beside, which she shared with Gisela’s other lady and the young woman who worked with the cook. Both were already in their cots, and they looked to her to explain the noise.

She gave a quick explanation of what had happened while she shimmied out of her dress, draping it over the post that ran the length of the tent, on top of the dresses of the others. She stripped down to just her shift as she explained, and shook out her hair, pulling it quickly into a braid and climbing down into her bed. The girls all exclaimed their shock, but they were women, not men, and their blood did not pump for cruelty and violence. They had done a hard day’s work and were tired, and conversation petered out quickly as the three women felt fatigue begin to pull at their consciousness. The whims of men could not hold their interests for long, not while there was real work to be done and them being the only ones who could do it.

As (y/n) felt sleep begin to take her, the gentle lulling of it causing the outside sounds to soften and blur, the boy’s face returned in her mind, sharp and clear. Sound crystallized, and the tendrils of sleep were forced back as his fearful eyes darted around. Blood ran down the side of his face.

With a heavy sigh she pushed to her feet, reaching above her head and pulling her dress back down. One of the girls raised her head, her voice heavy with sleep as she asked what was happening, and (y/n) lied that nature was calling. She twisted her hair around her hand, aware of the dangers of her going out looking so unkempt, but sleep would not find her until she had done this one thing, and so she moved as quickly as she could to get it done.

It did not take long to collect a bucket of fresh water, or to find where Uhtred’s men had taken the prisoner. Halig and Clapa were guarding him, both of them deep in their cups, while the boy stood awkwardly with his wrists bound in front of him, tethering him to the back of a wooden supply cart. All three of the men looked up as she approached.

Halig and Clapa both knew her. With Lord Uhtred courting her Lady, she had spent a lot of time talking with the former, and the latter was from the same village where she had lived before she and her family had moved to the fortress. She gave both of them a friendly smile, ignoring their surprise at her arrival at such a late hour, and held up the bucket in her hand.

“I’ve been sent to look after the Dane boy’s wounds.” She kept to herself that she had not been sent by anyone in particular, knowing the men would fight her less of they thought she was acting on her Lady’s orders.

She still had to convince them to let her close. Halig was adamant that it was dangerous, to which she scoffed. “He’s barely even a man Halig, and he’s looking like a drowned rat. If I couldn’t handle myself in the face of that I would be a sorry excuse for a villager. Besides, I have you two fine warriors here to deter him from trying anything.”

Finally she got both of them to surrender, after Halig gave the boy a stern warning of what would happen to him if he tried anything, and forced him to his knees. The boy grunted, his jaw clenching tightly as he was manhandled to the ground with his arms suspended above his head, still tethered to the post. It was clear he wanted to protest, but wisely kept his mouth shut and his eyes down.

“Don’t get too close.” Halig warned.

She shot him an exasperated look, resting the pail on the ground and lifting her skirts so she could kneel on the ground in front of him.

“Is it alright if I clean your wounds?” she asked softly, ignoring the men behind her and focusing her attention on the Dane.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, face hard and wary. She raised one eyebrow. “Is that a yes? It’s very late, and I have had a rather long day, and this ground is cold.”

The boy shifted and gave her a nod. She kept one eye on his hands, which remained high, unable to drop lower while bound to the cart, as she shifted closer. The cloth was dipped into the water and wrung out, and she shifted her weight back, taking a second to study the boy’s face.

Now that she was closer she realized that he wasn’t as young as she might have first thought. In fact he was probably around the same age as her, but it didn’t make her feel any less empathetic for him. She remembered how frightened she had been when she had first been brought into the fort to train as a lady’s maid, how foreign and hostile the environment had felt. This must have been much worse, because in her case she had never been considered a threat, or been surrounded by enemies.

“Where are you hurt?” She asked softly. She could see where the blood was drying on both sides of his head, and she could see another dark streak of it down the inside of one of his arms, but something told her giving him the option of choice would give him a tiny ounce of control in his very powerless situation.

It took a second for him to respond, and his dark eyes were searching her face suspiciously, but he finally grunted, gesturing with one of his hands toward the side of his head.

She didn’t prompt him to speak, just gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and shifted her weight onto her knees. She had to put one of her hands on his chin to hold his face steady, and she felt him tense as she did, but she kept her movements slow and gentle as she started wiping away the blood caked along his scalp, and eventually she felt him relax.

“You were here to capture Lord Uhtred?” She asked, simply because no other topic of conversation came to mind.

He looked surprised by the question, giving her a single nod. She flashed what she hoped was a conspiratory smile. “That wasn’t too clever of an idea, was it?”

He barked a dry laugh, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too widely. “Was that a sound I just heard from you? I assumed you were a mute Dane.”

His eyes were dark and warm as he looked at her now, and he shifted, raising his arms a little higher. Both the men behind them tensed, but he was just trying to get more comfortable. She spared a quick glance at his hands before looking back at her work, washing the blood out of his hair. As she did she caught a glimpse, beneath the short dark hair, of dark patterns along his scalp.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was different than she had expected. Deeper, and rolling with the Danish accent.

She blinked, turning her attention from her work to his gaze. She shrugged, and cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure the men weren’t listening too closely. Dropping her voice, she responded. “Do you want my honest response?”

“I thought your god didn’t believe in lies.”

She tried not to laugh. “That’s true. If I’m being honest, I saw you in the crowd and you looked frightened, and I thought you might like some comfort.”

His eyebrows raised. “Even though I’m a Dane who came to capture your Lord?”

“Uhtred’s not my Lord. And even Danes deserve comfort, don’t they?”

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks as she said it, and she dropped her head to hide it, focusing on the split in the corner of his lip. When she finally did look up again he was staring at her, and something in his face caused a strange feeling to stir in her belly, like a fish flopping after it was thrown out of the water. She forced it down.

“Is there anywhere else?” She asked, breaking eye contact and dunking the cloth into the water again.

“My arm.”

Was it in her head, or was his voice huskier now then it had been before? She shook that silly thought aside, and shifted so she could clean the blood off his arm. She worked in silence, but she could feel his dark eyes on her, and the heat never seemed to fade from her cheeks until finally she was able to push to her feet, dropping the rag into the bucket of reddish water.

She refused to meet the boy’s eyes and turned with only the curtest goodbye to Halig and Clapa, and before she knew it she was back in her bed. Sleep took her quickly, but it was restless, filled with dark eyes and rolling voices and a warmth in her belly that was gone when she awoke, but left a ghost of a feeling that refused to leave her even as she got up and prepared to start her day.

-----/--/-----

It had been two weeks since the night Uhtred had almost been taken, and (y/n) had slid from her bed to wash the face of a Danish warrior. In the light of day, free of the haze of sleep, she was ashamed of her behaviour. It had been reckless, and shameful, and completely inappropriate, regardless of the fact that the boy had been a Dane. She could convince herself that it had been nothing but pity that had driven her from her bed and to his side, but even still. If the priests ever found out she would lose her position, at least. She would be ruined, and likely labelled a traitor.

For the last two weeks, she had forced down all thoughts, all memories of that night, and had thrown herself into her duties. She worked as hard as she could, pushed herself and never stopped, so that when her day was done and she fell into bed sleep would take her too quickly for fear or dark thoughts to set in.

It was for that reason that she found herself carrying two pails towards the stream to fill with water and give to the men training. Normally that labour would never fall to her, but since her Lady had not needed her and she couldn’t be idle she had volunteered to be the one to fetch it. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t even notice what she was walking past, and it wasn’t until she heard the low voice trying to catch her attention that she realized where she was.

“You, girl!”

Her eyes dropped from her path to see the Dane boy in front of her, twisted onto his side so he could track her movements and catch her attention. She locked her gaze back on her course, refusing to meet his eyes, and kept walking.

“Woman.” He called as she walked past him, but she pretended she didn’t hear.

There was an exasperated sigh behind her, and his voice dropped deeper. “Lady.”

Her stomach tightened and she turned, the pails swinging limp and heavy in her hands as she did so. He looked proud to have gotten her attention and shifted his weight, opening his mouth to speak. She cut him off before he could.

“I am not a lady.” She said, her voice hard.

His face changed slightly, all traces of satisfaction disappearing, and he shifted again. “I need to go into the woods there.” He gestured in the direction she had been going.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and forced apathy onto her face.

He sighed once it became clear she was not going to move. “I need to shit.”

Her eyebrows rose on their own accord, and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The boy had no idea the danger he had just put her in, all because he had to go into the woods? She turned to leave.

“I do not wish to fill my breeches!” He shouted at her retreating back.

She sighed, looking to God for strength, and searched the camp grounds until her eyes fell on Halig and some other men. “Halig?” she called, diverting from her course so she could approach him. “The boy needs to go into the woods. Apparently it’s urgent.”

Halig rolled his eyes, but this had taken too much of her attention already, and when she looked around she could see the Bishop’s eyes on her. She ducked her head and dug in her heels, moving as quickly as she could to the trees and the narrow stream that ran through it. She filled the buckets and set off as fast as she could back towards the camp.

There was noise in the trees, and she looked up at the sound of steel slamming into steel. For a second she could make out three forms in the trees, but one of them grew larger and larger in the time it took her to blink, a heavy weight knocking the wind out of her.

The pails fell from her hands, and cold lakewater ran over her feet.

Her back was pressed against something firm and warm, and cold steel pressed hard against her neck. Her breath hitched as she heard deep breathing behind her. “Don’t move.”

Halig came running towards them, sliding to a stop so quickly that his ass hit the dirt. “You son of a--”

“Go fetch Lord Uhtred.” The Dane was breathing heavily, but his voice was steady as he held the blade to (y/n)’s throat. “Tell him I have his Lady.”

“If you hurt her Lord Uhtred will not rest until he has killed you.” Halig tried to sound strong, but his eyes were panicked as he met (y/n)’s. “Don’t panic (y/n), you’ll be--”

“I said fetch Lord Uhtred.” The boy’s voice was hard. “Now!”

Halig’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but when the sword pressed harder against (y/n)’s neck he took off quickly.

(Y/n) watched him disappear, and her heart seemed to want to pound out of her chest to follow him, but she was stuck fast, as she was reminded by the thin, sharp blade against her throat and the rapid hammering heart of the Dane behind her.

“W-what is your plan?” she asked, taking a deep breath to keep her voice steady.

“I want to fight for Lord Uhtred.”

Her eyes widened. “Is this really the best way to go about that?”

“They would not let me speak to him. I was tired of waiting.”

Halig had disappeared into the camp, but (y/n) kept her eyes locked on the spot where he had disappeared, praying he would return. Her hands were clutching at the folds of her skirt to keep from shaking, and blood pounded loudly in her ears.

There was a soft sigh behind her that made gooseflesh prickle on her arms. “I am sorry. I did not know it was you.”

“What do you mean?”

His chest pressed against her back as he took a breath, but just then there was the thunder of numerous feet, and (y/n) felt her back pressed even tighter against him, her head forced up to keep the blade from digging too deeply into her throat.

“Be silent.” The boy breathed in her ear. “With luck we shall both live.”

Her blood was thundering in her ears, and she could barely hear the exchange between Lord Uhtred and the boy. Her eyes had landed on her Lady, seen the way Gisela’s face was pale and tight with worry, and she tried to be brave, if not for herself then for Gisela.

It almost took her a second to notice the boy shifting against her back, the blade dropping from her throat. She felt his shoulder bump against hers, and it hit her all at once. She was running before she could think, and did not stop until she was safely in the arms of Gisela, ignoring the eyes of the priests on her.

Her Lady wrapped (y/n) safely in her arms and led her away from the standoff that was still taking place between Uhtred and the Dane.

-----/--/-----

There was a silence that followed (y/n) around, but she ignored it.

After the events in the woods Gisela had insisted that (y/n) see the physician, and then spend the day in her tent to rest. She had tried to protest, but there were too many eyes, and she could not be insolent. The second her head hit the pillow she fell into a troubled sleep, and slept straight through the day and into the next morning, waking late enough that she had missed both breakfast and lunch.

She got up as quickly as she could, scrambling to get herself in order, guilt tight in her stomach at having been absent for so long. She moved as quickly as she could, pulling on her dress and combing out her hair, rushing out of the tent with the hopes that she could reach the makeshift hall in time to help serve the meal, but she was too late. Even worse, as soon as her Lady saw her she was given a firm scolding and sent back to the tent for another day of rest.

This time she was even more adamant about protesting, but to no avail. After no more than 20 minutes she was on her way back to the tent, and to say she was unimpressed would be putting it lightly. The next person who gave her a sympathetic glance was going to get kicked. Or worse.

She decided there was no need to go right back to the tent, and she went to the kitchen to see if there was anything she could do to help with cooking or washing. There was some washing to be done, and she found herself alone behind the meal tent with two buckets of water and some cookware, scrubbing it down with some wool and soap. She lost herself in the work, and didn’t notice the presence of another person until there was the soft clearing of a throat behind her.

“Lady?”

Startled, she spun around, a glass held so tightly in her hand that it creaked.

The Dane boy froze where he was, a couple paces behind. He had his hands raised, as if to show he wasn’t a threat, but it did nothing to slow the rapid thundering of her heart. She couldn’t swallow, and suddenly her throat was cold, and she could almost feel the stinging of the blade again.

The boy took a step forward, and she took a step back, holding the glass in front of her like a weapon.

He froze, watching her carefully and taking a deep breath. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Her body stayed taut with nerves, and she kept the glass between them. Her heart was thundering painfully in her chest, and she could barely breathe, but at the same time there was that fish swimming around in her stomach again, though this time it was more frantic, more anxious.

The boy was studying her face, and he took another slow and careful step forward. She rocked back on her heels but stayed where she was, and he took it as a good sign.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but the words were still locked in her throat.

“I swore an oath to Lord Uhtred. Now I’m part of the king’s army.”

Her heart was still thundering, but (y/n) was not one to allow fear to overtake her. She took a deep breath and allowed it to clear her head, loosened her fingers from the glass, and forced her body to relax. As the fear faded, so did the image that had clung to her mind and contorted the boy into a monster, a threat.

“I’m glad you’re alive.”

His dark eyebrows rose. “Are you?”

She pursed her lips and turned to get back to the cleaning. Whatever the boy wanted, she didn’t have time for it. A hand caught her arm, gently, but with enough confidence to turn her around. The boy was earnest as he looked at her.

“I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find you.”

She forced a small smile onto her face, and pulled her arm free of his grip. He let her, but it didn’t stop him from talking.

“I didn’t know it was you in the woods, and if I did…” he sighed. “You were kind to me. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Something inside her melted, and she sighed. The glass was placed back in the water. She dried her hands on the apron of her dress, turned to give him her full attention, and gave him… perhaps not a smile, but a look she hoped would be reassuring.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did wrong you.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

He swallowed and took a step forward, reaching up to hold the small hammer hanging from his neck. “You showed me kindness when you did not need to, and I repaid it by threatening your life. I owe you a debt, which I swear I will repay.”

“You owe me nothing--”

“On Odin’s hammer I swear, you have my sword Lady, as much as it can be given while my oath belongs to Lord Uhtred.”

She opened her mouth, eyes widening. She was not a christian, in fact she had not been raised in any particular faith, but she knew what an oath like that meant, and she could not accept it. “Don’t--”

“Please Lady.” His eyes, and his voice, were earnest. “Will you accept my sword?”

She sighed, reaching up to scrub her hand over her face. “I am not a Lady.”

“And I am not a Lord. I am nothing but a bastard, but I will protect you with everything I have.”

“But--”

“I’ve already sworn the oath, on Thor’s hammer and in Odin’s name. Whether you accept or not, my sword is yours.”

She sighed, letting out an exasperated laugh. There was nothing else to do. “Then I suppose I must accept.”

He smiled and nodded. “I am Sihtric Lady. What should I call you?”

“(Y/n). And please, no Lady.”

“Very well. (Y/n). My sword is yours.”

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric imagine #sihtric fanfiction #the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom x reader #sihtric kjartanson #fanfiction #writing #mine #lets be danes ⚔️#lets be danes #sihtric elflaedsson

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fullmoonfinley · 6 years ago

Text

No Turning Back

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin, James Potter x Lily Potter

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 9,192

Summary: Regulus invites the reader, his girlfriend, to live with him and his brother as she escapes her pure-blood family. Both of them are fueled to win the war. So, when they hear about a possible way to gain intel, they jump on it. The reader can't help but worry as she sends out the only person she has ever loved into the cruel, dangerous world, especially with her family of Death Eaters on her scent. What will the reader do when her love gets caught up in the turmoil? Will she be able to save him? Or will Regulus be another victim in what seems to be a never-ending war?

Warnings: Canon-divergance, language, angst, loneliness, violence/torture, descriptions of blood and gore, implied smut/sexual themes, mentions of family abuse/hostile family environment, self-doubt, lots of fluff sprinkled throughout.

Author Note: Thank you @emmielupinblack for helping me with this and editing my horrible writing. I appreciate it more than you know. Sorry it’s so long. I got carried away. There will most likely be a Part 2, maybe more. I didn’t want to turn this into a novel.

Read this on Ao3

Regulus rushed through the front door of his flat. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him, then shuffled towards his bedroom door. From the moment the two of you had made it to the small, four-unit flat building, Reg had seemed on edge. It could have been the war, and his obsession with stopping the Dark Lord from coming to power. Or, it could have been the fact that he had never had a woman in his personal space before. Either way, it was strange watching the usually calm and collected wizard so strung out.

Regulus slowly turned the knob on his front door. His wide eyes scanned the room around him and the hall beside him. What was he so worried about? Was someone else home?

A door opened down the hall, answering your question. “Shit,” Regulus muttered, standing up straight as he rolled his eyes.

“Hey there, little brother,” a slightly lower voice cooed from down the hall. That must have been Sirius, Regulus’ older brother who he had moved in with just a few months earlier. You remembered him from school a little bit, but you didn’t really interact with him. So, all you had to work with was what Regulus had told you, which was a crazy mix of some great and a lot of terrible. Over the four years that you had known Regulus, and the eight months that you had been an intimate relationship, as Reg called it, you had heard quite an earful about Sirius Orion Black.

You flipped your Slytherin scarf over your shoulder. You saved it from school, since the ones your parents had gifted you weren’t warm enough for the usually frigid winter. If you were being honest, the inside of the flat wasn’t much warmer than the outside was. Odd.

You took a few steps closer to Regulus, then slowly peered down the hall. Your eyes latched onto Sirius’ almost instantly.

“Oh, Reggie. You didn’t tell me we had company!” Sirius took a few steps forward, grinning. “And I didn’t know you knew any women.”

“Piss off, Sirius,” Regulus snapped. Sirius just chuckled as he studied you. His eyes lingered on your scarf.

“Oh, it looks like the limit of one Slytherin in this flat has been breached. One of you is going to have to leave.” Sirius leaned against the wall and smirked. Wow, Reg was right. His brother really was an ass.

“What a gentleman,” you muttered under your breath. “I feel so welcome.” Sirius furrowed his brow.

“Well, you aren’t.”

Laughing, you rolled your eyes. “Wow, Regulus. You said your brother could be a royal arse, but this is a bit more than I expected.” You crossed your arms. “Who died and made you king?” you sassed.

Sirius scoffed, chuckling. “Wow, she’s a frisky one, Reggie. Where did you find her?”

“Fuck off, Sirius. Really.” Regulus shot his older brother a death glare. “We’re just here to look into a few things.”

“Huh, I’m sure you are.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. “I have to admit, she’s definitely not hard to look at. I’m almost jealous.” And, with that, Sirius approached you in his way to the kitchen. “Little Reggie, finally getting his first piece of hot arse—”

“Fuck. Off.” You slipped your wand from your jacket and pointed it straight at Sirius’ face. He barely faltered, starring down at you with the same stupid grin. “You don’t need to try to impress me. You aren’t even close to impressive. Besides, I’m not here for you. I’m here for Regulus. So, keep your pathetic, pompous arse away from me if you’re going to be a bloody prat.” Sirius’ gaze flicked over to his brother, who stood in the doorway of his bedroom. Regulus’ face showed a hint of surprise, and a lot of pride. He knew you were a force to be reckoned with.

“Look, Sirius, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. But, you don’t need to be so rude. You told me that if we found anyone fighting the war on our side, they were welcome here.” He sucked in a breath, maintaining eye contact with his older brother. “Y/N is not only my girlfriend, but she is escaping a family of Death Eaters. They were threatening her life. She’s brilliant with spells and curses, healing and otherwise. And, she wants to help.” Regulus took a step back into his room, gesturing for you to follow him. “She needs a safe place to stay for a while.”

Sirius’ expression hardened a bit. “How are you on tracking?” His whole demeanor completely changed. You studied his silver gaze, just a little brighter than his younger brother’s, and offered a hint of a smile.

“Very good. Tracking, defending, healing.” You nodded. “I taught myself. I’ve healed a few since I got involved in the war, including your brother.” You smirked a little, then turned to Regulus. “More than once.”

Sirius turned to his little brother, then back to you. “He never mentioned it.” Then, Sirius nodded. “Alright. If you can make yourself useful, you’re welcome. But, the moment I even think you’re a spy, you’re done for.”

You laughed. “Deal, arse.”

You flipped through yesterday’s newspaper, searching for anything out of the ordinary. It was something you had done for months. Regulus thought you were bat shit for looking at something so conspicuous. But, when you found a hidden message within an otherwise normal article, Regulus completely changed his mind.

“Here!” you exclaimed, pointing at the newspaper. “This article, by—” You narrowed your gaze at the paper. “Merlin’s beard.”

“What?” Regulus perked up, scrambling off the floor to join you on his bed. He leapt onto the large mattress, leaning his head on your shoulder as he read with you.

“Reg, this article is by Anza Y/L/N. That’s my sister.” You scanned over the first few paragraphs again. “It keeps mentioning an old building out near my parent’s home. I know it’s abandoned, but they are talking about an open house next weekend. They say it’s been renovated by the new owner.”

Regulus nestled in face into your neck, then sighed. “Who is the new owner?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t say. It just says that the old home has be ‘restored to its original glory’ and that there will be a get together to ‘lighten the mood in these darkened times’.”

Regulus let out a deep sigh, then lifted his head. “Well, that sounds normal.” You nodded. “Why would someone open their house to just anyone, especially with everything that’s going on.”

You grinned. “Unless it’s a trap.” Regulus turned to you, raising an eyebrow.

“A trap?”

You lowered the paper onto your lap. “An open house in what was known as an abandoned house until now? I remember playing with my sister on that property as a child. We went inside a few times. Even though it was technically abandoned, it was still furnished.”

Regulus’ raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing there?” Regulus asked, folding his legs under him. His nearly shoulder length curls fell into his face, making you smile. You reached out, reining a few strands and tucking them behind his ear. He pulled back just slightly, then smiled.

“I wasn’t ever sure why we were there. I just remember my parents going into the building, and my sister and I would stay outside to play with a few of the other children. I only went when my sister and I were really young. Once Anza was old enough to watch me, we stayed home.” You could see the wheels turning behind Regulus’ eyes. He was starting to piece together what you were saying.

“And your parents went inside, along with other people?” You nodded.

“At first, I thought someone owned the place. But, I later learned that the owner of the property had died almost ten years before I had even stepped foot onto the property.” You smiled at him. “So, why on earth would my parents and other families be in that home?”

Regulus smiled. “They were meeting in secret. Who would look in an abandoned home that far out? Especially when the surrounding homes were owned by more elite families?”

“Exactly.” You leaned over and pressed a light kiss onto Regulus’ lips. He wasn’t much for affection, mainly due to the fact that no one had ever loved him properly. But, he wasn’t against it, not in the least. It was just foreign to him. So, you remained patient, and slowly taught him what it meant to be truly loved.

Regulus let out a deep sigh, then leaned back onto the bed. He sprawled out beside you and crossed his legs. “So, you thinking that we should go to the open house? See if it’s really a party or if it’s some sort of Death Eater trap?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so. But, someone might recognize me, especially if they knew my parents. I don’t look much different. Besides, my sister wrote the article. She might be there.” Regulus sat back up and cleared his throat.

“I can go. Even if someone knows me or my parents, they may not recognize me. I look very different now.” He smiled to himself, tucking his mass of curls behind his ears. “They would recognize Sirius in an instant. I’m not the same scrawny little boy I used to be.”

Your heart pinged a little at the thought of Regulus walking into that party alone. “You’ll have someone to go with you, right? It’s not a good idea to go in there on your own, especially if someone does recognize you.”

Regulus bit his lower lip. “I have a few of Sirius’ friends who I can ask. Most of them are much nicer than Sirius can be, at least towards me.” Regulus smiled, which was something he was doing more of these days. “Sirius just likes to show off.”

“Should we tell him?” you inquired, peering off towards the door.

Regulus’ arm snaked around you waist and pulled you back. You both slammed against the plush mattress, making you squeal. He wrapped both arms around you and tugged you close against him. His charcoal gaze slowly scanned over you.

“We should, but later.” Regulus leaned in and rubbed his nose lightly against yours. “Nothing is going to be done tonight. It can wait a little while.” His lips landed on yours, awkwardly at first, but he soon gathered up enough confidence to press a little harder. You smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around him.

“Someone’s getting the hang of this relationship thing, huh?” you teased. A thin line of pink ghosted over Regulus’ paper white cheeks, making you chuckle.

“Well, I’ve been waiting years for you to be mine. I’m just finally getting used to the fact that you are mine now.” Regulus’ cheeks blushed a little darker. Damn, he was adorable when he did that.

“Yours, huh? Eight months and you’re staking claim?” you played. But poor Regulus just widened his gaze, obviously not understanding your sarcasm. Not that he didn’t get or often use sarcasm. There were times when he just took a while to realize that you weren’t backing off like he feared.

Regulus chuckled nervously. “Is that too soon? I mean, I think you seem rather happy overall.”

“I am, Reg. I really am.” Regulus pulled you flush against him, smiling.

“Excellent.” He licked his lips, his eyes darkening a little. “Now, I heard Sirius leave about twenty minutes ago—”

“He left?” you blurted, stunned. “I didn’t hear him.”

Regulus snorted a chuckle through his nose. “Call it stupid sibling intuition, and incredible hearing. But, he is probably at Remus’. He’ll probably be there all night.” Regulus nibbled nervously on his lower lip, making your skin prickle.

“And?” you teased. You yelped as Regulus suddenly pulled you on top of him, keeping his hands on your hips.

“And, I have you all to myself.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “I’d like to take advantage of that.” He winked, making your heart patter. You hadn’t seen this side of him, at least not this bold. Leaning down, you brushed your lips over his.

“Then do it.”

You slipped out of Regulus’ room and headed for the kitchen. He assured you, despite what Sirius may say to you, that you were welcome to anything. You weren’t able to pack much when you fled your parent’s home. So, you cozied up in one of Reg’s jumpers and a pair of his sweatpants. They almost fit you perfectly, which worked well for you. But, eventually, you were going to have to find some more clothes for yourself.

Once you made it into the kitchen, you spotted the kettle on the stove. Tea sounded amazing right then, especially in the frigid house. A small part of you wondered why the two men didn’t keep the heat on. But, as long as you had clothes and hot drinks, it didn’t matter too much to you.

The front door opened the second you lit the stove. Sirius must have been home from visiting with his pals. You peered up at the clock. 11:35pm. Later than you thought it was, but earlier than you expected Sirius to be back.

“Evening,” Sirius greeted, stretching out his word. “Cozy?” His eyes scanned up and down your attire. You just rolled your eyes.

“As cozy as I can be. At least it’s clean. I couldn’t fit much in my rucksack before I had to leave my parent’s place.” you muttered coldly. “Do you want some tea?”

Sirius smiled and leaned against the counter. “Uh, sure. Thanks.” He seemed softer than earlier, less abrasive. Maybe it was the booze you could smell off him. Or, he was just accepting your existence. You didn’t want to think he was that rude. But, from what you had heard over the years, he wasn’t the most snuggly person. Not in Regulus’ eyes, anyway.

You scanned over the cabinets, trying to figure out where the mugs must have been hiding. You could feel Sirius’ gaze staring through you.

“Third cabinet on the top,” he instructed with a smirk. “Some of them are a little dodgy, so be careful. The dark green ones are good. Remus gave me those when I moved in.” You nodded to the slightly older man and grabbed three dark green mugs.

“So, you coming to terms with living with another Slytherin?” you asked playfully.

“Yeah. I’m fine with it.” He shifted his weight. “I wasn’t mad to begin with. I just like giving my brother a hard time. He knows I love him.”

“He does. And he cares about you. He’s just a little stand-offish when it comes to emotion.” You smiled, watching the steam start to slip out of the kettle. “But you would know that more than anyone.”

Sirius smiled, staring at you. “So, you’re Y/N Y/L/N,” he confirmed. You snapped your gaze to him.

“You’ve heard of me?”

Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded. “I live with Reggie, don’t I? We talk more than it seems. He’s fond of you. Very fond. Like, rest of his life fond.” Sirius pushed himself off the counter. “I’ve actually never seen him so fond of something—someone—in his life.”

“Honestly? It doesn’t seem like it takes too much.” The tea kettle squealed beside you. You flicked off the burner and removed it. You poured the water over the tea bags in each mug. “Milk? Sugar?” you asked, reaching for the small sugar container beside the stove. You opened it, finding it mostly filled with small sugar cubes.

“Just milk. I’ll get it. Reg likes—”

“Two sugars, no milk. I know.” You smiled as Sirius stood beside you, pouring milk into his mug. Then, he lifted the carton, offering you some. You nodded, allowing him to splash a tiny bit of milk into your tea.

“You know how he takes his tea. You two must be close.” Sirius grinned, taking his mug into his hands.

“Well, I’ve known him well for at least four years. We were, what, fifteen? So, closer to five now, I guess. We were both in Slytherin, but he was so shy that I never really got to know him. Then, he sat beside me on the first day of class, fifth year. We started talking little by little. And, well, here we are. I guess you could say we’ve been ‘together’ for about eight or nine months now.” Sirius took a sip of his tea, nodding.

“That’s when he perked up a bit.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Like I said, he’s fond of you. I’ve never seen him so content.” He turned his whole body towards you. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. You’ve made my little brother a more pleasant person. So, thanks, I guess.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. You knew Regulus was happy with you. But, hearing it from someone else made it seem just a little more real. He made you equally as happy. You adored his quirks and his obsessively driven personality. There really wasn’t a part of him you would change.

“I’m just being me. No need for thanks,” you whispered. “I better get Regulus his tea before it gets cold. I’ll see you in the morning?” Sirius nodded, raising his mug to you in thanks. Then, you turned away, your shoulders feeling a little lighter after calming the waters with the older Black.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sirius called after you. Peering over your shoulder, you gazed over at him. “If you need any extra clothes, I’ve got some old t-shirts that you can steal. They may be a little bit big. But, they’re still good.”

You nodded. “Thanks Sirius. I’ll let you know.” And, with that, you headed back to Regulus.

Regulus adjusted his dress blazer as he stared into the mirror, frowning. You tiptoed up to him and pressed a kiss into his cheek.

“Very handsome. Maybe you can flirt your way into taking down the enemy,” you teased. You twirled your fingers into his hair and grinned. “Why don’t you get this dressed up for me?”

Regulus huffed, rolling his shoulders. “It reminds me of home. Mum and Dad had a lot of parties. We always had to wear stuff like this.”

“Well, you look handsome. Maybe I can help you make some new memories? We can go out when things calm down?” You furrowed your brow as you smoothed a wrinkle. “Have you ever seen me in a dress?”

Regulus stilled. “I don’t think so?” He spun on his heels, facing you. “But, I bet you’re beautiful.” You blushed at his sweetness. It wasn’t like him to say something so emotional. However, he seemed to be breaking out of his shell a little.

“Regulus?” you heard Sirius’ friend Remus call out from the other side of the door. “Are you ready to go?”

Regulus turned for the door. “I’ll see you this evening.” He leaned down as kissed you lightly. “I love you,” he whispered softly. Then, he opened the door, and followed Remus out of the flat.

It was just after seven in the evening, and your stomach was starting to turn. Remus and Regulus were expected to be back over an hour ago. You were sure that they were fine. But, something deep inside you churned with dread.

Sirius noticed your fret and cleared his throat. “They’ll be back soon. They’re both smart, and they both have someone waiting for them.” You nodded, staring out the foggy window onto the small town. From the fourth floor, there was actually a good view of the surrounding area. It was safe, off the ground. But, if the people weren’t inside, it wouldn’t do much good.

“I know. I’m just still getting used to him going out there like that. I know he’s done it. But, I just wasn’t aware.” You lowered your head, trying to hide your face. “I know how vicious the other side can be. Luckily my family didn’t care enough to meet Reg. So, if they are there, they won’t know him from anyone else.”

Sirius lowered himself onto the large couch against the far wall of the living room and sighed. You barely knew the man, but you could tell he was worried too. The person he cared about most was out there too, along with the only family he really had left. And there was nothing either of you could do.

You turned back to the window. “Um, Sirius. Is this your owl?” A tall, dark brown owl balanced on the window sill, gripping a small envelope in his beak.

Sirius shot up from the couch and raced to the window. “That’s James Potter’s owl.” The moment he opened the window, he snatched the letter from the owl, closing the window before the creature could come in. He ripped open the lip of the barely sealed envelope and unfolded the small paper inside.

“Sirius and Y/N, come quick. Something went wrong. Remus is here. It’s bad. James,” Sirius read aloud. “Fuck!” Sirius screamed as he raced for the door.

“Sirius wait a moment—”

“Remus is hurt. We need to get to James and Lily’s now.” His tone was almost vicious. Letting out a deep breath, you stood your ground.

“He has people with him, Sirius. We’ll get there. You just need to breathe—wait. Remus is there?” Your eyes widened. “Nothing about Regulus?” Sirius stared at you the same way you stared at him. Then, he turned for the door again.

“We need to go.”

“How? Walking? That will take ages. They’re almost on the other side of town.” You extended a shaky hand, forcing yourself to smile in hopes of calming the stressed man. “We’ll apparate.” His eyes locked on yours. Then, he nodded, taking your hand. Within a second, the two of you were gone.

James was right; it was bad. Remus was laid down on the couch with a concerned Lily hovering over him. Sirius shot over to his side, falling to his knees as he took in the horrid site of his battered boyfriend.

Remus’ face was covered in blood, but you could tell that most of it was coming from his left cheek. A huge gash stretched from his upper lip to the bottom of his ear. And it was deep. Another large gash cut through his two layers of clothing and deep into his lower gut. Blood still oozed from the wound, dripping onto the dark tan sofa.

You scanned over the man, who was already covered with scars, and checked for other injuries. There was no use trying to heal the ones you saw if a hidden one was doing the most damage.

“Y/N! C’mon! You said you could heal!” Sirius screamed. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he glared at you. “Please!” You nodded, pulling out your wand. You knelt down to the right of Sirius.

The moment you started muttering your healing spells, Remus stiffened. Sirius’ eyes shot even wider, but you turned to him, nodding at his reassuringly.

“It’s okay. It’s normal. It doesn’t feel good. But, it will help.” Without waiting for a reply, you started again, shooing everyone else away.

Sirius stood, still shaky. He took a few steps back to give you some space. He stood beside his friend James, who rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be okay, mate. He’s been through some ugly stuff before. Besides, it looks like she knows what she’s doing.” Sirius nodded at his friend, but his expression didn’t change. “So, Reggie’s girl is living with you now? I’m surprised you let another Slytherin into your place.”

Sirius snickered, wiping a tear. “That was my first thought. But, she’s actually much cooler than my brother. She’s good to him. He deserves that.”

You smiled as you listened to Sirius whisper to his friend, using that positivity to fuel your enchantments, and push back the thought that Regulus was nowhere to be found. Knowing him, he was hiding out somewhere and unable to get to you right now. You just hoped that you were right.

“Has anyone seen Reggie?” Sirius asked, making your stomach churn.

“No,” James replied. “But Peter and Marlene are out there. If they find him, they’ll bring him straight here.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Remus sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. You leaned back a little, expecting Sirius to rush right in. He did just that.

“Remus! Merlin, are you okay?” he pleaded at your side. Remus panted, trying to get his bearings. He stared up at you, then turned his gaze to Sirius.

“Regulus. They got him. I don’t know who they are,” he huffed. “But, t-they have him.”

“What did they look like?” you interrogated. He turned to you and shook his head.

“I know one of them was a young blonde, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. She was tall, thin.” Your eyes widened as you shot up and furiously searched the room.

“What is it?” Lily asked at your side.

“The local paper, the one with the article for the party. Do you still have it?”

Sirius scowled. “I hardly think the article is going to help—”

“My sister. She wrote the article. She’s tall, blonde, and a little over three years older than me. Her twenty-third birthday was two weeks ago.” You perked up as James handed you the paper. “If she wrote the paper, she would be there. I’m sure of it. Her photo is right—” He flipped thorough the pages before, “Here! Was this her?” You held the black and white photo in front of him. He studied the girl as she smiled and peered around in the moving picture.

Remus nodded. “That’s her.”

You spun to James and Lily. “Her name is Anza Y/L/N—”

“Y/L/N? That rich family at the edge of town?” Lily asked. “Even my family has heard of them, and they’re muggles.”

You nodded. “That’s my family. Death Eaters, even my sister. My parents are vicious, proud fuckers. A typical pure-blood family.” You glanced over at Sirius, who nodded. “If my sister took him, I might know where he is.” The moment you thought about your parent’s dungeon, tears threatened to fall. You had watched a few servants and house elves meet their fate within those stone walls.

Sirius locked his eyes on you. “Then we find your sister.” He stood to his feet and turned to James. “Where is your family’s house, Y/N?”

You shot to your feet, shaking your head. “No, I’m going with you. If Regulus is worse off than this, he will need me—”

“Remus needs you know. James and I can get Regulus here once we find him. You can’t leave Remus like this. We may not find Regulus right away.” Sirius voice cracked at his brother’s name. Sure, you wanted Regulus in your arms that very moment. But, you knew he was strong. A lot stronger than your sister. Even with your parents involved, Regulus could make it through a lot more than most gave him credit for. You knew that, from what he told you.

The other person who knew that was Sirius.

Clenching your fists, you nodded at the older Black. “Go. Find him. Go up the main road until you’re three kilometers out of town. Go right at the fork, then take the first left. Once you see Whomping Willow on the left, you’ve reached the property. The house is another half kilometer in.” You turned to James. “Be careful. My parents raise hounds. And trust me, they aren’t poodles.”

James made his way over to Sirius and nodded. Then, the two of them made their way to the door, where they could apparate with fewer barriers in their path.

Remus finally sat up on his own after a few hours. Lily had handed him some chocolate, which he scarfed down without hesitation. That was apparently his weakness. You’d have to remember that.

The wound on Remus’ stomach, which was much worse than the one on his face, was healing well. You figured it would heal on its own from here, since it was no longer exposing his insides. The wound on his face was just another scar to add to the mix.

You leaned forward as your emotions got the worst of you. Remus turned his head and watched as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Y/N, they will find him. He’ll be okay. He’s probably the toughest of all of us.” Remus rested his hand on your shoulder and smiled.

“I won’t know that until he’s here.” You leaned away, shooting him an emotionless glare. “I know what my sick family is capable of. I’ve seen what they’ve done to people.”

“But Regulus is a powerful wizard. He and Sirius survived a lot at home. More than most people should ever have to. And he has something worth fighting for.” Remus held his stomach as he slowly stood. “Smells like Lily is up to something in the kitchen.” He offered you his hand. “You should eat something. You’ll need strength for then Regulus comes back.” You nodded. There was no fucking way you were hungry. But, Remus was right. If you were going to be able to use any more magic, you were going to need to eat.

When you entered the kitchen, you saw Lily shuffling for plates as a spoon slowly turned inside a pot on the stove. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing. She turned and smiled when she saw Remus standing.

“Well, look at you,” he beamed. “Sit down before you fall over, Remus. I have some warm soup here for you. I found noodles that I remember buying last week, and we have what was left of the vegetables in there. It’s not much, but it tastes good.”

“If it tastes half as good as it smells, it’s perfect.” You tried to keep your voice cheerful as he grabbed the swirling spoon and dished out two bowls. Lily was a kind soul, from what you gathered having only met her twice. Honestly, everyone Regulus surrounded himself with were decent people. And that made the horrendous waves of emotions racing through you ease just a tiny bit.

Lily lowered a bowl in front of you with a spoon already inside. You nodded in thanks as you peered up at Remus, who was already shoveling the food into his mouth. A ghost of a smile cursed your lips as you watched what was quickly becoming your new family carry on in the madness surrounding you all.

“So, Y/N, you and Reg met in school?” Lily asked, settling down beside Remus at the table. You nodded, stirring your soup.

“Yeah. We did. But, I didn’t get to know him until fourth year. Since then, though, we’ve been close. And now, well, we’re really close.” You chuckled, taking a small bite of your meal. You were glad the soup was actually better than it smelled. That kicked up a small fraction of your inexistent appetite.

“I can tell. I almost feel like I knew you before I met you. He has nothing but great things to say. He was worried about you, you know. When you were with your family.” She lowered her head. “Before you left.”

You sighed, slowly lowering your bowl. “Yeah, I know. But, I’m away from them now. I just hope he can get away from them too.” You turned your head away, fighting tears. Lily noticed you were upset and quickly stood.

“Y/N! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rushed to your side while Remus leaned a little closer over the table. Lily leaned down, pulling your hair from your face. “We’ll get him back. We got Remus—”

“I just wish people would quit telling me that! ‘We’ll get him back’ and ‘he’s tough’. I know that! I’ve just never cared about someone like I care about him.” You stared up at the two of them. “He just needs to be okay. I-I don’t know what to do if he isn’t.”

A crash in the other room startled the three of you, followed by a loud pop. Before you could register what was going on, you were on your feet and racing into the other room. Marlene and Peter were standing against the side wall, staring down in horror while James and Sirius slumped a very bloody Regulus onto the couch. James glanced up at you for a moment.

“Y/N! Quick!” In a second, you were right in front of them, kicking the wooden coffee table away to clear more space. Pulling out your wand, you scanned over Regulus.

“Is he breathing?!” you shouted. You stared between James and Sirius. Sirius rested his hand on his brother’s stomach, only to have it saturated with blood.

“I can’t tell!”

You pushed his arm, almost knocking him off the sofa. “Move!” You hovered your ear over his mouth, but heard nothing. “Sirius, pull out your wand. Now!” He obeyed you, watching as you blew a breath into Regulus’ mouth. Almost instantly after you blew into his mouth, blood began to spirt from his side. “Anywhere you see blood leaving his body, use the spell Vulnera Sanentur. Go!” You breathed into Regulus’ mouth again, your tears staining his dirt-covered skin. But, you continued, and Sirius continued beside you.

You spotted Remus standing over Regulus’ obviously broken leg and pulled out his wand. “Ferula.” Good, someone else remembered the healing spells from Charms class.

Another minute passed, and you still heard nothing from Regulus. He wasn’t breathing, but he was bleeding. That meant his heart was still going.

As Sirius continued over every gash and he could find. You held your wand over Regulus’ throat and closed your eyes. “Anapneo.” Sirius and you both jumped when Regulus sucked in a breath. His eyes hot wide open for a moment, then closed again. But, he continued to breathe. It was shallow, but it was something.

A few more minutes passed, and Sirius stopped, leaning back against the tipped over coffee table. You peered down at your boyfriend and let out a deep sigh. He was breathing, and his gashes weren’t as bad as they were when he got there. At least, the big ones weren’t. You smiled, glancing over at an exhausted Sirius.

“Shit, he was bad when we found him. I didn’t even know he was alive.” His voice shook.

“He was choking on his own blood, and he had a punctured lung. That’s why the blood came out when I blew into his mouth. It shot down his throat, and out of his lungs. But, his throat filled up before he could take another breath.” You explained. Everyone in the room stared at you in awe and shock. “I-I was studying to be a healer—” Before you could finish your sentence, Regulus started to convulse right before your eyes.

“What’s happening?!” Sirius shouted, launching to his feet. You mimicked him, rushing to Regulus’ side.

“He’s seizing!” You cut your last word short as you fought the urge to vomit. “It can happen when someone is—” You stopped, unable to answer. Instead, you raised your want to his temple and began whispering another spell. He slowly calmed, then finally stilled. Sirius stared down at him with the widest eyes you had ever seen.

“The Cruciatus Curse. If someone is subjected to the Curciatus Curse for too long, they can tremor or have seizures.” Remus completed your earlier explanation. “If they’re lucky.” You closed your eyes, but the urge was too strong. You rushed to the bathroom down the hall. Sirius hurried after you.

You made it to the toilet before what little food was in your stomach left you. You heaved for a few minutes, then finally settled. Sirius stood beside you, rubbing your back.

“You going to be okay? You know, this is how it started with Lily a few months ago.” He shot you a suspicious look, but you shook your head. He let out a sigh, then smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that. But, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just different when you see someone you love so much look like that. I didn’t want to think that he was tortured that badly. But I knew deep down that he was. That’s how my family rolls.” You shrugged, leaning your head against the wall.

“Your sister was there. She fought back, but she’s still alive. Her friends are too.” Sirius slid down the wall, taking a seat right beside you. His shoulder leaned against yours as he handed you a wet rag. “There was a man her age, brown hair, tall. And an older woman, black hair, maybe approaching fifty. Sharp blue eyes.”

You sighed, wiping your mouth. “The older woman is my aunt, Una. She’s a mean bitch. She would watch my sister and I when we were young. The man must be Spencer, her son. I was supposed to marry him.” You giggled, making Sirius laugh.

“Good to know my family wasn’t the only one like that.” Sirius cringed.

“My parents wanted to keep the bloodline pure. I’m sure if they were half-way decent people, they wouldn’t have been opposed to Reg. He’s a pureblood too.” You rolled your eyes. “I just never thought I would be with one, no offense.”

Sirius shook his head. “Hey, I’m not offended if you aren’t.” He smiled. “And as long as Regulus is happy, I don’t care who he’s with. I’m thrilled that he found someone smart and talented, pureblood or not.” He laughed. “My parents would have been pleased to hear at least one of us is going to marry a pureblood.”

You laughed, then froze. “Marry? Who says Regulus is going to marry me?” Sirius cleared his throat.

“Well, uh, I mean, you two are fond of each other. I don’t see you two parting ways anytime soon. So, if you two are into that sort of thing, it might happen.” He winked, then raised to his feet and extended his hand. You took it, slowly rising onto your shaky legs. “There’s mouthwash under the sink.” You nodded, thanking him. Then, you watched him sneak of into the hall, leaving you with a smile on your face.

When you had cleaned yourself up a bit, you returned to the living room to find the sofa empty. Lily scrubbed it, flicking her wand every few seconds, then frowning. She turned to you and smiled.

“Sirius and Remus moved him to Remus’ room. Remus is in there with him, and James. I think Sirius passed out on our bed.” She turned back to the couch and frowned. “Blood is so hard to get out, even with the right spells.” She shook her head. “But, no matter. It will come out eventually.”

You chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, nodding to the hall. “Go be with him. First door on the left, just passed the washroom.”

You turned, following her directions until you reached James, who stood against the door frame. He patted you lightly on the back as passed.

Regulus was resting comfortably on the bed, still unconscious but otherwise looking much better. He was still sporting his bloody clothes from earlier, but it appeared that his wounds were healed a bit. You had to admit, Sirius did well under pressure.

You lowered yourself onto the bed beside him, resting a hand on his. Then, you slipped your wand from your sweater and tapped it against his bloody clothes. “Tergeo.” The dried blood surrounding his wounds suddenly started to vanish.

“I may have some extra clothes you can change him into. Those look pretty bad. I mean, they will probably be far too big for him. But, they’re clean,” James suggested with a smile. You turned to him and nodded.

“I think that would be good. I wouldn’t want to wake up in these, or dirty Remus’ sheets any more than they already are.” You shot a smile to Remus, who nodded in thanks.

Once James fetched his clothes, everyone but Remus and you left Regulus’ side. James went on to talk to Marlene and Peter, who had just returned from their quest to find Reg. Remus helped you change Regulus into an oversized jumper and a baggy pair of jeans. They were only slightly loose around the waist, but they were far too long, causing you to chuckle.

Remus stood against the wall near you while you sat on the bed, clenching Regulus’ hand in yours. His fingers were a lot warmer than they were a while before, which gave you a little bit of hope.

“I hope he wakes up and looks at you first, and not me. I’d want to wake up to something beautiful, not this banged up old face,” Remus teased. You giggled, studying his scars. You had come to your own conclusion that he was a werewolf about thirty minutes into knowing him. He was reserved, but not fearful, so he wasn’t abused. And a lot of the scars were decades old, meaning he must have earned them when he was young. The only reasonable conclusion was that he had gathered them slowly over the years.

“Did you and Sirius meet in school?” you asked casually, glancing up at Remus. He nodded, instantly smiling.

“Yeah, first year. But, I started developing feelings for him during third year. It wasn’t until fifth year that he gathered up enough courage to kiss me. We’ve been together ever since.” He huffed out a laugh. “He even had the guts to tell his parents.” He frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “Needless to say, Orion and Walburga were less than please to hear that their oldest son was—”

“Happy? Sounds like my parents.” You shot him a sweet smile, and he nodded.

“Regulus was distant at first, mostly because he and Sirius didn’t get on much until the end of school. But, he’s always been very nice to me. Now, he’s as much my brother as he is Sirius’. And, I tease him less.” You both laughed for a while. Then, he pointed casually at Regulus. “I know you’ve heard this before, but he’s crazy about you. For such a quiet lad, I haven’t heard him talk so much about one thing.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to such boring conversation,” you played. Remus rolled his eyes.

“You’re good for him. And I can tell he’s good to you. Or, I would hope, or you still wouldn’t be here.” Remus winked. “And it wasn’t boring conversation. Anything that gets Reggie talking is great conversation.”

Regulus stirred beside you, then squeezed your hand. You snapped your gaze over to him. “Reg?” you whispered. “Reg?” His eyes fluttered open, landing immediately on you. You smiled down at him, watching his movements. You had no idea how much damage was done to him, at least mentally. “Hey there, handsome.” Remus patted you on the shoulder, smiling, then slowly left the room.

Regulus slowly rubbed your thumb over your hand. “Y/N,” he whispered. Tears welled up in your eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Regulus. I’m so sorry. My family, I’m so sorry they did this to you.” Tears slowly fell down your cheeks, but you stayed strong, elated that he was awake.

“You—Your family is here, n-not there,” he huffed. You lifted your free hand and gently leaned it against his cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered. Then, you lifted your wand and began whispering healing spells against his wounds. He closed his eyes, but you would tell he was still conscious. You continued your work for another five minutes or so, then stopped, satisfied with his progress.

Regulus opened his eyes again and smiled. “I told you, you’re the most brilliant witch I know.” You blushed and scoffed.

“You were half-dead a few hours ago, and now you’re flirting? They must have scrambled your brain.” You smiled down at him. He reached for your hand and pulled it against his chest.

“You’re the reason I’m alive, Y/N. You saved me.” You shook your head.

“I’m the reason you were out there in the first place—”

“Don’t. I would have b-been out there either way. This isn’t your fault. Besides, I g-gathered some interesting information while we were there. But, that’s a conversation for later. For now, I just want to be here with you.” He patted the bed beside him. You laid down, scooting close and wrapping your arm around his. He turned his head towards you, smiling. “I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again. I thought I-I was going to die in that dungeon with so much left to say to you.” You turned to him, lifting an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

Regulus sighed. “How much I love you. I know I don’t say it like that often, but I mean it. I’ve meant it for a long time. Since school. But—”

“You’re a man of few words, but a lot of emotion. I know. I get it.” You smiled, rubbing his arm.

“And that’s just it. You get me, more than I think anyone ever has. You’re young, but wise beyond your years. I still believe to this day that you’re the brightest witch I’ve ever met. You saved me.” Regulus caught his breath for a moment, then continued. “How’s Remus?”

You nodded. “Doing well, walking. He wasn’t hurt as badly. He’ll heal just fine.”

“I’m sure you had helped with that.” Regulus’ eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight, making your heart race. You had never seen him like this. It was like all of the emotion you hadn’t seen in him was slowly leaking out of him. Not that you were complaining.

“I know a lot of spells. You know that.” You gestured to Regulus’ chest and smiled. “But, your brother was brilliant too. And Remus. They all helped me heal you when you got here.” He smiled. “That leg may take a little time to heal properly. But, you’re here.”

“With you.” He leaned his head towards yours. “You don’t know how happy I am. I keep thinking this is a dream. But, dreams aren’t usually this painful.”

You raised up a little. “Are you in pain? I could—”

“I’m fine. You relax and stay here with me. I-I have more to say.” You rolled onto your side and stared at him.

“Like what? What’s got you so chatty?” you played.

Regulus turned a little and winced. “Like I said, I didn’t think I was every going to see you again.” He rested his hand on yours. “I w-was going to wait. But, Sirius said I may not have time to wait. And, well, I see that now.”

Your eyes widened as you studied his expression. His torn lips were curled into a slight smile as his eyes locked on yours. You ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Wait for what.”

“Y/N, I need to ask you something. It may seem, well, a little forward. And, maybe a bit out of character. But, you live with me—with us—now, and I feel like from the moment you won Sirius over, it’s been as natural as breathing having you there with me. I love waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep with you by my side. And when I was laying there in that dungeon, writhing in pain—” You winced at his words. “I thought about you. I wanted to make it home to you. To continue my life with you.”

Your heart swelled at his confession. You had never heard him say anything like that before. It took him almost six months to say he loved you, even though you knew he did long before then. He just wasn’t an outwardly emotional man. So this, at least some of it, sounded like it was something he had been planning. He even said that Sirius told him not to wait, but for what?

“Y/N,” you whispered, then closed his eyes. He was shaking a little. It wasn’t his weakness getting to him. No, this was nerves.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, whatever it is you’re trying to say, don’t be afraid to say it. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” You held his face in your hand, your noses just inches away from each other. He held your gaze as he smiled, blushing just a little.

“I wanted to make it back here so we could continue our lives together. So I could ask you to be my wife.” You froze, holding his gaze. His wife. He was asking you to be his wife. He moved his face just a little closer to yours and licked his lips. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

Tears fell from your eyes as you lifted yourself up, peering down at the man you loved. He was different, normally reserved and a little cold. But, in this moment, he was everything. Perfect.

You nodded your head, letting more tears fall onto the pillow below you. “Yes, I will.” Regulus’ face lightened like you had never seen before, his eyes glistening with tears you so rarely saw on him. You leaned down and kissed him gently, holding him lightly yet lovingly.

Someone in the doorway cleared their throat, startling both of you. You turned to see Sirius leaning smugly against the doorframe with his arms lightly crossed over his chest. “Glad to hear you finally took my advice, little brother.” He winked at you, smiling. “Good to see you awake.”

Regulus smiled lightly at his older brother and nodded. Then, Sirius turned for the hall, disappearing into the dark.

You turned back to Reg, grinning from ear to ear. His breathing was a little more labored than it was before. But, with the excitement and current state of health, it didn’t surprise you.

He tilted his head up at you and smiled. “I have a ring, you know. Sirius and Remus helped me with it. I honestly had no idea what I was searching for, or what was appropriate,” he rambled. “I just hope—” You shut him up with a kiss, giggling.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He smiled, then closed his eyes for a moment. Now, he looked exhausted. And you didn’t blame him. “Get some rest. I’m going to go get something to eat. Do you want anything?” Regulus shook his head and smiled.

“No. I’m fine.” You nodded then lifted off the bed, leaving your fiancé to rest and heal.

It took a little over a week for the rest of the wounds to heal, and for Regulus’ leg to be back to normal. The only thing left were a few soft scars along his torso, and one on the right side of his neck. Other than that, it was like nothing happened.

Well, at least on the outside.

Regulus had been having nightmares since the moment be got back. And, since you were right there beside him when he would scream out into the night, you were being affected. Not that it bothered you all that much. You just couldn’t stand to see him suffer. It was torturous seeing the man you loved scream and beg for his life.

Remus and Sirius later learned that your sister and the rest of your family knew who he was from the beginning, before he had even arrived at the open house. You were right, as usual. It had been a set up. And they were hoping that Regulus would show up.

How could you have been so stupid? Sending him off to something like that? You had practically handed him over to them.

But Sirius told you not to think that way. Either way, it was going to happen to someone. And the fact that it happened to someone so strong was a blessing. Right, a real blessing.

Regulus stirred a little beside you, curling up as his eyes fluttered. He was having another nightmare. So, you did what you had been doing the last three nights and started softly singing to him. Something about the sound of your voice calmed him, even when he was asleep.

Once he had calmed down a little, you gently caressed his cheek with your thumb. He still stirred, but he was better than before. Each night was getting a little easier. And all you could do was hope that he would eventually push the painful memories behind him.

“Y/N?” his voice rasped. His eyes fluttered open and locked on you. “Did I wake you?” You nodded but smiled sweetly.

“It’s alright. I got about five hours of sleep before you started.” You kissed his forehead. “It’s happening later every night. Maybe soon you’ll be able to sleep through the night.

Regulus nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry.” Your eyes widened.

“What? Why? You have nothing to be sorry for.” He glanced away, tucking his face partially into the pillow. “I understand if you regret your decision.”

You froze, letting out a gasp. Regret? Why the hell did you regret being there? You shook your head, pulling him as close as you could. “Why the hell would I regret my decision? Regulus Arcturus Black, I agreed to marry you. That means I’m here no matter what we go through. And we are going through this together. You aren’t alone. You never will be. I’ll always be here.”

You glanced over at the gorgeous ring he had presented to you when you got back to the flat. It rested just beside you on the bedside table, shining in the light of a single candle. According to Sirius, it was mostly Regulus’ design, contrary to what Reg had told you. He never gave himself enough credit.

“It’s just, I’ve never had a great role model for how support works in a relationship. The best I have in Sirius and Remus, which can get a little awkward. I mean, he’s my brother. And James and Lily, well, those are more Sirius’ friends than mine.” You lifted his head back up a little. “My parents weren’t exactly the ideal match.”

You smiled. “Mine weren’t either. But, just follow your own instincts. If it makes you happy, do it.” You shrugged. “And I’m happy here. So, in my eyes, you’re doing perfectly.”

Regulus smiled up at you, chuckling lightly. It was nice to hear him laugh. “You’re such a sap. You know that?”

You grinned. “Yeah. But, you asked this sap to marry you. There’s no turning back now, is there?” you teased. Regulus shook his head, taking your hand.

“No. No turning back.”

Stay turned for Part 2!

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black x y/n #sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #james potter x lily potter #regulus black fluff #regulus black reader insert #regulus black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders era

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letstraveltoorion · 5 years ago

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Histoires de planètes

Bibliography

Histoires de planètes

ANTHOLOGIE

Textes réunis par Jacques GOIMARD & Demètre IOAKIMIDIS & Gérard KLEIN

Science Fiction - Cycle : La Grande anthologie de la science-fiction vol. 7

Illustration de Pierre FAUCHEUX (1st cover - 1975) & Éric SEIGAUD (2nd cover - 1985)

LIVRE DE POCHE, coll. La Grande anthologie de la science fiction n° 3769, 1er trimestre 1975

448 pages, catégorie/prix : 4, ISBN : 2-253-00723-4

Autres éditions : LIVRE DE POCHE, 1976, 1977, 1985, 1997

Stories:

1 - Jacques GOIMARD & Demètre IOAKIMIDIS & Gérard KLEIN, Introduction à l’anthologie, pages 7 à 14, Introduction (lire ce texte en ligne)

2 - Demètre IOAKIMIDIS, Préface, pages 15 à 32, Préface

3 - Jack VANCE, Le Diable de la colline du salut (The Devil on Salvation Bluff), pages 33 à 64, trad. Simone HILLING

4 - Michael SHAARA, La Planète Greenville (Greenville’s planet), pages 65 à 83

5 - Ian WILLIAMSON, La Nef engloutie (Chemical plant), pages 85 à 115, trad. Paul HEBERT

6 - Robert SHECKLEY, Les Monstres (The Monsters), pages 117 à 131, trad. Alain DORÉMIEUX

7 - Chad OLIVER, L’Objet (Artifact), pages 133 à 163, trad. Bruno MARTIN

8 - Lester DEL REY, Stabilité (Stability), pages 165 à 188, trad. Michel RIVELIN

9 - Roger DEE, Le Robinson de l’espace (Man Friday), pages 189 à 224

10 - James Henry SCHMITZ, Le Garde (Caretaker), pages 225 à 244, trad. Arlette ROSENBLUM

11 - Alfred Elton VAN VOGT, Le Village enchanté (The Enchanted Village/The Sands of Mars), pages 245 à 267, trad. Richard CHOMET

12 - Robert A. HEINLEIN, Oiseau de passage (The Menace from Earth), pages 269 à 309, trad. Roger DURAND

13 - Fritz LEIBER, La Forêt enchantée (The Enchanted Forest), pages 311 à 340

14 - Robert F. YOUNG, La Déesse de granit (Goddess in Granite), pages 341 à 373, trad. Catherine GRÉGOIRE

15 - Philip José FARMER, Attitudes (Attitudes), pages 375 à 404

16 - Idris SEABRIGHT, Se battre et mourir (Brightness falls from the air), pages 405 à 415

17 - Edmond HAMILTON, La Planète morte (The Dead Planet), pages 417 à 434, trad. Bruno MARTIN

18 - Dictionnaire des auteurs, pages 435 à 443, Dictionnaire d’auteurs

Data taken from the NooSFere database (https://www.noosfere.org/icarus/livres/EditionsLivre.asp?numitem=1870)

Histoires de Planètes (or Stories of planets) is a collection of small stories and novella regrouped around a common thematic, in this case, planets. I picked up that book while I was a teenager back in high school. I remember, at that time, I was reading every story I could find that were labelled as science fiction, at my local library. Although, I was enjoying what I was reading most of the time, it’s only now I realized that I was taking every science-fiction story as some extra flavoured adventure stories. Today, I recognized that in most cases, I never really quite understood what I was reading … which means that I have a much better appreciation of what I’m currently reading now, than 40 years ago.

Of the stories collected in this book, here those that impressed me and the reasons why:

Le Diable de la colline du salut (The Devil on Salvation Bluff–1952) by Jack Vance : I didn’t like this story at first; but now I grasped its importance. The story is about human settlers trying to adapt to their new colony which is orbiting around multiple suns. I did not understand then the true meaning of this story until I went to Afghanistan. Only then did I remember this story and everything became clear to me. As I came off the plane in Kandahar, I was hit by the hostile conditions of the place: The stench in the air, the blazing heat of 38℃ at 08h00 am, the noises and, of course, the military conditions… I was a stranger in a very alien land! The psychological shock was quite evident and it took me about 6 weeks to adapt to the local conditions (and don’t get me starting on the jet lag). What helped me were the sounds the birds were making which were the same as at home. Then it hit me like a train: the birds (sparrow) were the same as the ones at home because those at home WERE IMPORTED BY THE FIRST EUROPEAN COLONIST who came to North America. They brought those birds with them because it reminded them of the home they left … their old life. Those sparrows served as psychological support for the colonist to adapt to their new environment; not realizing the ecological disaster they nearly created. In the story the colonist finally accepted their new world once their symbol of normality (the central clock) got destroyed.

In retrospect, Jack Vance, here, raised up the issue of mankind adapting to their new environment and the psychological stress they will face. Today, we are perfectly adapted to Earth and it is quite easy to figure out what is good for us and what could constitute a threat. On an alien world, where everything will be different (The air, the light, the day time, the flora and fauna), how will the colonist know what is good and what is not? If you heard a cat purring, you know there is no threat … but if you hear the roaring of a lion or the howling of a wolf, notice your heart will start racing immediately. This why this story is a good one for any sci-fi setting (2300 AD or any other).

La Planète Greenville (Greenville’s planet - 1952), by Michael Shaara: I remember this story caused me a shock when I read it due to its lack of a happy ending. Because I read it while I was a teenager, it was my first exposure to this kind of story. And to be frank, I didn’t know how to handle it. The story is about the exploration of an uninhabited planet covered almost entirely by water aside two very tiny islands. The moral of the story is because a planet appeared to be uninhabited, it might not be the case … and the local inhabitant might not be where you’ll expect to find them or may not even share the same environment as you are.

La Nef engloutie (Chemical plant - 1950), by Ian Williamson : I really enjoyed this story … although the French translation of the title has nothing to do with the original text … but in retrospect, translating the original title into French would not have made sense either. The story is about a search and rescue operation for a starship that has crashed on an unexplored planet. Their only clue: the ship attempted to crash land near a red lake. I won’t say more as you need to read this story to better appreciate it. If you are into sci-fi RPG, this could be a great plot for a campaign either 2300 AD, Traveller or any other similar setting…

Les Monstres (The Monsters - 1953) by Robert SHECKLEY: A sentient alien species attempts to deal with their first contact with humans. One thing I remember of this story is that some biological imperatives might be at the core of cultural behaviours or way of thinking … or both. This is an important clue if you want to write about an alien species. When I read that story for the first time, I thought the whole concept as quite stupid but now, after I gained experience on other cultures (through my travels) I think that Robert Sheckley was bang on! The biological imperative of any sentient species will have a direct impact on their cultures and way of thinking … to fail in understanding this will result in conflict that will make the North American Natives’ genocide look like a garden party.

Le Robinson de l’espace (Man Friday - 1954), by - Roger DEE: This story started as its name indicate, as a sci-fi take on the classic Robinson Crusoe’s story. However, as you move forward into the narrative, you’ll start to realize that in the relationship between Robinson and Friday turned out to be not what you expected to be at the beginning. I must say that even today, this is a twist that I that I haven’t seen in use in many stories.

Morale of the story, never assume that mankind is the most advanced or intelligent species when we will encounter another sentient being… Especially if that alien “look” more primitive than us.

Le Village enchanté (The Enchanted Village/The Sands of Mars - 1950), by Alfred Elton VAN VOGT: An astronaut, Bill Jenner, is the only survivor of a ship that crashed on Mars. After many days and seeing is resources in food and water dry up, he came upon a small Martian village on the edge of the desert (1950, remember). After he reached the location, nearly dead from hunger and thirst, he quickly realizes the village IS trying to help him but his biology was too different from the ones whom the village was built for … thus forcing him to adapt … adapt???

What I liked about this story is the fact that A.E. Van Vogt had a genial idea to show us that what we take for granted or logical might not be so. If we build stuff to fit our needs and logic, an alien civilization will indubitably do so to fit THEIR needs … not ours … so let’s not assume that what can be applied to us will also be the same for them.

Oiseau de passage (The Menace from Earth) by Robert A. HEINLEIN, The story is set in the near future when the Moon is colonized with people living in underground cities. The “menace” of the title is a glamorous woman tourist who visits the Moon colony. She is assigned a young guide named Holly, a 15-year-old girl and aspiring starship designer who is the first-person narrator. Holly’s best friend Jeff develops a crush on the “groundhog” visitor, Ariel. As Jeff spends more time with Ariel, Holly becomes jealous and begins to doubt his friendship (source Wikipedia).

I could not have written this any better than this. What I liked about this story is the way Heinlein described the Lunar colonies … not as advanced outposts from mankind but as a regular place where people have adapted and used the characteristic of their environment to create new form of entertainment and culture. I really enjoyed the detail he placed on how to wear a space suit and the little details you have to think of just to be comfortable in it. The fact that it was written from a woman’s perspective is a plus.

La Déesse de granit (Goddess in Granite - 1957) by Robert F. YOUNG : I must credit Robert F. to have written a story in which I still remember the emotion it transcended in such a way that I still remember it forty years after I’ve read it. Only because of the location in which the story takes place was the reason why this short novella ended up in this collection … the rest is more of an internal journey than a sci-fi story. Somewhere, on a small planet, a civilization has sculpted an island in the shape of a woman. A masterpiece of craft whose hair was made by a forest and the eyes, two perfect lakes (artificial?).

Today, I realize this story would have been impossible since only a human would have created such a sculpture and not a mysterious, long dead, alien civilization. Yet, the idea of some kind of macro engineering for the purpose of art … is an interesting idea. Indeed, why always assume that ruins and artefacts were created for the sole purpose of religion, habitation and … maybe some type of industrial process? Art in itself can become a purpose and the human is probably not the only one who has some.

La Planète morte (The Dead Planet - 1970), by Edmond Hamilton : This story is probably the main inspiration for the story I’m currently working on. At the edge of the galaxy, a damaged explorer ship is forced to crash land on a dead planet orbiting an agonizing star. Miraculously, they survived but their ship was severely damaged, stranding them there. As the crew started looking for some mineral deposit to help them in their repairs, they stumbled, instead, upon a lifeless domed city under the ice. Who build it? When was it built? But more importantly, what kind of security system was left behind?

This story impressed me at the time because of the concept it brought to me: Up to this point, when I thought of ruins and archaeology, I immediately thought of old stones and primitive technologies (thanks in part to Indiana Jones) … but what about an advanced civilization? This story made me realize that if a civilization had the power to create self-repair machines powered by a near limitless energy sources, there was a chance their technology and creation might still be around even if their creators were gone since the dawn of time.

Also, I did not realize immediately … in fact I only found out 2015 or so (and I read that book back in the ’80s); but Edmond Hamilton was also one of the writers of one of my most beloved childhood heroes: The Capitaine Flam (Originally Capt Future). Of course, how could I’ve guessed at the time, that the cartoon by TOE ANIMATION (Japan), I was watching was from the same person? Only through the lens of the internet I was able to make the connection. In retrospect, learning this only made me appreciate the serial Capt Future even more.

In conclusion, this anthology confirmed that even old stories that, in many ways, could be considerate as “obsolete,” could still hold sparks of genius if someone cares to take a second look without any prejudice. Not all of the stories were good, or aged well, but each one of them has the merit to ask some very tough questions that warranted some explorations. Which, in fact, is why I keep those stories around … as they could always use a second look.

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nann-the-explorer · 3 years ago

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The door opened and Arianna tensed. Two people entered they seemed to be Humans? one looking very surprised and the other didn't look very happy. She blinked at the woman's words. Fallen from the sky? What was she talking about. Her purple eyes searched theirs as she sensed whether they were deceiving her. They seemed to be telling her the truth. Though there was something strange about them she wasn't sure what but they weren't ordinary humans. They made no move to attack, which helped her drop from defcon 2 to more of a 5. "i am afraid you are mistaken, I am not a little bird." Her voice was gentle, reminding one of spring awakening from midwinter. There was no accent to be detected although it was obvious that she must have been raised in an upper class environment. "where am I? Where is my wolf? I cannot sense him…"

Nann noticed that the woman was very cautious, seemingly scanning them for any signs of hostility. To relax the situation, they smiled genuinely and instinctively lifted their open hands in front of their chest to signal peaceableness to the foreign woman.

*Please … we are not enemies, we are sailors and researchers. This is Dr. Kirkham, our ship’s doctor and my name is Nann Fitzsimmons, First Navigation Officer of the proud exploring ship E.P.S Hexfire. And we saved you from drowning in the ocean after you fell from … well, honestly, you did fall from the sky, at least from our perspective.

Dr. Kirkham chuckled friendly as the woman had corrected her former comment.

*I can perfectly see that you are a fine young woman, who, I would say, needs some clothes and a decent cup of hot tea. Maybe something to eat as well?*

Dr. Kirkham looked at Nann and nodded at the woman, turning around and heading towards the narrow door.

*The old man allowed us to make use of his steward. I will go and ask Andrei to prepare something for our guest. In the meanwhile, you can talk to her a little, Nann. As for you, little birdie, welcome on the fleets most infamous ship.*

Chuckling, Nann nodded back as Dr. Kirkham left and then turned to the guest. They gestured the beautiful woman to at least sit down comfortably on the plank bed.*

*I apologize, Dr. Kirkham may be a special person at times but she surely is the best medic in the fleet. Well, you are aboard of our ship and we are anchoring at Ashmar. Though I believe you don’t know this place. As for a wolf … until now, you were the only one that came through what was presumably a kind of passage in the sky. I’m afraid, there is no one else so far, wether it may be human or animal. I am very sorry.*

Nann then smiled again, wanting to emit an atmosphere of security and hospitality towards the woman.

*Would you kindly tell me your name, too, and, if you can remember, what happened before you landed here?*

#oc roleplay #roleplay #arianna the druid #nann the explorer

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imagine-lcorp · 7 years ago

Text

A Bodyguard's Job (One Shot)

Request

Anon: I loovvveee your writings so I was wondering if you could do a one shot where the reader is Lena's bodyguard and they get attacked one day on their way into L-Corp and maybe the reader gets hurt or something? Thanks love!

A/N: Hi, again! A lil reminder here, I’m gonna be trying to post imagines regularly on the blog wednesdays and saturdays. So, if I don’t publish this imediately don’t worry, I’m working on them and will be posted as soon as I can :)

As always, thank you so much for your kind messages and the requests. It’s really fun to write for you beautiful people :) Kudos to the anon that sent this one and I hope you like it! :D

Lena Luthor x Bodyguard!R//Word Count: 1,571

If there was another way to describe your job, you could call yourself a paranoid for hire. It was an essential trait to develop if someone wanted to prosper in the bodyguard business. You had to know your client, their background, their connections, the environment around them, who did they trust, and their contacts. You needed to be prepared for everything. No matter how harmless or hostile the attack, no matter how out of place or noteworthy a person was.

When someone hired you, you had to ensure their safety even if it meant putting yourself on the line of fire. But, of course, that also had to come in the contract. It was different for each client. There were low risk clients, that usually needed an escort service, and the high risk clients, the ones that needed full protection, twenty four hours a day. Like your latest employer, billionaire CEO of L-Corp and owner of CatCo Worldwide Media, Lena Luthor. You cannot say it was a surprise when she contacted your company's services. After several attempts on her life, that you had been aware of, the only surprise was that she had taken so long to get a bodyguard.

Nothing out of the normal had happened since you started working for her but you were sure this was one of the most demanding works you had ever done. Not that you complained about it. Payment was great, better than any other, and Ms. Luthor was a great person to work with. She didn't deserve a hint of the bad publicity she received. There was just a lot to take in account with her having a few powerful people after her.

It had been almost two weeks since you started to work for her and, lucky for you, she had already caught up with the whole dynamic. The constant changes in routine didn't seem to bother her. She even asked for advice and talked to you about security protocols. You hoped today went as smooth as any other day and if it didn't, you were prepared.

"Good morning, Miss Luthor." You opened the front door of the building for her. You were about to leave to L-Corp.

"Good morning, (Y/N), nice jacket." She eyed you up and down, seeing as you had opted for a business casual outfit today.

"Thank you, ma'am." You followed alongside her towards the car. Your eyes always scanning your surroundings.

"Good morning, Raphael." She said to her driver once she got in the back seat of the car.

"Good morning, Miss Luthor." He said with a smile.

Raphael knew the new routes from which you would be arriving at L-Cop. And you had trained him on the basics of vigilance and surveillance on the road. You had wanted to bring one of your partners but Miss Luthor had been adamant about keeping Raphael. He was a man you could trust. You soon discovered that, indeed, he was a man equipped for the task.

"Ms. Luthor, Jess sent today's itinerary. You have two meetings and three appointments with some investors." You had memorized these people's names and faces. All were clear. "And I'll be talking to your security director to change the schedules of this week's guards."

"Thank you, (Y/N). Anything else?" She asked. You remembered her secretary had sent you a text this morning.

"Jess mentioned your friend, Miss Danvers, will be dropping by your office for lunch." You told her, looking with attention at the streets.

"Do you think we could have lunch outside? I'll need a break from the office if I have to see these guys today." She sounded a bit tired. That made you feel a bit sorry. You also knew it wasn't easy to deal with pushy business men.

"Sure, miss. Any place in particular?" Your tone sympathetic.

"I'll ask Jess to make us a reservation in the Chinese restaurant in Linden Street."

"Alright, it all will be ready for then, Miss Luthor."

"Thank you." You saw her smile at you from the in the rearview mirror.

The rest of the way was spent on relative peace. Raphael kept driving and you kept watching until you reached the building. You parked near the entrance and took a moment to check with the bodyguards inside of the building if everything was in order. After two weeks, Miss Luthor was used to wait and move until security gave you clearance. No matter if you were outside or inside her buildings she always followed your indications. Once the team gave you the sign, you got out of the car to walk alongside her, as you usually did.

"All clear." You opened the back door and offered your other hand.

"Thank you." She rested her hand on yours, enough to step out of the car and enough for you to recognize the softness of her hand.

"You're welcome." A soft smile escaping you.

You never understood how it was possible for someone to want to harm someone like Lena Luthor. Even before you had met her, you were sure she was like any other young woman trying to make a name for herself. Her last name was a heavy name, not much people liked it, but there wasn't justifiable reason to attack her when you had seen her, in just a handful of days, try her best to help the people in National City. Whoever tried something like that was truly a mad man.

You were a few steps away from the double doors of L-Corp's lobby. Another bodyguard was near the glass doors to receive Miss Luthor and walk her to her office. After that, you would head to the department of security to revise schedules. It had been a calm morning and you were ready to make sure it stayed that way. But then, as if attracted by your thoughts, you heard a scream like a battle cry.

"Luthor!" Shouted a man behind you.

"Gun!" The bodyguard by the door came running towards you and Miss Luthor.

"Out of the way!" You reacted immediately.

You turned around, grabbing your gun from your holster, and shielding Miss Luthor with your body. You pointed at the man and saw him pointing back at you, or rather, at Lena. Neither of you thought twice before shooting nor, while he managed to shoot you in the abdomen, you managed to hit him in the right leg. A second later, the man was on the floor, with the extra help of Raphael who had managed to tackle him after he screamed from the wound. You had fallen backwards and hit one of the glass doors, the pain in your abdomen making it difficult to move. The security guards that were inside the lobby came rushing after, helping Raphael first, as you had signaled, and checking on you.

You were less than pleased with the situation. First, because it was too early and you hadn't had breakfast. Second, because the police and the paramedics had taken a bit longer to arrive at the scene. And, third, because your were hurting a lot. The bulletproof vest you were wearing, as it was mandatory, had absorbed most of the bullet's impact. And, for what you had noticed, the man's gun was lower caliber. But the pain was real and the paramedics had taken you to an ambulance to check it.

When the police arrived, they immediately put the man in custody and they were taking him in an ambulance. You were more concerned about Miss Luthor but you guessed security and the police were still with her. After a moment, the police informed you they had taken Miss Luthor's declaration and, after they took yours, they were leaving with the suspect. When the paramedics finished attending your wound, you decided to wait a bit longer inside the ambulance and called another of your guards. It was necessary to investigate the man and revise again the security protocols.

"Make sure to put this on Miss Luthor's files for future reference, and check any other connections he could have. Ok?" The guard nodded and headed to back to the building.

"I can't believe you're still working." You heard Miss Luthor's amused voice.

"A bodyguard's job never ends." You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Unless you want to cancel our contract."

"No, I..." She laughed. "I am and feel safer having you around."

"Glad to hear it." You smiled, after all, it was part of a job well done.

"How bad is it?" She looked at your stomach.

"Oh, just a really big nasty looking bruise." You didn't think before pulling your top up to show her the bruise. You had to take your jacket, shirt and vest for them to look at the injury. "The paramedics said it should fade in a week but I should take a few days just to make sure it's nothing."

"Well then." She left her eyes wander a bit longer. When she realized she hadn't responded she cleared her throat and looked back at your face. "Also, now that you took a bullet for me, don't you think we should be on a first-name basis?"

You laughed and looked down for a second. You definitely couldn't complain with this job. "As you wish, Lena." You said.

"Get better, (Y/N)." You saw a playful smile forming on her lips as she started to walk away. "Sooner."

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena x reader #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor fic #bodyguard reader #bodyguard #a bodyguard's job #one shot #request

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chloegrayportfolio · 4 years ago

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Module Three: The Classroom As A Place To Be

For this progress log task, I used personal instances from a wide range of grade levels, from K-12. I did this because I thought it would be more meaningful and reflective when thinking of these classroom rules to consider perspectives and experiences from students of all age groups.

Jointly Established: On the first day of Grade 4, we were called to sit on the carpet and give introductions about ourselves. After the introductions were given, my teacher brought forward a large sheet of paper and used magnets to stick it to the whiteboard. In the middle, there was a large bubble that said “Classroom Rules”. My classmates and myself looked at each other with confusion as to why the rest of the paper was entirely blank, with one of my peers even raising their hand and jokingly asking if there were no rules. This brought our teacher to laughter, and then she explained to us that as a class together, us students would work with her to come up with set rules and expectations of the classroom to follow. For about thirty-sixty minutes, we worked as a class to discuss certain rules, write expectations down, and decorate the sheet of paper before deciding on its wall for the year. This experience was super memorable and rewarding because it is the first instance I can remember where an Educator trusted myself and my classmates as independent people, mature enough to recognize and create rules on our own, rather than relying on a teacher to do so for us. I also think this was extremely beneficial to the creation and establishment of the teacher-student relationship in the classroom, as she immediately took the time to speak with us, get to know us, and allow us a sense of freedom, rather than spending her first day lecturing us and establishing her superiority. I think this first day set a very positive, open premise in our classroom, as I hardly remember much conflict and tension (both between classmates as well as between the teacher with students) that year.

Reasonable: By my final years of elementary school, the rules seemed to become more fair and open, rather than limiting and constricting. My seventh grade teacher understood that we soon would be making the transition into secondary school, which was a much more independent environment. He understood that some of the school rules were much more applicable to the younger children and were ultimately unfair on the older students. For example, having to play on the playground at recess. He thought the constant berating of us with rules such as that downplayed the significance of much more important rules, such as handing in homework on time/academic honesty, acting appropriately in the classroom, and treating others with kindness. His ability to give us space and let us breathe regarding “smaller” rules, and in turn prioritizing rules that lead to student success was very logical and sensible.

Clearly Defined: I remember an experience from Grade 1 in which the rules were not clearly defined and explained to us, leading to confusion in the classroom. One of the big rules we had was that we were not allowed to speak to our peers during class time—that was quiet work time. However, one day we were expected to work on a writing and colouring project with a partner she had assigned to us, and upon sitting with our partners, none of us spoke to one another. We initially did our work independently, saying very little. At first, she was confused, as to why we were silent, but slowly picked up on our confusion and explained to us what that specific rule meant. This wasn’t necessarily a negative experience, but it is an experience I can learn as a teaching experience to always be as specific as possible with my students, especially if they are that young.

Observable: In Kindergarten, I remember many of the rules being things such as: keep your hands to yourself, no talking while someone else is talking, and treat belongings gently. They were very easy for me to follow and that was probably because of the specific, descriptive, action-based words used. Having observable rules is good for many reasons, and these reasons can apply to any age group, but I believe it is especially important and beneficial for rules to be observable in a classroom filled with such young children—especially as this is most likely one of their earliest exposures to rules an authority outside of their family. Having observable rules lessens the chance of confusion, which contributes to a more effective classroom.

Positive: My eleventh grade French teacher was a very fiery, passionate, positive presence within our lives as well as within the school. She was not strict at all and everyone liked her. However, this did not mean she had no rules within the classroom. She did have many rules—just as many rules as the average teacher throughout my years of schooling had. Rather, the difference was how these rules were presented to us. Rather than framing and wording them in a negative way that emphasized the wrongdoing and its following punishments and consequences, she framed all rules without negative language, such a “no”, “stop”, and “never”. At the time, I never really realized, noticed, or appreciated it, but upon looking back and reflecting, the modification of her language to be less hostile and controlling really did have a positive impact on us students in her classroom. Students were less likely to “challenge” her, because there was not much to challenge, which led to more efficient and effective use of classroom time overall.

Succinct: My fifth-grade teacher was a very no-nonsense woman who did not spend even a minute of extra time on something she deemed unworthy of it. Sometimes this short attitude was frustrating, but when it came to her explaining the rules, it was a blessing. I have had far too many teachers spend an excessive amount of time going over rules, leaving us students restless for the rest of class time. This teacher definitely spent no more than ten minutes on the rules, and we were able to spend more time on things that she felt mattered more, like our first homework assignment. If anything, the little time spent on rules left a positive first-impression on us, as we weren’t immediately restless and annoyed due to first-day redundancy.

Few in number: By the final year of high school, you have had every rule in the book read to you in every possible way. At that point, it feels so redundant and repetitive that the constant reminder of these rules almost makes you want to break them out of annoyance. I think a lot of teachers at a Grade 12 level understand this annoyance and frustration their students can feel, especially when they have heard these same rules for the last 13 years and want nothing more than to move on to the freedoms of Post Secondary and/or life. One teacher who expressed their understanding regarding our general annoyance was my History teacher in Grade 12. On the first day of class, rather than being met with a sheet of paper explaining each classroom expectation he had, he told us “You have been hearing this since you were five years old. All I will say is do your work on time, do not be loud and disruptive, respect your classmates, and cell-phone use is permitted once work is complete. I think you all know how to act in a classroom”. His briefness regarding classroom expectations not only showed his immediate trust, belief, and faith in his students, but it also removed a barrier of superiority many Educators tend to be walled behind. We knew we could be open with him, and we did not have to spend three months trying to judge his character. Additionally, the short amount of time spent on rules on that first day allowed him to give us a more in-depth course description and a chance to read through the textbook, while most other teachers ended up keeping us in for a extra few minutes so they could rush through extremely important course information after the spending the majority of their time on basic rules.

Enforceable: In grade ten, I had a Social Studies teacher who absolutely despised cellphones. Her hatred was justified, however, it caused her to act in impulsive, negative ways that ultimately led to the creation of rules she did not know how to handle or enforce. Once specific instance was her idea of having a “Cellphone Jail”, which was a basket you placed your cellphone in upon entry to the classroom. The idea itself wasn’t bad, and I know it has been correctly implemented in many classroom settings, but she soon realized was unable to enforce this Cellphone Jail for two main reasons:

Due to very little available Computer Lab/IPad time, she often had us use our cellphones for research purposes, such as for the research and discussion of current events. How could she have expected us to research with no resources? The situation that actually led to her stopping the use of a Cellphone Jail altogether was a situation that reflected her inability to effectively monitor it. A student in the classroom had their cellphone stolen out of the basket and we were stuck in class fifteen minutes into the lunch break until whoever had it came forward. The situation was resolved in less than an hour, but it reflected the disastrous events that could come out of it. This also led to a breaking of trust between the student who had their phone taken and the teacher, as the teacher was consistently dismissive of theft-related points.This was a negative experience because this teacher should not have expected us to adhere to rules she had not fully planned the enforcing, executing, and monitoring of. Rather, she made an impulsive decision using her anger that led to consequences both for her students and herself.

Enforced: I remember my first year of high school as extremely hectic. My grade 8 year had an abundance of students who were rowdy, classroom clowns who did not follow the rules. However, even the rowdiest of students seemed to follow rules in the classroom of just one teacher: the eighth-grade Science teacher. She was very strict with high expectations—she made to drill the rules into us more than any other Educator I met. However, along with her strictness and high expectations, she was an amazing teacher who was passionate about what she did and never lost her temper with us. Although, she did not give second chances and did not hesitate to make a point out of your wrongdoings when discussing them afterwards. She never once let something happen without consequences, but in doing so she never went overboard. This created probably one of the healthiest, most productive classroom environments I have ever been in.

Constantly Evaluated: In Grade 6, I had a teacher who was quite strict with high expectations and little tolerance. This description may make her sound cold and harsh, but she was probably one of my most eye-opening, trustworthy, and memorable Educators. Yes, she spent a lot of time enforcing rules and laying laws down throughout the year, but she was also constantly working with us and let it be known that these rules were more for our benefit than her own. Whenever an incident happened where a rule was broken, whether that rule was related to respecting ourselves, each other, or our environment/classroom, she would stand in front of us and revisit the rule that was broken. She would explain the rule and discuss her intentions and reasons behind implementing it, then open the floor to us to have an open discussion about it. In that open discussion, we would talk about what was working/not working, ideas for change, and suggested minor improvements. She always took our suggestions, concerns, and ideas seriously—we knew we were heard. She would make appropriate changes and often revisit the class as a whole for a reevaluation, as so to prevent whatever incident from happening again. I think what she did was extremely positive because it showed that she cared about each student individually as well as her class as a whole—she wanted happiness, success, and support for each one of her students, and took extra steps to ensure that conflicts were avoided through the reevaluation of rules upon incidents.

Week 11 Peer Interaction Task

Take a minute to reflect on the relationship between the environment and your behaviour. Identify some settings where you feel comfortable. What is there about the setting that makes you feel comfortable? What things about a setting attract you to it? How do you feel when you are in settings that are cluttered or ugly? What type of setting do you think is most appropriate for learning? What do you think can be done to improve classroom environments to prevent problems and enhance learning? Have any of you put energy into creating positive environments for some one else? A baby? A loved one? A grandparent? Students? What did you do? What made you choose those things? Share these experiences. The idea here is to become aware of the importance of putting energy into physical space beyond merely putting up a poster. Answer this question. Would you permit students to sit where they want in your classroom? Why? When?

The settings where I feel most comfortable are my bedroom, the forest, and near-empty grocery stores with poor lighting. What makes me feel comfortable in these settings is how familiar they are to me. If I spend enough time in one place, it ends up feeling like part of a routine, which really comforts me. I am attracted to quiet, dimly-lit settings. Settings that I can be alone in and settings that are familiar to me. I don’t like being in brightly-lit, loud, unfamiliar settings. They make me uncomfortable, unable to relax. However, quiet settings allow me to focus on my thoughts, dimly-lit settings don’t irritate and distract my eyes, and familiar settings ease feelings of anxiety. I like clutter if it’s familiar clutter. I like the clutter of my bedroom and my friends bedrooms, but I have always hated being in cluttered classrooms, vehicles, or workplaces. It makes me feel distracted and uncomfortable. Ugly settings also make me feel distracted and uncomfortable. unable to focus or relax. The setting I consider to be most appropriate for learning is quiet but not completely silent, open (non-cramped), and finds a balance between boring and overpowering. The reasons for this are: Quiet settings allow students to listen to themselves think and focus, but I have found (from my own experience and the experiences of my peers) that completely silent settings can feel stressful and uncomfortable. Additionally, I know many students were less likely to ask for help in a completely silent classroom, as it felt much more “obvious” and embarrassing. I believe in an open classroom layout because it’s beneficial for the teacher and student to see each other. Also, this layout would encourage classroom interaction and discussion. The balance between boring and overpowering is in referral to how I have seen classrooms decorated throughout the year. I believe it’s important to have posters reminding students of grammar rules and their potential, but I have seen classrooms with far too many of these posters—leading the classroom to appear as cluttered or busy, distracting the students. A strong opinion I have is that I believe the setup of a “typical” classroom does more negative than positive for the classroom. When I say “typical classroom”, I am envisioning a brightly lit classroom with single-file desks. The reason why I believe this setup does more negative to a class/student is because it makes the classroom feel more cramped/pack and less open, and it can also feel very lonely that way. I have always preferred looking at the faces of my classmates and teachers, as well as the open space of the classroom—when students are staring at the back of another child’s head for over an hour, it can get pretty boring. Additionally, as a teacher I would not like single-file desks as I would not be able to see all my students clearly throughout the lesson/day. Yes, I would allow my students to sit where they want in my classroom. Of course, this privilege would be taken away with the presence of bad or off-task behavior, or issues such as exclusion or alienation, but at the beginning of the year, I would place trust in all my students to make the right decision and be able to self-regulate. I want them to have freedom and fun in the classroom—not feel controlled and constricted. No, I wasn’t surprised by any of my answers as I have given a lot of thought to this before and am firm on my beliefs about healthy, effective learning environments.

Assignment 3: Gender Equity in the Classroom

Part 1: Summary of Observations

I chose to observe a classroom lesson off YouTube for this assignment. The video is titled “Jean Cole 4th Grade Frontier Elementary Classroom Discussion”. The instrument I used to assist me in my findings consisted of paper and a pen. On my sheet of paper, I wrote down each of the discussion questions given to assist us in our observations and findings. Underneath each question, I created two columns—one titled “Female Students”, and one titled “Male Students”. Throughout the video, I tracked the answers to each question. The first time I watched the video, I wrote under each column for each question. I then watched the video a second time to double check my findings and create any interesting notations I thought would contribute to my completion of the assignments. One of the reasons why I believe this tool aided me in my findings is its simplicity and accuracy. Its simplicity was helpful to me because I tend to get distracted and overwhelmed during assignments that require you to watch videos, leading me to lose focus on the task at hand. Using a simple tally system let me keep all my attention and focus on the lesson, preventing me from getting caught up writing anything while there was more going on in the video. Double-checking this system by watching the video twice and then creating notes on what I saw also helped me be as accurate in my observations as possible. In my group’s discussion on our shared findings, I noticed that at least 3 of us used a very similar, if not the same system, in tracking our results: using tallies based on the assigned questions of the course. It seemed we all went for something that was simple, ensured accuracy, and non-distracting, allowing us to focus more on what was occurring in the classroom real time, rather than what was on our paper. Something really interesting I learned from the group discussion on the shared findings was that despite male students, on average, seeming to be more “involved” in classrooms and the displayal of knowledge (answering and asking more questions, called upon more often, blurting out answers), the female students were more attentive and on-task. I find this extremely interesting as I believe it speaks to the difference in socialization of male and female children, primarily in their contrasting confidence and voice—boys are constantly seeing their achievements and power and being told how powerful they are in society, while girls are encouraged to be modest and humble regarding their achievements, with a society that silences them. Another thing I learned is the importance of noting how many boys and girls there were in each class—I hadn’t even thought about that until a discussion group member included it in their post. This is an important thing to consider and remember as it can really impact the results—for example, my observations found the girls to be more involved in the class, contrasting what we read prior, but the classroom I observed had many more female students—contributing to the results. My findings did not shock me, despite them being a stark contrast to what we are told in Mary Pipher’s Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls”, written in 1994. However, I understand that there are many factors that come into play with these things. The teacher I observed may have turned her classroom into a space where female students feel comfortable to openly participate in classroom discussions without fear of ridicule or judgement—but I recognize that there are many female students throughout the world that do not receive this same treatment. In the classroom I observed, the female students were more active, contributing members of the classroom. They simultaneously answered more questions, were called upon more often, talked with the teacher more often, raised their hands more, called out answers frequently, and seemed to be more on-task (and engaged with the lesson) than their male classmates. The boys of the classroom, however, required more individual assistance and guidance from the teacher, asked more questions, and seemed to be more off-task.

Part 2: Personal Reflection

I went to school in East Vancouver in a generally accepting, progressive, leftist community—at least in comparison to other communities and neighborhoods I’ve heard of in Metro Vancouver. Throughout my years of schooling, both in Elementary school as well as Secondary school, I believed I was extremely lucky to have teachers who cared enough to educate us on many sensitive topics, including topics of sexism, feminism, and misogyny. I was also lucky enough to go to schools with strong female leads and presence in clubs and sports teams, and I grew up with many female members of school administration. I still do believe I am lucky in a sense, as I know things could be much worse, but it seems as though the older I grow, the more I realize how prevalent gender inequality and inequity within the school really was. Although I learned of this oppression from a young age and knew gender inequality and inequity existed, I didn’t quite understand that it could manifest in ways that weren’t so overt. I didn’t start understanding microaggressions and subconscious behaviors of men and boys in the classroom until I grew older, and if I am being completely honest, I am unsure if I am even able to completely recognize and pick up on these harmful behaviours today, due to factors such as socialization. However, looking back on my experiences throughout school, especially Secondary School, I realize how gender inequity has impacted me and my education in ways I have not given much thought to in the past.An experience that has really stuck in my memory and resonated with me as time has passed by is the experience of being one of six female students in my Biology 12 block—a class that was also taught by a male teacher. This experience is almost hard for me to discuss, because I now realize it’s an experience where I was complacent, accepting even, of misogyny unknowingly. It’s an instance that I allowed to happen and laughed along as if I weren’t the target. This is the instance of the “offended” reaction I got from the boys, and potentially even the teacher, of my Biology 12 class when I received a higher grade. Some background information (that does not justify their behavior whatsoever) is that I was an extremely stereotypical “girly girl”, and I was quite close to a group of male students in the class. Sometimes I wonder if these are reasons that contributed to this treatment, however I recognize that women are belittled for simply existing. In class, I sat at their table, I studied with them, and we worked on our assignments and labs together. I was generally weaker in the Sciences and Math in secondary school, which led me to somewhat lean on others for support as well as ask many questions. Despite my understanding of Biology being on a “lower” level in comparison, I worked extremely hard throughout the course, putting what felt like more effort into that one course than all my other courses combined. This effort really paid off, especially in the third term, as we got results for a test back and had found I had done better than the rest of them. However, it was like this threatened them. Immediately, they started making jokes about how it was because of the help they gave me and about how I “needed” them in Biology. Even the teacher made a comment ,jokingly asking me which one of the boys helped me study for the test. This especially offended me, as this spoke to how he gauged my intelligence as a student. I laughed along and even made a couple jokes of my own, but I knew it felt wrong. I felt hurt and offended. The initial excitement of the high grade faded to anxiety and feelings of unworthiness. I questioned my own intelligence—Was I smart? Did I really need those boys? Did I come off as unintelligent in class? I was dwelling on these classes for the entire period and for quite some time following. It did not help that throughout the class, they volunteered me to answer questions I did not know and participate in classroom demonstrations I did not fully understand. After that class, I felt very anxious and on-edge sitting there. I tried to avoid the spotlight at all costs. I never let these boys know how this behaviour and treatment made me feel, because I considered them my friends and I’m unsure if there was any actual malicious intent behind their treatment of me. However, this is a situation that really highlights how normalized the belittling and minimizing of women is in society—it is so normalized that men, including the newer generation of men, can hardly recognize when they are the ones perpetuating this.

Reflection:

I included the Week 10 Progress Log because it really helped me understand what makes a classroom run smoothly and successfully while allowing me to reflect back on how the classrooms I grew up in were run. I was able to point out positives and negatives, what worked and what didn’t. This is an effective skill to have, because as a teacher, the sooner you find out something will not work or is not working, the better. If classroom rules are effective, more time can be spent on real teaching, learning, and educational conversations. I think about the time wasted in my classrooms growing up for scolding's and lectures, and I think about how time invested into the creation of effective classroom rules could have saved us time. I included this in my portfolio because I think this Progress Log activity was extremely educational and useful, as I was able to apply real-life experiences to the effective classroom rules discussed. I included the Week 11 Peer Interaction task because I think ensuring the comfort of my students in the class is something I have learned a lot about throughout this Module. I am a strong believer that the classroom belongs to the students just as much as it belongs to the teacher, therefore the teacher should put effort into making sure it is an environment that each student feels comfortable, both physically and emotionally, in. However, I was unsure how I would be able to effectively ensure comfort for students. Luckily, doing this Peer Interaction Task as well as reading the responses from my group members really helped me in understanding how to make the classroom a place of comfort for my students. Lastly, I included Assignment 3: Observation on Gender Equity in The Classroom. I included this assignment because I think it was interesting to read about and explore modes of observation that I could potentially use in the future to observe gender equity in my classroom. I also found this assignment extremely useful and necessary, as I have seen and experienced instances of gender inequity in the classroom and how these instances affect how students learn.

I think the Week 10 Progress Log task was one of the most helpful, eye-opening activities I did in this course. I believe that using past classroom experiences to reflect on the Effective Classroom Rules allowed me to create a deeper understanding of why certain rules work out more than others. I really enjoyed reflecting back on my past classroom experiences with a bit of a more critical lens as it allowed me to also reflect on things such as classroom dynamics, student behaviour, and student-teacher relationships. It is very interesting to be able to look back on past Educators, both ones I found amazing and ones I found average, and have my view of my experience in their classroom changes. Because I have developed an understanding as to why and how certain classroom environments were either positive or negative, I now know better ways to approach rule-making in the classroom. This Peer Interaction Task of Week 11 was very useful to me, as it opened my eyes to how I approach work. I tend to look at things on a “big picture” scale, when I know I should be focusing on more important, fine details. This was evident in that I struggled a bit with envisioning the fine details of my future classroom. I have always had much more general, vague ideas regarding the layout, look, and design of my classroom. Though my response to the Peer Interaction task does not reflect this, after having some time to look back on my response, it has really opened my eyes and made me realize that I need to be much more specific when thinking of things such as comfort in the classroom. As the comfort of my students will be of utmost importance, I must put sufficient time into the cultivation of this space. For example, a deeper, more reflective answer could talk about my classroom ideas such as the inclusion of quiet, separate work spaces, an art (self expression through drawing, writing, painting) corner, and the option of stools as well as a carpet. After reflecting on this response, I recognize the need for a change in how specific I am when addressing topics that require creative and critical thinking and am working on that.

Assignment 3: Observation on Gender Equity in the classroom was extremely useful, educating, and interesting. I feel as though it also made me experience growth and development. I have experienced growth in how I notice inequity. Prior to answering the questions given to me for this assignment, I always thought of instances of inequity in the classroom as very obvious—if there is inequity in the classroom, the teacher will notice it quickly (ex: a male student calling a female student stupid). However, I now realize this is not the case. As a teacher, I need to go beyond and ask the questions and make the observations that will lead me to noticing gender disparities regarding participation and performance. As a teacher, I need to make sure the oppressed group (female students) feel comfortable and as though their experience in my classroom has been fair. Something I am in the processing of developing is other modes of observation I could use. Yes, the tallying system I used did give me accurate results, but as gender equity is something I plan to definitely measure multiple times throughout the school year with my classes, I need to have other ways of observation. Additionally, all students are different, so one mode that provides me with accurate findings for one class one year may not work with another in a different year. I think another interesting tool that could be used to observe gender equity is the pairing/grouping of male and female students to observe their dynamics in how they work with one another (how they approach work, how they speak to each other, etc).

Overall, this Module provided me a lot of insight into the hard work and effort it takes to truly make your classroom a comfortable, safe space. It taught me the importance of these spaces and the impact one’s environment has on their learning experiences and I like that we used some of our own thoughts, feelings, and experiences to come to an understanding of this importance.

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