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witch-hazels-musings · 4 years

Note

Requests are still open? If so, how about zhongli or kaeya with a GN reader that has trouble falling asleep? (bonus points if they look drowsy during daytime)

^ with the time change I’m feeling really sleepy most of the day. I would love for Zhongli to make me a cup of tea ... like I bet it's a treat.

Warning -> none :)

How about some tea?

Includes: Zhongli, Kaeya

Character X GN reader | Anthology

Zhongli

There is something about this man's level of knowledge and insight into the things around him that’s incredible - somehow he knows the strangest of things while nothing of the simplest of things

Ask him the price of a common item, he has no idea, but ask him why the sun dances across the sky and he will tell you a tale long forgotten to the sands of time

So it’s both surprising and not that he knows something is strange about you

“Your demeanor looks strange.” He states with his hand against his chin and head slightly tilted.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, I just had a hard time sleeping last night is all.” You wave him away and continue with your task. You had started early with it, since you couldn’t sleep, and were nearly done.

“If you’d like, I could brew you some tea with valerian root. It has an interesting flavor, but will suffice.” He hasn’t really moved from his place throughout your whole conversation. He’s almost like a statue, one hand at his chin, the other resting against the small of his back.

“Uh, maybe.” You grab the large bag of items and lift it into your arms. You let out a sigh at its weight and try to shift it until it rests more comfortably in your arms. “I’ll get back to you.” With a warm smile, you give him a quick nod and head off.

You look back at him and he is still standing there, just as he was before.

Zhongli is a person who will keep his promises no matter what, even if you aren’t sure you created a promise with him

He can be very persistent and often takes people at their word - so when you see him show up later that day with all the material needed for a nice cup of tea, you shouldn’t be shocked

“Zhongli?” You stand with your hand on your door and the other in your hair. You had returned only shortly before he arrived and thought a nice shower would help refresh your mind.

“I was able to acquire the root I mentioned earlier today.” He’s just standing there, totally deadpan and serious. It makes you laugh.

“You didn’t need to go out of your way for that.” You say through laughter, the lightness of it lifting the atmosphere.

“I do recall I said I would brew you tea.”

“Yes, you did. Come in.”

You watch as he enters your home, something he hasn’t done very often. The two of you always found each other on the streets or walking along the harbor. Your relationship had always been friendly, and you enjoyed spending time with him. Truthfully, you longed for the relationship to be more. It somehow felt so domestic to see him moving through your kitchen with ease as if he’d lived there for years.

You sit at the counter and watch as he nimbly gets everything ready. The way he cuts the root into small pieces, the way he collects water in the teapot and sets it over the stove. The skillful way he organizes the loose leaves of the tea he’s brought which, you knew, would complement nicely with the valerian.

You enjoyed watching him as he prepared the tea. The simple process turned into an elegant orchestra of movement and execution. Once the water was at the right temperature, he poured the liquid into the cup and you watched as it turned a playful yellow.

Elegantly, he placed a saucer before you before resting the cup quietly in its place. You take in the fragrance and catch the hint of wood and sweet flowers.

“Do enjoy.” He gestured before following the same process to pour his own.

You bring the liquid to your lips and are surprised at how perfect the water temperature is. As the contents fill your mouth, you immediately sense the earthy taste. It’s overpowering, but only for a moment. Once the initial aroma passes there is a relief of sweetness and floral, which is quite refreshing.

“This is …” you pull your gaze from your cup before continuing, “kinda awesome.”

“And it is much better when spent in good company.” There is a warm smile on his face and you wonder if the liquid was making you warm or if it was him.

“I appreciate you doing this. It was nice of you.”

“My pleasure. I could sense you were in need of something.”

“I’ve just had a hard time sleeping lately, well, really most of the time.” You take another sip of the warm liquid.

“Mmm, perhaps there is something plaguing you?”

“Ha, not really. I’ve just always had a hard time sleeping at night. My mind won’t turn off I guess.” The soothing smell of the tea is starting to make your head heavy.

“If this aids you, then I am happy to teach you how to make it. Or do so myself if you wish.”

“Thank you, Zhongli.” You look back at the teacup and take a few more drinks before placing it on the saucer. Outside, you hear the citizens walking by and the distant shouting of those on the docks. Most of the time, you didn’t pay any attention to the sounds of the city, but today they seemed to be a soothing noise. Something about the way it all mixed and settled in your ears just felt right.

“It must be working.” You catch his eyes and turn your head. For some reason, his eyes seem more powerful than normal.

“It must be. I’m going to go rest on the couch for a minute.”

“Please do, I will clean up here.”

You settle into the couch and observe Zhongli from your place there. He’s already emptied your cup and cleaned it in the sink. His hands perfectly worked just the way he wanted them to. It feels like there are weights on your eyelids and it becomes harder and harder to keep them open.

The last thing you see is Zhongli standing in your kitchen drinking his cup of tea as he looks out the window.

Kaeya

He doesn’t let anything get past him, so he would definitely know something was up with you

“You look a little tired there.” Kaeya appeared out of thin air. You had been so distracted that you hadn’t noticed anything for a while. The passing of the time or the citizens walking from place to place, none of them registered. So when Kaeya’s face was suddenly before you and you caught his half-smile, you didn’t pay it much attention.

“Do I?” Your head was fuzzy like someone had turned on the radio but all the channels were missing. This sensation had gotten so commonplace that you often ignored it too.

“Yeah. Are you okay?” He leaned down, his smile gone and replaced with a concerned expression.

“I’m okay. Thanks.” You try to give him a reassuring smile and hope he doesn’t worry.

He watches as you walk away. There is something off about your steps, but he isn’t quite sure.

He’d likely do his own background investigation to figure out what is troubling you. He’s ready to tackle any problem no matter the size in order to bring back your more cheery disposition

When he finds out that it’s because you have trouble sleeping he gets to work. He’s asking the alchemists to come up with a potion, he goes to the church to see if the healers can assist in any way, he might even try some non-conventional tactics to help you sleep

After many days of rain, the sun had started to return to the city. There was a cool chill that ran across your arms and the back of your neck as you bent down to pour out the excess water from the plants. I should probably replace this with some dry dirt, you think to yourself as the water spreads across the cobblestone.

When you finish, you watch as the other citizens pass by. A few wave and some just keep on about their day. A few drops of cold water fall on your face and make you jump as it runs down your cheek.

“Hello, again.” A familiar voice calls out to you and when you look, you see Kaeya confidently making his way toward you.

“Hello.” You return and wipe the raindrops off of your face. You’re reminded how tall his when he stops but a few inches in front of you and stares down at you.

“Heading out now that the rain has stopped?” His hand is on his hip and he’s wearing his dashing smile.

“Yeah, I was thinking of returning some books to the Library. I’m sure Lisa isn’t pleased I haven’t returned them yet.”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“You sure?” You give him a quizzical look. He’s always so busy, it’s strange for him to have extra time to spare.

“Of course.”

“Okay, well let me grab the books.” He waits patiently outside until you return, books in hand.

He’s a man with a plan, and he’s going to enact that plan

He may have a pleasant smile plastered to his face, but he always has something working in the background, shifting in the shadows

Somehow he has convinced you to visit his office. You aren’t sure how he convinced you, the conversation you had with him didn’t seem to discuss anything about having a cup of tea, and especially not in his office.

“Thanks for the drink, it smells delicious.” You let the warm vapors run across your face and breath in the sweet smell.

“Please take your time.” He sits in the chair next to you, his leg resting on his knee and his back against the plush cushion.

You sit for a while and listen to the sounds of the room. The way the wind slides over the glass window, the sounds of footsteps walking through the hallways, voices of the knights growing and fading as they accomplish their tasks. The atmosphere starts to make you drowsy and you close your eyes for a minute, the warm cup resting on your legs.

“You seem relaxed now.” You hear his voice and open your eyes again.

“Yeah, there is something comforting about this place. I’m not sure why.”

“Probably because I’m here.” You chuckle at his comment and take another sip of tea. When there are only a few drinks left you placed the cup back onto the saucer before preparing yourself to leave.

“Well, thanks again.” You start to get up but he stops you. He’s grabbing your shoulder and ushering you down onto the couch.

“You should rest.”

“Huh, I don’t need to?” You try to sit back up, but he continues to push you down.

“Yes, you do. I can tell how tired you are. When was the last time you slept.”

“Kaeya, you’re being silly.”

“When was the last time?” He asks again, sitting on the coffee table and crossing his arms.

“... I don’t know … I tried to get some sleep last night but It didn’t really work.” You feel the soft cushion of the couch under you. It smells like Kaeya and it's pulling you in.

“I have some more things to do, but you are welcome to rest here.”

“I have a house…”

“Yes, but you already said this place was comforting.” He smirks at you, again somehow convincing you his way is the best way.

“I won’t fall asleep.” You retort, rubbing your eyes.

“Just give it a try.” He stands up and you follow him with your gaze. You watch as he grabs a blanket and starts to unravel it over you. It’s thick and extremely soft. “Now, close your eyes.”

“I’m telling you …”

“Mmhm, just be good and do it.”

Your eyes track him as he makes his way to his desk. The sun is hitting his back and the color of blue reflects against the wall. You blink a few times. The blanket is so warm and the pillow is just right. You close your eyes for just a few seconds, I definitely won’t fall asleep, you think to yourself before you slip into a world of pleasant dreams.

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin kaeya #genshin zhongli #kaeya x reader #Zhongli X reader #zhongli #kaeya #kaeya alberich

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whispersafterdusk · 3 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 19

"I'm sorry - I'm not usually forgetful, I'm just dumb today."

About halfway through his patrol Asher had the realization that Eli's story comment DID make sense -- she'd explained her religious beliefs at the memorial service weeks ago, which seemed to revolve around the idea of everyone being born with a story to tell. He was there, he'd heard it, and he was kicking himself for forgetting it.

Across the table Eli shrugged. "We're both running on zero sleep and had more important things to focus on, it's not a big deal. I can still explain it all again or more in-depth if you're curious."

The Round Table was mostly empty; they were a bit early for the lunch rush. A headache was starting behind Asher's left eye so he was glad it was quiet in here. "Only if you feel up to it. I'm still really sorry."

"I don't mind. So, like I mentioned before-"

She abruptly stopped and Asher could see her eyes flick over his shoulder toward the door so he shifted enough to peer behind him. Harrison had just come in and he had a girl following along behind him; Asher had seen her around town a lot lately. ((Continued below cut))

Eli watched the two of them for a moment then turned her attention back to him. "Well, that's a good reminder that I need to stop by the clinic for another bottle of aspirin."

"Man, I could use one of those at the moment," Asher sighed. "I've stayed awake way longer than this but it doesn't mean it's easy on the body."

She nodded, then abruptly stood. "Actually, be right back."

As she headed over to where Harrison and the girl were seating themselves at a booth Asher shifted again to give himself a full view of the room; it wasn't that he expected their suspect to waltz in through the door but knowing there was someone out there lurking with bad intentions had his paranoia cranked to the max, and no matter how farfetched a scenario may seem he felt he shouldn't ignore anything his brain spat out at him.

So he watched as Eli chatted with the two at the table briefly then came back and flopped back down in her seat; right as she returned Sonia came to the table with their food and drinks.

"What was that about?" he asked as he grabbed his fork and speared a chunk of tofu off his plate.

"Was asking Harrison to tell Dr. Xu that I won't be coming to my usual session tonight, in case I don't actually make it to the clinic today to let him know myself."

"Ah." He stuffed the tofu in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "-I hope you aren't planning on pulling another all-nighter."

She shook her head and downed half the lemonade in her glass in four huge gulps. "-I don't PLAN on it just yet but I want my schedule open in case I have to. Once I'm off the clock for today I'm going to help Selene get whatever transmitters she has the parts for assembled and ready to go."

"Need some help?"

Again she shook her head. "It'd take me longer to teach you how to put it together than it would for me to do it myself. I appreciate the offer though."

"If you...you know, need anything. At all. You can ask me, you know?"

She drained her glass and set it aside before finally starting in on her food. "I know."

They both ate quickly (a little TOO quickly in Asher's case - now he had a slightly queasy stomach AND the start of a headache) and paid their respective bills before heading toward the Corps building. As they passed the graveyard Asher could see one of the construction folks - it was the tall blonde man (that was who had designed that stone in the first place, he thought) - carefully examining the burnt surface of the tombstone. Since it was just polished rock Asher was certain the man could grind off and re-polish it without too much trouble; he was still mad that someone had defaced the grave but in a way thankful that it would be easy to restore. And, should the vandal decide to-

"--you know, I think we ought to post a person here for a few nights," he said as he slowed to a stop and then turned to backtrack to the graveyard's gates.

"You think whoever did it will come back that quickly?"

He nodded. "Darren's stone and the others for your squad mates all look sort of similar - if whoever this is is purposely singling you out they might deface the rest of these and might be brave or stupid enough to come back soon."

"I'd think they'd expect us to be keeping a close eye on the place."

"They might, they might not, they might not even care. But." Asher turned to point down the hill the way they'd come and then used his finger in the air to trace along the line of a stone archway they'd walked under. It was dotted with windows and had an old, iron-banded wooden door that was heavily padlocked; the inside area was used to store the furniture needed for festivals (he'd helped put the benches and chairs used at the memorial services away inside there). The windows were tiny and probably a little dusty but if someone took up a position at that middle window at the top of the arch they could probably see the entire cemetery from there, and it would be hard to spot them in the dark at that height from the ground. "If we hide someone up there, they wouldn't even know we're here."

Eli followed his hand and eyed the archway, then shrugged. "Right, so, another all-nighter then."

"You DID say you were keeping your schedule open."

"Let's check in with Arlo and see what's what before we pencil a stakeout onto the agenda."

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

Her task today had sounded easy on the surface: cut open the flaps of seed sacks, arrange them in a wagon. They were heavy but not so much that she couldn't carry them, but the knife she'd been given to cut the sacks open seemed little better than a butter knife -- it was good enough to cut the thread sewing the sacks shut but not sharp enough to cut into the burlap itself, which was proving to be a problem because this last sack was sewn shut too tightly for her to get the knife in under the flap, and she couldn't saw a hole in the burlap either. She could sort of get the tip of the knife wedged in under each individual stitch and snip it loose that way but that meant cutting almost every stitch, by itself, one by one.

As she picked and struggled with the thread the barn door creaked behind her and someone's shadow fell over the floor; it was too beefy to be Sophie or Emily, and not wide enough to be McDonald.

"I don't have time to play tag right now," she called out without turning around.

"I prefer checkers."

That was one of the answers she'd been expecting so she turned around to face the man that had walked into the barn. He was...very muscular. Maybe all muscle, and the only hair on his head was a black mustache that was the same width as his lips. Lily hadn't seen him before but he definitely had to have been recruited solely for strength.

"I hope you're good at hide and seek." A phrase meant to ask 'were you noticed or followed?'

The man shook his head, pulled a folded piece of paper out of one of the multiple pockets on his shirt and dropped it onto the floor, then disappeared out of the barn as quickly as he'd appeared.

Lily grunted and with a yank that hurt her arms all the way up to her shoulder blades finally tore the loose stitches apart and the top of the seed bag was finally open; after a moment to let the tingling in her fingers fade she hauled the bag over into the wagon with the rest of them before she retrieved the paper and looked it over.

>FR, KA, WIN - STBY >PL, des pln. PK SEC. > 385. > Markest > 3t. Har wh ws arc n

Ah, good - everything was falling into place. There were three more operatives on standby, Harrison's family had been secured, and their escape pilots would be hiding out somewhere to the east waiting for their signal to move in and get them out.

She did have an immediate surge of annoyance though at the identity of their escape pilot: 385. Sky Sharks. Lily hated those damn pirates... They were paid an obscene amount of money to remain loyal to Duvos, and she knew without a doubt that if someone with deeper pockets came along then the Sharks would switch sides without even blinking. WHY did Duvos insist on relying on them? It was baffling, and all she could console herself with was it HAD to be more than money...it wouldn't make sense otherwise to have such a glaring weakness in their field operations.

That last line of the message indicated that a meeting was set up for tonight at the stone arch that was to the west of the harbor; this was good, as they all needed to meet face to face to identify one another, discuss any last-minute questions regarding their responsibilities and expectations, AND she needed to find out which of them had defaced the grave -- rumors had raced through town and she'd already spotted someone examining it to determine how to repair it. If it hadn't been one of the agents sent to help then it was one hell of a coincidence...and if it HAD been one of them then she was curious about how they'd learned about Summers and how much they'd learned, and what exactly they intended to do with that knowledge. Prior to finding those counseling records Lily hadn't really heard anything about the woman that would've pointed her out as something special -- Portians were not immune to gossip but they did seem polite enough to not include a ton of personal details and at the time none of it had seemed to be important enough to look into. Lily knew that if she'd known about Summers prior to her meeting with Xan then it was likely they'd have abandoned the plan to steal the AI and would instead be more concerned with snatching the woman.

Was that what they were hoping to accomplish? Lily hadn't received ANY orders from Xan regarding a change in their target, and it would be a lot more finicky to try and smuggle a woman out versus mechanical parts. It was an absolute certainty that if Xan had changed his mind on their target then she, as head of this operation, would have heard about it first... Maybe it WAS a coincidence, as impossible as it seemed. Or maybe whoever did it thought they were...helping? Spread the security out thin? That was more plausible than coincidence but ran a high risk of jeopardizing the mission instead since Lily already knew Portia had called on the help of the Flying Pigs and it wouldn't be hard for them to request a few more.

No... Whatever the reasoning, it had to stop. If they got a chance to grab the woman on their way out then fine, whatever. But she wasn't about to let this mission get sidetracked away from their ordered target -- not unless Xan himself sent her word to change the plan where she had that proof in her hand or heard it from Xan directly.

Outside the barn she heard hoof beats; quickly she stuffed the paper deep into her pocket and pretended to be fussing over the seed bags in the back of the rickety wagon. A few moments later and both barn doors opened wide as Sophie's granddaughter came into view leading a rather large horse by a rope - it wasn't proper reins but just a simple braided leather cord hooked to one of the rings on the halter and she had the loose end wrapped around her wrist with plenty of slack in the lead for the horse to look about.

"Hey there, Lily. I'm sorry - Granny didn't tell me you were out here doing this or else I would've come to help you."

Lily scoffed and leaned against the wagon's side. "Oh pfft, no worries! It was a little heavy but not that bad! Sort of. Do you have anything to sharpen knives here? The one Sophie lent me turned out to be dull."

Emily led the horse in further and walked it around the wagon so it's back end was close to the wagon's front; Lily came over and handed her the knife in its little leather sheath, and Emily in turn handed her the lead so she could move between the shelves and the wagon to get a few wooden shafts and a yoke into place. Afterward she maneuvered the horse into place and hooked everything up, then just as quickly freed the animal.

"...why'd you go through all that effort?" Lily asked as Emily started to lead the horse back towards the doors.

"Usually we use a mare named Sunny to pull the wagon but she's getting on in years. We're switching over to this fine fellow here-" Emily patted the horse's neck with a giggle "-and he's a bit bigger than Sunny. I wanted to make sure the yoke would still fit. Seems there's not as big a difference in size in the places where it matters so it shouldn't rub or be uncomfortable, and it also means I don't have to try and do all the measuring in the morning when there's not a lot of light either and too little time to get another yoke down from the attic."

"Aha. That makes sense. ...so we're starting tomorrow morning then?"

Once Emily had the horse outside the barn, but was still framed in the doorway, she slipped the halter off and the horse ambled away out of Lily's line of sight. "Yep! Right at sunrise, and we should be done by lunchtime."

Ugh. A late night meeting and now work at an unreasonable hour. "Ok!" Lily replied, struggling to keep her usual perky cheerfulness in the tone. "I'll see you at dawn then - hopefully I don't sleep in on accident."

"It's ok if you do but that'll just mean it'll take longer to finish."

Emily waited for Lily to leave the barn then closed the doors and slid the locking bar into place; Lily offered the woman a smile and a wave as she turned to head back into Portia but inwardly she was groaning in frustration. If she set an alarm and went to bed now she'd get at least a little bit of sleep before the meeting. She WAS supposed to have dinner with Harrison tonight but the naive little fool could wait -- more important things needed to come first.

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

The signal transmitter buzzed softly. It was like having a small insect flitting around his head.

But with it sitting in the storage area with him, hooked up to a temporary power source, it covered the immediate area and would let Arlo communicate with Sam, Remington, and Mali who were all hidden nearby in the commerce guild, the Happy Apartments, and the old, closed cafe down the hill.

So far there'd been no signs of life outside; Asher had come up with this idea and he and Eli both expressed doubt that they would see anyone tonight. Still, it was a good idea made even better by Selene suggesting they take one of the transmitters with them to temporarily let them coordinate through the Hi-Defs -- Eli and the builder had then both scrambled to get one assembled and re-wired for a power stone bracket, and they'd disguised it inside a crate that they carried into the storage area. All that was left to do then was wait until nightfall, carefully slip inside the storage area (Arlo was certain he hadn't been seen by anyone who was, themselves, visible at the time) and then plug in the transmitter's cord to the bracket and flip it on.

The moon was bright (not full, sadly) but it was intermittently cloudy; when there wasn't cloud cover Arlo was able to see clearly through the small, smudged clean spots he'd wiped in every window in the storage area. He did have to be careful to toss his jacket over himself each time he accessed his Hi-Def (the light from the screen would stand out in the darkness, after all) but other than that he was free to silently walk from window to window to keep an eye on the graveyard as well as the surrounding areas that he could see, and he'd been pacing in this manner for the last four hours with nothing to show for it.

'It might not be tonight,' he kept telling himself. It might not be tonight, or tomorrow night, or even any time soon.

But, not that long ago he and Remington had gotten the chosen security door ready for transport. Mint estimated they could have it in place and installed within a week; with the door in place they could stop worrying about someone getting into the facility, and once they reached that point they'd be free to focus the entirety of their attention on catching their spy and vandal. With all of that in mind the fact that they wouldn't likely catch anyone tonight was easier to swallow.

"Anyone seen anything yet?"

Remington's voice came through the Hi-Def - Arlo had the volume set to just barely above a whisper, to him.

"Not ye- Wait."

Mali's response cut off and Arlo tensed; she was stationed at the apartments -- she usually stayed there when she was in Portia so she'd appointed herself to that position because it wouldn't seem strange if she was spotted at an odd hour inside the building (though the point was, of course, for her NOT to be spotted at all). Arlo gave it several breaths, then several breaths more; the silence seemed to press in so he bent down, pulled his jacket over his head and arm, and prodded his Hi-Def awake. "Mali? Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. But I just spotted our first concrete lead."

"What? Did you see someone?"

"Not exactly. But either our guest is staying here, was visiting friends here, or Happy Apartments has a ghost problem."

Arlo's eyes narrowed -- their target was INSIDE the apartments? How? For how long had they been there? "So you saw our spy."

"I heard a door open and close upstairs, and shortly thereafter the front door opened and closed on its own. I didn't see anyone, unfortunately -- the lights in the lobby here are heavily dimmed after ten o'clock. Whoever this was knows where to walk to avoid casting even a hint of a shadow in this light so I didn't see them pass me."

"And if you'd turned the lights on it would've been a dead giveaway." Arlo shuffled awkwardly in the dark, with his jacket still pulled over him, toward the furthest window that looked toward Peach Plaza. As expected he didn't see anyone, or anything, with the moon behind the clouds again.

"Should we try and pursue? Pick up their trail?" Remington asked.

"No," both Arlo and Mali said at the same time. Arlo waited a moment, then continued. "We already know this person will be nearly impossible to spot in the dark, even with the moon out, and we've got clouds in the sky tonight that'll make it worse. We have a starting point. In the morning we'll see who is staying at the apartments and go from there."

"I'll stay here and see if whoever that was returns," Mali said after a moment. "If they do, and I can see what room they go into, we'll at least know if this person has been staying here or if someone they're working with is."

"Don't try to apprehend them without help," Arlo warned. "We still don't know if the spy and the vandal are the same person and if they aren't we don't know which one of them is armed or how many people we may be dealing with here."

"I don't intend to because I think we stand to learn more if we wait. It might be glaringly obvious who our culprit is once we examine the occupancy, or it might not be. Either way, we make our list of suspects and monitor them. We'll catch our spy, our vandal, both, or more."

Arlo nodded. "As good a plan as any. I'm going quiet again - everyone keep their eyes peeled."

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

It was a very long walk from the apartments out to the arch. The suit was getting a bit warm by the time she spotted the tiniest hint of a flame on the beach ahead of her; as she drew closer to the flame she could make out the silhouette of the man holding it.

He was tall and almost unnaturally thin; he had a lighter in hand and the tiny flame's light caused the surprising number of knives sheathed across his chest, hips, and thighs to glint softly in the dark. Next to him was a skinny (but not nearly as skinny as he was) woman who had long red hair worn in a pair of braids that fell forward over her shoulders. The muscular man who had delivered the message was there standing at the back of the group next to Evangeline and Marcus -- Evangeline was a large woman, close to the size of Marcus and the two skinny folk put together, with platinum blonde hair, and Marcus was a dark-haired man who was otherwise unremarkable in the scant glow of the lighter.

They were looking her way; the suit's chameleon abilities were still engaged but it couldn't prevent her from leaving footprints in the sand as she approached.

"Were you followed?" the muscular man asked when she came close.

"No. The entire town is asleep. They don't post night guards in Portia; only out at the facility itself. That might change when construction begins." She came to a stop and turned off the suit; immediately the heat she could feel began to ease. "Were any of YOU followed?"

They all shook their heads; it was good to see they had all been smart about this.

"Where do we stand?" Marcus asked.

Lily unfastened the clips at her neckline and gently slid the extra ventilation slits open on the suit's helmet - the wisps of cool air that immediately filtered in were a blessing. "Construction has been delayed - I'm not sure why. We should consider ourselves on standby and be ready to move at a moment's notice." Before any of them had a chance to speak further she huffed out a sigh. "Who here defaced the grave?" The muscular man crossed his arms and lifted a single finger; she turned to glare at him. "Stop it. I won't have you jeopardizing this."

The man snorted loudly. "Tell that to Xan. He's disappointed in you - how the heck did you miss something so--"

Lily jabbed a finger toward him. "-shut up. Stop it. Shut up. At the time I spoke to Xan it wasn't known what else was here. How did he hear about Summers?"

"You really think there wouldn't be rumors like wildfire in the scholar circles? They can't shut up about the fact we have a real, live Dubeian in our midst. Xan wants her and to hell with the AI."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you. Xan wouldn't so drastically change things without communicating with ME first."

The man rolled his eyes. "Shut your damn mouth, brat - you aren't special. I got my orders from Xan's mouth and I will not and DO NOT have to listen to your whining."

Lily stalked forward until she was nearly nose to nose with the man (or as close as she could get - his forearms were thick and he was taller than she was too). "I'M in charge until told otherwise. If there's been a change in the plans then I need to hear from Xan directly. If you don't like that then you're on your own, and no one here should feel like they need to stick their necks out for you."

As she spoke to turned to look at the others one by one; the red head's expression was stony so Lily wasn't sure which side she was taking on this particular argument, Evangeline seemed just as annoyed with the muscled man as Lily felt, and she couldn't get a read on Marcus or knife-man's mood -- they both had really good poker faces.

"And," she went on into the pause. "Should you think to sell US out if you get caught... I don't think I need to remind you what Duvos does to traitors. I might not be able to save any of you if someone squeals but you can bet I WILL get myself out and back to base to let everyone know who botched this and got us - got YOU - caught. And whoever did will pay for it, even if you get sent to prison. You know there's no hiding if Duvos decides they really want you gone."

An uneasy silence followed; the man covered in knives flicked the lighter closed abruptly but otherwise no one even moved.

After several tense minutes Evangeline rolled her neck; the number of pops that came from the motion prickled Lily's skin. "All right, I says we vote. Original plan, or switch to the new one? Original?" Lily, Evangeline, Marcus, and the red-haired woman raised their hands. Evangeline briefly glanced around and then nodded. "Good enough for me. Xan wants a change he'll have to tell us the usual way."

The muscled man opened his mouth and the man with the knives held up a hand. "Enough. I'M willing to trust you, because you're saying it's Xan, but they do got a point: Xan always gets word to his men through specific channels, come hell or high water. I don't see why he'd stop doing that in this case. If we're wrong then we're wrong but at least we got a damn AI out of it. And it's not like the woman is like to go anywhere anytime soon."

"Thank you...?" Lily said, gesturing for the man to introduce himself.

"Windsor," came the answer. "Franklin. Kara." He gestured to the muscled man and the red head in turn. "Ain't worked with Xan before now but man's got a reputation for doing it by the book and getting shit done. I don't like the idea of getting on his bad side by not carrying out his orders but without those orders in my hot little hand or having come directly from his face to my ears I'm not sure I want to make him mad by NOT doing what I'd been told the first time 'round."

Lily nodded to him. "I appreciate your good sense." She looked to Kara; her expression was just as crabby as it had been when Lily last eyed her. Whatever the woman's exact thoughts were they were hidden behind a deep frown but at the very least she wasn't objecting to Lily's orders to stay the course.

"...all right. Now. Just so we're all CLEAR-" Lily went on, stressing the last word and all but spitting it at Franklin, "-our next step is simply waiting for construction to begin. When they break ground we'll meet up again four nights later to plan out the doctor switch -- it's not going to be immediate. Anyone in regular close contact with the doctor is likely to notice even a slight change in behavior, and there's no way Harrison is going to know every little detail about the doctor's life if he gets pressed. When the servers and the AI are set to be moved over we'll make our move so there's only a window of a few days where the idiot has to keep up the act. When we leave, we leave him behind, we get home, Xan lets his family loose if he did everything we told him to. A good boy gets rewarded."

"Simple 'nuff," Windsor said. "I like a good, clean getaway."

"Any questions? Any issues with your cover stories we need to hammer out right now?"

Windsor shook his head. "Just a traveling performer here, miss. Staying over in South Block since I was led to believe the growth there would bring new audiences - since it ain't, I'm walking between there and Portia to earn enough to go home."

Lily flashed him a thumb's up and looked to Kara; finally the woman's stony expression broke into something that MIGHT have passed for a smile, if one was holding in a fart.

"Just a ruins delver," was her simple explanation. She had a voice like cracked glass so Lily was glad she wasn't a wordy person.

After a very lengthy pause Franklin grunted. "Fishing."

Lily sighed. "Fishing? That's it?"

"That's it. I'm here to fish."

She was all but certain now that if there was a weak link in the group, it was going to be this idiot. She looked to Marcus and Evangeline.

Marcus shrugged. "Handy man looking for work."

"Mining - already met Dana and got a position," Evangeline said. "Ought to be able to give a good report about what natural stuff is down there. Never know - someone might be interested."

At that Lily reached up to slide the ventilation slits shut again, then turned the suit back on. "Stick to your stories, stay out of trouble, and keep an eye on the clinic. We'll meet here, same time, four days after construction starts. Remember that."

She spun on her heel and left -- they could all figure out their own ways back to wherever they were staying and she had a long walk ahead of her to get back to her room-

...the sky was already beginning to lighten. She didn't think the meeting had taken that long but that time spent coupled with the long walk back to town...damn it. It took about two hours to properly clean and dry the suit out after she'd worn it awhile, and with how she was currently sweating it might take even longer; if she didn't show up to the farm on time people might go looking for her, and she couldn't just leave the job half-finished or leave the suit hanging in her room and risk someone finding it. She also didn't trust anyone she was working with to properly care for or hide it.

Where could she stash it...

There was that hot springs area that was near enough to the farm...she knew from poking around that no one seemed to use the attic in that tiny dock house. That would have to work for now - it would take even longer to clean it later but she needed to lay low anyway, and it was less likely someone would try snooping in her room if they knew she was in it.

When she got to the dock house she picked the lock to the building and climbed to the attic; thankfully she managed to find a loose floorboard that she pried up and stuck the suit under it before putting the board back -- while she really doubted anyone would suddenly decide to come up here at least now they wouldn't immediately see the suit if they did, and who would have any reason to go digging around in the rafters? It was risky but less so than leaving it out in the open.

As she came upon the fields she could see Emily was already outside with the horse and wagon, and there were a few others that Lily didn't recognize that were standing with her; they weren't anyone she'd seen in town before so she imagined they, like her, were hired on hands to assist. The farm girl was talking to the others but paused and gestured, with a smile, for Lily to come join them once she noticed her crossing the empty field.

"-and David, you'll take the cornball seeds. Lily, I'll have you helping Tracy and Bill with the wheat, if you don't mind."

"Sure!" Lily chirped in response, looking over to the two standing on the far end of the little line of farmhands -- Tracy was an average sized, average looking brunette who seemed like she was barely awake and Bill was a tall man in ratty clothing and straw hat. "I'm Lily - I've never planted wheat before so is there anything special I should know?"

Tracy didn't make any effort to answer but Bill shook his head with a warm smile. "Naw. It's easy. I'll show you."

"All right! Let's get to planting everyone!" Emily called out then. She led the wagon along the rows Lily had marked out and helped one of the other farmhands in setting down the sacks of seed next to their correct markers.

Bill handed Lily a little bag attached to a length of rope and showed her to how tie it to her hip so it stayed secure but also could be removed easily by tugging on a loop in a certain way; she then filled the little bag with wheat seeds and followed along with the man as he showed her what he called the easiest and most efficient want to get the seeds into the ground. Once she'd had her crash course in wheat planting they separated and worked in a line with each of them taking the rows to their immediate left and right.

While she was rather tired she had to admit that this wasn't all that bad, and in just a handful of hours she could go get her suit and figure out a way to sneak it back into Happy Apartments, then take a shower and crawl into bed. She might even grab something to eat at some point...or might not. It would depend on how exhausted she was once this field was planted.

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

"Can I ask you something?"

"Is this related to how distracted you've been all afternoon?"

Arlo grimaced. "...yeah. It's..."

Their walk today (Eli never had them in one place for too long when she was teaching) had taken them along the river, passed the island that housed the Haunted Cave attraction, down to the ocean shore, and now they were retracing that path at a leisurely pace. He'd thought he'd done a decent enough job to hide the fact that his mind was anywhere but in the current moment but...well, considering that Eli was trying to teach him to absorb his surroundings and pick out all the little details in an instant, it was little wonder she'd immediately clued in to even a tiny change in his behavior.

What was bothering him was a proverbial rabbit hole he'd accidentally fallen down earlier today when he was going over their known information and current plan.

They had fourteen suspects staying in the Happy Apartments. That was a lot of people to keep an eye on, and they'd kept EVERYONE who wasn't a native Portian on that list -- since they couldn't rule out that someone had been hiding in the wilderness prior to renting a room they'd decided against eliminating anyone immediately based on date of arrival alone. Mali was confident that they could quickly strike people off that list and pare it down to a more manageable one, and he shared that confidence, but it had got him thinking about the general situation.

Arlo had heard and read a lot about the war between the Alliance of Free Cities and Duvos, and had also heard a lot of stories from Remington regarding the recent action at Lucien's border. Lucien had been nearly destroyed in the war and really, it hadn't known peace long enough to truly rebuild. It almost felt like the peace accord that Duvos had signed was only a pretense - a stalling effort to let them bide their time, build back up, and try to forcibly expand their borders again later. Portia was far to the south of Duvos so there had never been much fear over being invaded or having their resources abruptly taken from them -- all things considered, Portia had probably never been high on their priority list as there were ruins and other natural resources much closer to the Empire's border; the sink hole opening up into the remarkably well preserved medical facility had undoubtedly pushed Portia square into Duvos's sights and they clearly, desperately, wanted what was within it, and history had already shown how they went about obtaining what they wanted.

It seemed odd to make the jump from a snooping spy to a sudden declaration of war but where else would their current behavior lead? Things were getting tense in the north and just because they had no word of Duvos gearing up to march again didn't mean they hadn't found some way to keep it hidden. And while he knew any sort of technology in Duvos's hands was bad news it was a chilling thought to consider what it would mean if they got their hands on Stewart -- they might not be able to replicate old medical technology immediately but the knowledge was invaluable and could, in the near future, drastically cut down on recovery time for Duvos's injured soldiers while the rest of the world would have to scramble to learn what they could from those medical texts they'd found just to keep up.

How to even put all of that into words though...

"...if another war breaks out, what do you think you'll do?"

For a time Eli didn't answer; ahead of them the bridge that led over to the Haunted Cave came into view, and near it was a bald, mustached man who was struggling with the reel on his fishing pole.

"Not sure," came her answer. They walked on another few steps before she continued. "Fight, probably. It might sound selfish but in a way I'm glad I'm not in charge of anything or anyone anymore."

He looked over to her; her head was down, her gaze fixed on the ground just ahead of them, so he couldn't get a clear look at her face. "Why's that? I would've thought it would be the opposite."

She let out a huff of a laugh. "Maybe, if we were three hundred years in the past. This isn't my world anymore. I have no business being in charge of people - how could I order them around when I know less about this world and how it all works than they do? Like -- imagine if you were thrown into MY time period. How do you think you'd feel?"

"Overwhelmed," Arlo answered, momentarily surprised at how quickly the word had spilled out. "More than a little lost, as well. I've not really been far from Portia so the thought of being in a city where a single building holds more people than I've ever seen in my life is...a little daunting."

She nodded, lifting her head a bit to flash him a smile. "Now try to reverse that. Everything I knew is gone, or doesn't work or work properly, or is left like that-" she pointed way off to the west where you could just barely make out the top of a ruined building on the horizon. "If I had access to tools and tech from my time, we would have caught this spy in a matter of days. But I don't. And we haven't. And I feel like I'm flailing around trying to hold on to anything I can to sort of ground myself but...it's hard, you know? About all I'm good for is a warm body ready to throw myself on the metaphorical fire to keep it from burning others."

"Don't say that," he interrupted, shaking his head at her. "You're much more than that - to me, and to everyone else."

"LOGICALLY I know that," she replied. "Emotionally though... I have my good days and my bad ones; I'm just good at keeping the mask on and rolling with it."

"Well, whatever your brain wants to tell you, if it's negative it's wrong. You're a good friend, you're intelligent, you're tougher than anyone I've ever met," Arlo went on. "And if there's anything I can do to help, just ask."

She chuckled quietly and stuck her hands into her pockets. "You and Asher both have said that. It's appreciated."

He opened his mouth to keep going but paused, as he wasn't sure what to say next. They were even closer to the bridge now and Arlo could see the rat's nest of a tangle of fishing line that was around the mustached man's reel ahead of them. The man noticed them coming and offered a frustrated half wave, which Arlo acknowledged with a nod.

"-so, now that I've had my daily mini mental breakdown, why are you worried about war?" she asked, voice quiet.

"...the more I think about the spy, and what they're after, and where they came from, the more I feel like another war is on the horizon," he replied after a moment to sort his thoughts out. "And thinking about that made me think about what I would do in that situation."

She nodded, then held up a hand before he could continue; lengthening her stride she adjusted her path to head toward the man with the tangled reel.

"Everything all right there?" They were still far enough away that she had to almost yell for the man to hear her -- at the very least, the man wasn't within range to hear them chitchatting.

"Yeah yeah," came the shouted response - the man's tone was clearly annoyed. "Don't buy cheap reels."

She chuckled a bit; again she adjusted herself to go back to the path they had been walking along - they still had to pass by the man but there would be a healthy distance between them.

As they drew near and then finally passed the man Arlo could hear him swearing to himself as he yanked and tugged at the tangled fishing line...but he didn't really seem to be focusing on what he was doing. It was slightly hard to tell out of the corner of the eye and with how quick they walked by him but Arlo swore the man was trying his damnedest to watch them while looking like he wasn't paying them any attention. Arlo resisted the urge to look back, to check if the man was openly staring, and simply walked alongside Eli until the man was far behind them.

"You saw that, right?"

He nodded. "He was watching us."

"Any idea who that was?"

"No, I've never seen him before."

Arlo made a mental note of what the man had looked like (heavily muscled, bald, mustached) and resolved to ask Gale and Antoine if the man was one of those staying at the Happy Apartments -- he was certainly striking enough to be easily remembered.

As Portia's gates loomed ahead of them he remembered they'd been mid-conversation about Duvos and a potential war...he almost felt like he needed, and should, pick up where they'd left off, as the whole thing bothered him a bit more than he'd initially realized, but there was also a part of him that didn't want to think about it at all. It was that same part of him that hadn't wanted to consider what "shoot to kill" entailed either.

"Eli!"

Arlo looked up sharply at the shout; Toby was running toward them with Jack and the triplets huffing along trying to keep up with him. Beside him Eli smiled and shook her head.

"There goes the afternoon I guess. Unless you need me for something?"

He shook his head. "Your patrol is done, our lesson is over with, and we already did our morning training. So far as I'm concerned you're off the clock." He paused, looking again to where the kid was rushing toward them. "-unless you want me to invent a task so you can avoid being dragged into whatever Toby has planned."

"Nah, it's fine. I can handle a gaggle of kids."

Toby would be right on them within a few seconds; in those last moments of peace Arlo stepped just ahead of Eli enough to stop her, fixing her with a look. "Take tomorrow off. I'll have Asher cover your patrols."

She frowned. "Arlo-"

"No, I mean it. If you're having a rough time I'd rather have you rested and ready for action. Relax for a day - read a book, hike, visit with someone, just do something you like."

"I LIKE being active, and exactly how much relaxation do you think I'm going to get knowing-"

She cut off her words as Toby came to a stumbling halt in front of them, panting loudly. "Eli...Eli! Think you can...whew...think you can help me make a bow?"

"A bow? What for?"

After a few breaths to collect himself Toby stood upright, beaming. "I wanna learn how to shoot it! And then I wanna learn how to hunt! Mom told me about this stew thingy she liked that had fried sea urchin in it but you can't get near them without them shooting their needles at you - I want to surprise her with some meat but without getting turned into a pincushion!"

Eli blinked as all that came in a rush out of the boy's mouth; Arlo had to give the kid credit -- he was at least thinking ahead rather than rushing off for once.

"Well, seems you have a plan," she replied finally. "But it's not going to be easy to just MAKE a bow - especially not one that'll take down a target like an urchin."

"But...can we try?"

Arlo smiled a bit at the boy's earnest tone, then wagged a finger at him to grab his attention. "Just make sure you're not shooting it at anything just for fun," he warned once the boy was looking at him. "Don't damage any buildings or trees, and DON'T shoot it at wildlife unless you're intending to eat it."

Toby pumped a fist into the air a few times. "I won't, I promise!"

Finally the four other children caught up and, after a moment to collectively catch their breaths, they all headed back out through the gates with Eli in their midst. Arlo watched them go silently; he hoped that his impromptu orders for a day off hadn't upset Eli. Thinking back to her admitting she was looking for something to cling to, to ground herself with...at the moment, one could think that work was the only thing she was using to cope. Would his ordering her to take a day off do more harm than good? He certainly hoped not.

...bah. His stomach felt a bit knotted with the uneasy feeling from contemplating another war along with concern over whether he just made Eli's life a tiny bit more difficult. He quickly crossed the plaza and headed up the hill toward the Round Table; by the fountain up ahead he could see a small gathering of folks all watching as a skinny man juggled silvery knives. There was a battered flat cap laying on the ground in front of him with a handful of gols glinting in the sun; the man was yet another person Arlo hadn't seen before and out of curiosity he continued passed the restaurant to stand with the rest of the onlookers as the man juggled.

From here it was difficult to tell if the knives were actually real but the man was certainly treating them as though they were. As he watched the knives flip from one hand to the other, behind the back, under legs and around elbows Arlo had to admit the man was rather skilled, and there were "oohs" and "ahhs" and gasps from the people around them as they watched the display of flying metal. When the man reached the end of his juggling act he caught each knife in quick succession, sheathing them in identical, repeating motions, then gave an elaborate bow to a scattering of applause. A few folks in the crowd dropped more gols into the hat, and Arlo waited patiently until they'd dispersed before approaching the man.

"Quite a talent."

The man didn't reply at first, choosing to bend and pick up the hat and carefully deposit the gols into his pocket so he could shove the hat back onto his head. "Yep, sure is. Drove my mum nuts growing up - couldn't leave anything within reach or I'd end up tossing it around. You from here?"

Arlo nodded. "I am. Where are you from?"

"Born in Tallsky. Came north because my audience was bored with me and I heard South Block was getting busy. Dunno what folks's definition of busy is but I barely make enough to buy my dinner there. Figured I'd try my luck here to sees if I can make enough to head back home."

Again he nodded. "I see. South Block is a growing trade post but most people you'll find there are traveling through and rarely stay for more than a day or so."

The man snorted. "Tell me about it. -- say, ain't a problem hanging around performing is there?"

"So long as you keep your distance and your knives to yourself there shouldn't be an issue. Where are you staying? South Block?"

"Sure am," the man replied. "Hopefully I make enough to move on soon. Bus tickets might be cheap for some but not when you're picking between a bed, a meal, or a ride."

Arlo reached into his pocket and grabbed a handful of gols; without counting them he held them out. "Here - at the very least try to get a meal for the evening. The Round Table has reasonable prices and great food."

The man's eyes lit up and he grabbed for the money, then quickly cleared his throat and tried to look a little more dignified as he stowed the gols away with the rest. "Thanks, stranger. It's appreciated."

With a curt nod Arlo spun around to head back to the Round Table, and made a mental note to walk to South Block tomorrow to get a list of motel occupants from Yeye. They hadn't noticed a lot of foot traffic from South Block lately but a singular traveler moving between the two towns could easily be missed.

It was crowded and busy inside the Round Table; there were a few empty booths but he didn't want to take up an entire one by himself so he took the only open seat at the bar which happened to be between Remington and Adam.

He gave them both a nod and then turned to look at Adam. "How's it going out at the facility?"

"Alls quiet. They started digging to place the door. Mali's out there now with Sam - I'm charged with bringing them supper when I'm done with a few errands here in town."

"You should see the thing now. It sure doesn't look as huge as it did now that it's out of that building," Remington chuckled.

Arlo huffed out a sigh. "That was a nightmare to deal with. Little wonder the Old World had robots to do that sort of thing - it we hadn't borrowed that winch and pulley we probably wouldn't have been able to manage disconnecting that door from the wall by ourselves."

Sonia hurried by and went to hand him a menu, seemed to do a double take and realize who he was, then stowed the menu back beneath the counter. "Hi Arlo! Your usual?"

"Please. With a glass of orange juice please." He waited until she left then lowered his voice. "Keep an eye out for a heavily muscled man, bald, with a dark mustache. He was eying Eli and I up, and I've no idea who he is."

"Will do," Remington replied. "-er, by the way - Selene's on the prowl. Party planning. Just so you aren't blindsided."

Party planning... Remington's birthday was coming up soon and they STILL hadn't had the little gathering to welcome Eli and Asher to the team. "Got it. We don't have time for anything extravagant sadly."

Remington wrinkled his nose. "Man, even if we did, I don't want extravagant."

Arlo chuckled and nodded to Sonia as she sat a chilled glass of orange juice on the counter in front of him; it was cold, tangy, and satisfying, and he had to will himself not to chug it down too quickly.

He would eat, pick up a few things from Total Tools, then head back to the Civil Corps building to-

"-has Eli ever mentioned to anyone when HER birthday is?" he asked then, looking between Adam and Remington.

"I...don't think so. Maybe to Asher?"

Arlo turned to Adam. "Has he said anything?"

Adam shook his head. "Not a peep, and I'm pretty sure he would have if he knew."

"Huh. We ought to ask her tomorrow morning then," Remington said into the pause that followed.

Arlo blew out a sigh. "I gave her tomorrow off so whoever runs into her first..."

Sonia came over with their food (Arlo had no idea when the other two had ordered but all of it came out at the same time) and all conversation was set aside in favor of stuffing food in their faces as quickly as they could before they all went their separate ways: Remington to the Corps building, Adam back out to the facility, and Arlo back toward the plaza where hopefully Mars still had his shop open and had whetstones available.

Tonight Mali and Asher would be staking out the graveyard; they were both insistent that the two of them could handle things on their own and didn't need a third. He didn't have much choice other than to trust to their confidence but as he picked up the whetstones and was heading up the stairs toward the Corps building he wondered if he should have asked Adam if he wanted another pair of eyes tonight out at the facility.

'If he wanted help I'm sure he would have asked,' Arlo found himself thinking as he pushed the door open to the Corps building and plodded across the sitting area toward his room.

That he was free to get a full night's sleep made him feel a tad guilty but, on the other hand, the better rested he was the more attentive he'd be, and that would only help them. Probably.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 19 #Arlo #Mali #Sonia #Remington #Toby #My Time at Portia

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cosmo-gonika · 5 years

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The Inspiration behind the Original Star Wars.

Okay fam, I cannot leave this fandom without leaving this increidble article I stumbled upon while I was writing Songs of Innocence. This article has never gone through main medias but I believe it is entirely true. I am myself very knowledgable of the esoteric current they are talking about here and I can confirm all what they say is true and makes so much sense. And why I think the TROS has failed to bring mystical depth to the ST.

Here is the source if you want to read directly: https://neoanthroposophy.com/2017/02/05/source-of-the-force-secret-behind-star-wars-inspiration/

Source of the Force: Secret Behind Star Wars Inspiration by Douglas Gabriel.

I would like to share with you my personal experience of collaborating for three days in the early 70’s with Marcia Lucas and a small team of Anthroposophy scholars on the script of Star Wars and my recent discoveries about how that foundational work affected the writing, editing and expansions of the original Trilogy.

First of all, it seems fitting that my first encounter with the origins of Star Wars – a modern fairy tale ultimately about the return to spirit – would happen at Christmas time, a season in which humanity recalls its sense of spirit and hope.

I was a student at the Waldorf Institute at the time, and remember the day that I first met the characters of Luke Skywalker, R2D2, C3PO, and the entire Star Wars entourage. Yet, when I first encountered them, they were more like two-dimensional paper-dolls in an unfinished script, before their true meaning had been breathed into them. For example, Luke Starkiller as I met him was a far cry from the Skywalker he turned out to be. You may be surprised to learn that the story in its early form was depicted through the machinist eyes of two robots, not yet the familiar, crowd-pleasing epic that would become one of the most famous and endearing movies in the world.

That is, of course, before I and colleagues from the Waldorf Institute would spend three days as part of a think-tank working session with George Lucas’ talented wife and professional film editor, Marcia Lucas (née Marcia Griffin), to transform a story that was originally based on two robots into a sweeping modern fairy-tale that even today still evokes a timeless sense of human destiny.

Meeting Marcia

At that time, like the characters, I was in development, too, as are all earnest students. In addition to being a student of Anthroposophy – a discipline of knowledge developed by Rudolf Steiner concerned with all aspects of human life, spirituality and future evolution – I also managed the Waldorf bookstore, which was a treasure trove of spiritual knowledge.

That Christmas season had been busy, and I was just locking up the store and ready to head home when my teacher, Werner Glass, approached me.

Born in Austria, Werner was a beloved instructor at the Waldorf Institute and inarguably the most prominent Anthroposophist scholar in America. I can only say today that it was a great honor to be his student. That day, there was a glint of lighthearted cheer in his eyes. Thinking that he was simply going to wish me a merry holiday, I was surprised when he asked me to follow him.

“Where?” I said, blindly following him like a faithful puppy.

Without answering, he led me into one of the more spacious classrooms, where four other students were already seated around a table, talking with the Institute’s co-director, Hans Gebert. A woman I did not recognize seemed to be at the center of the conversation – a pleasant-looking brunette with a friendly, yet sophisticated, air.

When everyone saw Werner in the doorway, they looked up with a sense of expectation, as most students typically did when Werner walked into a room. He was like a father to us all. He motioned me to take a seat, then sat down and began to explain the situation.

“I’m very pleased to introduce you all to Marcia Lucas,” he said. “Her husband is a well-known movie director who is working on a screenplay for a science fiction film – a space opera of sorts – and they would like our Waldorf perspective. I don’t know if you have heard of George Lucas?”

This was the first time I had ever heard George Lucas’ name. I certainly hadn’t seen his critically-acclaimed and commercially successful American Graffiti. I also didn’t know that his wife, Marcia, was an accomplished film editor in her own right.

“Well, Marcia is familiar with Anthroposophy and the work of Rudolph Steiner, and she needs our help with the script, to make it more Waldorf-inspired so it will have good merit as both a movie and a spiritual story.”

Marcia nodded and offered more context. She said that the “big screen” should be used to deliver important messages to audiences and tell a more spiritual story, one that has a good foundation in the truth, not just another director’s dream.

This began to inspire me, as story-telling is at the center of our teaching curriculum in Waldorf schools. Movies are mass exposure to stories. Stories, like fairy tales, help inspire the psyche of those who witness them, similar to shared dreams. At the Waldorf school, the teacher will tell a story to the children, who learn it by heart and recite it back in class the next day. Once memorized, the stories are further interpreted through music, dance, drawing, painting, and any number of other creative responses.

Marcia needed our input, she told us, because the script was entering its third draft and lacked an element of spirituality. I could see that she was problem-solving, earnestly searching for a way to make the screenplay work.

“I’m sure we’re up to the task,” Werner said, looking at me.

For the past few minutes, I had been sitting there wondering, “Why am I here? No one had even told me about this meeting.” Then, I looked around and realized that I was the most experienced student there. The others were too young, less studied in Anthroposophy and certainly not up to this level of work. I was immensely relieved that Werner would be there to lead us through the session, and sat back, relaxed.

“The dialogue is a bit lacking,” Werner said. “I told Marcia we could help with that as well.”

With that, Werner rose from his seat and said, “Well, then. My family is waiting at home and I must be off.”

None of us could believe it. America’s leading Anthroposophist was going to leave this important project in our hands?

Werner added, “Douglas is my right hand, and I will check in on your work throughout the next few days.”

He then welcomed Marcia to the resources and hospitality of the Institute and politely left.

With Werner gone, we all looked at the Institute’s co-director, Hans, to lead the session.

Hans stood up.

“Well, I must admit that science and mathematics are my true specialty,” Hans said, in his characteristic fashion. “So, I am afraid I will not be of much assistance to this group.”

He politely bid us all adieu, then left.

At this point, I became a bit panicked. My leaders had left me in a great unknown!

Marcia Lucas, who I did not know at the time was one of the greatest film editors in the world, was looking expectantly at me.

I suddenly got the feeling Werner had said something to her about me, akin to his comment about me being his “right hand.” I had a vague realization that both she and I were here solely because of Werner. Having been a brilliant actor at the London School of Theater, Werner had been the primary Anthroposophist from the Waldorf school in North Hollywood in dealing with actors, directors and producers. She was here because of him and I was here because he had brought a promising student to the table for this specialized project. Surely, he knew what he was doing, so I decided to trust it.

“Well, then, let’s get started,” I said. “Tell us the story, Marcia.”

As she spoke, I got up and went over to the classroom blackboard. Marcia had trouble articulating the story; it didn’t flow easily. In colored chalk, I began to sketch out the story-board.

“It’s a story of two robots, you see – the movie is seen through their eyes,” she said. “The robots are key elements of the story. They must be kept.”

I understood that the robots were non-negotiable. We must somehow work with them.

“Ok,” I said. “Can you please read us the starting dialogue?”

She began. It was difficult for us to listen to. As an experienced editor, Marcia knew this. The characters didn’t work. They weren’t alive. She sincerely wanted to rewrite her husband’s movie script to its full potential, but at this moment, it was stilted. Only later would I learn more about the context of their partnership – how George was a genius concerned with the theme of machines and technology, and Marcia was the humanistic side, focused on telling a meaningful story that would resonate with the audience. I did not know it then, but she was here, basically, trying to save the script.

I decided to be frank with her.

“First, the story is not archetypal,” I said. “The author doesn’t know the true nature and value of the characters he is set on gluing together.”

Marcia began writing down notes quickly in her notebook.

“The dialogue is unreal and trite. It serves only one purpose – to move to the next scene. So, the message of the story happens in the action between scenes.”

She nodded, writing.

I continued. “There is no character development. No one will identify with these characters.”

Then, on a positive note, I said, “However, your husband has tapped into the true spiritual reality of our time. His obsession to see the world through the eyes of two robots is genius, but a little confused. We can work with that.”

Since everyone there, including Marcia, was a student of Anthroposophy, I began to do what Werner knew would come naturally to me as both a teacher and a student – apply the principles that I had studied to our current problem with the script.

“George has described the challenge of our times,” I said, “The war with machines, symbolized in the two robot playmates of Luke Starkiller.”

Now, an interesting side note about the names. Like Luke Starkiller, none of the character’s names that Marcia read to us were in their final form. In fact, I later recommended that the hero, Luke Starkiller, be changed to “Luke Skywalker,” from American Indian and Tibetan traditions. Then, since Lucas is the name for “light,” I also had the concept of a light saber, a weapon that both defends as a shield and attacks as a formidable force. (In Anthroposophist terms, the light saber represents the human spinal column.)

Those details would come later. Now, we had to focus on shaping the story itself.

“I think it needs to go back to the concept of a fairy tale,” I said, explaining that all fairy tales begin with a reference of the story being outside of time and space and end with some reference to their own continuance. “I think what you may want is an adult science-fiction fairy tale that is spiritually accurate, yet engrossing and interesting.”

Marcia agreed.

With her input, we decided to begin with Luke Starkiller. We tried to describe his character development in terms of the polarity that every person has in their soul – the left and right-hand paths of evil. In the end, it is the middle path, “the Force,” that the Jedi warrior should choose. Yet, without exploring both the left and right paths, the Jedi is weakened by not knowing his enemy.

“So, each movie goer will be faced with making the same decision, no matter what their life is like?” said one of the students.

“Yes, that’s the path of most fairy tales,” I said. The question is: “Which of the three paths will you choose?”

Here again, I was impressed with George Lucas’ brilliance. His obsession with machines underscored the biggest challenge of our age – the right-hand path of mechanical occultism as described by Rudolph Steiner and the left-hand path of thinking that has turned evil. Had I seen his first film, THX-1138, I would have recognized this even more clearly.

“The two robots can represent thinking and willing,” I proposed.

As the heroes of George’s original story, both C3PO and R2D2 enable the audience to “see through the eyes of machines.” In his relationship and interactions with them, Luke uses his robots to enhance his thinking (C3PO) and willing (R2D2) in an age of machines, but finally finds the middle path – of feeling.

“Let’s explore the two extremes: the left-hand path of thinking and the right-hand path of willing,” I said.

We spent time talking it through. Both C3PO and the Evil Emperor are on the left-hand path of “thinking” that has turned evil. For example, C3PO can think but cannot act, and the Emperor needs Darth Vader to carry out his desired actions. In contrast, R2D2 and Darth Vader are on the right-hand path of “willing.” Having the capacity to will, they still must be told what to do.

“Darth Vader is the being we know as Ahriman,” I added. “He represents the composite cleverness of all machines, incarnated into a human being.”

“So, what about a middle path? Is there one?” one of the students asked.

“Excellent question,” I said. “The middle path is what both the right-hand and left-hand paths miss. Unable to understand the middle path, both sides seek to destroy it. The Jedi masters such as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda have developed themselves on the middle path, having already mastered the other two paths. They represent the desired balanced center between the two extremes.”

Indeed, this dynamic of two poles of evil is the central motif of the first Star Wars trilogy.

Master of the Machines

Once we understood the story in context of this Anthroposophical framework, the next step was to focus further on Luke’s character.

“I think that Luke needs to develop his character by interacting with the two robots, both the left and the right hand,” I said.

We then discussed each robot.

As a robot on the “thinking” side, C3PO can speak many languages and is programmed for etiquette and translating, a truly inspired use for machines that we seldom see. He represents an evil that has been around as long as languages in every culture since the beginning of human intellectual development – the being named Lucifer, who incarnated in a physical body in China in 2000 BC. As the “left-hand path of evil,” Lucifer is a Promethean archetype who brings fire, language, philosophy, writing and culture to humanity. Chained to a mountain, he suffered each day as a vulture ate out his liver until rescued by Heracles. By representing Lucifer/Prometheus, C3PO would serve as a counter-pole for the incarnation four thousand years later in 2000 AD of Ahriman, the king of machines, otherwise known as Darth Vader.

Luke, who models the original Heracles or the hero in all of us, eventually breaks the chains to free Prometheus, the fire-bringer, who is on the left-hand path. So, too, the Evil Emperor in Star Wars represents the power of fire (demonstrated as lightning from his hands and the evil wisdom of the Sith) that increasingly consumes him as he misuses it.

“Luke is situated between the two robots, between the two paths, like his twin sister. His lost spirituality is drawing him upward into spirit,” I said.

All Jedi warriors have transformed blood, what was later called “midi-chlorians” in the blood. As they balance the forces of the left and right paths, they raise their consciousness, which then increases spiritual potential in the blood, a process that Steiner calls the “etherization of the blood.” As Steiner taught, spiritual people charge their blood with a consciousness that connects them to spirit (the Force). However, unlike the movie, the ability to access spirit or the Force isn’t passed along through heredity.

So, after discussing all of these concepts and laying the groundwork for common understanding, here is the story of Star Wars that we mapped out:

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, Luke Skywalker (the archetypal human) finds his life embroiled, if not consumed, by machines. Luke is the master of those machines, because he has consciousness and, therefore, is pulled by the left and right. He is an orphan, as all modern humans find themselves, and knows that something great lives inside of him. He has hope in a hopeless world.

Luke’s father has fallen prey to the evil right-hand path of machines that has transformed him into a part-man – part machine abomination who wars against his own spirit and wishes to dominate the world, even if it means killing his son.

The left-hand path of personal black magic lives in the Evil Emperor who also wishes to kill all Jedi and, most especially, the son of Darth Vader.

Luke is protected by the humble Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Eventually, this Jedi leads him to his teacher of the “middle way” (the Force) and sacrifices himself so that he can help him from the spiritual world. This middle path is like the path to the Higher Self.

On the path, just like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road, Luke gains some traveling companions. Just as the Wizard of Oz was a distillation of Masonic initiation rituals, Star Wars introduces the audience to parts of the soul. This is necessary to make the story archetypal, so that it will always be fresh.

For example, Obi-Wan Kenobi represents the highest of the three parts of the soul, the consciousness soul, which merges spirit with matter just as his Jedi powers give him the power of mind over matter.

Chewbacca represents the lower soul, the sentient or astral soul that must turn the animal in us into a human with spiritual characteristics.

Han Solo represents the intellectual soul that first begins to awaken to higher thinking. Although clever, Hans lacks the ability to see the big picture like Obi-Wan.

Between Luke’s three companions, much like the Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow, each contributes a special quality to Luke along the way. Steiner calls these soul qualities “thinking, feeling and willing.”

At the center of the story, Luke represents the ego, or the thinking human being, and must master the three steps of the development of the soul.

A return to spirit

Now that we had built the underlying framework, which was the most Herculean part of our task, it was clear to me that we needed to develop these characters into archetypes. Knowing now what motivated each character, we could easily hear the words that each would naturally say and even envision their realistic reactions to the unfolding plot.

In doing so, we kept in mind a fundamental truth: good and evil are choices. The Evil Emperor and Darth Vader were not born evil; they chose their own paths. Luke, the archetypal human, also must make his choices and live with the good or evil that results.

Still, after all of this work we had done, one thing was missing.

“We still have one problem,” I reminded Marcia. “Where is Luke going in the story?”

Sorely missing in the original version of the story, this issue had to be resolved so that everything else would make sense.

“Isn’t Luke, essentially, the prodigal son?” I said. Others agreed that Luke was separated from his parent’s home and longing to return. This is a universal element with which everyone could identify. Like Luke, each of us has our particular destiny. In our life, we embark on the search to find it and return to our kingdom in the spirit.

We further developed Luke’s direction and role in the story as follows:

Luke knows he is special but doesn’t know why. Throughout the story, he must evolve into his mission of facing his true identity as Darth Vader’s son, accept it, and decide what to do with it.

Ultimately, Luke denies the power of the machines that try to gain control over him. Instead of the cold-hearted machine-human hybrids, Luke chooses love. He must come to this awakening only after receiving help from his companions.

His sister Leia (who I suggested should be called Maya) represents his spiritual self. Although first drawn to her through physical desire, Luke transforms this attraction into spiritual love and links his destiny to hers, as the soul links to the spirit.

More sure about herself, Leia has been treated like the Princess she is. Luke has struggled to “catch up” to where she was, but in the end, their destinies are permanently entwined. Because he is on the spiritual path of self-development versus the physical path of earthly gratification, Luke doesn’t “win the girl” – that part of the story is left to another character, Han Solo.

As part of his journey, Luke uses the middle path of the Force to conquer both the Evil Emperor and Darth Vader. The more the left and right-hand paths try to win Luke, the more they fall prey to the side effects of using evil for personal gain.

As the modern human, Luke conquers the evil machine-like foes with help from his companions and develops two powerful “forces” that the machines cannot control: human freedom and love. In this way, Luke learns to “see through the eyes of machines.” He even sacrifices his human hand for denying his father’s attempt to win him over to the Dark Side of the machines.

In the end, Luke loves his father and witnesses the death of Darth Vader, Ahriman, before his very eyes.

This is the same modern challenge that each of us faces:

Who is your parent?

What do you choose: the physical world of machines or the middle path of the spirit, the Force?

A beautiful fairy tale

Over the next two days, we built on our initial framework and polished the ideas to represent every possible perspective in our archetype science-fiction, prodigal-son story. The script was turning into a beautiful fairy tale that I was certain had merit, whether or not it ever made it to the “big screen.” I was very happy to work through these concepts, because I could see my own path to the spirit unfolding in the story. (Of course, Werner had known this would be part of my involvement!)

I also appreciated Marcia’s priority of effective story-telling. In our modern times, I have seen a decline of storytelling in our culture. This is dangerous, for as archetypal stories vanish, our imagination weakens as the source of inner nourishment and soul inspiration. Movies have taken the place of storytelling and actors have taken the place of the heroes and heroines found in all archetypal stories, whether myth, religion, legend, fairy tale, fable, or any other transcendental source. Yet, as we learned in developing Star Wars, if a story is not archetypal, it will not last the test of time. Successful to this day, a full 40 years after it was released, Star Wars has proven that to be true.

After our work was completed, I said good-bye to Marcia and wished her well with the movie. She thanked me and everyone else who had contributed their ideas to our marvelous fairy tale. I heard nothing more until 1977, when the movie was about to launch and generating a frenzied buildup of media attention.

I was working in the bookstore when Werner came in to tell me the news: Marcia and George Lucas were so happy with our help that they were offering all Waldorf schools in the U.S. a chance to show an advanced screening of the movie as a local fundraiser. This was a thrilling offer, because I knew that a good deal of money could be raised. Yet, staying true to its practice of opposing TV, movies and technology in general, the Waldorf Institute politely declined the offer, to my deep disappointment.

I finally saw the Trilogy, after waiting impatiently for all three installments, and was happy that it stayed true to the fairy-tale idea we had developed in our Waldorf think tank.

As I watched the movies, I realized that Star Wars had affected the paths of those of us involved in the project. Just as we had mapped out a path for Luke, we were all on a journey to our own destinies. The archetypes we built had done their work!

For example, by working through the philosophical concepts, I saw my own path to the spirit reflected in the story, as Werner knew it would – the process had further emboldened my own understanding of the study of Anthroposophy. Also, I remembered that Werner, who was like a scholarly father, had introduced me to Marcia as his “right hand,” while Luke Skywalker had sacrificed his own right hand in the battle with his father – both situations connected to the pursuit of spiritual knowledge. As a “right hand” substitute for Werner in the project with Marcia, I grew into my leadership role as a teacher. So, too, with the substitution of his right hand, Luke acquired more masterful poise as a Jedi warrior who had successfully denied the Dark Side and became more in touch with the Force.

George Lucas himself was on the path for his genius to be recognized with commercial and critical success. He would later open his famous Skywalker Ranch, which I think is a much better name than “Starkiller” Ranch, don’t you?

Yet, when his own right hand, Marcia Lucas, was symbolically severed in their 1983 divorce, he lost a part of the humanity that had been evident in the earlier movies, and some say lacking in the later versions of the Star Wars series.

For her part, Marcia Lucas would stand on stage to be ceremoniously honored, just like the characters in the ending of Star Wars. Looking tasteful and quietly elegant next to a glittery-gold presenter Farrah Fawcett at the 1977 Academy Awards, Marcia accepted an Oscar for best editing of a film that had started off an as unknown space opera and become a household name. At that ceremony, one of her editor colleagues would speak for her, and she would not have an opportunity to thank anyone publically, not even her husband. Had they given her a chance at the microphone, I imagine that Marcia perhaps might have thanked the Waldorf Institute, although the process of being involved in this influential project was, for me, its own reward.

In fact, later, when working with Producer Kathleen Kennedy during the writing of the Indiana Jones movies, I was quite aware of my participation in shaping small moments in the movies where true wisdom and light shine through the story. This is what I have tried to do in all of my writings: share the love for spirit that I try to live each day and to bring that spirit into the souls of everyone I have the privilege to meet or touch in some small way – even through a simple story that is the ubiquitous retelling of the original story, the return to spirit.

Just a few days ago, with all of the resurgence of Star Wars memories and the recent release of the latest installment in the series, I googled Marcia Lucas’ name and discovered that she and George had divorced in 1983. She had returned to using her maiden name, Marcia Griffin. When I had worked with her, I had no idea that she was one of the greatest film editors in the world, her skills having been regularly in demand by the top directors, including Scorsese and Coppola. I was delighted to learn about her Academy Award and believe she is an unsung heroine in the history of Star Wars.

After all, how often does a mortal human being create something eternal – a story that lasts forever?

I leave you with this link to an article about Marcia Griffin that gives a beautiful picture of her contributions to the making of Star Wars:

Enjoy, and may the Force be with you!

#Star Wars #The Inspiration behind Star Wars #Amazing article #Marcia Lucas #Douglas Gabriel

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honeylemoncrushimagines · 5 years

Text

#1 - Balcony Love

Characters needed:

Y/N – your name

C/N – crush name

BF/N – best friend’s name

F/N2 – friend name 2

F/N3 – friend name 3

F/N4 – friend name 4

E/C – eye color

You also need a lake name ;)

AN:

So I kind of planned for F/n3 and 4 to be the opposite genders of Y/N, but um yeah, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. ;) Also I feel like this is kinda cliché and cringe worthy but it might different for you guys, so ya. Anyways, enjoy my first crush imagine I guess? :)

also sorry in advance for whatever grammar mistakes are in there, i was kind of rushing to write this for you guys ;)

P.S. there are quite a few time skips because I was too lazy to fill in the time between each scene :/

word count: 2336 words

warnings: none

A few weeks ago

“My mom said I could only invite a few people with me to our holiday lodge for my birthday party so you can’t tell the others I invited you, okay?” BF/N whispered to me as we walked down the road towards the bus stop after school. So far, today had been a pretty good day for a school day. It was Friday; your crush C/N had smiled at you in class, and now your best friend was inviting you along to a trip for her birthday.

“Who’s going?” I ask, grinning excitedly at her.

“Oh, just you and a few guys.” At this, she winks conspiratorially at me.

“Who, Who?? Tell meeeee please BF/N!” I beg, trying to make puppy dog eyes at her.

“Hmm let’s see.” Tapping her finger against her chin, she looks upwards. “F/N2, you, course, F/N3, F/N4 and… C/N.”

“OH MY GOODNESS BF/N YOU DIDN’T!!” I squeal at her and grab both of her shoulders towards me in a hug. “I can’t believe you! Thank you, thank you, thank you sooo much!”

She grins. “Haha, no problem. After all, you are my best friend, aren’t you?”

Today

“Arghh I’m going to be so late,” I screeched, frantically rifling through my drawers looking for a spare hair tie. Finally finding one, I ran out of my room and grabbed my bags, stuffing my feet into my sandals. Outside of my house, BF/N and everyone else were waiting for me to get in.

“Honey, are you sure you’ll be ok?” My mom asked, taking a bag from my hand.

“Yeah, of course mom! Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. It’s only the weekend, anyway.” Finally having accomplished my task of slipping on my shoes, I raced outside, opened the boot to the minivan and stacked my bags inside.

“Bye mom, I’ll see you in two days!” I shouted behind me as I slammed the boot door shut.

“Bye honey. Keep safe okay? I love you.”

“Love you too!” At that, I jumped into the car, strapped on my seat belt, and then we were gone.

Inside the car, it turned out that I was sitting next to C/N at the back, which was also where all the snacks were. “Hey Y/N.” He smiled his heart stopping smile at me, putting one arm behind my chair.

“Oh um, hi C/N,” I grin back at him, flustered as hair falls in front of my face.

BF/N’s voice fills the small interior of the minivan. “So guys in case you didn’t know or forgot, we are going to my family’s private lodge at lake lake/name. Since it’s about 3 hours away, we’ll swap drivers and rotate every hour.”

“Yes Ma’am!” We all chorus, laughing at each other.

“Also, feel free to pass around the snacks we brought. Don’t just hog it for yourselves!” At this, she mock glares at C/N and me.

“Why would I, BF/N?” I joke. I put up my hands defensively. ”I’m an angel!”

F/N3 snickers. “Yeah right you are.”

F/N4 pipes in. “More like the devil.”

“Hey not funny guys!” I pretend to get shot in the chest and collapse onto the ground as we all laugh.

At the lodge

“Guys!” BF/N yells. “Come on in!” Lugging our bags behind us, we all follow after BF/N into her family’s huge lodge. “So I’ve decided that after we’ve settled in, we should go down to the lake for a swim.” We all cheer. “But before that, first things first. For rooms, all the girls will be sleeping together, the same as the boys. Both rooms are upstairs and have ensuites connected to them.” After you’ve unpacked your stuff, don’t forget to change into swimsuits so that we can swim!”

“Yes, sergeant,” I shout, bringing my hand up to my head in attention. Everyone else just laughs.

As I lug my heavy bag up the stairs to my room, something grabs onto the handle of the suitcase and stops me in my tracks, startling me. “Huh?”

“Just me.” C/N smiles, his straight, ebony white teeth almost glowing. “Can I help with this?”

Fighting off an oncoming blush, I quickly look away from his searching eyes and hand over my bag. “Sure… thanks.” My brain going into overdrive, I scan the walls beside me, hoping that they will give me some pointer tips on how to talk to a crush. Unfortunately to my dismay, they don’t. “So… How did BF/N convince you to come us this trip?” I ask him, my face glowing like hot coals. I have to at least try to make a conversation if I want him. It’s too awkward otherwise. I tell myself, trying to cool down the furnace in the body.

C/N laughs an embarrassed laugh. “You don’t want to know.”

“Come on, tell me please! You’ve got me interested so now you can’t leave me hanging!”

“Ah, well…” He rubs the back of his head, showing off his muscular arm. I’m practically drooling at the sight of him. “BF/N told me you were coming on this trip.” At this, two bright spots appear on his cheeks.

Wait what??? Did he just say he only came because of me? No way. Not possible. No one likes me. He’s probably just trying to be friendly so he can get Isabel or someone.

“Wait what?” confused I turn to face him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely serious.” Now he’s grinning

“You better not be joking with me, C/N.”

“I never would. Not about this at least.” I gasp in surprise.

“You suck up!” I say playfully. Inside my head, cogs are spinning and wheels are turning, trying to figure what he means and if he’s actually for real. Could he possibly like me as much as I like him? We stop in front of my door and he puts down my bag. “Well here’s your stop. See you lake.” Smiling softly I say thanks and then close the door and find the sexiest, most revealing swimwear I packed. Just to show off to C/N, of course.

Time skip to the lake

“Okay, kids!” BF/N shouts. “And love birds.” At this, she winks at me and I look away, pretending not to notice. “Today,” she continues, “We’ll be playing hide and seek!” At this, we all groan. F/N4 whisper yells to BF/N.

“Can’t we play something else? Pretty please?”

“Nope!” She grins her devil’s grin. “We’re going to stick with this. And for this game, someone’s gotta be in, and as the person who’s house you guys are staying in, I think that I should be the one to pick who’s going to be in, so… F/N3! You’re it!” giggling at F/N3′s sigh of dismay and halfhearted protesting, we all swim away, and everyone goes off in two’s except for me. Lucky me. Always the odd one out. Scanning the area, I try to find a good hiding place. In a lake there aren’t that many places to hide except around the edges. Aha! There’s one! I spot a rock jutting out of the water’s edge, and quickly swim over to hide behind it. Not daring to peek out for fear of being found, I stay hidden, unaware of time. How long are they gonna take to find me? They must have forgotten about me. Spinning around, I gasp as I feel soft, warm hands slide around my waist and I find myself pressed up against a hard, muscular wall of some sort. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” A low, purring voice interrupts my thinking and liquid heat rises up inside my core. C/N.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, embarrassed. “We’re supposed to be playing hide and seek with the others!”

Abruptly, he lets go of me, leaving my skin cold and wet. I shiver and hug my arms to myself as goose bumps rise up on my skin.

“Well they asked me to come find you, since the game finished 3 minutes ago.”

“Oh… right. Thanks” I mumble, unsure of how to actually talk to my crush.

“You look cold. Shall we head back in?” His blue eyes search mine as I avoid his gaze.

“Yeah, let’s. The others are probably getting bored waiting for us anyway.”

We wade through the water around rock. My teeth begin to chatter as we come out into the open. C/N gently touches my shoulders and the molten lava inside me flares up again. We grab our towels off the sand, and with surprising grace, he wraps my towel snugly around my body and then smiles down at me. I smile back, trying to fight off the redness flooding my face.

Time skip to later that night after dinner

As I’m walking down the hallway to the bathroom to take a shower, C/N comes bounding towards me. “Hey, Y/N!” he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and I smile to myself. “Umm… I was just wondering, do you want to go onto the balcony later tonight with me?” Whattt. That was definitely not what I was expecting.

“S-s-sure.” I stutter out. “I’d love to.” I smile up at him, looking into his E/C colored eyes.

“Great… okay, thanks. See you on the balcony at 11pm?” he blushes, and two tiny red patches appear beneath his eyes.

“Sounds good. See you then.” I curse myself under my breath as I prepare to shower. Did I really have to sound like a recorded phone answering machine? I face palm myself, and my back cringes as I replay that scene in my head. Why couldn’t I just be a little more flirtatious like BF/N or good at speaking with boys like F/N2? Honestly, the only good thing that came out it was that I got asked to go on a date! Oh… wait. It hits me. C/N JUST ASKED ME OUT ON A DATE!!!!!! ahhhhhh!! I scream internally and my brain starts imagining a ton of scenarios.

But first things first, Y/N. I tell myself sternly. You need to actually shower and smell good before you go and meet him.

Time skip to the balcony

I cautiously step onto the balcony, half expecting to not see C/N there. “C/N?” I step out further, and look to the corner of the balcony, breathing the smoky flavor of the night sky into my lungs. There he is! Aww that’s so cute. Before me is a sight to behold. There, I see C/N setting up fluffy blankets on the hard wood of the balcony.

“Y/N! You came!” he stands up and beams at me, gesturing for me to come and sit down. Gingerly, I bend down to my knees and admire his handiwork.

“Wow. This is beautiful, C/N.” I whisper. No one’s ever done this for me before. In front of me is a little wooden table with glowing candles sitting on it. Purple and pink flowers line the edges of the table, their velvet soft petals illuminated by the gentle flickering of the candles. Beside me is what seems like the fluffiest blankets in the world, and I giggle as C/N sits down beside me and tucks the fuzzy blankets around my body, wrapping me up like a burrito.

C/N begins to speak. “So, in case it’s not obvious enough to you, although I doubt it is, Y/N… I like you.” At that, C/N exhales and runs his hand through his hair and my mouth falls open.

“C/N… are you serious?”

“Y/N, I am completely dead serious. I like you… hell, I think I even love you. I’ve liked you for what seems like years, except I’ve been too scared to do anything about. Until now, that is.” C/N looks at me in the eyes.

“C/N…” I whisper, “I’ve liked you ever since I first laid my eyes on you. I’m pretty sure I love you.”

“Y/N, are you sure?”

“Hell yes, I’m sure.” I reply confidently.

In a heartbeat, he grabs my body and gently lays me on the ground, the cool of the hard wooden deck soaking up my warmth, and that combined with his heated kisses on my neck and jaw makes me shudder in delight. I breathe his scent in, swallowing up all his kisses like a fish desperate for water as I groan in ecstasy. I grip his head and thread my fingers through his hair, reveling in the softness. We kiss until we’re drunk on it, filling up the never ending well of passion. Slowly, we shorten our kisses until we’re finished, gulping down deep breaths of air and I stare into his eyes. He traces his rough finger pad around the swell of my kiss swollen lips then whispers, “You are so, so beautiful.”

I blush, ducking out of his touch. “So are you,” I retort. At that, he laughs, a low sexy growling sound that makes my insides quiver. He reaches out for a blanket beside him and wraps it around the two of us, making a little cocoon of safety and warmth just for us. “So Y/N, yes or no? Will you go out with me and be my girlfriend?” C/N asks.

I lie down and burrow my head into the hollow of his neck and smile into his soft skin. “A complete and utter yes.” I whisper.

AN:

Hope you guys enjoyed my first imagine!! Feel free to submit ideas and stuff you want me to write about.

Ciao ;)

honeylemoncrushimagines

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hgamesfan · 5 years

Text

Unmasked ~ Sixteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @hgamesfan and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the sixteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

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~~ Chapter 16 ~~

After my talk with my father, I am strangely full of nerves. I manage a bath and change of dress, although given the uproar the house is in, Mary is not available to help me dress, and so I wear an older dress, something simple and loose that does not require a corset. I wrap a light shawl about my shoulders, feeling oddly bare without the undergarment, and spend a few moments in the study, attending to tasks left neglected while Peeta and I were caught in the stables. In truth, the tasks could wait until tomorrow, but I am not certain I wish to be near anyone right now, my head awhirl with so many thoughts and the enormity of the events of today. The tasks do not take long, however, and I then return to my parents’ rooms in time for yet another uproar.

“Really, Kent. We can have dinner brought up to you,” my mother insists.

“Darling, you know I respect your opinion as a healer but this is too much,” my father argues, hobbling from his room with the aid of a cane, garbed in a dressing robe and slippers. “I have been bedridden for months and will continue to be so no longer. It is a simple trip down the stairs and then dinner. Nothing to it.”

“Perhaps some assistance the first trip down the stairs,” I suggest then.

“Pish, child. Will my own daughter now dictate my actions? I am not an invalid any more. Step aside.”

“Kent–”

“Cease your fussing.”

My mother purses her lips and retracts her hands from my father. My throat constricts. I have no memories of my father speaking to my mother or to me thus. With such…anger and annoyance. No memories of them fighting so openly, nor of him scolding me. It is not like him at all.

He approaches the stairs and, for one breathless moment, sways precariously. Gasps fill the air and then Peeta’s there, grasping my father by the elbow to steady him. Father glares at Peeta.

“It changes the balance.”

“Twas not a leg,” my father argues and Peeta nods.

“Do you hold your arms stationary when you walk then?” My father ponders this for a moment and then shrugs.

“I suppose not,” he concedes.

“It takes time to adjust. Which hand do you write with?”

“The right,” my father says.

“That is most fortunate. You’ll not need to relearn writing. Other tasks may require some adjustment, but no matter, they are still possible,” Peeta says as he takes one step, exceptionally slow. “It took me at least three months to learn to walk properly again. Learning again how to ride a horse turned out to be easier, once I could manage to get in the damn saddle. And stairs…well that is a more recent accomplishment.”

“You did not sleep on the ground floor… on a sofa, for months, did you?”

“No, but there are other ways besides walking to ascend and descend the stairs…have you watched a toddler learning to take them? The way they sit and use their arms more than their legs?” At this, my father actually laughs.

“Apologies. I mean no offense,” he says.

“Of course not. Small victories are in truth not such small accomplishments with a missing limb.”

Peeta continues talking as they descend, one step at a time with Peeta supporting my father. Peeta tells another story of the first time he tried to ride a horse after his amputation and my mother clutches at her throat with one hand and my arm with the other as we follow their sedate pace. A concerned footman moves to assist, but Peeta waves the man off as Father laughs again at the image Peeta paints of himself relearning how to walk and how to mount a horse with his tone humorous rather than piteous.

“Then I found Cicero and that changed everything,” Peeta explains, prompting my father of course to ask about Cicero.

Absorbed in their talk as it shifts to horseflesh and how Peeta and Joe trained Cicero, my father and my husband safely reach the landing. My father is intrigued, I can tell, at this idea of training a horse to bow to assist in mounting. Father is short a hand and will need to learn how to mount one handed or make similar adjustments.

He wheezes and pauses at the foot of the stairs, reaches out for Peeta to steady himself.

“I do not recall there being so many stairs in this house,” Father says.

“You should try them with a wooden leg sometime.” My father stares at Peeta for a moment and then chuckles. The sound is wondrous and then he nods, seeming to reach some sort of conclusion.

“Perhaps some assistance into the dining room,” he says. “At least until I am more recovered.”

Two footmen hurry forward and I hear Peeta whisper, “Small victories, Mr. Everdeen,” then he leaves my father in their care. Beside me, my mother releases a heavy breath and my heart begins to beat normally again. We reach the first floor and my mother lets go of me to grasp Peeta’s face. She pulls him down to kiss his cheek and then hurries after my father.

Peeta offers his arm to me and I stare at him rather than take it. I stare until his cheeks turn pink and he lowers his proffered arm. Then I finally ask what I need to know. “Why would he listen to you and not his wife nor his daughter?”

“How often do you use two hands for a task? Eating? Bathing? Dressing? Reading a book? Working in the fields?” My cheeks burn as I begin to understand what Peeta means. “There is no aspect of his life that will be left untouched by this and that is a difficult thing to accept, especially when one has no knowledge of the amputation until much later. You, your sister, your mother, the servants, even Madge, have all known him as an active and independent man. Now he requires assistance or time to relearn simple tasks. He will want to do these things on his own, to prove to himself and to everyone in his life that he is no less of a man.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His eyes flash in the dim lighting of the hall and I see in them the challenge. The dare to deny that what he says is true. “If you do not believe me, then hold your left hand in your lap tonight for the entire meal. See how well you can slice your meats and wield a knife one handed.”

And the trouble is, Peeta is right. I cannot imagine the amount of pride my father will need to swallow tonight in asking assistance to cut his food, like a child. We could rage about the unfairness of it all, but my father is a man of strong constitution and of strong convictions. He always has been and I know that while the road may not be smooth, I have hope he will travel it successfully. Perhaps with some help.

I loop my arm through Peeta’s then, my fingers curling around his bicep. Angry with myself for not understanding my father’s psyche, yet grateful for how steady Peeta is now, for how quickly he responded upstairs to prevent another disaster. I only wish I had thought to act sooner. I would have thought that concern might be easier to accept from a daughter than a stranger, but then again, perhaps not. Peeta has never known my father until today. Perhaps this is another role tailor made for my husband. Doctor Aurelius has said repeatedly that Peeta’s experience would be invaluable in helping my father adjust. Tonight’s scene must be precisely what the doctor referred to.

“I shall talk to Mrs. Chilton tonight about perhaps adding more stews, dishes eaten more with spoon or just a fork, and tender meats, to the menu for the upcoming weeks. Fish is easily sliced with just a fork is it not?” I say quietly as we enter the dining room. Madge and Prim are already here.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Dinner is a strange, informal affair. There is father in his dressing robe and slippers, myself in my faded walking dress and shawl. The other ladies of my family have been so absorbed in the excitement over Father’s recovery that none bothered to change from their day dresses. Of our party, Peeta is the only one both freshly washed and formally garbed for a usual dinner.

For months now, our seating arrangement has been fluid and shifting, although Peeta would usually sit beside me. With father back at the head of the table, Primrose has seated herself in her old position, leaving the seat to father’s immediate left open for me. Peeta sees me seated in my old chair, between father and Prim, and moves around to the other side of the table, to sit in between my mother and Madge. I shift in the chair, for some reason unsettled. At least I am not the only one. Peeta appears suddenly ill at ease.

Mother, however, appears to have recovered from our fright on the stairs. She glows brighter than the candles. I have not seen her so happy in months. Primrose is full of stories and news, and thankfully she mentions Rory Hawthorne, which shifts Father’s focus of concern from my romantic interests to hers, as well as to the matter of inheritance.

Otherwise the mood is light as Madge and Primrose swap stories across the table of recent months mingled with those of a more distant past, with stories of our youth, ones that my father laughs at. He even refrains from commenting at his much different meal – a bowl of broth, another of tender cooked apples, and a crust of bread. I am relieved to see him accepting the doctor’s orders at least and the dishes tonight for him do not require a knife.

The stories, however, only seem to push Peeta further into his state of quietude.

My hand in my lap grasps tightly to the folds of my skirt as I eat, blowing gently on my vegetables to cool them before consuming, watching my husband across the table as he withdraws further into himself and wondering if our path together will ever be straightforward.

There is no denying the joy I feel at Father’s revival. His laughter and loving presence have been sorely missed. Several hours ago, I would have given anything to bring him back to us. Now that he has, I wonder if the cost will be what little gains Peeta and I have made in our relationship. Yet, I cannot see why that should be.

“The Doctor says I am not to ride for at least a week, until I gain my strength back a little, but I cannot stay confined to bed. Tomorrow, Katniss, we shall take a cart and you can drive me about the estate. Show me what you have been up to.”

“Are you certain that is wise, Kent?” Mother asks, worry plain in her voice. I should have Peeta speak to her as well and perhaps help explain Father’s mental state.

“I think it necessary. I’ve been abed for months. It is high time I cease being so lazy. Katniss, what say you?”

“Of course, Papa,” I agree immediately, before I realise that the invitation did not include Peeta, and what my father proposes is something that Peeta and I have taken to doing together since…well since my father could not.

I briefly catch Peeta watching me before his eyes return to Madge and he speaks quietly to her, answering whatever question it was that she asked him. I did not hear and I am not sure that I care. There is a sudden tightness in my chest and a sense that he is somehow slipping away from me, just as we had begun to truly understand one another.

The dinner is excellent, and most are in high spirits as we adjourn to the drawing room. My father is ensconced on a settee, my mother fussing over him while he pretends to be annoyed by her attentions. His quick swings between accepting and rejecting help will be difficult to deal with, but we will manage, I tell myself. We must.

Prim sits at the piano and my father asks me to sing. I cannot turn down such an entreaty, and soon become engrossed in the music.

It is after the third song we perform, as my father applauds with enthusiasm, that I realise our audience is short one person. I hadn’t even noticed Peeta slip away. Wherever did he go? When did he leave? Does he find my singing deplorable? I have been told that my voice is quite pleasant, beautiful even.

I am not given a chance to investigate, however as that is when my mother yawns, insisting that she is much too tired for further amusements. I hurry from the room as soon as I see that Father is willing to accept assistance from one of the footmen in escorting my mother to their rooms.

My mother’s protests follow me, but I hear my father’s calm voice halting her objections. “Let her go, dear. They are still sorting through what it all means.”

I shake my head, confused at what exactly my father is referring to. My feet carry me from one room to the next until I find Peeta in the study, bent over the desk and sorting through a stack of parchment.

“Is my singing voice so dreadful to you?” I ask and he startles.

“Katniss!” His hands scurry to order his papers. “I did not hear you enter.”

“Hunter’s tread and soft slippers,” I say as he finally holds the stack behind his back where I cannot see them, not quickly enough, however. I spot the edges of what is clearly one of Peeta’s drawings. “What are you doing in here?”

“Your voice is beautiful,” he says then, finally meeting my eyes and holding my gaze for the first time since we entered the dining room. “The first day I heard you sing…even in your sadness your voice was mesmerising. I think even the birds outside cease their song to listen to yours.”

“That is a pretty piece of flattery,” I say, my cheeks warming as I maneuver to trap him against the desk. “But it does not answer my questions, husband.”

“I did not wish to intrude further on a family evening,” he says. My feet halt as I recall something he once said to me in our bed at night.

I am used to being unwanted.

“I came in here to clean out my mess, make the drawer available again and–”

“And what? Strike your presence from our lives?” Such a question would normally come forth with venom in my voice, but I think I begin to understand my husband and what motivates him, perhaps even the direction of several of his thoughts.

“I am aware that I am no longer necessary to you, Katniss. The only reason you sought a marriage was in case your father should die, and now he is thankfully recovered.”

“Not entirely. You could help him, as doctor Aurelius said.”

“And I will. I shall also endeavor to not cause problems for you. As it turns out, you needn’t have married anyone at all.”

“Tis a little late for regrets and second thoughts now, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well. I told you we should have stopped,” he says. “You should be with your family now, Katniss. Tis a joyful thing, your father returning to you.”

And that for some reason, triggers my anger. The idea that I could celebrate even as Peeta withdraws from me, the thought that perhaps he now regrets what transpired between us in the stables when I cannot, that implications in his words that Peeta is somehow not a part of my family. I reach around him and snatch a handful of papers before he can respond. Several of them are torn from both our grips and flutter to the floor. Peeta makes a sound of protest and grasps at me, but I am too quick and move out several steps out of his reach.

“Are these for the plant book?” I ask. “Why would you hide them?”

“They’re not for the plant book,” Peeta says and his words halt my feet. I watch as he carefully bends to retrieve the rest from the floor.

“Then…what are they?” He sighs heavily and I hold them close to my chest. “May I see them?”

“You may as well,” he mutters and waves a dismissive hand at me. I scowl but glance down at the one on top of the stack.

My heart stops.

Only for a moment as I stare at the drawing in my hand and flip to the next and then it roars back to life.

Me. They’re drawings of me. All of them. Here I am smiling, lounging in the garden, head tipped up to absorb the warm rays of the sun. There I am riding Sagittaria with a serious mein and then with laughter on my lips. Perched in a tree with a book and my skirts draped towards the ground. Another of me with head bent and eyes half closed, lost in contemplation. In my nightgown, feet curled up beneath me in my chair as I gaze into the fire, a glass in my hands. Pouring tea with a scowl on my face. Playing happily with Maysilee. Walking and sharing secrets with Madge. Several studies of eyes and braids and even my hands holding a bow. At least two dozen sketches, all exquisitely drawn with ragged edges on their left side. Torn from a book, I realise.

I am too stunned to speak at first. My upset and jealousy – yes I will admit now that I was hurt and jealous that Peeta seemed to use everyone and everything in his life as a model for his art except for me — is now proven so very wrong and ill founded.

“Why…why would you hide these?” The words stick to my throat like stale bread.

“Things were uncertain enough between us. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable with my obsessive scribbles,” he says, finally catching me as I have not been able to move since looking at the first drawing of me. He reaches for the papers in my hands and I hold them to my chest, out of his reach.

“Why do you draw me like this?”

“Like what?” he asks, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

“As though you find me beautiful! Or hold me dear to you!”

He laughs then, although there is little humour in it. “Are you mocking me?”

“I think you mock me, sir. All your pretty words about my singing and the things you said to me in the stables today…yet you would hide these from me? Give up on our marriage?”

“I am not giving up on our marriage!”

“But you are withdrawing from it. Are you not? That is what this is about, lessening your presence in our lives.”

“It’s clear that other than assisting your father adjust, I am no longer needed here, and that will only be a temporary requirement. He will get better, and soon. Therefore –”

“You are needed! I need you!”

Peeta is finally silent then. As am I, as the truth of the words manifests in my chest. I have come to rely on him in so many ways I can scarcely take stock of them, not just in helping to care for my father. Our lives have become…entwined. He remains silent as I hand the drawings back to him.

“You made me beautiful,” I accuse again. “I am scarred and you have made me beautiful.”

“I did not. I draw you as I see you. You are already beautiful. Scars could never change that.”

“Then perhaps you need spectacles,” I say as he shuffles the papers together and sets them on top of the desk.

“I assure you, my eyesight is perfect.”

“Really? Such a claim to make when you are blind to what is right in front of you. Circumstances have changed since our betrothal.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says with frustration and a hand in his hair.

“Therefore I think it time we re-examine the terms of our alliance.”

“Of course, madame. As you wish,” he says, with a slight incline of his head. All business and aloof, perfunctory.

“Grant me patience! You are insufferably noble sometimes.” I grasp his hand and drag him from the room. Up the stairs as he questions what I am doing. I do not stop, nor do I answer him until we are in our chambers.

Mary stands, wide eyed, from a seat by the fire. “Mrs. Mellark, I–”

“Your services are not needed tonight, Mary. Enjoy the evening,” I say, uncaring what sort of servants’ gossip my actions will unleash. She curtsies and races from the room with one astonished look over her shoulder at me. I shut the door in her wake and lock it. There will be no interruptions tonight.

All of my bravado vanishes when I face Peeta.

Despite the fact that we consummated our marriage in the stables today – oh good heavens! I consummated my marriage in a bed of horse food. Father Crane was quite right in calling me a tart when I was fifteen and still running around in breeches. Now my transgressions have taken on a new form and my cheeks burn as Peeta stands there and waits. Clears his throat and watches me expectantly.

“Now what, madame?”

His insolent smirk gives me a conduit for my frustrations and I stand tall, lifting my chin to deliver my next words.

“Now you take me to bed.”

I am left reeling by my own words. That is not at all what I meant to say! and Peeta’s lifted eyebrows reveal that it is not what he expected to hear me say.

“It’s a little early for that. What will the servants say?” I scowl at this, at the knowing look in his eyes that tells me he has determined my dislike for being the topic of gossip in the kitchens.

“I have had a most trying day. How do you know I am not seconds away from hysteria and need to take to my bed?”

“I rather doubt that, Katniss. As you have told me repeatedly, you are not so fragile. Try again.”

“I need a reason to take my husband to bed?”

“I’m not certain that it is a good idea, given–”

“Of course it is. You take me to bed, removing my corset this time. Don’t think I didn’t notice you neglected to remove my clothing this afternoon–”

“I was concerned with being discovered. I thought it wise to leave you somewhat dressed in case we needed to respond with haste.”

“Yes, well that is a fine excuse, but I have locked the door and we are husband and wife. What we will do in our bed is quite expected.”

“Quite expected,” he says and takes a few hesitant steps towards me. He gazes down at me with fire in his blue eyes. “How very…responsible of you, madame. You are playing pious again, hiding behind duty. Or is that what you truly want? The way you were today in the stable, and last night, was that all an act to convince me to consummate this sham of a marriage? To perform my duty to you?”

“No,” I deny, unable to tear my eyes away from his mouth, nor my mind from the memory of what extraordinary things that mouth has done to me, even as my heart aches at his words. “And our marriage is no sham!”

“Then what happens tomorrow morning? What am I to you then? A nuisance?”

“You are my husband, my partner, my…” I gasp out and lift my eyes to his. He seems a little stunned. I fill the silence with words I cannot seem to stop. “I expect you to wake beside me tomorrow and perhaps kiss me before we dress, then break the fast with me. I expect you to plan adventures with Maysilee while we eat and to be there for her as you have been. She has come to love and rely on you and I will not see you break her heart. I wish to work more on our book, as we were…distracted today and did not accomplish much on it.” As I speak, my words gain strength and conviction. “I want you to ride with me, and my father tomorrow, to help me show him how we have cared for our home and to see to any pressing needs. You are expected at dinner and then in whatever family amusements claim the evening. And after all of that, I expect you in this room, in that bed,” I fling my hand towards it now, “With me, where you will sleep beside me unless we choose to not sleep. And I most certainly expect flowers and a drawing from you. You promised them, and I took you for a man of your word, Peeta Mellark, a man with a sense of honor that is unmatched.”

I turn away then, unable to face the possibility that I have read this entirely wrong and just made a fool of myself. He grasps my arm and turns me back to face him. “Our home?”

“Yes, you obstinate bastard. Our home,” I say, although there is no bite in my words, because I can see in his eyes that those two words are precisely what he needs to hear.

Our home. And it has become so, hasn’t it. Just as I can no longer imagine Everdeen without Madge and Maysilee, Peeta too has planted himself firmly into this place. Without him…I do not even want to consider it.

But at the moment, I can see that his fears need assuaging. I see in his eyes the flickering remains of a child whose world was upended first with death then with a simple game played with the wrong boy. But wrong to whom? I see the pain of a boy on the cusp of manhood abandoned by the only person left whom he’d known to love him unconditionally, abandoned for a supposed chance at a better life in the dubious care of those who would spend years making him feel unwelcome, unwanted, inferior, even as they saw him educated and dressed in fine clothes. And I see the ghost of a man who was sent away to the military when his presence could no longer be tolerated, with the expectation that he would not return. The shadows of the man who survived anyways and was then forced to relearn how to walk through a world that did not wish to see him for two reasons rather than one, and most especially I see the man who was coerced into marriage with his brother’s discarded fiancé. I understand fully the sting of that last one. I felt it myself the day we signed our engagement contract.

I can see in his eyes the reflections of a man who was required to be content with the leavings and table scraps, yet has somehow found it in his heart to create a life – a good life – here with me out of what could have easily been a misery. But Peeta has needed to act in this manner nearly his entire life, as a matter of survival, learning when his welcome had run thin and it was time to move on to another sphere or change his purpose to those around him.

No longer. His welcome has not run out here yet and I intend for it to never run out. We shall take the table scraps given us and make a feast.

I slide my hands up his chest then, up to his neck as I press my body to his. “I want you to be here tomorrow, Peeta, and the day after that, and the day after that one, just as you have been. You promised to love, honor, comfort, and cherish me, until death do us part, husband, and I will hold you to those vows. Are those terms agreeable to you?”

“I suppose those will work,” he says, his hands resting on my back, a light touch as he lowers his head towards mine. “You are not disappointed? Now that you are truly and needlessly stuck with the crippled, bastard son?”

“I know exactly who I married, and I am not disappointed at all,” I whisper right before he kisses me. I savour the touch of his lips to mine just for a moment before I allow myself to sink into his embrace, into the depth of feeling and sensation.

There is no rush this time, no frustration or doubt. No fear of being discovered nor interrupted. We both know where this kiss will end and yet neither of us are in a hurry to arrive there. He kisses me as though he has the rest of our lives to do so and yet it awakens a towering need inside me.

I search through fabric until I find the ends of his cravat and slowly untie it. Peeta lifts his head, ending one kiss and resting his forehead on mine as I pull the length of silk free and leave it on the floor.

“The poor valet,” he says with a rueful shake of his head. I laugh and guide his hands to the sash tied about my waist. He understands and grasps one end, pulling until the knot falls apart. We take slow steps towards the bed, leaving a trail of clothing across the bedroom floor as we undress one another. My skin tingles. Alive with the touches of air and Peeta’s skin on mine. Alive in the way one feels after a good, deep yawn, and yet I am not the slightest bit sleepy, despite my eyes drooping. They do so with want. We peel off layer after layer until we are down to my chemise and stockings, his trousers and shirt as we come to stand right beside the bed.

He kisses me again, a language more profound than words, in some ways, his hands gently holding my jaw. We reaffirm territory already explored. The taste of him sparks recognition and comfort as well as desire now. The trailing of my fingers down his neck, down over soft linen shirt, down to his waist, gives rise to such goose flesh and need. His eyes never leave mine as I gather fabric in my hands and lift. Up and up and over his head until I must stand on my toes and then can reach no further. Peeta takes over then, discarding his shirt and standing motionless for me to examine him.

I allow my eyes to roam over the expanse of skin now bared to me, uncertain where to even begin touching him. I step back slightly and take him in – the broad shoulders and chords of muscle on his arms, the burn scars extending down from his face to cover one side of his neck and splay over his left shoulder, like a handprint forever etched onto his skin in flames, the touch of violence and war leaving its visible marks on him. A curved line over his ribs that looks like it was perhaps caused by a knife. The scattered dark blonde hairs on his chest that tighten into a line pointing down, down to his trousers where I cannot see the end but am eager to find it.

“Are you simply going to stare all night, wife?” he asks, and while there is teasing in his tone, there is also a slight thread of uncertainty. I lift my palms and set them on his pectorals, breaking the thread of uncertainty and casting it aside.

He is so warm and solid, like a stone kept in fire to heat and soothe in the coldest of winters. His breathing lifts his chest and my hands in unison, and with a quick glance at his eyes to ensure that I am not overstepping, I run my hands over him, learning the shape and the feel of him beneath my palms. Up to his shoulders then down his arms to his wrists where my fingers tickle slightly before venturing back up to his shoulders.

I trace the outline of fire branded into his skin, watching my fingers as they skim over ridges and crests. We are both of us marked by flames. A pair of beasts forged in fire and branded as unwanted. A scarred should have been a spinster woman, and a crippled bastard man. I can feel tears in my eyes as I think on the pain I endured and how such pain exists in his past as well, perhaps tenfold with his leg. I flatten my palm over the scars and lift my gaze to his.

Without a word spoken between us, I somehow know that we understand one another in ways few others can. So I continue learning his body. My palm skimming over heated flesh, curving over the scar on his ribs, meandering down to his abdomen.

As in the stable, certain muscles of his flinch and contract, but he remains planted where he stands and allows my exploration. I step forward and slide my hands around his waist to his back, finding that expanse to be much the same. Warm, solid, responsive to my touches. I cannot look at him as a curiosity takes hold and I press my mouth to his skin, just at the edge of one scar. He sighs and finally moves, lifting one hand to my hair. He plucks pins from my tresses as I kiss him. They fall discarded to the floor with each caress of my lips over him until my hair hangs loose down my back.

Peeta buries one hand there, cradling my head gently as I explore with my lips as I did with my hands. He lifts his other hand to caress over my shoulder, to move aside my chemise and mirror the touches over my own scars. When my lips reach the barrier of his trousers, though, his hand tightens in my hair and he brings me up to stand before him again.

“Now your turn,” he whispers with a smile so beguiling, I can forgive the interruption of my exploration. Especially when he first joins our mouths in a heated kiss that soon has me clawing at his chest and his neck, bending my body to bring myself as close to him as possible. I feel the hard proof of his arousal against my belly so that when he grabs fistfuls of my chemise, I eagerly lift my arms for him to remove it, shivering only slightly as the removal of the fabric, warmed from its hours spent so close to my body, leaves me slightly chilled and standing before him in naught but my stockings.

Peeta takes my hands in his then and lifts my arms out to my sides, his eyes taking their turn in roaming over me, their blue depths lit with an unmistakable flame of desire. I cannot hold such an intense gaze and drop my eyes, only to see the effect I already know our kisses and touches have had on him in the tenting of his trousers.

I look away then, focusing on the candle set beside our bed as he steps closer. Then his lips brush over my skin, on my shoulder. Higher until he reaches scars. I hear a soft sigh, ripe with longing and wonder if I am responsible for such a sound or if he is.

“Katniss,” he murmurs, his fingers scarcely touching me as he caresses over my body. He traces round my navel, down to tease dark curls, then back up to circle nipples, with such reverence that I am tormented, burning and yearning yet not ready to move on from how this feels.

“Draw me like this?” I gasp and he laughs, the sound light yet somehow tortured.

“Not now?”

“No, of course not,” I say. Then something occurs to me as I cling to his shoulders and my knees quake with the kisses he paints over my neck, the way his fingers barely seem to connect with my skin as he traces over shoulder blades then down my spine to my hips, arcing over swells and curves, teasing hidden places. “Would I have to pose for you?”

“Not unless you wish to, my love. You are now etched permanently in my memory. I do not think I will ever forget the way you appear right this moment.”

“Oh,” I say, more in response to his kisses than to his words. They leave me aquiver in a most delicious manner.

“I would have to hide that drawing in a very secure place, for I do not wish to share you in this state with anyone else.”

“Nor I you,” I murmur. His lips gift me with sweet, indulgent kisses, sensual licks and suction that makes my eyes roll back in my head and my knees weaken to the point that they buckle and he has to hold me upright. “Oh God my thoughts were quite right about you that day we met.”

I have to step out of his embrace and sit on the bed, moving to the center, away from him before my brain is turned completely to slush and my skin burned away to ash.

“Oh?” he asks, a smile playing about his lips.

“You have a sinner’s touch,” I say and he laughs, his cheeks turning pink.

“You make it sound like I am a rake.”

“Well, it is twice now that you have gotten me into bed and failed to remove my corset…”

“You weren’t wearing one tonight,” he says, his voice dark and delicious. “And we weren’t in bed earlier.”

“Details,” I say with a flippant wave of my hand and then wait for him to proceed. He does not at first, and I decide to give him some encouragement.

“Go on then,” I motion towards his lower half and bite my lip.

He shakes his head, smiling slightly as he begins to unfasten his trousers while my teeth bite deeper. My pulse spikes once or twice in anticipation. I’ve never seen all of him, not even this afternoon in the stables, my skirts and our bodies blocking my line of sight. His eyes stay on mine, perhaps searching for doubt or regret, but he will not find any, for I feel none.

He turns and pushes the garments down. I am gifted with a brief view of taut buttocks and narrow hips before he sits to finish removing his clothes and his false leg. Then I am given the chance to truly admire his back and shoulders and the strength so readily apparent in them. I’ve already experienced that strength, plucked from the mud with such ease, like a dandelion after it has gone to seed.

Bracing one hand on the bed, he turns to face me, halting on his knee and the truncated end of his left leg and spreading his hands to his sides for my examination, one eyebrow quirked and his head cocked in question.

I am leisurely in my perusal of him, his thick thighs of which I am already somewhat familiar, the thin trail of hair that I can now see fully, leading all the way down to a thatch of more cradling the source of my curiosity and many a maid’s anxieties. Yet I can no longer feel anxious, now that I already know how it feels to be joined with Peeta and that he will take care with me. It is a good thing too, otherwise I might be concerned that he would not fit. I am fortunate to already know that he fits quite well. There is, however, one detail that inflames my cheeks and teases my desire to new heights.

“Are you blushing, husband?”

I refer to the pink shade of his engorged flesh, so striking set against the rest of his fair skin. He glances down and blushes in truth, his cheeks and neck turning a matching, ruddy color.

“I suppose in a way I am. Not out of embarrassment, though, I assure you madame.”

“Hmmm, I should think not,” I tease and rise to my knees, crawling upright on them towards him until I can feel the warmth of his skin radiating onto mine. I glance down then and reach out to watch my own motions as I touch him. Peeta sucks in a sharp breath and rests his hands on my elbows in a light touch. “I am not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” he says through a strained laugh. “Though I may expire from this.”

“Is it not acceptable for a wife to touch and discover what pleases her husband? You did for me,” I whisper and he sways but does not stop me. I marvel at the heat of him, the weight in my palm and the contrast of softness and rigidity.

“It is perfectly acceptable.”

“Am I doing this wrong then?”

“God no,” he says with such vehemence. “Your touch is… so pure.” If I were not already blushing, that would turn me bright red. Then something terrible occurs to me. A brief image of another woman touching my husband thus. A woman who knows how to please him where I am only just beginning to learn, and perhaps the purity of my touch is not a compliment.

“Have you been married before?” I ask, my grip tightening in reflex as the cursed words leave my mouth. I never thought to ask before now. Peeta groans and sets his hands over mine. He leans towards me and begins kissing my ear.

“No, Katniss. I have never been married before, and before you ask again, I have lain with two others before you. One was due to the stupid impetuousness of youth, the other lasted only one night and happened because I was feeling sorry for myself, certain that I would die alone a crippled soldier. They were both well over a year ago, nearly five years ago in the case of the first.”

“Oh,” I say, a strange lightness lifting my spirits as our eyes meet, my hands still full of him. “Did you remove their corsets at least?”

He laughs then, full and hearty. “I honestly do not recall enough of either encounter to remember such details. I was not in a fair state of mind… to be frank, I was drunk.”

“A tactful answer. Will you forget me then and blame the wine?” I say and he glances down at where I have him in hand. My eyes follow his for a second before meeting his blues once more.

“I am not exactly in a position to anger you and limp away unscathed, madame.” I blush furiously at that, but there is something in his eyes that makes me feel bold and empowered, rather than chastened or cowed. Somehow I know, Peeta is enjoying both our banter and our touches as much as I. He leans forward and brushes his lips over mine. “And I am completely, blissfully aware of everything we have done today. It will not be easily forgotten.” His words flow through me, intoxicating like wine, and warm. Mollified, I am able to tease him further.

“Are you not going to ask me how many men I have lain with?” A smile curves his lips and mine mirror the action. I tilt my head and shoulders in what I hope is a coy expression.

“God do I love your spirit,” he whispers as he cups my jaw in his palms again and kisses me. “How many men have you lain with before me, Katniss?”

“None, and I shall thank you to never ask me such an insulting question again, husband,” I say with false superiority and no bite to my words. I could not summon any if I wanted to. My lips are consumed with kissing him and my hands with touching him, learning him. In between kisses, he whispers to me. He whispers words of guidance and promises. Such delicious promises that make me eager to hand the reins back to him, but not before I am completely familiar with his body.

It is not long before his breathing turns ragged and his eyes hazy. His head tips back and he bites into his lip. The sight of him thus makes me think of what he did with his mouth in the stables. Surely there must be an equivalent act for me to perform for him. I kiss the hollow of his throat and am working up the courage to try loving him with my mouth when his hands drop to mine and pry my touch away from him.

“Stop. You have to stop.”

“Why do I?” I ask, confused and hurt.

“Because if you do not, I will spill all over your hands and the sheets.”

“Oh,” I say and let go of him. Then I was doing well, I think with a small thrill of pride.

I’ve no chance to ask him though, as his kisses have turned insistent. Passionate and deep as he shifts us both so that our naked bodies press together. I moan into his mouth, the sound undignified and desperate, but I cannot control the way his heat feels, engulfing me in a sensual embrace like nothing I have experienced before. The intimacy of flesh to flesh unparalleled in my memory as I cling to him and match his kisses as best I can, with every ounce of fervor I feel for him.

I know a moment of unsease as he lays me on my back and covers me, but then his mouth and his hands touch everywhere. I relax beneath his almost reverent kisses and yet I am strung tight as a bow, ready to spring. His hands precede his lips, and soon I am quivering on the sheets. Desperate so much so that when his hand curves around my hip, down to cup one thigh, I open my legs without question for him to settle between them.

His mouth returns to mine then and something slender slides inside me. “Oh mercy. Katniss,” he groans to the space between my parted lips then kisses me again, rough and fast before lifting his head to gaze down at me. “You overwhelm me.”

I cling to his arms as he touches me and finds hidden patches inside me that make me shudder and moan and beg. I can no longer draw a decent breath and plead with him, gasping his name and writhing against his hand, a sinful tart drawn to his touch.

“I wish to be inside you when you climax,” he whispers then bites gently on my ear. I give a breathless agreement and wonder to myself if he will be able to last. My only experience thus far is the stable, when he finished before and without me. Granted there was the way he kissed me to completion before that—

His fingers find the small patch of need his tongue worshipped in the stables and I cry out, the sound sharp and loud in our room. His mouth covers mine and our breaths make ragged music in the night as I plant me feet on the bed and let my hips move freely, seeking and aching for those rolling waves of release.

My muffled sounds crescendo against his tongue as I draw tighter and closer. My fingers rake bars of delight into his skin. I cannot get close enough and then he rolls on the bed, taking me with him so that I am sitting on his stomach, straddling him. My body aches, denied the pleasure it so desires, right on the cusp.

“What are we doing?” I ask, uncertain of his plans. I have no scullery tales, no whispers of maids nor cooks, nor even Madge to place what is happening as he pushes my hips up and back so that I hover over his erection.

“You are going to ride me,” he says and I sputter at that.

“What like a horse?”

“With a few noticeable differences but yes. Very much like a horse,” he says with a laugh and a cheeky smile. “More like bareback riding. And do not try to convince me that you’ve never ridden a horse bareback, you hoyden. I shan’t believe you if you try.” His words carry no insult, and so I take none, only desire and wonder. His hand caresses up my thigh then, back to my sex where he resumes what he was doing just seconds ago until I am mindless in my arousal and unable to hold still. “Yes, like that my pearl. Open for me.”

I vaguely feel him again, sliding past my entrance as his fingers leave me. A growing fullness and his low, elongated moan until my hips are flush with his and I am dizzy with the need to move, although I do not know how until Peeta rests his hands on my hips and guides me in a slow circle over him. I make an incoherent sound. My fingers dig into his chest and my head rolls back, hair brushing my back and his thighs. I find a rhythm and surrender to it, riding after the spreading pleasure that warms me throughout.

“Wait! Wait!” Peeta gasps and grasps my hips, holding me still on top of him. Frustrated, I growl and stare down at him, annoyed with the interruption, since there’s no good reason for it.

“What about…” he swallows before finishing his question. “…what about children?”

I glance around the room and growl again. “There are none here.”

“No,” he says with a slight laugh and a shake of his head. “No I meant the possibility.” He flattens his hand on my belly and I stare down at it. His fair skin almost pale against my darker tone. “Of… our children.”

My eyes meet his again as it registers, what he’s asking. “You want to discuss this now?”

“Admittedly my timing is poor.” His eyes drop to where we are joined and he makes a small whimpering noise as I shift my weight on him. “And I realise that I am also late raising this issue. Given what transpired this afternoon, but there are precautions we should take if you do not want children yet or at all…” he trails off as I laugh. I laugh and rest one elbow on his chest, leaning down onto my hand.

“Yes, I know. My mother is a healer after all. There was a tea she would give to women who did not wish more children. She tracked cycles on calendars to advise them on when to abstain.”

“I see,” he says. “So then you’ve had some of this tea recently?”

We remain motionless, joined together, prepared to copulate as I consider his questions. In an instant, I live a thousand moments with him by my side. Birthdays and holidays, every season and every harvest. A parcel of children in a motley mixture of our features crawling across the rug, clamoring for his attention, climbing into my lap for kisses and cuddles. Peals of potential laughter and the echoes of future joy bring tears to my eyes, an unbearable overflowing in my breast. If it feels this way to merely consider children, what would it feel like to carry them? To nurse them and raise them? To bestow all of this love I now feel surging through me upon them?

Exquisite. That is how it would feel.

For years I had never considered my own desires where children were concerned. Romance and marriage and family seemed such an unlikely possibility after the fire. Who would want a family with an unbiddable, scarred and surly hoyden? But as Peeta gazes up at me, his eyes shining in emotion, and I think on those sheets upon sheets of his hand forever capturing me on paper as someone beautiful and intriguing, I know. He would. I ask him despite this growing certainty, if only to hear him say it.

“Do you wish to have children, Peeta?”

“Perhaps some day. If you wish to,” he whispers but his hand caressing my belly, the rasps of longing in his voice, and the feel of him throbbing inside me speaks volumes. He is too wonderful with Maysilee. If there were anyone in this world that I would wish to have children with, it would be Peeta.

My body hums with the need to move, to love him and relieve his body if it’s seed, to accept him into my womb. I can feel a content smile curling over my lips then and the widening of his eyes as I lean forward and kiss him, our chests brushing together as I feel heavy with want, with need.

“Then there is no need for precautions tonight or any other night, husband.” To prove it to him, I begin to move again. His hold on my hips loosens, though he does not fully release me, only loosens his hold enough that I may once more move freely. I am glad of his touch, the flex of his fingers on me and the additional connection keeping me grounded to him.

“Take what you want, my love. See what feels best for you.” His whispered words barely register as he cedes control to me and I move my hips, my entire body over him as I test first one movement then another. Some create a slow, melting pleasure. Others cause bright bursts of it that are nearly unbearable in their strength. Still others coil as pressure low inside me. I recognize those feelings and follow them, bracing my hands on his chest and shoulders as I feel the need to move with more urgency and strength.

“What about you?” I ask at one point and he smiles at me.

“Your pleasure pleases me.”

Through it all, Peeta’s eyes remain fixed on me – on my eyes or my body as I move over him – but even when I look away for a moment to close my eyes and focus on the feel of him stroking inside me, against me, or of his hands spreading loving touches over my body, whenever I open my eyes, his are there to meet me again. And I can see in his gaze, the way he looks at me now, that his drawings are no lie at all. Moving over him thus, I feel exactly as he depicts me – beautiful, powerful, desirable, spirited.

We are unguarded in expression and I cry out for him to not stop when he takes one breast in his mouth, the heat and suction unleashing a torrent of mirror sensations as it builds and builds until I think that I can stand no more.

Then he rises up slightly, setting one hand behind him as he joins me in movement, bodies gyrating together. He caresses over my back, down to my buttocks where he flattens his palm on me and pushes me to ride him harder. His soft words and groans spur me on and I chase the rapture until it bursts inside me, an explosion of sensation.

I know that I scream. I know that I lose control of my limbs and my hips as I continue to move erratically. I know that Peeta grasps my hips with both hands, his hips rising up into me and his hands controlling my motions in bouncing on him in a handful of rapid pulses until he shouts into my neck.

As we lay there after, both of us heaving to gain control of our lungs, his fingers trace over me. The touch is gentle and sensuous, through the coat of perspiration dotting my skin and the gooseflesh arisen from his touch and the cooling of the air breathing over my naked skin. When I am able to look up at him, he is smiling. I shift to kiss his jaw and curl my body closer to his, although I am not certain it is physically possible. His lips press a kiss to my forehead and he begins to run his fingers through my hair.

“Satisfied?” He whispers to me.

“Not until you put my pictures back in your sketchbook where they belong,” I say, barely getting the words out before a yawn takes over.

“I will do that tomorrow then.”

“Now I am satisfied, husband,” I murmur and he chuckles softly. His fingers still comb gently through my hair as I fall asleep.

To be continued…look for chapter seventeen on the blog of @katnissdoesnotfollowback

#unmasked #m #everlarkficexchange #prompt 88 #everlark fic exchange #spring 2019 edition #so excited #but I have no time to read it today!#but I wasn’t going to keep it from you!#thank you m!#submission

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emilococo · 5 years

Text

So Much for Milo Coco

Ay ay ay, has it officially been a decade since I first let myself be exposed online? It seems like yesterday I made an account here when I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. When I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. But lately, things have been much harder for me, as we reach the end of the 2010s, I'm going to be really open with you.

You're probably wondering why I've not posted much new pieces here, well the truth of the matter is that I've lost the drive to do any artwork. For the past few years, doing these studies would become stressful for me. No matter how hard I tried to get my work to a high standard, it could never be good enough. Part of this comes from my perfectionism, in that I would spend so much time on a certain aspect that I have to juggle so many of these agendas of mine. It's not like I couldn't understand a brief, I just wanted to do it the way that I can. The thing is that I cannot do things on command, I would rather spend a good portion of my time getting the project done right, otherwise, it would look haphazardly. I've reached the point where I went through a phase where I hit a creative block, I feel like I was scraping my brain for any ideas. I've struggled to make sense of these thoughts that I went into a quandary. Whenever I would put my hands to a keyboard, my mind would go blank. I was also told time and again that my work would not appeal to today's consumers, but I for one always wanted to work in my way. I've never been one to copy any form of zeitgeist, I never wanted to follow trends, but start my own. If there was some trend that interested me, I would want to interpret it my way. So with this pressure on me to achieve these goals, I needed to take some much-needed recuperation, to reflect on the decisions I made and do some soul searching. Whenever I would do something creative, I just didn't feel the urge to make art at all. I felt that my skills would not be up to standard and that what I do would never look as good as I hoped. I was going through this cycle where I wouldn't feel like working, no matter how much the people told me to get on with it, I would still not be motivated to do so. I don't know if it was something wrong with my brain, that the reason I take long with these projects was a mental issue. Maybe all the pressures of balancing all these assignments started to affect my mental and physical health. I always aimed to do such tasks, even if it was one step at a time. But I feel like no matter what I do, there was always this obstacle getting in the way of achieving it. Like fate was conspiring against me. Whenever I tried to get back into the routine of producing a piece, there were these insecurities, misfortunes and shortcoming that keep holding me back. I felt like Sisyphus, constantly pushing a heavy boulder up a hill, only for it roll back down again. I also had my mind set on one thing, and it would be fixated in doing that one thing that I couldn't be able to multitask. I was just leaving these goals and ambitions on the back burner, whether its because they were taking longer than I initially planned, or that I didn't have the proper resources. I was hoping that at this point, I would have gone somewhere, but I would be swamped at some point. I could hardly recognise myself, what I used to love doing had became arduous and tedious. I felt like I was a disappointment to the people who had faith in me (even my own family), but the person who I disappointed the most was my self. I want people to understand that I have limits to my ability. I feel that all my anxiety and this strive for perfectionism comes from my Aspergers Syndrome. Just to clarify, I'm not blaming my condition for my mistakes. At least I acknowledge my failures and struggles, I try to learn from them, I don't use it as an excuse for not accomplishing anything. If anything I want to prove that people who are on the spectrum are capable of accomplishing amazing feats in the field, no matter what occupation they choose. I don't want people to judge me on my condition, rather than the contents of my character. I've never talked about this with other people, but there have been times in my life where I have been depressed, where my anxiety would get the better of me. Despite my quiet facade, behind the artwork, there was a deep sadness that I tried to overcome. I've always used these sites and projects to help me overcome this woe, in some cases, I use it to come to terms with it. I've used the arts as this outlet for my emotions and to let out these frustrations. I don't want to suppress these feelings of mine, so I've tried to channel them healthily. I live for the arts and storytelling and expressing myself through these means was a coping mechanism. But I feel the hardest obstacle I've had to deal with, is society. I've always found it hard to make friends with new people, it's not that I'm socially inept, but sometimes I feel like nobody wants anything to do with me. Whenever I try to open up to other lightminded individuals, they tend to ignore me. It leads me to believe that I give a presence that turns people off, whether it's because I gave an opinion they disagree with, or that they don't understand a thing I say. Even online, no matter how much I pour into giving my thoughts and passion into something, I seldom ever get any attention for it. I feel that when I discuss more popular topics, then it gets people's intrigue. Even then, I only get so much as a simple comment. I was hoping for feedback on my artwork and writing, advice even. I'm not asking for a deep discussion or detailed critique, but I would appreciate it if someone could give a penny for my thoughts. I feel like the fool on the hill; I can handle the lack of feedback, I can even handle rejection. But sometimes it really gets to me when I have something important to give, yet others don't want to pay attention. Like I don't even exist to them. It would be nice to have a taste of some publicity, even the worse kind is better than none. This is the reason why I prefer to be alone with my thoughts because I don't want people to be recognised for any negative things I may have done. Even if I did go somewhere with my life, I would appreciate it if someone first knew me for my Cramp Twins fanart or something like that. It's why I kept myself anonymous from the public because I had this stigma that I wanted to be known for my achievement than how I look like. Now that we come to the end of the decade, I hope we can make 2020 our year to shine. I've come to accept that this will not be the end, but the start of a new chapter. We'll never see another year like it ever again, so please make the most of it. Because I can remember the 2000s ended with such a dark, dark year, that we were hoping that 2010 would be the light at the end of the tunnel. Throughout this decade, I've tried to make each moment from it as special as the last. We've gone through highs and lows, but I'm definitely grateful for the highs that we got. I achieved a lot during these past 10 years, and I couldn't be more grateful for the experience I've gained. I'm not sure what the future will hold for me or anyone else but if there's one thing I'll say, it's carpe diem. For you see, my resolution for the decade to seize every moment of every day. Take on every opportunity that comes my way without any hesitation. I want to take on similar achievements I've made for the past 10 years and amp them up 10 fold. No matter what obstacle stands in my way, I'll find a solution to make it though. For better or for worse, we can start the decade the best we can, to make it a year to remember. I can ensure you that I have big plans for the year. I've learnt not to give up on hope, I don't want to forget about my dreams or ambitions. I spent all this time trying to perfect my craft, I feel like now is the time to put it to use.

#depression #sadness #anxiety #2010s #thoughts #adversity #angrish #heart to heart talk #broken #creative block #drive

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jungwooiez · 6 years

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confessions | mark lee

pairing : mark x reader

genre : fluff

word count : 2,193

Waking up can be really harsh especially if your dreams are better than reality. The most dreaded part about it, is that your memory will forget parts of your dream. sometimes you’re lucky enough if you do remember your dreams, but those parts missing give you a feeling of detachment - like a void waiting to be filled and explored. To me although its almost like a puzzle, you feel accomplished when you finish it, but when you don’t it bothers you so much that you can’t see the full thing.

That’s exactly what happened to me in my dream. From what I can remember was that I was with mark lee, my crush for a few months now, and we were somewhere that I don’t remember vividly. I was in his arms, I felt protected. I was engulfing his heavenly scent and no words were exchanged, none were needed, it was a comfortable silence. I looked up at him and he looked down at me as well, I stared into his eyes and they were glistening so beautifully, before I knew It we were both leaning in. Then I woke up right before I knew what was going to happen. Dreams are sometimes extremely cruel.

I sat up in my bed and prepared for the day, the long and dreadful day that is . I kicked my feet over the side of my bed, and my bare less feet made contact with the cold wooden floor which sent shivers down my spine. I started to make my way to the bathroom before my phone vibrated, it was a text from Renjun. Renjun was one of my best friend's and also a best friend to mark. He’s the only one who truly knows about my feelings about mark, simply because he ‘sensed’ it and I had no choice but to tell him. I smiled to myself at the memory of him yelling at me to confess to him about my feelings before opening his text.

I'm walking with you to school today. be ready in like ten minutes :)

I cursed to myself before putting my phone down and rushed to get ready. I rushed into the bathroom and did my regular morning duties, but ten times faster. Once I finished I rushed downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar. “Looks like I have to skip breakfast today,” I sighed to myself. I made my way to the front door and left my house. I saw renjun approaching my house and I could see him giving me a toothy grin.

“Wow, it looks like you just woke up.“ He said sarcastically.

“Yeah, you look like you also just woke up except you look like that everyday,“ I replied with the same amount of sarcasm. I walked past him making sure to purposefully brush past him. “Let’s go we’re going to be late,” I added. “I’m going to remember this moment when you need something from me,” He spoke. I laughed at his remark and we started to make our way to the dreaded place called school. I knew I was going to have to see Mark, it’s something that has become inevitable at this point. Part of me wants to see him and enjoy his presence, but the other half of me doesn’t since I know that mark and I will always be friends and nothing more.

"Hey, you okay?" Renjun said with concern evident in his voice,he must have noticed my mood change. "Yeah, i’m fine I just don’t want to go to school that’s all,” I consoled him while giving him a smile. The last thing I want to do is worry him, especially when its about mark which is basically all I can think about now.

“You’re thinking about him again aren’t you?” He speculated. I let out an exasperated sigh before letting everything out.

“I am. That’s all I can think about lately, all I can do is think about him. I think about how i’m thinking about him. Whenever I see him I get butterflies and then I wonder what it would be like to hold his hand, or to hear him talk about his day, to tell him how beautiful he looks, and just simply being someone that he admires and loves. It just makes me so sad knowing that I can never have that with him. No matter how much I try to stop my feelings, they just intensify. I don’t know what to do Renjun,” I looked at him and he stared at me with no type of penetrable emotion evident. “You’re probably judging me and calling me weird in your mind I feel it,” I dejected.

‘I’m not actually. It’s cute how much you like him. You should tell him,” He remarked.

“Tell him?’ I nearly yelled in response to his suggestion. “I can’t do that Renjun, he’s going to reject me and i’m not going to setting myself up for that,”

“Y/n you will never know how he feels until you say something, and who knows, he might feel the same about you,” He reasoned. “I know he won’t feel the same way as me an-,” I started to speak until Renjun cut me off, “Look we can talk about this during lunch today, alright? You should really tell him though, those feelings you have for him are never going to go away unless you act on them. We’re about to be late to school anyways, so we need to hurry,” He concluded.

The rest of the walk was silent, partially because we were too focused on speed walking to get to school on time, and also since I was to focused on what Renjun told me. Maybe I should just tell mark, him rejecting me may make my feelings go away. This day really is going to be dreadful.

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

It was the last class before everyone gets released for lunch. As usual, the task of concentrating was the hardest thing for me to do today. I barely remember what my teachers taught me today, or even what they said. Two things were on my mind : going home to isolate myself from the world and of course Mark. To make my self feel somewhat achieved today I focused my attention on what my teacher was talking about, but that didn’t workout since the bell rang.

“So much for trying to be a good student,” I mumbled to myself. I got up from my chair and grabbed my things before leaving the classroom and entering the hall. Noise and more noise filled the hall as everyone talked amongst their groups of friends. I walked to my locker, careful not to bump into anyone who were clearly in a rush to do whatever. Once I made it there I unlocked it and put my textbooks inside. I closed it, and I looked to my left which revealed Renjun standing there.

“So, are you going to do it?“ He asked.

“Do what?” I replied. I already knew he was referring to confessing to Mark, but maybe if I just act like I didn’t know what he was talking about he’d drop it.

“You know, telling Mark you like him,” He said a little too loudly. I shushed him before responding, “Don’t say that so loudly, and no I don’t know if I want to yet,”

“Oh, but you have to,” He said with a mischievous smile. I felt my whole body tense up and become overcome with nervousness.

“Renjun what do you mean?” I urged.

“I may or may not have told Mark to meet you here at your locker to talk,” He beamed. “Oh look their he is,” Renjun nodded his head in the direction Mark was coming from and I froze where I was standing.

I reluncalty turned my body and just as Renjun said, he was coming towards us with his other friend Haechan. I couldn’t get my eyes off of Mark though, my eyes were pratically glued to him. They both eventually approached us, and I was still frozen where I was standing. I didn’t say anything, neither did Mark, that is until to Renjun spoke. “While you guys talk, Haechan and I are going to get lunch,” “Yeah you guys have fun,” Haechan added which caused both of them to laugh. Oh I see. They intentionally set this up. I don't know if I want to thank them or yell at them for putting both me and mark in this situation.

“Hey y/n," Mark spoke with a smile plastered on his face. Him saying my name just made me fall for him even more.

“Hey,” I managed to stammer out without stumbling over my own words, I looked down at the floor to avoid eye contact and becoming flustered.

“Can we talk somewhere else? More private maybe?” He asked. He spoke so calmly, but him twiddling with his fingers gave away his nervousness. I got slightly excited, maybe he’s about to tell me he likes me, or that he doesn’t feel the same way about me which is why he’s nervous. Mentally, i'm preparing myself for the worst but hoping for the best in this moment.

“Yeah,of course,” I replied.

“Is outside okay, by the tree that’s near the field?” He questioned.

“Yeah that’s fine,” He nodded his head in response and he led the way. My heart was beating at a thousand miles per hour as I felt myself become ridden with fear. I clasped my hands together to stop myself from twiddling my fingers and I bit my bottom lip.

We reached the tree outside after what felt like a million years, and at first it was an awkward silence until a cool breeze picked up. It calmed me down a little just to hear the leaves rustling in the wind and it gave me the confidence to just speak up first this time,

“So-” We both spoke at the same time, causing us to instantly laugh. “You can speak first, its okay,” I reassured him, I genuinely just want to hear him speak and enjoy him being near me. This may be the last time I get to enjoy those things after all.

“I’m just going to get straight to the point Y/n and I hope what Renjun told me was true,”He took a deep breathe before continiung and I instantly felt my heart drop, whatever he’s about to say I hope it’s good.

“I like you, I really do like you a lot actually. I have for a while now ever since Renjun introduced me to you. It was almost as if I was just drawn to you, but I was afraid to say anything,” I looked at him and his face held many emotions I couldn't tell what he was feeling at this moment. On the other hand I was feeling only two things : happiness and relief. It’s a wonderful feeling knowing the only person I wanted in the whole world feels the same way as me, its as if a ton was liftedoff my shoulders but replaced with a feeling of wholesomeness and joy.

"It’s okay if you don’t like me back, its okay I just hope we can still be-” He started to ramble, but I cut him off with something I've been dying to say,

“Mark, I like you too,” I replied with a smile forming on my face.

“Really?” He cheered with excitement taking over his face.

“Yes, really,” I replied while laughing at his dorkiness.

Without a warning Mark engulfed me into a hug and I allowed myself to melt into his arms as I rested my head on his chest, and as he pressed his face into the crook of my neck. We stayed like this for a while,I never want to leave his arms. I never knew just one person can make you go through so many emotions and troubles, but in the end making it worth it.

“Y/n,” Mark spoke.

“Yes?” I questioned and looked up at him. His eyes were mesmerizing and I slowly started to lose myself in them. Everything about him was just so exquisite and breathtaking.

“Can I do something I've always wanted to do?” He asked.

“Sure, what is it?”

“This.”

Before I had time to question anything else I felt his lips on my mine and they were incredibly gentle. The kiss at first was slow and soft, comforting in ways words never will be. I felt his hands at my side pulling us closer together, deeping the kiss and moving our mouths in sync perfectly. We both pulled away at the same time and he smiled down at me.

“If kisses were stars i’d give you the sky right now,” He proclaimed before giving me a small kiss on the lips. I rested my head on his chest and smiled to myself once more.

“I’m glad I have you now,” Mark whispered into my ear.

“Me too,” I replied.

Thinking back to my dream earlier made me wonder. Maybe dreams aren’t so harsh after all.

----------

A/N : i guess i’m going to start writing again :‘) sorry if this was bad it was extremely rushed, but i hope everyone enjoyed it. also this was badly proofread so sorry for any mistakes <3

#mark #mark lee #NCT #nct fluff #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #mark fluff #imagine #nct imagines #mark lee imagines

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aerinmelina · 5 years

Text

Birthday Pt 2

The prompt I received was “Patton’s first birthday after Lena left the pond,” and well... inspiration struck. I hope you enjoy this one about Patton and Lena! This comes out of several of my headcanons. If Margaret seems like a b-word... well... she has reservations toward Lena after the Marshall/Ephira problems.

“I don’t understand,” Lena stated. She looked confused. “What is the celebration for this evening?”

“Patton’s birthday is today,” Margaret answered. “And every year that foolish man gains is truly an accomplishment worthy of celebration.”

“Birthday,” Lena tried the word out, noticing how the syllables felt on her tongue.

“Right.”

There was a momentary pause until Lena asked, “What is a birthday?”

It was Margaret’s turn for confusion. “The anniversary of one’s birth. Have you never celebrated a birthday before?”

Lena had only been out of the pond for a scant month and a half. She was eager to learn everything she could about humans and mortal life, however she was also coming to the conclusion that she disliked it when Margaret would explain things to her. The woman had a way of making Lena feel stupid for being understandably ignorant of human traditions. Lena often left their conversations with the impression that Margaret disapproved of her, although the other woman had never stated as much.

“Life in the water is very different than life on land,” Lena replied. She made to leave the kitchen in search of her new husband but before she could exit, Charles walked in while carrying little Christina in his arms. Christina’s face lit up as she reached for Lena, who took the child from Charles with a bright smile.

Charles chuckled at the sight of his daughter and sister-in-law, then turned and addressed his wife. “Margaret, dearest,” he began, “I’ve hung the decorations and freshly diapered Christina a few moments ago. Would you care for me to assist in another way before I complete my regular chores for the day?”

“Please set the table for supper,” Margaret said, finishing the latticework on the pies she had prepared for dessert that evening. They were cherry pies – Patton’s favorite. Lena watched as her brother-in-law bowed to his wife.

“Oh, and Charles,” Margaret called. He made eye contact with her and paused in front of the cabinets which held dishes inside of them. When she was certain she had his attention, she smiled broadly at him and said, “Thank you.”

He returned her smile and continued with his task.

They were an interesting couple, in Lena’s opinion. She enjoyed observing their interactions.

“Lena, would you be a dear and accompany me to the dining room?” Lena looked up at the mention of her name and realized it was Charles who had addressed her.

“Of course,” she said. “Are you coming with us, lecha Christiana?”

Christina grinned and pulled at Lena’s hair.

“Ahh, no no,” Lena cooed, tapping the baby’s nose in a soft reprimand. Christina let go of her auntie’s hair, however the same sweet smile continued to grace her countenance. They both followed Charles into the dining room, Lena carrying Christina securely in her arms.

“I heard Margaret explaining the term birthday earlier,” Charles started once the ladies had joined him. Lena took a handful of silverware and assisted with setting the table while he spoke. Christina tried to steal a spoon.

“Yes, she said it was the anniversary of one’s birth,” Lena replied.

“That’s true. Do you understand it, though?”

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I have not celebrated a birthday before, nor have I heard of such a thing.”

“I thought you mightn’t have known.” He gathered glasses in his hands and disbursed them around the table, one for each plate. “You already understand that humans are mortal beings. As mortal beings, we age. Quickly, in comparison to immortal beings such as yourself.”

“I am mortal now.”

“Indeed. And as such, you will also begin to age, although none of us knows how quickly.” Charles reached for napkins next while Lena grabbed another handful of silverware and continued her trek around the table. “At any rate, one common human tradition is to celebrate the anniversaries of the births of our loved ones. Our family members and friends. We take the time to reflect on how we have enjoyed having them in our lives, and to express our gratitude, happiness and other good feelings toward them. A day for showing appreciation. And, in Patton’s case… a day to celebrate the accomplishment he’s reached by managing to achieve one more year of life.” He chuckled to himself under his breath. “Bloody idiot.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Lena said, choosing to ignore his last comment. She knew that her husband had a tendency to be a bit... adventurous.

“Yes,” Charles agreed. “Tonight we celebrate Patton’s birthday. And tomorrow we will try to keep him alive so that he can celebrate his next birthday with us as well.”

Lena laughed a little at that, then thanked Charles for taking the time to explain the significance of the day to her. He simply smiled in response.

---

The evening found them outdoors with Patton playing his fiddle while Lena, Margaret, Charles, and quite a few of Patton’s other family members danced. Four satyrs had stopped by when they heard the music playing, and brought their own instruments so as to join in the romp. Fairies rested on plants or flew overhead, curiously observing the scene in front of them while simultaneously trying to feign disinterest. (It was a failed effort on their part.)

At one point, Patton stopped his fiddle-playing and addressed his family and guests. “Thank you all for this lovely evening,” he said. “I have enjoyed myself very much. Margaret, thank you for providing such a wonderful meal and dessert!”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied with fondness in her voice.

“It has come to my attention, however, that my wife does not know when her own birthday is.”

Lena suddenly felt rooted to the ground. Her eyes widened. What was he up to? She looked at him with interest, and perhaps felt a smidgen of self-consciousness.

“I simply cannot condone this injustice,” he continued on. “Therefore, I declare that today shall be known as the birthday for both of us, starting today and continuing for every year from now on.”

“What? Patton-” Lena opened her mouth to protest, or at least question him, but she was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

“A wonderful idea,” Charles supported, winking at Lena. The rest of the family either nodded their agreement or vocalized similar sentiments, while the satyrs grumbled that they ought to choose a different day so as to create more occasions to celebrate.

“Peace, brothers,” Margaret chided the satyrs. “I daresay you have plenty of holidays.”

“You’re not our mother,” they stated, folding their arms across their chests. Lena, for her part, wasn’t sure how she should feel.

The music started up again shortly thereafter, this time with one of Patton’s younger relatives picking up the fiddle so that he could take a turn at dancing. He made a beeline for his wife as soon as he could, bowed to her while she curtsied, then swept her up in a dance.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he said to her as they moved about on top of the lawn.

“This was supposed to be your special day,” she stated.

“And I choose to share it with you.”

“But – but Margaret and Charles told me that it is a special day-”

“Oh, posh,” he stated. “It’s no matter to them whether or not we share this day. Little Christina shares a birth date with Nicholas. Our family will honor them both when their birthday comes in November.” Nicholas was the cousin who was presently playing the fiddle.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Why would I mind?” Patton asked. “My wife’s life is worth celebrating as much as my own is, if not moreso. You are the most important person to me – of course I don’t mind sharing my birthday with you.” He stopped dancing and pulled Lena into his arms in a tight embrace, then sweetly kissed her.

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with happiness. “Alright, I accept,” she nodded her head before kissing him again. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Darling, I love you with all of my heart. Happy birthday. Thank you for being a part of my life.”

“And I love you with all of mine. Happy birthday to you as well.”

They each glanced over as a couple of Patton’s young cousins started making retching noises.

“Will they ever stop being so mushy?” the ten-year-old complained.

Lena laughed when Patton suddenly dipped her and kissed her more deeply than before, clearly putting on a show for the children who ran away amid protests and giggles. Once the children had left, he lifted her back up and they both laughed before resuming their dance.

Surrounded by family, forming and strengthening existing bonds… Lena could get used to this ‘birthday’ idea.

#fablehaven #patton burgess #lena burgess #plena #naiadventurer #birthday fic #aerinm writes

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proheromidoriyashouto · 6 years

Text

My Good Neighbor, an Inko x Rei Neo-Noir AU

After her divorce and once she’s solely an out-patient, Rei becomes a Private Investigator Jessica Jones-style out of her new apartment in Musutafu. Her reason for this is in part to reclaim her independence, but also to help save others as she wished she could have saved her children. A Shiketsu graduate, she was only a sidekick for a brief time before she was married off to Endeavor and begins the lengthy process to re-acquire a hero license to then function as an underground hero. She finds that she needs assistance and finds it in none other than her neighbor, Midoriya Inko, who is a crime lab technician.

Inko introduced herself once Rei moved in next door but didn’t reveal her occupation until she wound up outside Rei’s office/living room when a disgruntled client started a fight in the apartment. Inko initially hesitates before going out and witnesses a man crash through the glass window of the door with a yell. The man recovers quickly and moves threateningly toward her but Inko whips out a beanbag shotgun she was hiding behind her skirt and tells him to back down. Rei emerges, a katana in hand, and the situation is diffused by the man’s departure via police car.

Rei didn’t have her license to use her quirk in the beginnings, and makes use of a “decorative” katana that came with her dowry so long ago. Enji had it hung up on a wall in a locked, clear case that only he had the key to, preserving family heirlooms he’d told her parents the last time she saw them, is a duty the Todoroki take with utmost responsibility. A lie to ensure her family’s legacy remained apart from their children-- another familial obligation to burden her heroic spirit with. Free of him, she’s taken it up again sans quirk and it is her main means of protection. Shouto is fascinated and awed by the sight of her wielding the blade so elegantly even all these years out of practice, and they bond over developing her ancestral style into something new, better suited to the modern era, and just theirs.

Rei’s feelings toward her relatives are mixed as they essentially sold her off, but her lessons in kenjutsu were some of the fondest memories of her adolescence and were what she had built her short-lived heroic persona around. Older and out-of-practice, she treats physical violence as a last resort, all the while honing her skills in the event of a throw-down. She leans into vintage-styled dress reminiscent of the classic trench-coat-and-fedora detectives of old-- and not so old, in Naomasa’s case-- but casual enough in appearance that she isn’t written off as a PI at a glance. Once she gets her hero license, a company creates several armored variants of her outfits-- proper costumes for undercover/underground hero work.

She investigates villains sure, but also heroes who are accused or suspected of corruption. Her ex-husband, regrettably, is still the Number One in the wake of All Might’s retirement and it’s a constant source of consternation and turmoil. Rei cannot put her own abuser away as it would threaten the tenuous balance between law and anarchy in their shaken society, and as much as she wants justice for her children if not herself, she knows that now is not the time. Shouto reassures her that once his class has graduated, they’ll oust Endeavor and carry the system on their shoulders better than their predecessors. She’s waited over 20 years-- she can persevere a while longer.

Rei realizes she needs to get forensic assistance from a new lab after spotting members of the Endeavor Agency at the usual place and only just escapes unnoticed. Rather than risk her ex-husbands’ possible spies she’ll have to take matters into her own hands so to speak. She registers her apartment as the headquarters for her own underground agency so she can set up a connected crime lab, but she struggles with what to call it. She’s foregone a proper hero name for much the same reason as her old name isn’t indicative of who or what she is anymore or what her goals are now. Up until now she’s been introducing herself as Rei-san, Private Investigator, hiding her re-earned hero status by omission, but with an agency she’ll need a name.

Shouto often comes by to discuss his life and the current bit of youth culture he’s adapting to, which it so happens to be video games that week. He’s intrigued by interactive visual stories he can alter on a whim and loves to delve into rich background lore because of the mysteries he can spend hours solving. Her family wasn’t so traditional that she never had the opportunity to partake herself, but its an area of interest long forgotten to her at present. Nonetheless, she likes listening to Shouto as he describes the plots and make decisions he instantly regrets only to yelp and hopelessly try to salvage the situation due to misinterpreted dialogue options, spends hours on menial low-reward tasks for the accomplishment alone, takes out aggression on enemies with silly exaggerated weapons and giggle at the absurd physics while doing so-- as he acts like a typical teenage boy.

He especially enjoys playing heroic characters, doing good because it’s what you should do and not because you are forced into the profession. She hopes she can be a hero idol for him where she failed as a mother, even if she’s making up for it now. They’re both surprised upon finding out that there is a hero who looks like her in the game! Shouto spent quite a while designing his character to look like him- as always- with long white hair, and in the costume provided looks astonishingly like Rei in her Media Appearance outfit: The Silver Shroud, operating out of the Memory Den. When she makes a quick change into her own outfit and stands beside the television, her adorable son can’t keep his head still as he notes all the similarities with stars in his eyes, and the decision is made for her. She’s the Silver Shroud and this is their Memory Den.

The decal on the glass of her door is changed from “Rei’s Investigations” to “The Memory Den” and she’s on her way. It’s soon after this that a man who was displeased to find that his lover was not cheating so he could force them to break up with him over the resulting confrontation barges in and threatens her for “ruining everything.” She tries to talk him down, but he is incensed, and they struggle briefly before she sends him flying out the glass with a measured application of her quirk and a kick to the chest. She’s surprised by the arrival of her next-door neighbor- a kind, small woman whose name is familiar though she can’t quite place it- leveling a shotgun at the man like she knows what she’s doing. The former client is forced to wait as Rei calls for a patrol car to take him away, leaving the two women alone.

Inko was recognized by the officers which initially led Rei to believe she was a cop herself before she properly introduced herself as a crime lab technician.

***

“Oh, I’m sorry for interfering with your work. If I’d known you were a hero I wouldn’t have gotten in your way! I just heard what sounded like a fight and a man’s voice and I know you live alone and I’m not an officer or a hero, but I have weapons’ training, so I thought—"

“No, no. It’s perfectly understandable. Rei smiled assuredly. Most people wouldn’t have tried to help, whatever the case, so that you did is admirable. You shouldn’t apologize for it regardless of my position.”

Flustered, Inko replied. “O-oh, well, I am sorry, I know most heroes would feel disrupted… but, um, at least let me say I’m glad you’re alright, then.”

“Likewise.” Rei gestured toward the shotgun, concern tilting her mouth into a frown. “Are you used to handling yourself? I had thought this area was safe.”

“Yes, I am. It’s, ah, not live munition- it’s loaded with beanbag rounds. I’ve only fired it once, though!” Inko sighed. “Honestly? It was safer when I first moved in, but that isn’t why I have Clem, here.”

“Clem?”

Inko flushed and jostled the shotgun pointedly. “Clementine. See, erm, there were… killings a few years ago. The victims were crime scene lab techs. My colleagues.”

Rei’s eyes widened.

“The villain thought it would damage public opinion of the police more than targeting the officers themselves, especially since most murders occurred within precinct walls during the day shift. We were protected, but the attacks stopped before a suspect could be apprehended.” Inko’s shoulder’s tensed. “I… I live alone, lived alone with only my young son, my quirk is nothing flashy and without knowing for sure…” Her eyes took on a hard edge as she met Rei’s slate stare. “Given the circumstances a judge gave me approval for a weapon for strictly defensive purposes, and hero patrols were increased for a while. Since All Might’s retirement, though, I… I- I can’t take any chances. I’ve seen less of the heroes which makes sense with the rise in crime, not to mention my shift increases. I’ve been getting home when it’s dark out in a neighborhood with fewer hero patrols in a poorer part of the prefecture. I know the statistics, and after the talking-to I gave my son about safety- I’m taking her everywhere with me.”

“I… I understand.” Rei replied. “I can wait for you if you like and escort you to your door. I tend to work at night anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother! Its like I said, I can handle myself just fine.”

“You’re concerned for your safety and I am a hero.” Rei couldn’t let her go on like this after hearing her tale. “Please, I insist. …think of it as me returning the favor for your help today.”

“Well… alright. That’s fair. A relief knowing you’re right next door and everything.”

“Say…” Rei said pensively. “Would you happen to know if your facilities are partnered with the Endeavor Agency?”

Inko blinked once, twice. “I don’t believe we are. His office has their own lab and when they do cooperate with third-party investigators or the police its usually labs in Tokyo proper, nothing as far from the agency as Musutafu.”

Rei clapped her hands together before her, pleased. “Would you mind speaking more with me inside? I’m in need of a consultation- ah, if it isn’t an imposition, of course.”

“Sure.” Inko grinned. “We should probably get to know each other if we’re going to be seeing more of one another, too.”

“Can I offer you a coffee?” Rei said, stepping around the shattered glass to her apartment. “I, um, don’t have any tea.”

“I’m fine with anything, but a coffee would help my nerves right now.” Inko sighed shakily. She turned toward a source of noise in the living room. “Oh, is that Saving Face? I do enjoy a good love story.”

Rei carefully shut her door behind them and hurried to prepare her guest a drink with smile. The old film was a favorite from her time in the hospital. “As do I.”

***

Rei relies heavily on espionage, leveraging her good looks to coerce criminals into talking to her under the guise of flirting or gossiping with the out-of-place-bombshell at the dive bar. She wears her armored clothing, heels that contain data drives, and hides the katana inside her coats. She curls her hair and wears a hat to hide comms devices, and “smokes” from a cigarette holder that’s really a recording device. The cigarette is fake and shrinks to sell the image, as she would rather not associate with fire. When there’s a change in plans, she blows on it and the cigarette bursts like a smoke bomb for a quick getaway.

She meets with Naomasa in cafes while it’s raining, passes information disguised as a reporter during media blitzes, plants tracking devices on villains while playing the frazzled-and-late-for-carpool stay-at-home mom rushing by, etc. She tries not to rely too heavily on her quirk because it’s a distinct give away but isn’t afraid to overwhelm her opponents if pressed.

At home, most of the apartment has been converted into work space. Only the guest room where the children sleep when they visit is free of materials. Inko stops by every morning and afternoon to be briefed and transport evidence to or from her lab for processing. The two are fast friends, and Rei cherishes the closeness they’ve cultivated in the weeks since their encounter on her door step and they’re only growing closer-- which she's got butterflies about. The glass window is continuously destroyed by people sent flying through it to the point that they keep several replacements on hand.

Rei and Inko go out on day while their sons are waiting at the Memory Den and enter to find a quiet apartment. They find them in the guest room. Shouto is wearing Rei’s largest coat, her hat, and her blue ugg boots she got specifically for relief after long days in heels, standing over Izuku who is prone on the floor with ketchup over his body in several places, tongue out, clearly playing dead. The boys recreated one of her evidence boards and while Shouto reviews the clues out loud, Izuku intermittently offers his thoughts before ‘dying’ once more in dramatic fashion. Rei whips out her camera just in time to catch her son’s flustered waffling when Izuku calls him Shoushou- he has a nickname! - and Izuku hiding his face in his arms at being called ‘zukun’ in return. They watch for a few minutes and almost reveal themselves when Shouto chasing Izuku- now the criminal- around the room makes them laugh.

They finally do when Shouto proclaims, “Mama is the best hero this town has ever seen! She won’t let you hurt anyone else, villain.”

Rei pushes the door open, tears in her eyes. “You really think so?”

She hugs him so close and they have a good long cry about what could have been.

Rei’s most prominent case becomes the search for the serial killer burning their victims alive. It’s not a high-profile case, minimal media coverage to prevent inciting a panic, and the other investigators are a few underground heroes in coordination with the police. It comes to a head when a lead mentions a homeless man going simply by ‘Touya’ arriving in Musutafu around the time of Stain’s prominence and the continuation of the League of Villains’ recruitment schemes.

The investigation takes a darker note when they discover that quirkless people are disappearing in areas of suspected League of Villains activity likely to serve as the ‘base’ of new Noumu experiments.

Rei presses everyone for any information about a man named ‘Touya’ and when asked why she reveals, “My oldest son, it’s his name. He left home a long time ago and hasn’t spoken to me since. He fits the profile.”

“..the killer’s profile?” Naomasa nearly dropped his pen in shock.

“No.” Rei denied. “He couldn’t have burned those people. Not my boy.”

“Silver Shroud… Rei-san… if he has a fire quirk and matches the description—”

“That’s what I mean. It couldn’t have been him. Touya was born quirkless. He fits the profile for the Noumu experiments. That’s why I have to find him.”

Rei’s journey of self-actualization is embroiled in the search for her missing son, capturing villains, hunting a serial killer, confronting and abiding by the society which allowed her spirit to be broken, learning to forgive herself, and discover what it is to find love in the least expected places, and allow herself to be loved.

***

(Don’t make a new Inko x Rei AU when you haven’t published the first one. Don’t do it, bitch-

We’re here, I guess. I wrote this listening to My Love by Kovacs. This is super fun and occurred to me while playing Fallout 4 which is why she’s the Silver Shroud. Shouto having a grand old time being a hero in the wasteland in a Minuteman/Railroad run brings me joy to think about. It’s not like I also planned a Fallout AU or anyth-

Inksignia, Beyond Alteo is about half-done. I keep pushing it back to work on other things, but it’s coming along and will be published a thousand years before this one because I’m terrible.

Inko’s deal here is a subplot I haven’t fully thought through, I just really like tiny ladies with big guns and needed a suitable explanation. She recovers shells and beanbags with her quirk don’t tell no body. She doesn’t back up Rei on scene because Inko is not a hero and as someone who works with law enforcement, knows better than to interfere most of the time. Rei comes over to sleep at the Midoriya apartment because her own bed is usually a mess of paperwork and lordknowswhat that’ll take too long to organize. Rei shares Inko’s bed. snuggles

I spent an embarrassing amount of time looking into some of Rei’s outfits. She has several pairs of casual heels for spying under the guise of public outings and practical boots when she knows it’ll be a fight, or her patrols require them. She wears the kind of wool winter coats that are trench-coat-ish but ultimately fashionable, except in her Media Appearance outfit which is basically the Silver Shroud costume. Two hundred years later shit is up for free-use or whatever it doesn’t matter. The hat she favors is a black Bellady hat with a silver bow. I can provide links to anyone who wants a to see the stuff I picked. Keeping them out of the post so it doesn’t get flagged for links or whatever. Honestly, this should just be called the Aesthetic AU.

Quirkless Touya? From moi??? whatever do i mean hohohohohon

Slight todomido/izushou, mostly background. Inko x Rei endgame. Toshinori? Maybe??? Seriously can we create ship names for them. Inkrei. Reinko. Toshinkrei??? )

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sunshinetrappedinourhearts · 6 years

Text

Nathmarc day 10: Medieval AU

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491026/chapters/38890727#workskin I am one day behind aaaaaa but here’s day 10 (on day 11 whoops)! I cheated a little and made it a fairy tale instead of a ‘real’ (?) medieval AU, I hope no one will kick me. 8D @nathmarcnovember

Once upon a time, there was a son of a wealthy storyteller. The boy was always drawing. He dreamt of courageous knights and almighty dragons they had to slay, saving their kingdom’s princesses and princes. His favourite drawings featured the mysterious Knight of Miracles, a legend and figure of hope within their kingdom. This mystical man always appeared when trouble was near and hope was lost, to save the day and banish despair.

One day, years ago when the boy had been out to collect medicine for his sickly sister, he had strayed from the path in the dark forest, and was attacked by evil robbers who wanted to not only claim his belongings, but his being as well, as soon as they found out he was the son of a wealthy family. They had begun to kidnap him, but before they could take him, an unknown man had appeared, saving him from those evildoers, and when he finally spoke to the boy, he had called himself the Knight of Miracles and took him home. As soon as the boy had turned to him to thank him, the man had disappeared. Never again had he seen him, nor had he been able to properly offer him his gratitude.

The storyteller’s boy idolized the Knight of Miracles. To the point that lately, he had been all the boy was drawing. But he was never able to come up with a suspenseful, original story to accompany his drawings. Always, his scenes ended the same, and nothing surprising ever happened. Even though the people were interested in the mysterious Knight, the people found his stories boring. His father was disappointed in him, and he ordered the boy to find a partner to help him improve in the art of storytelling, for drawings were not enough, not in his family. The boy had no choice, or his father would banish him from the family forever.

So the boy organized a contest, in search of a talented hidden writer, whom would be willing to team up with him to create the most amazing and wonderful stories, which he would turn into gigantic prints. He was dreaming of attracting thousands of people to their gatherings.

Many people joined the contest, and stopped by the wealthy family’s mansion to tell their stories. The boy was impressed by none of them, and turned them all down. There was something missing, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Then, one day, some pieces of parchment were delivered to his home, with countless elegant letters written on it. Unfortunately, the storyteller’s son was unable to read, much like almost everyone in the kingdom. So he took the parchment to one of his friends, who was specialized in the art of letters.

He read the story to him, and the boy listened, eyes closed, imagining.

Diary of the Knight of Miracles.

Today I saved the boy of a storyteller’s family. He got lost in the darkest forest, far, far away from the kingdom’s eyes. These paths were filled with evil, robbers, monsters, the creatures of the night. Yet he had still set foot there, all in order to save his sister’s life. Fortunately, the evilness of men had found him first, for if the nightmare creatures had found him, even I would have had trouble rescuing him. But those evildoers, I could handle without any problem. The job was easily done, and I took the boy home safely. His deep ocean eyes are ones that have been glued in my memory, and I find myself unable to forget them. Oh, if only I would be able to see him again… But being the Knight of Miracles comes with a price, and my identity must never become out in the open. Therefore, approaching him is a task I am too shy to accomplish, so dreaming about these ocean eyes is all I can do. And hoping that one day, I will gather the courage to speak to him.

The storyteller’s boy’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he had been listening with his eyes widened. He almost could not believe the Knight of Miracles had written to him, and that the man had been thinking of him, too. It was unthinkable. And oh so wonderful.

His friend turned to him. ‘My friend, there is a note attached to this diary entry. It says that the writer wants to meet you in person, during sunset today, at the hill overlooking the village. I suggest you hurry, Nathaniel, for the sun is already setting of for the horizon.’

There was no need for his friend to tell him to make haste, for the boy had already grabbed his cloak and was running towards the hill, anticipation running through his body as he moved his feet, his hands slightly trembling. The village was already turning quiet, people closing their windows and doors, calling their children inside as they prepared for dinner. The boy, too, was late for his meal, but there were more important matters at hand.

Every step seemed to take hours and hours, and the boy was oh so impatient, but finally, at last, the hill was only a stone’s throw away. A figure loomed close, and the boy felt his nerves immobilizing him more and more.

The person was wearing a long, dark cloak, hiding both his face and body, so the boy had to come closer and get him to turn around. He cleared his throat, his voice slightly trembling as he spoke.

‘Is that you, the Knight of Miracles?’

The figure turned around, and the boy hold his breath. But then, the person took of his hood and looked him in the eye. They were green and big, but slightly familiar, confusing the boy to a certain extent.

‘Huh? Me? I’m not the Knight of Miracles… It’s Marc, you know, the baker’s son across the street. Nobody knows I’d like to be a storyteller, and no one will approve, so I was too afraid to audition for your contest normally. I apologize for doing it the hard way.’

His eyes were innocent, but the boy knew better. A fire ignited within him, a big and angry wall of flame.

‘What? You dare to impersonate the Knight of Miracles? Do you think it is amusing to play with my feelings?’

The innocence did not disappear, and his eyes seemed to widen as the baker’s son spoke again, his voice trembling and wavering slightly as he turned to him. ‘N-no, not at all, I- I, just wanted to enter your contest. I would love to form a storytelling team with you.’

The fire got bigger, a little more and his body would start to burn. The parchment letters in his hands, the boy wanted them gone. ‘After you deceived and betrayed me? Together? Never!’ And gone they were, as he tore them apart, shattering them in one million pieces, they floated away with the wind.

And the boy turned around, his feelings hurt, his heart broken. He did not see the baker’s son fall to his knees as he cried, for he was already walking away from it all.

Hours passed and unbeknownst to the storyteller’s son, the boy he’d turned down had strayed off the path in the dark forest, falling prey to the creatures of the night. Possessing him, they had fed off his pain and sorrows, turning him into a monster.

Just as he was back home, staring at the night sky from his window after dinner, a mysterious figure appeared on his balcony, a familiar red cloak embracing him.

The boy jumped up, sparkles in his eyes, as he opened his window and spoke to the figure.

‘Is that really you, the Knight of Miracles?!’

The figure nodded, a finger against his lips, as he answered quietly, and beckoned him outside.

‘I need you, Nathaniel, someone has fallen prey to the creatures of the night, turned into a monster, it’s heading to the village. He has been calling your name over and over again, I think you’re the only one able to freeze his steps. Please come with me, and aid me on this quest.’

The Knight offered his hand and the storyteller’s son took it, no hesitation, no time, but he was a little afraid, for a scent of foreboding was nagging his heart.

As the Knight took him to the forest, his feelings proved right, because they ran into the baker’s boy, in the darkest disguise. The Knight pushed him closer, though a protective hand on his shoulder, ready for battle must the enemy strike.

‘I think you know what to do, artist boy, please speak from the heart.’

The boy closed his eyes and turned to the other, lost in the shadows, no more light in sight. He held out his hand and looked at him, searching for hope in his now dull green eyes.

‘I apologize, Marc, for the things that I said, for the parchment I’ve destroyed and the pain I have caused. Please let go of the darkness and come back to the light.’

The monsters within him hissed and prepared for attack, yet the boy seemed to be struggling, fighting back. The Knight stepped closer and spoke clearly. ‘Don’t give in, baker’s boy, you have the power to banish them, it is your body, not theirs.’

The storyteller’s son’s heart seem to sink in his chest as he recalled once again the terrible things he had said, offering his hand one more time, looking straight into the other boy’s eyes.

A shimmer of light seemed to return to them, and he moved his hand a little, getting closer to the storyteller’s son. Only a little more and the pact had been made, but the demons inside of him were still protesting. But he pushed and he pushed, tears falling down his face, when finally, finally, the demons made place. The Knight ran after them and slayed them all, while the storyteller’s son and his writer stood together, and their hands joined at last.

It was the beginning of a new and fantastic tale, of a writer and an artist, forming the very best of teams. Their stories were the greatest and their prints breath-taking, gathering thousands of supporters as they started to travel from town to town. Not only their storytelling was a great success, also their friendship was blooming, even into something else.

They fell in love along the way and so in the end, the storyteller’s son had discovered his own Knight of Miracles and this one had really captured his heart.

They lived happily ever after.

#nathmarc november #rainbow tomato #nathmarc #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #nathaniel x marc #marc x nathaniel #au #medieval au #miraculous ladybug #marcthaniel #fanfiction #my stuff

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xsparklingravenx · 6 years

Text

Shadow Mine 5

Title: Shadow Mine

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Characters: Hank, Connor, Fowler, Sumo

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,263

Summary: It's a dead end. With no leads to go on, Hank and Connor find themselves lost in their investigation, nothing left to do but return home. Instead, Hank tries to get through to his partner and help him through the intricacies of personhood. It's a long road ahead of them, and is this only the calm before the storm...?

AO3

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Hank was starting to wonder if this day was ever going to actually end.

It was late, the sun having set by now. Jeffery Fowler sat in front of him, looking down at his tablet with narrow eyes, his mouth a thin line. Hank’s report was on there; paperwork was no longer done on actual paper anymore, but that was how it was now. When Hank had been young, everyone always said that everything would be electronic in the future. Sometimes, he forgot that he was living in that future. Even his own partner was wire and plastic instead of flesh and bone.

“So the long and short of it is,” Fowler said after he’d spent a good five minutes going through Hank’s work, “we’ve got sweet fuck all.”

“Pretty much.” Hank replied. His shoulder was aching something awful. Was it time for his pills yet? Had to be. “I mean, we could’ve had something, but you thought it’d be a good idea to put that fire cracking piece of shit Gavin on the case too. I thought you wanted ‘the best’, not, ‘the bottom of the fucking barrel’.”

“Reed’s a good detective,” Fowler said, but Hank could practically hear ‘when he wants to be’ hanging in the air after the statement. “This isn’t a game, Lieutenant. You know how this is going to look if we can’t solve it? We’ve got a good man dead and an android gone too. Everyone’s on high alert.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hank said, barely biting back his anger. “Shit, Jeffrey, we’ve got no damn motive. All we know is her model number and vaguely what she looks like, but there could be a hundred other androids out there that are her spitting image. Dammit it, this is gonna do more harm to them all as a whole, public ain’t gonna take lightly to this.”

Hank didn’t know much about Markus other than what he’d seen on TV and what Connor had told him, but he had to admire the dedication that he’d put into the immense task of fighting for his people’s rights. An incident like this was only going to be one big ugly mark on everything his revolution had stood for, was only going to damage the message Markus had been sending. Fowler leant forward on his desk, chin on his linked hands, and sighed. “The analysis on the bullets found in both Glennister and Zack is still in progress, so we’re hoping there’ll be a match on the gun to help us find the suspect. In the meantime, we’ve got jack shit to go on. Go home, Hank. There’s nothing else we can do right now.”

Hank scoffed. “No way. This ain’t over, Jeffrey, there’s gotta be something—”

“If there was, I’d be working your ass off on it. You’re still injured, Hank, you shouldn’t even be here. Get the hell out of my office and go home. I’ll call if anything comes up.”

Hank genuinely wanted to fight him on it. Logically, he knew he was right, knew that there really wasn’t anything to be done, but damn if it didn’t still piss him off. How could one android manage to kill not one, but two members of the DPD and still manage to evade them?

It was easy to blame Gavin, but Hank knew that the AX400 would have probably escaped even if the detective hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed by running out into traffic. Emotions had been high, and because of it Decker hadn’t noticed that the AX400 had never left the scene. There’d been no warning that she’d been there. Hank had assumed that forensics would have scoped the area out before actually starting any kind of investigation. None of them had been ready for a chase.

He left the office and found Connor at his desk opposite Hank’s, flipping his coin up and down. Hank had asked him why he did the tricks once, and Connor had given him some longwinded explanation about recalibration alongside other android jargon that Hank didn’t understand. It was bullshit anyway. He thought that Connor did it because he enjoyed the rhythmic action of it, an act of deviance long before he’d officially broken out of his programming.

A cup of coffee was on Hank’s own desk, still steaming, freshly made. Hank grabbed it by the handle and took a careful swig. It was black, perfectly to his liking. It burned a soothing path down his throat. “You made this?” he asked.

Connor wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were focused on the coin, watching it as he went up and down. “I don’t understand.” he said. “First a human, now an android. It makes no sense. Why would the type of target change? Has the MO changed?”

Clink. Clink. The coin hit his fingers and he threw it in the air again. Again. “She was angry, I think.” Clink. “But also, she held so little regard for her own life. When she ran into the road, I don’t think she was attempting to get Gavin to follow her.” Clink. “No. She was just trying to escape and she didn’t care if she died trying.”

Hank didn’t speak, just kept his mouth shut for once. Connor’s eyes stayed on the coin the entire time, tracking it up and down. “If she doesn’t care for her own life, that suggests she has little to live for. But why take the lives of law enforcement? Why attack and kill her own people? I can’t understand it. I feel like I’m…”

“Hitting a wall?” Hank suggested, putting the coffee mug down in front of Connor. “Yeah, I get that. I’m feeling the same way.”

The thunk of the coffee mug diverted his attention away from his coin. He looked at the steaming mug, and then closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. When he said nothing, Hank decided to pursue a different line of questioning. “You made the coffee for me?”

“I thought it was better than you returning home to a bottle of alcohol.” Connor said, keeping his eyes closed. “I checked it myself before serving to make sure it matched the coffee you usually make for yourself at home.”

Hank suddenly regretted drinking it. “You put your goddamn fingers in my coffee for a taste-test?”

“No.” Connor’s lips quirked upwards slightly. “But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered doing so, and we both know you can apparently tell when I’m not being entirely truthful.”

Well, that was a relief. Hank took another swig, and then sat in his chair. “So tell me Connor,” he said. “What the hell possessed you to run out into that fucking road today?”

Connor’s eyes flicked open again. He was leant so far back in his chair now that he was practically reclining. Staring up at the ceiling, he folded his arms across his chest. “My chance of catching the suspect was far lower than successfully rescuing Gavin, so I chose the option with the better prospects.”

“Okay, great. Glad to hear what your programming thinks.” Hank said. “Now let’s hear what you were really thinking.”

Connor blinked several times in succession. Hank couldn’t see his LED from this angle, which made it more difficult to gauge just how stressful Connor found the question. He rarely showed his emotions on his face. “I was thinking that I would regret it if I let Gavin die there when I knew I could save him. I didn’t want to feel that way. But I…” Connor frowned. “I was scared.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, but waited. It was human nature to want to fill silence with chatter. If he left it long enough, he hoped that the deviant in Connor would respond to that want, and lo and behold, he did. “I realised that by saving Gavin, I would be putting myself in a great deal of danger. When I ran into the road, I kept thinking, will this be the last thing I do? Will these cars be the last thing I hear? See? I’ve died before, but I didn’t really understand it then like I do now. My predecessor—the Connor that died in Stratford Tower—was he scared too?”

Hank remembered Connor throwing himself in the way of that gunfire, the way Hank had thought he might have survived only to pull his body up off the ground and find him riddled through with bullets. Though he knew Connor used to be able to back himself up infinitely, he’d never thought of the separate Connor’s as different beings, not like how Connor differentiated them now.

But was it so unlikely that the Connor sat before him was not the same one he’d met in the bar? The one that had held Hank hostage had been entirely different to his Connor despite sharing the exact same memories. What a chilling thought. He wasn’t drunk enough for this kind of chat.

“Fear’s a good thing, son.” Hank said, realising that Connor was not looking for an answer to his question. He’d dealt with him for long enough now to recognize the cues that Connor gave off, how to respond to him in a way that Connor would respond back to. Right now, he was unsure in a way only an android could be, still dealing with emotions that were new and complex. “Fear’s what keeps us alive. You were scared because you thought you might die, and that’s normal, Connor. The fact that you ran out into that road to save someone else even though you were scared? That was bravery. Fucking stupid and I could have killed you for it, but credit where credit’s due.”

Connor sat back up in the chair, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “I think I needed to hear that.” he said softly. Mission accomplished, Hank thought. “What did the Captain tell you?”

“That we’ve got nothing and we should go home.” Hank sighed. “We’re still waiting on results and shit to come back, so I guess he’s probably right. You ready to head on back?”

Connor cast a longing gaze at the terminal on his desk. “No.” Hank said. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not staying here to work yourself half to death over information we don’t have. We are going home to get some food and rest.” he paused. “Well, I’m going to bed. You’re going to do whatever it is you androids do when you’re tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said. “It’s impossible—”

“Connor,” Hank said, standing up. “Don’t fight me on this. We’re going.”

Connor looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he relented. “I’m driving?”

“Yeah, you’re driving. I don’t see me behind the wheel anytime soon.”

Sumo was waiting for them when they got back, ready to jump Connor as soon as they got through the door. Hank left them to their reunion and refilled his bowl for him before heading back to his room to change. Getting dressed one-armed was an absolute bitch. He couldn’t wait for it to heal.

When he went back to the kitchen, Connor had left out his pills for him. He was in the living room now, talking gently over the phone with someone. Hank caught wind of the words pepperoni and sausage and couldn’t help but laugh. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d have an android in his house ordering him pizza, Hank would have told them to put the bottle down and move on.

Hank downed the pills and leant on the doorframe. “What’s this?” he said. “You sure you didn’t hit your head when that AX400 shoved you over?”

Connor, who had taken up residency on his claimed side of the sofa, shook his head. “I ran a diagnostic after we returned to the office. I’m fully functional.”

Hank wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. Connor often intentionally made it difficult to tell. “You say that, but here you are, ordering pizza. I was just going to chuck something in the microwave and then head to bed, you know. It ain’t like the pizza’s more healthy than whatever I could have made in five minutes.”

A beat. Connor looked rather sheepish. “I just thought it would be easier. If it isn’t to your liking, I can always cancel—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Hank cut in quickly. “I was just saying, I thought it was weird. Usually you’re in there cooking up a storm out of whatever you’ve decided to bring home this time, I never even get a look in anymore. Always healthy and never fun, bleugh, I thought this was my house.”

“You still eat it though,” Connor pointed out. “Anyway, I decided that it would be more beneficial to the both of us if I ordered in. So I did.”

“Oh I get it.” Hank said, and he was grinning now. “That’s a fancy way of you trying to say I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t worry, Connor, you can say it, I’m not going to judge you.”

Connor crossed his arms, clearly offended. Hank outright laughed at him. “Go get changed,” he said. “I’m tired of seeing you in that uniform. It’s like work being at home with me and I just want to forget about what we don’t know right now. Also, I don’t know if you realise it, but the blue bits can get fucking obnoxious in low light. It’s giving me a headache.”

What Hank really wanted was for Connor to dump the jacket entirely. As far as he knew, most other androids had gotten rid of their uniforms already. Connor, however, still bore his model number and Cyberlife branding like a badge of pride. Why, Hank couldn’t figure out. Was the jacket that important? Or did Connor not yet feel like he’d integrated enough to remove it?

He came back in wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt and a black pair of trousers. It was the plainest outfit combo Hank had ever seen, and yet it was a miracle he’d ever gone that far. One time Hank had told him to get changed and he’d come back sans jacket but still wearing the exact same getup. When Hank had questioned him on it, he’d just said something to the effect of, “It doesn’t matter what I wear,” and ended the conversation at that.

“You ever gonna buy yourself some other outfits?” Hank asked.

Connor glanced down at himself. “Clothes are expensive, and it isn’t as if I need a surplus of different shirts.”

“Yeah, but don’t you get bored?”

“No.” Connor replied bluntly. He sat down and turned the TV on. “I’m going to go into stand-by, so feel free to watch what you want.”

Hank gave him a look. “I thought you said you weren’t tired.”

“I don’t get tired.” Connor said, echoing his statement from earlier. “I just need to stop thinking for a while. I don’t get headaches like humans do, but I feel like there is a great deal of stress on my system. It’s unpleasant.”

“Not gonna stick around for the pizza you ordered?”

“I can’t eat it regardless. And I’d rather not see the calorie count of every slice.” Connor’s smile was a sardonic thing. “If you need me, just shake my shoulders. I’ll wake up.”

“Right.” Hank said. “Wait, you’re gonna just do that sitting up?”

Too late. Connor’s eyes flickered unnervingly and then fell shut, his body going rigid. Sumo padded over from the kitchen, sitting in front of him and wagging his tail. “Christ almighty. Yeah, you’re not getting any pats out of him right now, Sumo, kid’s a fucking statue.” he paused, prodding Connor in his side as a test. Yep. He wasn’t moving anytime soon. “Does he always do it this way?”

Sumo cocked his head, and then pawed at Hank’s leg. “What? What’s up, boy?”

More pawing. For such a big dog, Sumo could sure act like a puppy when he wanted to. His doorbell rang at that moment, signalling the pizza. He sighed and got up. “Alright Sumo, give me a minute.”

The pizza wasn’t delivered by an android, like Hank was used to, but an actual human for once. Times really were changing. Connor had paid in advance, so as soon as the pizza was in hand, Hank was heading back to the living room.

Where Sumo had stolen his seat and curled up next to Connor.

“Oh, so these are the new sleeping arrangements.” Hank said, shaking his head. Connor hadn’t wanted a bed, or even a room. He was content with leaving his pile of limited clothes in Hank’s room and chilling on his side of the sofa when he wasn’t busy. “I was wondering why there was so much dog hair on my couch. I swear, what’s he done to make you love him so much huh? It’s all the petting, ain’t it?”

Sumo looked at him expectantly. Hank flipped the pizza box open and took a slice from it. “You want it? Come get it.”

Sumo looked back at Connor, and then laid his head on his leg. “Oh wow. Now that’s a damn sight. Probably for the best, he’d kill me if he found out I let you snack on pizza.”

He ate two slices of the pizza before calling it a day. Connor had ordered something too large for even him, and he was just one man on his own. He put the remains in the fridge for the morning; they’d make for a good snack on the way to work.

The Whitfield files were still on the floor by his kitchen table where Connor had left them. Hank retrieved them and chucked them on the side to be forgotten about. It sucked, but the dead shop assistant would have to wait. “Alright, Connor, Sumo,” Hank announced. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t fuck anything up, hear me?”

Sumo barked his affirmation. Connor, who was still deep in stand-by mode, said nothing.

Sleep came easy after the day he’d had. He would have been content to be late to work in favour of his bed, except he was rudely awakened by his phone going off by the side of his bed. Damn, he knew he should have put the thing in airplane mode.

He grabbed it off the side and fumbled for the accept call button. His shoulder was killing him again. “What?” Hank said blearily, not even giving the caller ID a look.

“Morning to you too, Hank.” Fowler’s voice was tinny down the line. “Where the hell are you?”

“In my bed, enjoying some well deserved sleep.” Hank replied. “What the fuck are you doing calling me at—” he checked the time. “—what the hell? It’s barely past seven, I’m not even late!”

“Another cop’s been killed.” Fowler said, his voice clipped. “The media’s got hold of it, it’s all over the fucking news. I’ve got the android she was partnered with going apeshit and everyone’s losing their goddamn minds. I need you, Hank.”

Hank closed his eyes, a heavy sigh in his throat. “Human this time who died, huh?”

“Yeah. We’ve scoped out the scene, the AX400 is gone. I’m sending you the location, you know what to do.”

He hung up at that. Hank opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling, and contemplated handing in his badge. “Fuck this all to hell.”

#Detroit: Become Human #Detroit Become Human #Connor RK800 #Hank Anderson #DBH Connor #My Writing #bit of a more relaxing chapter after last time #Shadow Mine

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wordsnstuff · 7 years

Text

Writing On A Schedule

– A lot of the questions I receive revolve around productivity and people’s struggles with actually accomplishing their goals in their target timeframe. I decided to make a longer post compiling my tips and tricks and at the end, I’ve included a few approaches that I take most frequently in order to reach my own deadlines. I hope this is helpful to you and I hope that all of you feel more productive and achieve your goals. Enjoy!

Motivation

Keep In Mind The End Goal

What are you working for? It’s important to remind yourself why you’re putting so much time and effort into writing, because if you don’t you’ll lose momentum and motivation very quickly. Writing can become very time consuming and it’s imperative to take a breath every once in a while to remind yourself of what you’re working toward. It’s surprisingly easy to forget.

Use A Rewards System

I do this a lot, simply because I really like chocolate and because it’s highly effective. Basically, every hundred words, I allow myself a piece of chocolate, and by the end of a standard chocolate bar I’ve reached my daily goal. Now, I obviously don’t do this every day; I don’t want to put myself off chocolate, but I do it in more pressing circumstances because it works, especially when you have a bunch of smaller tasks or pieces of writing to finish.

Make A Vision Board {Or Multiple}

This can sound kind of cheesy to people who have never done it, but as a resident cheese-ball, I highly suggest this. It works. If you don’t know what a vision board is, it’s basically a visual representation of your goal, or your vision for whatever you’re working on. Creating these for stories or projects you’re currently putting your energy into helps keep the end goal in mind and can, a lot of the time, help you figure out exactly how you want your project to turn out and what you’re going for. This doesn’t take very long and it can be a physical project or you can just keep a google doc with pictures that compliment your vision, just do whatever works for you.

This is a kind of cool and helpful article on what vision boards are, how and why they work, and how to make one, if you’re interested.

Remember Who You’re Writing For

If you don’t write and you don’t meet that deadline, ultimately, the only person who loses is you. You don’t get the reward for reaching your goal, whatever the reward may be. Followers, likes, money, the simple feeling of accomplishment, you don’t get any of it if you haven’t done what it takes to earn it. You’re writing for you. You are writing either because you love it or you want the positive consequences. It sucks when you let others down, but it’s especially horrible when you let yourself down.

Accountability

Find multiple ways to hold yourself accountable and make sure you actually keep to your schedule. You can use one of, all of, or more than these suggestions. Just find whatever works best for you.

Have Others Keep Up With Your Progress

I’ve mentioned this tip in a few previous posts but it’s one I find really helpful because it takes away that aspect of “well, I’m the only one who will know if I skip a day so there’s no harm in it”, which, for me personally, is a mindset I have a lot of trouble fighting. You can do this on a large scale, like I do, and keep a blog where if you stop writing, lots and lots of people are there to encourage and remind you to write, or you can do it on a small scale by having a close friend check in every day and see where you’re at with your goal for the day. I think this is super important, as all of us procrastinate, whether it’s from time to time or on the regular, and it’s useful to have someone else to keep us going when we can’t do it all by ourselves.

Remind Yourself Of The Consequences

If you finish this chapter today, you get to relax this weekend because you’ll be ahead. If you don’t, you’ll have to spend all weekend struggling and wishing you had done it sooner. There are consequences to every action you take and every action you don’t, so remind yourself that you may get some extra Netflix time now, but future you will be suffering.

Develop Good Old Discipline

This is an incredibly important trait to have if you plan on being successful as a writer. Yeah, sometimes you just don’t feel like it and you feel like there are a thousand other ways you could be better spending your time, but if you put too much stake in what you want to do over what you should do, you’ll end up procrastinating, falling behind, and cursing yourself for it later.

Balance

Don’t Limit Yourself To One Project

It’s okay to be working on a novel and a collection of poetry and a book of prompts all at the same time. Remember that it’s important not to overwhelm yourself, but you should have multiple things going on to balance each other out and compensate in areas each other lack in. If the novel isn’t fulfilling your need to keep track of bursts of thought, then write some poems. If the poems aren’t keeping you on your toes and the novel is taking up so much time that you can’t start another story, then answer prompts from time to time when you just need to think of something different. It’s okay if your focus isn’t always on a single thing. In fact, it’s probably healthier that way.

Take Care Of Yourself

Meeting deadlines is all fine and dandy, but should never get in the way of your physical, mental, or emotional health. Take the time and devote some of your energy to making sure you’re okay. You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes.

Build Habits

Write every day

Whether it contributes to your project or not, you need to write. Every. Single. Day. No excuses, no “but I was too busy when I got home”. None of that. You have the time and you know it, and there’s no way you can write on a schedule if you can’t manage to squeeze in a bit of free-writing at least once a day. If you’re going to plan a writing schedule, schedule time to write every day. Not every other day. Not only on the weekends. Every day.

Read. A Lot.

If you haven’t got time to read, you haven’t got time to write. Reading is a massive part of writing, and in order to write good things, you need to read everything. Bad and good. Reading intensely is just a habit you need to develop in order to be a good writer, so read.

Create Time

Write on the bus. Write on your break. Write while cooking dinner. Write during a free-period. Write whenever you can. You have more time than you think, and complaining about how you have no time isn’t going to accomplish anything and every successful writer has had to learn to write during cracks in the day. Especially when trying to keep to a deadline.

Kill The Intimidation

Yes, writing 500 words every day for a month sounds intimidating. Being apprehensive about making a commitment like that is understandable, but the thing about routines is that they get easier the more often and consistently you practice them. If you commit to sitting down and writing for half an hour a day, it will become second nature to you and skipping that step in your day will feel like deviating from a personal ritual. Don’t be scared of setting high expectations for yourself. Chances are that if you just sit down and make yourself do it, it won’t be as hard as you have built it up to be in your mind. Just get out of your own head, don’t over-think it, and just write.

Schedules {Examples}

Daily Word Count Goals

Maybe you aim for writing 300 words per day of.. whatever it is you’re working on.

Daily Time Goals

Maybe you aim to spend 30 minutes a day writing.

– There are a million ways you can schedule your own writing, so experiment and find what works for you.

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#writing #writing tips #writeblr #writespo #productivity #organization #inspiration #motivation #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled thoughts #poetry #writer #writing aesthetic #aesthetic #instagram #excerpt from a book I'll never write

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mummybear · 6 years

Text

Unknown Connections

Author's note: I apologize this chapter is a pretty short one but I hoped you have enjoyed the story so far promise it gets more exciting soon reviews are welcome and encouraged let me know what you think please much appreciated thank you for reading enough from me on with the chapter.

"Now Bonnie sweetheart, I will need your help to accomplish this task". Sheila continued to explain, there was a tense but quiet atmosphere surrounding the Salvatore boarding house, they were all listening intently as Sheila spoke, secretly all dreading what these visions may conger, especially the vampires who had far more to reveal or so they thought, but grams continued all the same.

"As it happens for so many people, it may take a great deal more magic than I have access to at the moment I'm afraid, although maybe with your help we can sustain the visions for an extra few minutes, as it is, we maybe have five minutes at best so lets see what happens" she explained.

"Now the memories may flash by in your mind very fast in fact, so fast you may think you will not retain what you have seen, but your mind will absorb everything we share with each other today" Everyone nodded and Sam spoke up.

"Go on please, we appreciate you explaining this to us and if Bobby trusts you, well that's good enough for me," Sam said, just hoping that she would say that he could sit this out, but she just nodded to him saying "thank you honey" then continuing.

He sighed, Sam just hoped that his mind could withstand any more probing, after what he had recently undergone. Causing him to look gingerly towards Bobby and his brother, who gave him a sympathetic look, but let her continue without mentioning it, So reluctantly Sam turned his attention back to the witch. "Okay everyone here we go, so Bonnie, I need you to be standing opposite me, before we begin to position people, to balance out the power as best as we possibly can". Sheila continued to explain.

"Damon I need you to please go and stand beside my lovely Bonnie, then Alaric if you could stand next to Damon please".

"I'll explain why where you are placed is important, when we are done if you so wish," she said.

"Now Jeremy if you could stand next to Alaric please and Anna, in between myself and Jeremy if you wouldn't mind," she said with a smile.

"You have no need to be nervous dear, I promise" Anna smiled back, with an underlying hesitance, but she then went to stand beside the older witch. "Then Bobby could you stand on my other side please," she said with a smile to the older man.

Sheila had a feeling that they would become firm friends in a short time, she hoped at the least, if nothing else because of what they were about to see. That both sets of people didn't turn on each other if they did she and Liz might need his help.

"Then Liz if you could stand next to Bobby please, sorry almost done". she apologized.

"Then Stefan dear if you could stand next to Bobby please, then Sam honey could you stand by Stefan, then could we please have dean next to Sam if you please. Finally, Caroline, could you stand between Bonnie and Dean please baby" Sheila asked them all politely.

"Now to explain why I have placed you in this order".

They were all listening intently, as they were trying to figure it out before Sheila had been able to tell them, but to no avail. None of them understood it if they were honest, so they were very interested as she continued to explain.

"Now while it's not essential, it helps if you share some sort of connection with at least one of the people next to you, may it be an understanding, family, trust, romantic connection or something that feels like a force, that's pulling you together, that maybe neither of you can explain".

"I have done this many times before, so no need to panic, just with smaller groups but with the help of Bonnie it'll be almost the same, as we're family the connection is there without much effort".

"I have done it this way myself because I can either sense some sort of connection between the people you are standing with, even if you yourselves are not yet aware of it, although these type of connections usually become known at one point or another" Sheila explained again watching each of their reactions.

"Now these connections will make the visions stronger, and maybe connect you more to that person, of which you are connected and aid me and Bonnie in the spell required, fair warning though, we will more than likely need to sit on the ground, just in case we fall back from the initial shock or full force of the visions, as they can be sometimes very powerful. Especially in case of unexpected events, believe me, I'm sure there will be plenty".

"If you so wish before we begin and you aren't aware of your connection I can give you a brief explanation, of what it entails, though be warned it will be brief, I can only give you what I see".

"Okay a show of hands for people who want to know I guess would be the easier way, although I will need both people to consent" she explained. Everyone's hands were all but thrown in the air, curious to find out some of them just doing it because the rest were.

"Okay then I did expect this, if I'm honest I shall share in your pairs some of you may have two, but please no talking or interruptions please, we need to get this done so we can discuss the problems at hand. Finally after this experience if your connection is strong enough, still this only happens in rare cases, but if it is so you may share a physic connection with this person, you may also be able to communicate" she explained, to which they all nodded how uncharacteristically quiet for certain people here, although there were slight murmurings about the last part especially.

"So I guess first off is":

Bonnie & Damon: "Now while I think yours is self-explanatory, I will explain your connection, it is one of trust and an un-explainable pull toward one another, also there is a possibility of a romantic connection, but it is unclear as of the moment," she said.

They just looked at each other, a knowing look in their eyes Damon winked at her, she could feel the fire between them and the sparkle in his eyes distracting her. She abruptly turned her head and cleared her throat, as she focused back on her grams, so she missed knowing smirk he shot her and his lust filled gaze. Damon could feel the fire between them, he had been able to for months, but now was not the time he decided. Before quickly turning so he was facing the direction, just in front and focusing his attention back on the elder witch.

Damon & Alaric: "Yours is a connection of the utmost trust and respect, a strong friendship bordering on the same type of relationship, that is often seen in brothers in my opinion" she said simply, Ric looked at Damon who simply winked to that Ric scoffed but they both had a pleased smile on their face.

Alaric & Jeremy: "Yours is also similar to family, but not in the same way, you Jeremy look up to Alaric as a father figure, there is obviously underlying trust that comes with that, you're thankful to him for helping your family the ways he has".

Everybody had pretty much agreed with sheila's assessments so far, from what she could tell, it was the other side of the circle she was worried about anyhow.

Jeremy & Anna: "Again I believe yours is very self-explanatory also your in a relationship, with trust, love and loyalty". They smiled at each other knowing just how accurate this was.

Liz & Myself: "We have many years of friendship, trust, loyalty and are like a family, as we all have become now Mystic Falls family, With everything we have been through together we are indestructible," she said smiling around the room.

Liz & Bobby: "Now I'm not sure if you two are aware of your connection, as of yet, but it's there and no doubting it. "You have similar family values, protecting your families no matter the cost, which can be your downfall or your salvation, there is a trust between you, even if it's just because you want the same things, but I believe there may be a romantic relationship in the future" she finished.

Liz blushed as she looked in his direction, then they both looked away, maybe they could feel something already she thought to herself looking at her friend's reaction.

Stefan & Sam: "Now yours is quite a curious connection, I couldn't put my finger on it to start with, but I believe it is the burden you both believe you face, protecting and fighting for your elder brothers and the responsibility that you feel, especially for some of the things that have happened to them"

"Understanding the others plights and even the trust is there, I believe that it is because perhaps you understand the other, that you are meant to become great friends, You're also both very kind, loyal and loving people even if you do all of the wrong things for the right reason,s your hearts are always in the right place."

They found themselves glancing at their brothers, before looking at each other with understanding and compassion, they believed what Sheila had said they could feel the unspoken bond between them, pushing them to trust each other may as well give in, whats the worst that could happen really they could use someone to talk to.

Sam & Dean: "Yours is the most obvious, you are brothers who would do anything for one another and have done if I'm not mistaken," she said. Looking at them and knowing she was right at that moment, about them and also about the connection between Stefan and Sam. Then she continued "and well obviously you have the up-most trust for each other, a solid loyalty and love beyond compare, with the amount of trouble you have been through together, you still remain strong as one." They knew how true this was.

Dean & Caroline: "Now your connection, well it interests me greatly I have to say, it is incredibly strong for two people who have never met before, that have no previous romantic relationship"

That was all it took her to say for Dean, to turn and look at Caroline, he could feel some kind of magnetic pull to this girl, that he just couldn't explain. As she looked at him he realized she could feel it too, their eyes burned into each other. Sheila carried on explaining while they were watching each other intently, simply unable to look away.

"There is a pull between the two of you, it's one of the strongest I've ever seen in fact. It's extraordinary, there is an understanding and a bond that usually would take years to form, you've somehow obtained in a few hours. They finally looked away from each other and back at Sheila confusion evident.

"Then finally we have"

Caroline & Bonnie: "The two of you have been through so much that like sisters, you share an unbreakable bond of family, the love of family and the trust that thereby comes hand in hand with it" They simply smiled at one another, Caroline gave her best friend a wink, before they turned their attention back to Sheila.

"Okay now that everyone finally understands, let's start the visions, everybody takes the hands of the people either side of you," Sheila said. As Dean tentatively took Caroline's hand they both gasped, earning them looks from everyone in the circle, as they only looked at each other, a need pulsing throughout them both, if Caroline could blush she is sure that she would have.

"So we will all see the same images," she explained. "But I'm afraid there may be no sound" she explained, that requires a considerable amount of more magic than two single witches possess.

"But we will try, it may come in the voice of one of us, with brief snippets maybe the main words or phrases uttered we will see".

Finally, she nodded to Bonnie and they started chanting softly 30 seconds later everyone was deep into their visions and had as Sheila said they would fell backwards although thankfully softly onto the floor of the boarding house, they would all experience the same visions at the same time.

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fallout4holmes · 6 years

Text

Journal 9

The Personal Journal of Mr. S. Holmes Diamond City, The Commonwealth, 2288

Hancock was disappointed with my decision to return to Diamond City, but laughed when I offered to introduce him to the family. “You have fun bein’ domestic. Let me know when you want to cause a little trouble again.” MacCready offered to escort the mayor back to Goodneighbor for a nominal fee. I told him to put it on my tab, and the two of them headed north.

I went home. I was greeted by an enthusiastic boy knocking the wind out of me. Codsworth’s greeting was much more refined, though just as warm. He inquired if I’d eaten in the past few days. I assured him I had, but a light meal would be welcome, which pleased him.

Shaun was doing homework at the dining table. Miss Edna is constantly trying to find ways to challenge him, a task in which she takes a great deal of delight, I believe. He explained what he was learning, told me everything that had happened at school since I’d been gone and all the games he and Nat had invented. Nat nearly got in trouble for drawing chalk pictures on a security guard she found dozing at his post, but she ran to Shaun and Codsworth in the market and hid. Codsworth, of all people, covered for her. “Shouldn’t have been sleeping on the job,” Codsworth huffed as Shaun told the story. It was a pleasant evening.

Once Shaun was asleep, I took a short walk across town. My heart raced even as I forced my pace to remain steady as I passed under the Agency’s neon sign. Valentine was going through files at his desk, cigarette in hand.

“Welcome back,” he said. “Just get in?”

“Earlier today. Where’s Ellie?”

“You just missed her, gave her the rest of the night off. Business has been slow, hence the cold case files,” he gestured to the stack on his desk, then looked at me. “You alright?”

“May we talk?”

“Sure.” He shoved the files to the side, “Hell, I’ve been hoping to since Goodneighbor. I know I wasn’t exactly pleasant last time I saw you -”

“Wait. Please.”

I tried to explain. It was difficult. My mind rebels at stagnation, give me brainwork, all the same lines I’ve constantly fallen back on anytime anyone needed an explanation, anytime I wanted to warn without scaring away, the lines that worked on my best friend for years before the end of the world… these were ash in my mouth.

I tried to explain. The gears constantly turning. The horrible discontent at being still, the drive to accomplish literally anything if it stops me from thinking, the engine threatening to tear itself apart from constantly running with nowhere for the energy to go… I told him how terrified I was that Shaun would one day see me at my worst. How the demon of addiction, long dormant, seemed to stir a little more every day living next to a damn chem shop, how even though my wife incomprehensibly loved me and I her, I am certain it would have come crashing down had the world not ended. “Black moods,” she called them. Days of utter depression, desperate for any sort of active mental distraction, restless, the observation of everyday imperfections rendered into hyperbolic despair.

I tried to explain why I had leaped at the merest hint of a mystery, at a mere complication in Goodneighbor. I tried to explain why I was there in front of him, telling him this. Why it was so important he understand.

Eyes are said to be windows to the soul. Perhaps this is why so many people are unnerved by Valentine, the fear of synths aside. His eyes are yellow lights of unreflective, unemotional circuitry. His expressions are a muted mimicry of human range, limited by the physical confines of synthetic construction. I know this to be accurate, logical fact, and yet something in me is disgusted that I have put those words to paper. That I would even consider describing him in such a way.

He listened. I don’t know what I expected. I couldn’t have stood pity or a poor attempt at commiserating. Advice would have enraged me, fear or disgust or simple distant friendliness would have killed me. He reacted with none of these. He let me talk. He listened, his focus never leaving me for a moment. When I had finished, he was silent for a time.

“You know,” he finally spoke, “you're the only person I've met in this world who really seemed like they could rise above it, and… well, I was worried. The Commonwealth does things to people. Makes monsters out of men. I see my best friend suddenly get an urge to take up with mercs and mob bosses, without explanation, I’m bound to get concerned… and I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Don’t, Valentine, it’s -”

“Hang on. I want you to know I count myself real lucky you pulled me out of that vault, back when we first met. Not just for the rescue, but that it was you, specifically, that did the rescuing. I don’t understand everything you’re describing. Guess I probably never will. But I’m glad you told me. That you’d trust me with this. So… thanks,” he smiled, “partner.”

I was stunned. “You’re welcome.”

Silence settled once again, broken by the strike of a match as he lit another cigarette, sliding the pack to me across the desk. “Shaun's eager to visit Sanctuary, again,” he said. “Seems a family trip might not be a bad idea? Kid’s got a lot more stamina than the average ten year old boy. Made it down here to Diamond City just fine, should be good in the reverse, especially if we hook up with a trade caravan along the way. Extra eyes, extra guards.”

I smiled at the ‘we,’ stated as it it were an obvious fact. “I could summon a brigade of Minutemen to escort us if we wanted.”

He scoffed. “Whole brigade would just be showing off.”

In the end, I recruited the Minutemen already in Diamond City to the cause. They were amused, and happy to help. We’ll set off tomorrow; two Minutemen, Shaun, Dogmeat, and Valentine. I asked Codsworth if he would come, but he declined, preferring to keep the house in order, defending the home front, as he put it. He did ask me to invite Sturges to tea. By the time Sturges accepts, Codsworth might have concocted something that tastes similar.

#fallout 4 #sherlock holmes #crossover #fan fiction #nick valentine #diamond city

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1028

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - What was the last thing you watched on TV? The last TV show I watched was Friends, but the last thing I saw on TV was the evening news, as is always our companion when having dinner.

2 - Do you have the heating or air conditioning on at the moment? I have the fan on, like always. I just turn on the aircon in the evening because I want to be comfortable after a long day and when trying to fall asleep.

3 - When was the last time you did something to help someone else? Andi was having a dilemma about an already-secure job offer for a position they don’t 100% like vs. a job they know they would enjoy a lot more but isn’t guaranteed at all. I helped weigh out the pros and cons with them, but I didn’t necessarily stick to a position as I didn’t want to dictate a choice for them.

4 - If you have a job, have you been busier or quieter since the whole COVID thing hit? I was a student, then was unemployed, then got hired throughout this COVID fiasco so far. For the first two, life had been quiet for me and I really hated feeling like having no contribution at home. My plate is definitely a lot fuller now and I’m glad I have things to do and earn for myself while doing so.

5 - Do you spend more time on your own or with others? Are you happy with that? On my own. I think it’s best for me at the moment.

6 - Do you know anyone who has been diagnosed with autism? Yes.

7 - Have you had your wisdom teeth removed? What about your tonsils or your appendix? None of these. I’ve had a tooth removed, but it wasn’t a wisdom tooth.

8 - Are you scared of needles? Very. I hate most sharp things, and I am an embarrassment whenever I’m at the hospital and need to be pricked with something.

9 - Do you dress more for comfort, fashion or practicality? I try to strike a balance between comfort and fashion, but sometimes I’ll prioritize comfort and sometimes I’ll prioritize fashion. But practicality is definitely barely in my criteria when picking outfits.

10 - When was the last time you smoked a cigarette? I think it may have been February. I only smoke with other people and I’ve never bought my own pack.

11 - Would you rather drink tea, coffee, hot chocolate or water? In the grand scheme of things, water. But right now, a hot chocolate sounds heavenly.

12 - Do you have a lot of ornaments around your house? Yes. We also have our Christmas tree already up, so that has also boosted the amount of ornaments we have.

13 - Do you own more books or DVD’s? Books. While I have a number of DVDs, I never really an avid collector of them. My dad introduced me to torrent websites at a young age so that’s how I’ve been getting movies for the longest time.

14 - How often would you say you took surveys? Throughout the quarantine I had taken surveys daily. But with me now having work and usually being too exhausted by the end of the day, I think I’ll be back to taking surveys only on weekends now like how it was when I was in school.

15 - Have you ever worn a uniform to school or work? Yes, I had to wear a uniform in my old school.

16 - Who was the first person you had a sleepover with? Are you still in touch with that person today? It would have to be either Angela or Gabie. Yes, I still talk to both.

17 - When you were growing up, did you have any friends who were almost like family to you? Katreen’s and Angela’s families were second families to me. For a time back in grade school, Katreen’s mom actually used to pick me up alongside Katreen every Friday and then I would stay at their place until around 9 PM, when my mom would get back from work and pick me up. They did such a wonderful job making me feel like family, and I hope they’re all doing well today.

18 - Could you cook an entire Christmas or Thanksgiving Dinner entirely on your own with no help from other people or recipe books? Yes but it would not be edible.

19 - Do you cook from scratch or do you rely more on ready meals or frozen food? I rely on people in my family who can actualy cook, ha.

20 - What’s your favourite type of fast food? Is it something you eat often? KFC would have to be my favorite. Those 11 herbs and spices don’t fuck around, man. It’s not the cheapest of fast food options, so I don’t get to have it a lot and it’s usually tradition for me to get KFC only when I feel like I deserve a reward for an accomplishment or after a grueling week.

21 - If you’ve been under a lockdown or stay-at-home order, what did you find the most difficult about it? Not having been able to see my friends, go out as a group, and stay out late. Also, not getting a normal college graduation and being unable to spend my last semester as a college student just being a dumb college student doing dumb college student things.

22 - Do you still buy or read any magazines? I’ll sometimes read the online versions of magazines especially if one of them comes out with a compelling article, but I don’t follow any of them religiously.

23 - As a teenager, what did you spend most of your pocket money or allowance on? I went out with friends on the weekends, so my savings mostly went to food and Uber (back when we still had Uber, and back when none of us could drive yet).

24 - Do you have much of a sweet tooth? I have my moods for sure, but I love savory a lot more.

25 - Are there any common “popular” foods that you don’t particularly like yourself? Have people ever told you you’re odd/strange for disliking that particular food? Fruits. I get judged for it all the time, but I honestly live for the reactions hahaha. To this day it’s still my go-to fact to say whenever I have to share something about myself. There’s also sinigang, but that is such a universally-loved food and is such a huge source of pride for Filipinos that I just keep it to myself because people get genuinely annoyed/offended when they hear that I don’t like sinigang LOL

26 - Likewise, are there are any commonly hated foods that you love? BALUT

27 - Would you rather eat pizza or pasta? Pizza. Easy.

28 - Do you own a lot of store loyalty cards? I just have the one for my gas station, so no.

29 - When was the last time you read a newspaper? I had to view a newspaper article for work yesterday, but I have not read a full newspaper in years.

30 - What kind of noises can you hear around you right now? There’s the fan in my room and construction outside our house.

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - Do you have a car? How long have you had it and how much did it cost? Yeah but it’s technically not mine; my parents made the purchase and they gave it to me as a high school graduation present. They’re also the ones who take care of and pay for its maintenance, like taking it to oil changes; so literally my only contribution has been to drive it HAHAHA. I’ve been driving it since 2016 and I’m pretty sure it cost them less than a million bucks. It was probably around P800,000–900,000.

2 - Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? Andi was checking up on how I’ve been. I appreciated that.

3 - What did you have for breakfast this morning? I haven’t had it yet but I will probably skip it. I might make myself coffee, though.

4 - Do you have any scented candles lit at the moment? I never have any scented candles.

5 - When was the last time you left your house? When will be the next time you go out? Yesterday afternoon. There was nothing left to do for work and my superiors hadn’t been asking me to do any tasks anymore, so I went out to get myself Starbucks before my shift was actually over, haha oops. I might be going out next Tuesday to pick up my new card from the bank.

6 - Does anyone in real life follow your survey blog? If so, does it make you think twice about some of your answers? If not, are you ever paranoid that someone will find your blog and read your answers? No. My sister has been wanting to make a survey blog but she just never got around to making it because she thinks she’ll end up being inactive; but that’s about it on the irl people front. If she ever makes one, I’d prefer we didn’t follow one another as doing so would make things awkward.

7 - When was the last time someone stopped talking to you? Have you made up with that person since? Gabie doesn’t speak with me regularly anymore. We’re not on bad terms so there’s nothing to make up, but she has told me it’s out of shame that she doesn’t initiate conversations with me these days.

8 - Who was the last person you argued or bickered with? I haven’t had an argument with anyone in a while.

9 - Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day? If you’re about to go to bed, what are your plans for tomorrow? Catch up on surveys as I haven’t done them all week, anddddd figure out what to do with my embroidery kit as I’ve run out of the provided thread :(

10 - Did you have any e-mails in your inbox the last time you checked? It’s the weekend so no, I haven’t received anything new.

11 - What time did you wake up this morning? Did you have to set an alarm or did you wake up naturally? It was 7:08 AM when I had checked. I just woke up naturally.

12 - When was the last time it snowed where you live? Probably when it was still a part of Pangaea or something. We don’t get snow on this side of the world and the nearest place that does is probably like South Korea, which is not near us at all.

13 - Does it bother you if you’re wearing odd socks? Like, mismatched ones? No, I find it cute actually.

14 - Is there anything small that bothers you way more than it should? Right now. I had sent out an event invite to certain media last Thursday for work, and one of them replied only by 6 PM last night. I only saw it by 9:30 and replied, then she got back with a question by around 9:50 PM, and at that point I decided against replying because it was already nearing 10 PM and I didn’t want to be rude. I want to reply today but it’s the weekend and I don’t wanna be the jerk that brings up work on the weekend, but I also don’t want to leave her hanging because I had technically cut our conversation short.

OK I spent the next 30 minutes thinking about it and I ended up replying hahaha. It just didn’t sit well with me to blow her off for the weekend when her last message was a question for me. So I answered her for her clarification, but I just made sure to let her know there’s no pressure for her to get back to me this weekend.

15 - Would you rather read a book, watch a film or play a video game? Watch someone play a video game, tbh.

16 - Why did you last attend a doctors’ appointment? Because my fever wasn’t going away and I wanted to get rid of it so bad.

17 - Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? The person from Pizza Hut who took my order, I think? lol

18 - How many different colours have you dyed your hair over the years? is your hair your natural colour at the moment? I’ve never had it dyed, so it has always been black.

19 - Do you prefer sweet or savoury snacks? I have moods for both, but as a whole I think I’d go for savory.

20 - When was the last time you got up to use the bathroom? A couple of hours ago.

21 - Do you spend more money on shoes or clothes? I spend more often on clothes but they aren’t always necessarily expensive. I don’t buy shoes often, but when I do they’re usually quite expensive, so. I’m not sure how to answer this question, but it goes two ways for me.

22 - Are you glad that Biden won the 2020 elections? I’m glad he won but at the end of the day he’s still just the lesser evil. I won’t really know anything until I see him and his moves in office, so I’ll have to wait until then.

23 - What kind of things do you do to try and save the planet? I segregate, turn off the faucet when it isn’t being used, never turn on my bedroom light, and before Covid I’d pick up trash I’d see at the mall.

24 - Are you, or have you ever been, vegetarian or vegan? I haven’t been either but I do opt for vegan options when I see one on the menu.

25 - What was the last thing you threw in the bin/garbage? A cotton bud.

26 - How many times a week do you exercise? Do you think that’s enough or should you really be doing more? I never do. I know I should probably do so, but eh.

27 - When was the last time you had to cancel or re-arrange plans you'd made? What was the reason behind it? LOL well...I’m currently having to rearrange and revise and adjust my entire life plans because of this stupid breakup.

28 - Have you ever had to wear braces? Yes. But I’ll have to avail them again because I did a terrible job keeping my retainers on.

29 - What cut of jeans do you prefer? Mom jeans that are a little more loose than skinny jeans, but aren’t too baggy.

30 - If you’re planning to spend the day at home, do you get properly dressed or just wear pyjamas? I wear my usual getup of a t-shirt/tank top and shorts.

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - What’s the biggest argument you’ve ever had with a family member? Did things ever go back to how they were beforehand? It was an argument with the entire family, sans my sister who stayed silently watching during the whole thing as she hates conflict. We had just flown back to Manila from a vacation and we were all just tired and impatient and hungry, my mom found a way to shift the blame on me as per usual, some words were exchanged, and my brother ended up slapping me and it was on hell on earth from there. Things weren’t ok for a whole week, but slowly life went back to normal without us ever acknowledging it because we’re dysfunctional as fuck. The one thing that never ended up changing is my dynamic with my brother, with whom I stopped speaking permanently after what he did.

2 - Have you ever experienced some kind of natural disaster? A lot; my country is a big hot spot for typhoons, so we don’t really have a choice but to go through several of them every year. Sometimes it’ll get bad enough for us to make it to international news because our government doesn’t really do anything to help out victims.

3 - If you have pets, do you feed them human food or do they just get regular pet food? If they do get human food, what’s their favourite thing to have? They both get human food. I’m not sure what Cooper’s favorite is as Nina primarily feeds him; but Kimi is most obsessed with chicken.

4 - Have you ever been in a physical fight? Who won? Just play wrestling matches with my cousin when we were kids. He always won as he was older and a lot bigger than me.

5 - What were you lighting the last time you used a lighter or matches? I don’t light stuff up on my own because I’m scared of fire, but the last time we used matches was for lighting up our emergency candles because of the power outage from last week.

6 - What’s the weather currently doing where you are? It is annoyingly humid. I had to open my windows and roll up my window blinds today, which I hate having to do because it makes neighbors able to see my room and what I’m doing here -_____- I feel like I’m giving away my privacy every time I have to have the blinds up just to have colder air in.

7 - The last time you got up from your seat, what did you go and do? Before doing this I came from bed. When I felt like doing a survey I just got up and headed to my work desk.

8 - Name five things you’ve done so far today: Received a package for something I bought online, made myself a sandwich, ate cheese-flavored corn chips, watch a half-season of Friends, and bought another embroidery kit online (I’ve been calling it ‘cross-stitch’ this whole time but apparently that is wrong, whoops). Not a very productive Saturday, but it’s honestly ok considering I’m left exhausted from the past week.

9 - What’s the mode of transport that you take or use the most? I drive myself.

10 - When was the last time you got caught in a rain or snow storm? Were you dressed for it or did you end up getting soaked? Start of the month. I was driving to take Cooper to the vet when it suddenly started raining super hard, but it was only upon arriving at the clinic that I realized there wasn’t any umbrella in the car. Had to make a quick dash from the car to the nearest shade, all the while keeping Cooper under my jacket so that he stayed dry. I was soaked as shit but he was kept dry, which was all that mattered.

11 - Did your favourite Disney film come out before or after you were born? I have two favorites: Toy Story came out three years before I was born, but Tangled came 12 years after my birth.

12 - Are you a fan of musicals? No, I never saw the appeal.

13 - What the last thing you spent money on apart from necessities? My favorite coffee from Starbucks. It’s a win-win situation for me at the moment: my mom is asking for a Starbucks planner for Christmas, which means all I need to do for her gift is to keep ordering coffees from there until I’ve collected enough stickers to be entitled to a planner, heheh.

14 - Are there any sequels to things that you prefer to the original? Ooh, I’m not the biggest fan of movies that come in multiple parts so I don’t know if I have any picks. I can name covers that I like than the original songs, though.

15 - How often do you lose the remote control? I haven’t really sat down in front of a TV to watch shows since high school, so I haven’t temporarily lost a remote control since then.

16 - When was the last time you had problems with your internet connection? Last Thursday and Friday but only because the power went out.

17 - What games do you play on your phone, if any at all? I play 1010 the most, but I’ve got tons of other games that are just sitting in my menu just in case I’m suddenly in the mood to play them.

18 - Aside from family, who was the last person you spent time with? How do you know that person? I dunno, I guess the people in my work meeting video call yesterday afternoon? It was my first meeting with that particular team as the newbie at work, so I don’t actually know all of them that well yet.

19 - Are you currently warm, cold or just right? I am hot and irritated by it.

20 - Do you prefer showers or baths? When was the last time you had either? Showers; my last one was yesterday. My last bath was...no clue. Two years ago, maybe?

21 - Do you spend a lot of money on your appearance? I used to spend a lot on clothes, yeah, at least before Covid. But right now there really has been no point in upgrading my wardrobe, so I haven’t been buying any new pieces.

22 - When was the last time you spent more than £100 on something? Was it a necessity like a bill, or a treat for yourself? I have never spent ₱6,408 in one sitting, whether it be for myself, for a necessity, or for someone else. That’s crazy and will probably take a couple more years before I see myself making transactions that huge.

23 - Would you rather swim in the sea, a lake or a pool? Seeeeeeeea. I always feel at peace in the sea, and ugh I miss it so much.

24 - Have you ever had a zoo keeper experience or anything where you’ve been able to go behind the scenes and look after/feed the animals? I wouldn’t call it a zookeeper experience, but we went to some sort of animal park in Bali that let me carry and interact with all sorts of animals.

25 - Would you ever want the responsibility of being a politician or a similar position of power? Probably not. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.

26 - How many times a week do you go to the grocery store? My parents go at least once a week to buy groceries.

27 - When was the last time you got a takeaway coffee or drink? Last night. Being able to earn money and spend it on myself and never have to ask from my parents anymore has been one of the highlights of my year so far, aaaahhhhh

28 - Do you quote films or TV shows as you’re watching them? If I love the film and memorize a chunk of the dialogue, yes. The movie I quote the most as I watch it is most definitely Titanic.

29 - What’s something your parents do that really annoys you? My dad doesn’t really do anything that annoys me. My mom doesn’t knock.

30 - If you had to quarantine for two weeks tomorrow due to testing positive to COVID, would you be able to survive on the things you had in your house? Yes. I’ll be locked in my room but my dad will probably be bringing me food, just the way he did when I got sick last May and had to isolate myself.

#survey #surveys #multiple ones so feel free to chop it up

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