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annabethy · 4 years ago

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under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 21: best friend’s sister

Character A poses as their best friend’s lover for a Christmas party. Character B is the best friend’s sister,, percabeth

Percy truly doesn’t understand how it’s come to this.

He likes to think that he has at least some form of dignity, but he is quickly proven wrong as he is shoved into a suit by someone that has the audacity to call herself his friend.

“Quit pouting,” Piper chastises, pulling on his tie just a bit too tightly. He chokes dramatically, glaring at her, but she just rolls her eyes. “You agreed to this.”

“I did not agree to this,” he says. “I was simply there when your mom told you to bring a ‘lover’ to the party, and you held me at gunpoint.”

“You love it,” she says, laughing. It’s the complete opposite of the truth because he actually hates this, but his windpipe is cut off so he’s incapable of actually pointing that out.

“There’s no way anyone’s going to fall for this.”

She laughs. “Everyone will fall for this, and that’s why it’s perfect. No one’s seen us in forever since we moved away for college. We can just frame it as two best friends falling in love.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know if I can do that. I look at you and want to vomit.” Piper gasps in mock offense. “You never had feelings for me? Not even small ones?”

“I had feelings for a lot of people, but believe it or not, you were never one of them. Not then, not now, not ever.”

“You really just friend zoned your best friend,” Piper says.

“I’m in love with someone else,” he lies.

Piper snorts. “You’re in love with my sister.”

His smile falls. “I am not. You take that back.”

“Relax, Percy. I think it would be cute if you got with her. You could marry into the family!” She claps her hands before pausing. “We could just never talk about sex again. I don’t want to hear about how you blew my sister’s back out.”

Percy shrieks. “Piper!”

She just laughs, throwing the jacket of his suit in his face and motioning for him to follow him out the front door. He hurls insults at her as he settles into the driver’s seat – also against his will, by the way – but she just throws them right back at him.

The hour drive home is spent with them being about as stupid as possible. They scream along with the music blasting in the car until they’re both laughing so hard they can’t breathe. It helps ease his nerves because he knows who’s going to be at this Christmas party, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

He can’t even say her name right now because if he does, he might crash just so he doesn’t have to face her. It’s almost as though Piper can sense his frustration because she turns the music even louder until the car is shaking with the bass and he can’t hear his own thoughts.

Percy never ceases to be amazed by the wealth of Piper’s family. The second he walks into the manor, he is overwhelmed by the silvers and golds lining every inch of the place. It’s funny because he grew up around them, but it was always a stark contrast to the way his own life was. He could live a million lifetimes and never get used to being around people with this amount of money.

“So you’re rich rich,” Percy teases, just as he always does when they come home for the holidays,

“I’m wealthy,” she corrects, leading him along the corridors to the center of the party.

“Old money or new?”

“The type that could have you killed with the snap of my fingers,” she answers.

“Oh, please do not have me killed, your highness.” He grins cheekily as they walk into the center of the event.

“I must admit I’m liking the title,” she says. She stops him just before they are close enough to be noticed by anyone else, turning serious, and Percy fails miserably to match her tone. “From here on out, you’re my boyfriend, okay?”

“Oh god, I just threw up in my mouth.”

“That means having to kiss me at least once,” Piper says. “On the lips.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“I will never hear the end of this is they find out we’re faking, so start acting like a good boyfriend.”

“Uh.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Percy.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You’re going to plant one on these lips, or I’m going to pick up one of the silver forks and stab you with it.” “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, well if you’d kiss me, we might be able to get there.”

And then: “This is getting painful to watch.”

Percy and Piper both jump at the extra voice present. He turns his head so fast he nearly gets whiplash, and of course it’s her.

“Annabeth, my love!” Piper greets, giving her a lazy side hug. “I was just trying to get my boyfriend to kiss me.”

“Hm. I didn’t know you two were dating,” she says, a pointed grin towards Percy.

“Christmas surprise,” Piper adds, addressing Percy. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“You act like Annabeth’s my distant aunt,” Percy says, but he wraps her in a sweet hug anyways. It makes his heart stutter just the tiniest bit, and he has to force himself under control.

It’s embarrassing that he’s this caught up on her. It makes him feel a little guilty too, because she’s practically still a baby. He remembers when she was in diapers, wandering around the house with a pacifier while him and Piper messed around with play dough. Still, she had grown up, and he had too, and he hadn’t accounted for how pretty she would grow to be.

Okay, so he’s not that much older than her. He’s twenty, and she’s eighteen, so he supposes it’s acceptable, but now he’s in college and she’s still in high school, so things have grown… weird? He just doesn’t see her as much as he used to, and something in her changed. When she was younger, she would cling to him, but recently, she just looked at him with something he couldn’t pinpoint.

It looks similar to the face she has on now, actually.

“So you two are a couple now?” Annabeth asks, but Percy doesn’t really hear her. He’s too distracted looking everywhere except her short black dress she has on, or the way her curls fall perfectly onto her chest, or the gloss of her lips.

Piper elbows him, and he clears his throat. “Yeah. The happiest. We’re so in love. I want Piper’s babies.”

“Hm. From what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t have thought that was very true,” Annabeth says, giving him a knowing look. It makes him wonder just what she’s heard. “Anyways, dinner’s about to start. Why don’t you go show everyone just how in love you are, oh-so-real couple?”

Piper laughs, but Percy glares at her. He’s given no choice but to follow Piper as she skips towards the dinner, and Annabeth follows at a distance, eyes analyzing them. Annabeth clearly hadn’t fallen for the disguise for even two seconds, so it has him worrying the rest of the night.

He is rightfully worried because the dinner does not go at all as expected. Annabeth is directly to his right, and Piper to his left, and they seem determined to kill him. Piper’s all lovey on the outside, which is not something he’s used to in the slightest, and it has the entire family’s attention on him. They coo over the new ‘couple,’ and Annabeth laughs into the hand covering her mouth.

Annabeth clearly enjoys the entertainment, and also relishes in embarrassing him even more because she’s started playing footsy under the table, running her heels up and down his ankle. He does his best to not make a face, but then her hand occasionally brushes against his wrist, and it has him wondering what it all means. Annabeth is much more handsy today than she’s been… ever, and he’s enjoying it more than he should with his fake girlfriend next to him, so the next opportunity he gets to leave, he takes full advantage.

He twists and turns through the halls, gets lost about five times before finding somewhere that looks remotely familiar, and then repeating the process. It’s a good few minutes before he finds an empty balcony and pushes open the doors to step outside.

It’s not to take a moment to breathe, really, because he’s fine. It’s just overwhelming, he supposes, sitting next to the girl he’s almost ninety percent sure he’s crushing on that he probably shouldn’t be, and his best friend who is apparently his girlfriend now.

“Hey, Piper’s boyfriend,” a voice calls. “You good?”

Percy rolls his eyes fondly, turning around. “Did you need something, Piper’s sister?”

She just shrugs and steps forward. “Just thought I’d come tease you a little bit.”

“Tease me?”

“A fake relationship? Really?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he says. “You’re, like, twelve.”

“I’m eighteen, but nice try.”

“A baby,” he emphasizes, heart suddenly beginning to race as she drags her fingers up his chest, tugging lightly on the tie. “Do you need something or not?”

“I guess I just have a question,” she says, leaning against the rail now. “So. I’ve heard things. Suspected even longer because even if I’m two years younger, I’m about two years smarter.”

He laughs. “What do you want to know?”

“You liked me,” she says. “Back in high school, I think.”

It’s a blow to his lungs, and he can’t find the air to breathe. He knew she’d bring it up at some point, because even if they never acknowledged it, it’s been floating between them, unsaid. He never acted on it because she was practically his own little sister at some point, and she’s Piper’s sister, and it just felt wrong.

“I think so,” he answers. “I don’t know.”

“Explain?”

“You’re Piper’s sister,” he tries.

��I’m Piper’s sister. I’m also your friend.” Annabeth tilts her head, a slight smile pulling at her lips. “What’s the problem then?”

“I–” He blinks. “I don’t know. I guess there isn’t one, really. It just never turned to anything more before I graduated, and now I’m hours away.”

“That leads me to my next question.” She stands again to face him head on. “You’re in college now. I haven’t seen you more than five times since you graduated two years ago. Are those feelings still there?”

“I don’t recall you ever being so upfront,” he teases. He doesn’t need to take time and think about her question though. He already knows the answer. He knows it every single time Piper says her sister’s name, or one of Annabeth’s pictures pops up on his timeline. He likes his best friend’s sister.

It might be more than just a crush.

(Definitely more than a crush.)

“I love you, Annabeth,” he says, “but I don’t want to do anything that might make things different, you know? I grew up with you, and I grew up with Piper, and if something happens, Piper will take your side, and I’ll lose the two people I love most, and–”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says. “I asked if the feelings are still there.”

From the way she’s looking at him, he doesn’t need to answer. “Why are you asking if you already know the answer.”

“Because I want to know if it would still be a good time to kiss you, like I’ve wanted to do for the last two years.”

Percy chokes out a laugh. “Annabeth.”

“You love me, Percy. It’s obvious to see it’s as more than a friend, and it always has been.” She bites at her bottom lip. “Do you know how many people I’ve had tell me that you and I would work well together?”

“I’m assuming a lot.”

“Piper was the number one supporter, surprisingly enough,” she tells him. “And I know you’re on a date with my sister, but she practically shoved me out of the dining room chair to come follow you, so it’s safe to say she wants this too.”

“Piper has issues.”

“Yeah, but you love her, and you love me.” Percy’s fingers fidget, because even though all of this has been swimming around inside him for years, hearing it from her is something else entirely.

“It’s only weird if you let it be,” she says, and something breaks inside of him.

Annabeth’s his friend too, and she’s a part of his life.

He loves her, so he kisses her.

It feels an awful lot like coming home. Suddenly, nothing else matters except him and her. Annabeth is his best friend’s sister, but she’s also his best friend too, and the person he loves and always has.

He distantly realizes that it’s going to be difficult to explain to her family how he went from being Piper to Annabeth, but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. It’ll be a cute story to tell in the future if this ever turns to anything more. He really hopes it does.

Annabeth is his family, and his best friend, and she is the one he was meant to be with from the start.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing

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winryofresembool · 4 years ago

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 23

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 1.

A/N: This is the first part of possibly a long-ish Halloween 'arc' that is to come. I have to warn you that I only have 1 more chapter as a draft version and the said chapter is a mess and has caused me a lot of insecurities so... I'm not entirely sure how long it will take me to work through the issues that chapter has. I still hope I will have something to post next Friday! Please be patient with me, I promise I have every intention to continue and finish this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments the previous chapter got! You guys are the best :) And keep them coming because that is literally the best reward I can get :)

Words: 3200+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

“Hey Sunshine, you ready?” Leo asked her flatmate one November Friday as he was pulling his winter coat on in the hallway.

“In a minute!” Calypso yelled from her room. “Just… One final touch up!”

Leo checked his watch. “Okay, as long as it’s really a minute! You know Argo II isn’t waiting!”

“You do know that Argo II doesn’t have feelings, right? It’s a car,” his non-understanding flatmate argued.

“You better hope he didn’t hear that!” Leo protested. “He may just not turn on at all if you claim such things.”

“Oh my gods, Leo. Sometimes I wonder if you care about your machines more than people.”

Leo didn’t respond to that. To himself he mumbled. “At least I know how to fix them. And can’t hurt them.”

The flatmates were getting ready to leave for Jason and Piper’s late Halloween party. Most of the members of their friend group had been busy doing their own things on the real Halloween weekend but they had decided that they’d still want to have a small gathering at Jason and Piper’s house on a later date. Percy and Annabeth would be there, as well as Jason’s sister Thalia, her ‘friend’ Reyna, and Jason’s friend and a distant relative Nico. To Calypso Leo had told, that he had only met Nico a couple of times, because apparently Nico was a bit of a lonely soul and he wandered around the country doing who knows what. That fall, though, he had apparently met someone who had managed to keep him rooted to his home, so Leo suspected that there was a possibility that Nico really would show up this time.

Leo snapped out of his thoughts when Calypso’s door was pulled open, revealing the girl in her costume. His mouth opened involuntarily as he took her in. She was wearing a white chiton like dress with golden decorations around the neckline and accessories that matched the theme. Those included a golden headband and a belt, a bracelet made of real flowers, strappy leather sandals and since her own hair was short now, she had gotten a caramel colored wig that she had braided to one side, reminding Leo a lot of the hairstyle Calypso had had when she had moved in. She smiled at Leo shyly. “Well, what do you think?” She asked, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to show it off better.

“You’re… you’re…” Leo felt the words escape him again. With frustration he wondered how one person could do that to him. Leo Valdez never ran out of words.

“Calypso?” she tried to guess what he had wanted to say.

‘What?” He asked with confusion, unable to follow Calypso’s track of thoughts. In his mind he had answered her question ‘prettier than greek goddesses’ but he realized too late that she had meant that she was dressed up like the Calypso from the Greek mythology. “Oh, now I got it. Must have sniffed too much machine oil or something…Anyway, I see you have some self irony, dressing as your name sake.”

“That was kind of the point, Valdez. A girl named Calypso who studies Greek mythology? People comment on my name so often that I decided it’s time to make it clear that yes, I’m aware of that coincidence.”

“Ooh, the great revenge,” Leo chuckled. Suddenly he noticed that Calypso had turned more serious, her hands fiddling with her purse.

“Really, though, what do you think of this? I made this dress and these bracelets myself. And my mum gave me this before we moved here,” she pointed at her headband. “Apparently it’s something that’s been running in our family; my grandma wore it in her wedding picture and so on…”

“Oh… Well… that’s cool,” Leo said, mentally cursing the ‘error’ message on his brain. “You did a good job. I mean… I once saw a painting of Calypso in the Indianapolis Museum of Art and I think you look nothing like her… in a good way!”

“Aww, thank you.” Calypso seemed happily surprised about Leo’s comment, and he swore the expression made her even cuter. He also wondered if he should have a doctor check his heart because it seemed to do funny things in her presence...

“You’re welcome?” he replied stupidly.

“So, where is your costume?” Calypso asked curiously, apparently only now paying attention to the fact that he indeed wasn’t wearing one yet. “I thought you said we’re in a hurry.”

“I can’t drive in mine, it’s difficult to see from under it,” Leo explained, returning to his room to get a huge sports bag where he had packed his creation a bit earlier. He had spent several days making it and he was kind of proud of the final result. Although, seeing Calypso now, for a moment he still wondered if he had made a mistake with his costume choice, but it was too late to change his mind now. “I’ll put it on when we get there.” He gestured towards the bag.

“Okay,” Calypso nodded while changing her shoes into more fall suitable ones. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you have come up with.”

“Good, because it will blow your mind,” Leo claimed.

“I will refrain from forming any opinions before I see it,” Calypso noted, putting her keys into her pocket. “Now, come on, mister Mysterious, I hear Argo II isn’t very patient.”

Leo secretly loved it when Calypso attempted to joke back, and he grinned at her as he held the door open so she could leave first.

“Let’s go then, Sunshine.”

…

The drive to Jason and Piper took about 20 minutes so Leo and Calypso had a lot of time to talk about whatever came to their minds. At first Calypso gave Leo pretty short answers and he got worried that something was wrong between them again, but eventually Leo got her curious about the guests at the party that she hadn’t met yet.

“The Hunters are traveling a lot because of their competitions so I haven’t met Thalia that often. She’s a little bit scary, though. She has this edgy look going on and I’ve heard she is super strong; she’d ninja throw me on the floor before I’d have time to say Festus if given a chance. I’m trying very hard not to give her any reasons to do that.”

“Ouch. She sounds like something else,” Calypso said.

“She is,” Leo confirmed, almost getting chills only thinking about her. “She can be nice if you get to her good side, though.”

“Is it just me or does someone have a crush?” Calypso asked teasingly.

“What? No!” Leo exclaimed, glancing at Calypso’s reaction briefly. “Alright, maybe I used to have but that was when I didn’t know what was the best for me. But that was a long time ago. Besides, she’s totally dating someone even though they won’t admit it.” ‘And I wish I was dating someone else as well’, he thought, but left that unsaid.

“Oh? Will I get to meet that person today?” Calypso asked with curiosity.

“I think you will. From what I know Reyna’s always with Thalia. They claim they are only best friends but Jason has told me that they are keeping a low profile because it’s forbidden inside their team to date their teammates.”

“That sounds like a basis for a tragic love story,” Calypso said while staring out of the window with a dreamy expression. “I don’t even know these people but as a hopeless romantic I hope they will find some solution.”

Leo thought Calypso was very cute when she talked like that “Yeah. I hope.”

“So, do you know this Reyna personally?” she asked then, distracting Leo from his thoughts.

“You could say that,” Leo answered, trying to focus on the road instead of the girl next to him. “The team visits Waystation regularly because Jo and Emmie used to coach them back in the day and as a fellow Spanish speaker Reyna has always paid special attention to me. I swear, sometimes she treats me like I was his little brother…”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet in my opinion. What is this team you were talking about, though? Did you say Hunters?”

“Oh, yep. The Artemis’ Hunters, named after the Greek goddess Artemis, naturally. It’s an archery group… Hey, is everything alright?”

Leo couldn’t help but notice that Calypso had shifted uncomfortably on her seat and adjusted her seatbelt a bit looser around her shoulder when he had said the name.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I just… used to know someone who was in the Hunters as well, so I was surprised they have some connections here, that’s all.” Calypso turned her head to stare out of the window, sending Leo signals that he should drop the topic. He decided to push it a little bit further, though.

“You did? But you said ‘was’. Is she not in it anymore?”

“No,” Calypso shook her head, but didn’t elaborate.

“OK.” Leo sighed. A few moments earlier Calypso had been smiling and teasing him about some old crush and now she was acting cold again. Clearly the Hunters were a painful topic for her, but Leo couldn’t figure out why. Had something happened to the person Calypso had known? And why did she have to be so secretive? Leo wanted so badly to be able to help her and understand her, but when she was not opening up, it was very hard to do anything about it.

“Any guesses about what my costume may be?” He decided to change the topic. That seemed to cheer his flatmate up a bit.

Calypso closed her eyes while thinking, a tiny smile forming on her face. “Hmmm, I imagine it’s probably something flashy. But knowing you it could also be your work coveralls and working boots. I know how much you love those, after all.”

“It’s flashy, alright,” Leo said, his grin returning back to his face. “I’ll give you another hint: it’s a character from one of my favorite TV shows or movies.”

“You have a lot of those,” Calypso reminded him. “Ooh, now I know!! You’re Dalek! That’s why you would have a hard time seeing from under the costume.”

“No,” Leo shook his head, “But now that you say that, that would’ve been cool! Why didn’t you give me that idea earlier?”

“Because you already had an awesome idea? Or that’s at least the impression I got,” Calypso reminded him.

“Well, yeah. I still like my current idea. Maybe next time I’ll make a Dalek.” Leo had a goofy smile on his face as he imagined building a Dalek costume from the scratch.

“Sounds like a plan. So, will you reveal to me what you will be this time?” Calypso asked.

“Nah, you’ll see soon. Good things are worth waiting for, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Calypso shrugged. “Although our opinions on what’s good tend to differ a bit based on our previous TV watching experiences.”

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s good we are flatmates. It’s good to broaden your horizons sometimes and learn about different things that other people like,” Leo pointed out.

“Maybe you’re right,” Calypso admitted. “But are you saying you have learned something from me? What could that be?”

“That olives taste bad? That sometimes Venusaur can be more useful than Charizard?”

“Not exactly what I was looking for, but I’ll take that.” Leo turned his head just enough to see a small smirk on Calypso’s face.

“I was just messing with you because I think you secretly like it,” Leo said with a grin. “But really, you have taught me a lot. That we shouldn’t let fears control the direction of our life. That Greek mythology is actually pretty fascinating even if tía Callida made it sound boring as hell, and we should all learn to understand different cultures better. And, you know? There’s no way we can know every single thing about someone else so we just need to learn to trust and give them a benefit of the doubt sometimes. And finally, I shouldn’t underestimate your Mario Kart skills.”

Calypso snorted at the last part. “Sometimes you do surprise me, Repair Boy. That was a good answer.”

“I can feel my reputation as the Bad Boy Supreme getting shattered to pieces. What about me, though? Have I taught you something?” Leo asked. If he was honest to himself, he didn’t want to know because what could he possibly teach to a smart girl like her?

“You taught me that chilis are evil and you should never eat them the way I did,” Calypso replied, and Leo was fully prepared for more teasing. But it never came.

“You have also shown me sometimes persistency can be a very good thing – otherwise we probably wouldn’t be friends now. We also shouldn’t judge a book by the cover – I’m just saying that when I first saw you I was kind of prejudiced… but since learning to know you better I realized I was wrong. And remember that time when Jo and Georgina were visiting us and you came home a bit late? Jo told me some stories about you before you arrived and that made me understand how far hard work can sometimes take us. You’ve come a long way… and while there are always things we can work on and improve, I think it’s important to be proud of the things we have already achieved, even when looking ahead.”

“Wow… those are some really nice things you just said there…” Leo stumbled to find the right words. Especially the last point had hit him hard because he had had a very hard time with his self esteem recently. He still didn’t know if he would be allowed to retake his lab test – and more importantly, if he was even capable of trying. That was just the tip of the iceberg; it definitely wouldn’t be the only time he would have to face his fear during his studies and later on in the work life, and he would eventually have to make the difficult decision whether it was worth going through. He did want to get over his fear, but with her own issues on her mind, he hadn’t wanted to ask her to help until the situation was better.

“Hey,” Calypso squeezed his knee gently and Leo was afraid he’d accidentally brake so fast they’d crash somewhere. Thankfully he managed to contain himself. “I know I nag and tease you sometimes, but I hope you know despite that I actually care about you and respect you for the things you do. I’m… glad you’re my flatmate.”

Leo was very thankful that it was dark in the car because he was positive that he was redder than a chili pepper. After swallowing hard, he managed to croak: “Yeah. Thanks. You’re pretty neat too.” “Pretty neat?” Calypso asked, cocking her eyebrow.

“Argh, sorry, you can’t expect a guy to be able to think straight after you tell them something like that!” Leo exclaimed. “But, uh, I mean, I think the same way. That it’s nice that you’re my flatmate.”

“Glad we have that established.” Calypso smiled at him. Again Leo wondered what it was about that smile that made his heart go crazy. He had had a couple of short term girlfriends before Calypso had moved in and even though he had liked them, there was something different about how Calypso made him feel. But now that Leo thought about it, he realized that for example Khione, his first girlfriend (who had turned out to be quite an ice queen in the end) had had a smile that had never quite reached her eyes and made him wonder what was truly going on in that head of hers. His second girlfriend, Echo, had been a sweet girl but something about her smile had said that she’d rather be free of relationship bonds. Leo thought that he had probably sensed that from pretty early on because it had been a smaller shock for him than his first break up. But Calypso’s smile? It made Leo want to see it over and over again, and instead of wanting something from him, it seemed to give him more energy. It made him feel restless, but in a positive way.

When Leo snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that Calypso was staring at him weirdly, as if he had been in his daze for a while.

“What?” he asked a bit nervously.

“You just completely missed my question,” Calypso stated, frowning a little.

Leo tried to shake his head to clear his mind a bit. “Sorry, I was just… remembering something. But what did you ask?”

“I asked if there’s any news from your professors about your studies. It’s been a while since you’ve said anything about that.”

Leo gulped. “Yeah. Right. Um, at the moment I’m continuing to attend the classes except the lab one. I guess I should ask the lab professor if he would still let me redo the test at some point. But the other problem is, I’m not sure if I can. You know, if I have it in me to get over my stupid fear.”

“It is not a stupid fear, Leo. You have your reasons. But I do believe that you can get over it. And I want to help you. We should start working on it soon, how about tomorrow or some time next week?”

“Tomorrow is fine to me.” Leo started tapping his fingers against the wheel, a sign of him feeling anxious about the topic. “I… really appreciate your help. Is there something I can do in return?”

“You already did!” Calypso said to his surprise.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Remember that flower shop you mentioned to me?” Calypso asked. “I guess I’ve been so busy this week that I forgot to mention this but it looks like I’m getting the job! The interview went well and the boss invited me to see how they make their flower arrangements and they even let me do this.” Calypso showed him her flower bracelet that had some small roses and several other flowers the names of which he didn’t know. “She will make her final decision on Monday but I might start working there already next week.”

“That’s awesome news! Congrats!” Leo said, genuinely happy for her.

“Thank you! And sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it seems we have both been rather busy this week, I feel I’ve barely seen you…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I was useful for something! But look, that’s Jason and Piper’s place.” He nodded towards the building in front of them.

Leo looked from the corner of his eyes how Calypso would react to seeing the house. From what he knew Calypso hadn’t been there earlier; she and Piper had hung out more at their flat due to the closeness of the university. He wasn’t disappointed when he saw Calypso’s mouth open a bit.

“I know, pretty impressive.” Leo said.

“I have seen big houses before but this looks way nicer than the ones I know…” Calypso noted. Leo wanted to ask more about that but he knew that the friends were waiting so he decided to leave it for later. Once he had parked the car, some strange instinct told him to rest his hand on hers for a moment before he gestured to Calypso to step outside.

“After you.”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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segalia · 4 years ago

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Living in Lockdown with You

What’s that saying about writing indulgent fluff if you don’t have the inspiration to write? Yeah...this domestic fluff three-parter has been nagging at me since I was in extreme lockdown a month ago and wondered how Percy and Annabeth would handle a similar situation. Featuring clingy and sleepy Percabeth and working from home. Enjoy.

*** Annabeth stared at the screen blearily, trying desperately to focus on the videoconference in front of her. As a demigod, focusing was hard for her at the best of times, and this switch to everything online certainly wasn’t helping. She was all too aware of her face in the lower corner of her screen, wishing her boss hadn’t insisted they leave their cameras on for this presentation. Blinking and squaring her shoulders, she was just about to try again to tune into the discussion of a new architectural technique when a mug floated out of the corner of her vision.

She looked up to see Percy offering her the steaming mug with a sympathetic smile. She took it gratefully, cupping it in between her hands and letting the warmth revitalize her.

Thank you, she mouthed, then remembered her mic was off. “Thank you,” she repeated out loud, needing something real to ground her to this moment.

“Of course,” he nodded, and turned to give her space to focus.

“Wait,” she put the mug on the table and caught his hand, reveling in the familiar feel of his hand in hers. “Can you stay just a few minutes?”

He smiled again, that troublemaker but supportive smile that had eased its way into her heart so long ago.

“Of course,” he repeated, making himself comfortable on a nearby chair.

She expected him to start playing on his phone as she went back to focusing on the presenter, so he caught her off guard a few minutes later when he posed an insightful question about what the presenter was saying. As she answered, pulling together facts from earlier in the presentation and one of her college classes, she realized that this weird combination of stimulation, from the hot liquid warming her up inside and his hand in hers, to the presenter’s voice and Percy’s questions, was helping her focus better than she had all day. She squeezed his hand briefly in his thanks, and he gave her a warm look before asking another question.

Gods, he was so smart.

With Percy peppering occasional questions throughout, she was able to not only breeze through the rest of the lecture, but also pose several intelligent questions when it came to the follow-up meeting. Finally, the meeting concluded, everyone said goodbye, and she signed off.

She sagged back in her chair in relief. “Oh my gods, thank you. You were a lifesaver.” She hadn’t meant to steal him for the whole meeting, and she was sure he had other things he was probably supposed to be working on, but she was so grateful and he was so willing that she decided to feel appreciative rather than guilty.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It was actually pretty interesting. I’ve listened to you rant about architecture enough over the years that at least most of the words made sense.”

Too tired to properly express her emotions of gratitude and how smart and amazing he was even if he didn’t always see himself that way, she raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it softly. “You’re amazing, thank you.”

His smile was soft and a little bashful, but all he said was, “what are you thinking for supper? I’m not sure we have enough leftovers for a full meal.”

Her brain switched gears to food, and they started brainstorming. With stretching and groaning, they rose and headed to the kitchen, ready to tackle this new challenge as a team.

***

A couple days later, she found herself going to bed at a decent hour for once (quarantine and distance work had been messing with her already messed up sleep schedule). When she crawled under the covers, however, Percy was still seated in bed, staring intently at his laptop (their apartment was really tiny--what can you do against New York apartment prices?-- and didn’t have much in the way of living space).

“Are you--” she yawned, “almost done?”

“Huh? Oh, I mean, I think so? I can move elsewhere if you want.”

She shook her head sleepily, aligning her body so she could curl around him. “It’s okay. Just dim your monitor please.”

He nodded absent-mindedly, focus already returning to his work as he complied.

She must have drifted off because she woke disoriented to find Percy still tapping away on his laptop. “Hey.” She breathed, adjusting her position to lean against him, stretching out a crick in her arm, “what time is it?”

“Hm? Oh, I guess it’s 2:30.” He blinked and muttered, “when did that happen?”

“Percy,” she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, “you should head to bed.”

“I know, I know, I’m just really close to finishing.”

“You said that several hours ago.” If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall asleep and drool on his shirt.

He kept typing, and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her.

“Perce? Are you actually close to a stopping point? Cause if you save it for tomorrow and get some sleep now, you’ll probably do better work.”

The computer noises stopped, and she felt him chuckle under her cheek. “Now where have I heard those words before?”

She grinned sleepily, “Not sure. I think some wise guy said it a couple times.”

“Wise guy, huh?”

She could picture the smile on his face, but merely hummed in agreement and snuggled further into his side.

“Okay, okay.” There was a pause before he said, “for real this time, I found a good stopping point, just give me a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she was drifting off again.

True to his word, she felt him shift several minutes later, and suddenly the dim light vanished. A tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding released. She only grumbled slightly as he gently slipped out from under her grasp, and sooner than she expected, he was back under the covers, drawing her into his chest.

“Love you,” she murmured. “Sleep tight.”

She felt a laugh rumble through his chest as he bent to kiss her forehead. “You too, Annabeth. Love you.”

***

Her laptop was lifted from her lap mid-sentence and a weight settled in its place. “What?” She looked down to find Percy sprawled across the bed between her legs, head pillowed in his arms on her lap.

“Sleepy,” he muttered, shifting to get comfortable.

“I wonder why,” she responded affectionately, holding her laptop in one hand and carding her fingers through his hair with the other.

“Had to-” he yawned, “finish the project.”

“And you did, so I’d say you’ve earned your rest.” His recent tiredness put her in mind of the months after he’d taken the Achilles’ Curse when he’d fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, often in this very same position.

Of course, then, she didn’t usually have a computer and a report to finish.

“Hey,” she gently tapped the computer on his head. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “That works.”

“This works?” She repeated, skeptically resting her laptop on his head.

“Sure.”

Deciding to play along, she tried to continue typing. “Hm, I’ve determined that your head is not a sufficiently flat surface.”

She felt him shrug against her legs. “Not for lack of trying.”

“I don’t think I’m advocating for more monsters to bash you in the head.” She moved her laptop to his back instead. “I’m fond of your skull as it is.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, running her hand through his hair again, tracing the shape of his head. “Now stop distracting me.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

Smiling and rolling her eyes, she turned back to her report in the dyslexia-supportive program one of her siblings had designed. Percy’s back was much more stable than his head, and she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate the company.

She finished a rough draft and saved it, deciding to look it over for errors and edits later. As she closed the report, her background came into view. It was her and Percy during their visit to Washington DC the year before. They’d planned a large group trip with Grover and the rest of the seven to support Piper’s recent appointment. A lot of them had road tripped down together, and spent hours at the Smithsonian Museums. It had been the last time all of them had been together, and now, with lockdown, the memories were even more precious. Her heart clenched, and she was immensely grateful for Percy, even if he was becoming hot and heavy.

“We should have a group call with the others soon.”

He stirred; she honestly hadn’t been sure he was still conscious. “We have one the day after tomorrow. Hazel put it in the group chat, and you already agreed.”

“Oh yeah.” With the stress of lockdown and working from home, details were a little hazy sometimes. “That’s good then. Are we calling your mom any time soon?”

“Maybe tonight? Paul’s busy with teaching online, and Mom’s been busy with her book and trying to homeschool Estelle. She said she’d let me know.”

“Cool,” she idly traced patterns on his back. “Gotta say I’m so grateful for modern technology right now.”

He snorted, “And that we can use it now.”

“Gods, yeah.” A combined effort on the part of some Hephaestus kids, Athena kids, and a remarkably tech savvy Ares kid had led to a spell/app combo that meant monsters could no longer trace demigods through their technology. Annabeth had to admit that a smartphone had been a lifesaver a number of times, both in college and in monster fighting.

“So, what do you want to do for this rest of the day? Especially now that you got that project out of the way?”

“Sleep.”

She tugged at his hair, “you can sleep later, c’mon.”

“You can sleep with me,” he suggested, and she caught his mischievous look.

“I’m not tired,” she stuck out her tongue. “Do you wanna watch something? We’re nearly caught up on, uh, that one show.”

He named it. “That one?”

Snapping her fingers, she nodded decisively as if she’d had the name all the time. He just gave her that teasing smile. “Yeah, that one. Wanna watch that?”

With an overly dramatic sigh, he crawled off her. “Sure.” He kissed her cheek as he settled into her side. “Popcorn?”

“Why not?” She smiled at him, “but you have to salt it.”

“I think I can agree with that,” he grinned at her and pulled her laptop to him so he could pull up the show.

She plodded to the kitchen (well, kitchenette), and returned a few minutes later with only slightly burnt popcorn and a salt shaker for Percy to wield. As she curled up beside him, and the familiar title song played, Annabeth felt the deep-seated contentment that no matter what crazy things were happening in the world right now, no matter how helpless and scared she felt, at least she had her something permanent with Percy.

#pjo #percabeth #percy and annabeth #domestic fluff #fanfiction #seg's stuff #I tried to keep details vague so you can project your favorite future headcanons #reblogs likes and comments are always appreciated!

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yeaahishowedupatyourparty · 4 years ago

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The Calloways: Back stories, information & more ❥ Part One: Family.

Obviously, Synn, Katie and Fae have all taken a sister each and will grow them in ways that they see best but these are my original headcanons and ideas of what the family are like & what their lives are like.

The Family (by age)

Gerald Calloway (46) Anthea Calloway (45) Eloise Calloway Amber Calloway Felicity Calloway Piper Calloway - ‘Deceased’ Zara Calloway Darla Sutherland - Mother of Eloise

Gerald Calloway

Gerald inherited The Calloway from his father and the hotel has been in the family since before the First World War. He’s a traditionalist and definitely takes pride in being “the man of the house.” With Eloise - Eloise and Gerald have a special bond. Despite what Eloise may think, he’s never wanted his oldest daughter to feel pushed out or not a part of the family. He definitely has a soft spot for her and believes the two of them are bonded in a way he’ll have be able to achieve with the other girls. With Amber - Amber is his first child with his current wife and he definitely sees her as a ‘Mummy’s Girl’. He loves her just as much as he loves the others, but with her being Anthea’s favourite, Gerald rarely had much to do with her as she got older. With Felicity - Gerald would’ve seen Felicity as a relief. Before she came, it was very much Eloise vs. Amber and him trying to find a way to balance them both when their mothers wanted one to be better than the other. I feel like Gerald would’ve used Felicity to bring some sort of unity between the sisters because she gave them a common ground; because of this, Felicity is probably the reason he’s a lot closer to his family in general which gives them a great bond. With Piper - Piper was always the ‘difficult twin’ out of her and Zara. Piper and Zara were Gerald’s first taste at having famous children; think Mary-Kate and Ashley; and he loved the bragging rights he gave him. However, rather than being the half-child-half-doll that Zara was, Piper would lash out more. All of the sisters knew that Piper and Gerald didn’t get along, Piper included. With Zara - Being the youngest, Zara spent most of her childhood doing as she was told and going where she was taken. Seeing as she was a child star with Piper, Gerald loved this. When Piper would lash out, Zara would stand in and charm everybody again. She was the perfect addition his father needed; big blue eyes, a head of blonde hair and an angelic presence. After Zara had difficult teenage years, I think Gerald does the most to get back a daughter that doesn’t exist anymore.

Anthea Calloway

Anthea had been a young model and socialite when she met Gerald back in the nineties; think Serena Van Der Woodsen. Her family were famous for owning land more than anything else but being the older sister of two, she was determined to make more of a name for herself beyond that, hence the modelling. She later went on to launch her own fashion brand and magazine known as Enchanté. With Eloise - Anthea and Eloise’s relationship is almost non-existent and it’s Anthea’s fault. Even though she got Gerald and she was the reason he broke up with Darla, it wasn’t good enough. She spent a lot of years being jealous of the fact that Gerald had a child with Darla and she’d never measure up. When her own daughters eventually did come along, she did and still does everything in her power to keep a divide between her own girls and Eloise. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. With Amber - The moment Amber came along, Anthea suddenly felt secure in her relationship with Gerald. Darla couldn’t be smug that she had a daughter with Gerald and Anthea didn’t, because she now did. Amber was and still is her pride and joy, and Anthea will go out of her way to make sure Amber is better than Eloise in everything. It doesn’t help that the two girls are so close in age, because they grew up feeling the rivalry too. However, with Darla out of the picture for the most part, it was clear that Amber would usually win any competition Anthea set up. With Felicity - Anthea, of course, loves Felicity and as with everything else, she’d often push Amber and Felicity to do things together which is why the girls were so close. Anthea noticed that Felicity was feistier than Amber from a younger age, and would often use this to her own benefit when it came to indirectly upsetting Eloise. She’d often plant ideas and misconceptions in her daughters head to pull the girls apart. However - and it’s a big however, while Anthea is proud of Felicity for breaking into fashion just like she did as well as Amber, she’ll always do what she can to make sure Amber is the better of the two. With Piper - Piper was always Anthea’s least favourite child and she never really had it a big secret. Yes, Piper was technically the family’s “cash cow” - Zara definitely wouldn’t have made childhood stardom on her own - but, she was a pain. She was reckless and hard to control. When Piper fell pregnant at just fourteen, Anthea found this the perfect excuse to send her away to secretly live with her Great Aunt in Sweden. Anthea still works today to make sure her daughter stays away, as the girls and Gerald believe that she died through a freak accident while out in L.A. With Zara - Zara was like a doll to Anthea. She was the baby, the one she could dress up and control when the other girls were too old for all of that. She enjoyed the attention Zara got through her fame and often lived vicariously through her. She put a lot of effort on her youngest to do everything her sisters did and more; some would even believe she was attempting to make Amber 2.0 out of her. When Zara went off the rails and moved to L.A., Anthea believed that Zara knew about Piper and does her best to keep her sweet. Zara doesn’t know, but Anthea doesn’t know that and will bend over backwards to keep Zara sweet.

Darla Sutherland

Darla was the high school sweetheart of Gerald and also the mother of Eloise, his first child and her only child. Darla herself came from money. Her family own a very successful chain of restaurants in the South of England which gave them the money to place her in the school that Gerald also attended. They married as soon as they were legal - sixteen, Gerald was seventeen - and were together until Gerald started to become more in tune with the world of show business. That’s where he met Anthea. Darla didn’t want to believe it at first, but it was obvious that their relationship was completely falling apart and while Gerald kept his promise of helping to raise Eloise, she was extremely bitter and has nothing but hate towards Anthea and her other girls. She lives in Cornwall, where her family originally were from.

Piper Calloway (TW: Grooming/Abortion)

Piper was the twin of Zara. The second youngest Calloway sister and definitely the one with the biggest presence. Her family believe she ‘passed away’ out in Los Angeles after contracting an illness by chance. The truth of the matter is that she’s currently living out in rural Sweden with her Great Aunt. She fell pregnant at 14 with the baby of one of her show’s producers and was sent away to have her abortion in Sweden; she didn’t know she’d be kept there, but Anthea made sure she was. With Eloise - Piper was probably the only sister who’d actively understand that Anthea was deliberately trying to turn the other girls against their older sister. Amber was raised against her, Felicity didn’t know any different and Zara was too quiet. Piper wouldn’t have it, though, and would often try to rebuild bridges where Anthea burnt them. With Amber - Amber was the sister Piper clashed most with, just because she reminded Piper so much of their mother, and Piper hates their mother. She didn’t quite understand the pedestal Amber was on at all times either. As far as the daughters of Anthea go, these two represent the opposite ends of the spectrum; Amber is the golden girl, Piper is...not. With Felicity - Piper and Felicity probably have the most similarities personality-wise and in a normal family, probably would have been the closest of the sisters. However, knowing how much her parents love Felicity, Piper would go out of her way to be nasty or upset her because she knows in turn, it’d hurt Gerald and Anthea. The bottom line is, Piper loved all of her sisters but didn’t love how they were so linked to her parents; and her hate for them always triumphed. With Zara - Being the closest in age, they fought and loved harder than any of the other sisters did. They lived in each other’s pockets from the age of five right up until everything changed. Even though Zara was only a few minutes younger than Piper, Piper would go out of her way to shield Zara from things she didn’t want her to be exposed to; creepy men in the industry, drugs, bad people in general. Piper always had better intuition than Zara to the point where it’s no surprise Zara made a whole heap of bad decisions as soon as she was out of the picture.

#the calloways #saved

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bunkernine · 4 years ago

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now that you’re bored let’s get those explanations 😌

kk. tell us ur 5 fav pjo characters (apollo is number 1 but the rest are in no particular order):

apollo/lester: i’ve explained this a couple of times so just go through my apollo tag lol 😩

leo: uhhh i read tlh at a really strange time in my life, and the lost trio felt very real to me haha. i particularly connected with leo. after tlh, i don’t really care about him lol, but i think his story could’ve been very compelling had he been developed properly and written by literally anyone else 🤔 he would’ve been SUCH an interesting lead with jason&piper especially with how the original trio and lost trio compare. when i talk about canon leo i’m only thinking about tlh leo and leo from the buford story (i find that to be the best leo actually because his inventiveness and quick mind is very clear in that short story, and even though he’s under pressure and being threatened by crackheads, he just goes along with it and figures out a plan with his own leo-flair... also jason and piper care about him unlike the rest of the books lmao)

stolls: they’re fun!!! 😌 i like fun characters lol. they’re relatively drama free and their teamwork is the stuff i dream of. i used to picture myself as a hermes kid when i was little, so i thought that having them as my older brothers would be awesome heh. anyway, they were pretty neat to nico, and it’s fun writing their differences and similarities. i find the idea of having a mortal-sided sibling at chb interesting- especially considering their brother luke was literally losing it about family lmao 💀 anyway they’re just fun, very fun haha

my piper: ugggggggggh the moment piper met reyna in canon, was the moment she lost a personality. reyna might’ve sucked it up or something idk, because piper only cared about jason and her relationship after that 😩 anyway i like my piper because everytime i write her, it’s completely different LMAOOO. a woman of many faces indeed 😝 (i’m trying harder to align her to her tlh character tho 😤😤😤)

tannabeth: so, if you’ve spent more than 5 seconds on my blog, it’s pretty easy to think that i hate her lmao. honestly? annabeth was soooo sweet in orig pjo. she was the daughter of wisdom but did the most dumb shit ever, but she was stubborn and always knew what she wanted haha. some of her reasonings are very intriguing to me, and in hoo, i really did want to rip her away from the books 🙄 i don’t really care about her bitchy moments, because i’m bitchy myself 😌 mmm, i remember liking her a lot when i read the orig series because she was strong and i loved that she didn’t need powers to stand up for himself. like she genuinely wasn't that afraid of percy lmao, she had the BIGGEST balls. i was a nerd growing up (🤫 shhh) so it really amazed me that she was also a nerd but a little more than that. anyway im still gonna clown her cause her stans are irritating af and she’s a little irritating too 😠

basically, they’re my fav characters because they’re super annoying like me bro lmao, that’s really it 🤪🤪🤪

#nina 🥰#askingasks #mmm do i wanna tag them all? 🤔#apollo #leo valdez #the stolls #tannabeth chase #piper mclean #i didnt put them in order because my placement is actually embarrassing considering what i normally post #hope that answers it bro im never talking about this ever again #favorite characters

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johnthestitcher · 6 years ago

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Quilt # 10 - The Twelve Days of Christmas

Size: 90" x 108"

Completed: June 1982

This quilt was inspired by a Hallmark ® Company Christmas card. It became one of the most intricate ones that I worked on, and went through several transitions of size, placement, and arrangement before I settled on the final design. The first consideration was that it was a ‘lateral’ card to be translated into a ‘vertical’ quilt, and did not have borders (see last picture}.

The individual card blocks were colorful and charming; they screamed to be translated into appliqué. In my preliminary sketches I carried out the complete card design, but somewhere during the process I decided that the Pipers and Drummers blocks were too plain: a pipe with ribbons and a military drum. I decided to change them into a block with a human playing the instruments and attempted to match the original artist's concept of design.

It was the borders of this quilt that changed the most often: how big and what scale and what to quilt in them. This quilt was originally sized with the extra border to 'tuck under the pillows', but I felt that wasted too much of the top space. The four repeated corner blocks were changed to two large and two smaller blocks and everything resized again so that the twelve appliquéd blocks would cover the mattress surface. Once that was decided, I drew the block designs full-sized and started cutting appliqué pieces.

I decided at this time that the title of the quilt would be part of the quilting design, and also decided that the lettering would be in 'Olde English' as befitted the carol. Since I knew there would be no way to draw the border designs in once it was put into the quilt frame, I used 'disappearing carbon paper' in red and green to trace the quilting designs onto the long borders. This would later turn out to be a grave mistake. I knew I would be quilting the red and green narrow borders with a plastic template of a cable design, marking them (and removing them) as I went along.

My notes show that one of my original considerations was to quilt a specific border around the edge of each block, such as eggs for the hens and the geese, shoes for the dancing Ladies, and footprints for the Lords A’ Leaping. This was also simplified using a pre-cut plastic stencil of a heart border, marking it in with a blue disappearing ink pen. I decided on fifty-two hearts per block, one for each week of the year. The background quilting would consist of connecting the tips of the hearts to make a quilted diamond background. Everything started to fall into place. It was a lot of work. When I needed a break from this project, I would work on the embroidery of quilt #9.

It was great fun finding appropriate fabrics to duplicate the card designs. There are also embroidered detail such as French Knots and chain stitching for some of the small details that could not translate into appliqué, even in an eighteen-inch square block. Once I completed the appliqués, I assembled the top and began quilting in earnest somewhere in the autumn of 1981.

It was during the quilting that I discovered a major problem: the 'disappearing carbon paper' did NOT disappear! Unlike the blue disappearing pens that I was using to mark the quilting design on the blocks, when I was finished quilting a letter on the borders no amount of dabbing the marks with a wet cotton swab would make the marks go away! A slide taken in April 1982 labeled 'Quilting Disaster' shows the almost completed quilt draped over chairs. I had finally taken to spraying water on the marks and drying the stain with a hair dryer to soften the lines. I was only moderately successful. Knowing that many quilts still bear the markings of their designs, I decided to let them remain. This would also be a mistake on my part.

Soon after its completion, this quilt and several pieces of mine would be packed off to the National Quilting Association (NQA) Show #13 in New Orleans. Perhaps the number '13' should have been a warning. When I arrived at the show (not exactly an event a lot of men would attend) I was met by then-president Alice Skarda who was so enthusiastic about my quilt! She dragged me down several rows of quilts to my Twelve Days of Christmas quilt - which I was surprised DID NOT have any kind of ribbon hanging from it. (Grandmother's Fan-tasy would win a third prize at the same show). Hanging fully open on the quilt stands, I was finally actually able to stand back and see the entire quilt at arms' length for the first time; it looked dirty. The red and green carbon paper ink was carried as far away as the water diluted it, and when it dried, it noticeably discolored the muslin. I was crushed. I had high hopes for this quilt.

Still, Alice was enthusiastic about the quilt and asked about obtaining the designs. I ended up donating the designs to the NQA after the show. While at the show, I bought a bottle of liquid quilt soap.

Once I returned home and my quilts arrived safely, I was faced with the decision of washing the quilt top. With my heart in my mouth I filled the bathtub with warm water and the quilt soap and slowly lowered the quilt (soon to be appraised at $1000) into the tub. I spent several minutes hand agitating the quilt up and down, hoping the cotton fabrics would not run, and hoping that the stains from the carbon paper would truly disappear. After two or three clear rinses, I squeezed as much water from the quilt as I could and carried it outside to dry flat on clean sheets. That was the one and only time this quilt was washed; it dramatically improved the quilt's appearance, too late to win a prize at a national show.

This quilt was appraised for $1000 by a professional appraiser.

Owner: the quilter

Condition: excellent; washed once to remove quilting markings

Please check my archive for more pictures of my quilts, quilting, wall hangings, hoops, and patchwork clothing.

Exhibitions & Prizes:

1982 - NQA #13 - New Orleans, LA

Goshen, CT Fair - First Prize

Bethlehem CT, Fair - First Prize

Mad River Fair (Waterbury, CT) - First Prize and Best of Show

Rita's Quilt 'n' Sew Center (New Mexico) – prizewinner

1983 - NSQG World of Quilts #4

Thames River Quilt Show

First United Methodist Church Show

Westerly, RI Quilt Show

1984 - Connecticut Agricultural Fair - First Prize and Best of Show

Festival of Quilts #3 - Southington, CT

Warwick, NY show

1985 - Ivoryton, CT ‘Quilt Heaven’ show

Magazine Pictures and/or Articles:

QUILT, Winter 1983 p 18-19 “Getting Your Quilt Appraised” includes a B/W picture of The Twelve Days of Christmas, ‘how-to’ article on appraisals. The reprint of this article in Best of Quilt 1984 does not include the picture.

Books the author appears in (1989):

Gallery of American Quilts 1860-1989; Book 2” – published by the American Quilter’s Society. A full-color picture of Quilt #10 appears on page 21.

#Christmas quilt #twelve days of chrstmas #12 days of christmas #quilt #quilts #quilting #hand applique #hand quilting #handmade #applique #needlework #needle art #needle craft #crafts #handicrafts #hand stitched #gay stitcher #gay fiber artist

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walterdehn3-blog · 6 years ago

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sembell · 7 years ago

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Moving Forward - Chapter 53

Merry Christmas to all of you <3 NSFW ahead :)

“We live in a changing world, but we need to be reminded that the important things have not changed, and the important things will not change if we keep our priorities in proper order.“ - S. Truett Cathy

The coffee was hot and surprisingly good, even though it had come without the shot of rum she would have loved, and really needed on this particular Wednesday morning.

The entire lot of the North Shore Studios in Vancouver was exceptionally bustling this morning, and maybe she wasn’t used to it anymore or she really was that stressed out, but she was glad to sit in this quiet trailer on this comfortable couch, far, far away from any trouble. Or so it seemed.

David stepped into his trailer in full Mulder gear. She knew that they had spent the entire previous day in Mulder’s office and would be there until noon today. He’d told her that they’d move to a country club in Pitt Meadows to shoot the dancing sequence this afternoon. And with wrapping the fifth episode, Melanie hoped that the rumors and accusations, which were currently making their rounds on social media, would also come to an end. It had only been a day, but she already had enough of it for a very long time.

Especially since David still appeared to be absolutely relaxed when he closed the door of his trailer behind him and stepped up to the couch where she’d been waiting for him for at least twenty minutes now.

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully and flashed her one of those annoyingly disarming smiles of his before he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and flopped down next to her. He immediately started to loosen up his tie.

“Morning,” Melanie grumbled into her coffee and rolled her eyes. She was still fuming, and he still seemed absolutely oblivious.

When he left their little meeting last night, she’d secretly hoped that the rumors of him having an affair with his very young dancing instructor would evoke the same reaction in Gillian as it had in her, especially after learning that a stupid post on Instagram by said dancing instructor was the root of the problem.

Now, Melanie had to shake her head over her own naivety. As if Gillian, the queen of bad, insinuating social media posts, would’ve been bothered by such a thing.

Apparently, she was the only one of them realizing that David’s name attached to a slinky picture of a half-naked young woman and a suggestive offer wasn’t making that much of a good impression out there.

“And, how are things this morning?” David asked and folded his hands behind his head, looking at her with what she’d call an almost challenging expression.

Greetings from Gillian, Melanie thought and pursed her lips. It wasn’t like she wasn’t up for the challenge, but she’d rather just have a conversation with a fairly level-headed David. “Oh you know, it takes a while before such news make it around the globe, so-”

“So, everything’s fine.”

She shot him a warning look. “You know damn well how fast these things can get out of hand, so don’t you come to me with some bullshit like ‘see, Mel, everything you made me do last night wasn’t necessary’.”

He raised his hands defensively. “Wouldn’t even cross my mind. Look, I’m grateful for everything you do for me. But…” David shrugged his shoulders, “it wasn’t Dani’s intention to cause trouble. And it’s not like I have something to hide, or anything to be ashamed of.”

“I know that, David. But it’s my job to protect you from those who don’t care about you and your family. No matter if it’s a random fan who likes to accuse people of all kinds of things, someone you work with, or-” she suddenly stopped, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

“Or?” he leaned forward, searching her face.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Or my girlfriend, is that what you wanted to say?”

“I didn’t say she doesn’t care. I’m just saying that… she’s not making the best choices when it comes to her or your public image.”

David sighed and clenched his jaw, leaning back against the cushions. “I think she just doesn’t take it that seriously. As in, it doesn’t bother her what people are saying online.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear. But frankly, I don’t really care if Gillian minds or not. When I say I’m trying to protect her, I basically mean trying to protect her from herself. Because we have a plan here, David, and that goes beyond what she finds acceptable or not. My concern is how things will affect you, your public image, and your children. If Gillian doesn’t care that a young woman lets everyone know that she wants - an affair, or whatever - with you, or if Gillian herself just loves to rile people up on social media with all those innuendos-”

“Mel-” David tried to cut in.

“You know what I think about that, David. It will backfire eventually. You talk to me in a couple of years.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just for fun…”

“Until it isn’t just fun anymore. We have next to no control over social media. I can’t stop people from talking or spreading crazy rumors, and literally everything could get viral these days, no matter if it’s true or not.”

“And what am I supposed to do? We all know what she does keeps people interested in us and the brand. They want to know and see what we’re up to, especially while we're here in Vancouver. People want the banter. And of course,” he raised his hands and gave a half shrug, “they want to know how the baby's doing.”

“She uses your relationship and plays with your privacy, and I will never be a supporter of that. We’ve been through this time and time again. How come she just doesn’t want to learn anything from the past?”

“Hey, please give her a break. She just enjoys sharing tiny bits of our lives, and she likes to tease. That’s just how she is. I might not participate all the time, but I definitely won’t take that away from her. It doesn’t harm anyone.”

Melanie sighed and shook her head. It was useless. She’d left meetings with him and Gillian feeling like life had been sucked right out of her - not just once, but multiple times over the last fifteen years. While he usually wasn’t that much of a tough case, Gillian had the ability to talk you into the ground, and everything that was left of you, in the end, could be compared to a kitten who’d just gotten run over by a bulldozer.

It had gotten worse in the last two years, and Melanie knew that this was mostly due to her own doing. While she had no idea how on earth Gillian had found out or who’d told her, she knew that ever since Gillian learned that Melanie had advised David to stay quiet about his involvement in Gillian’s pregnancy, she’d lost her.

It had been a mistake, one that had hurt Gillian very bad, and one Melanie was trying to make up for it ever since, and if it was just for Eaden - that wonderful little girl that was the best thing that could’ve happened to David and Gillian. She would do everything in her power to keep her out of the spotlight and make sure she could live a normal, happy life. Because ultimately, that’s what David and Gillian both wanted for their daughter.

Melanie just didn’t understand why Gillian was acting so carelessly these days. She clearly had fun and was receiving the attention she was looking out for. But after so many years, she had to be aware that everything came with a price - right?!

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” David offered, taking her hand.

She huffed out a laugh and shook her head.

A knock on the door made them both jump, and without waiting for an invitation, the door was being pulled open and a tall man with long brown hair stepped into the trailer. Set life had always been more convenient than polite, Melanie remembered.

“Dave?” the guy asked, and his eyes grew wide when he spotted Melanie. “Oh, sorry! I don’t wanna disturb, but we need you on set.”

David looked up and furrowed his brow. They’d been told it would take another half an hour to finish setting up Mulder’s office for the next scene. “What, why?”

The man shrugged his shoulders, but his one corner of his mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin. “Hurry up, they’re waiting!”

David groaned. “I’ll be out in a minute, Fred,” he finally replied and waited until the man had disappeared before turning back to Melanie, looking at her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. You want to come?”

With a light chuckle, she patted his hand, inhaled deeply and shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but no,” she stood up and grabbed her coat. “But don’t you worry… you did what you could do. Everything else’s my job,” Melanie winked and turned for the door.

Just when she was about to open it, he stopped her with his hand on her shoulder and smiled as he took her coat and held it up so she could slip in.

“You keep me updated?” he asked and opened the door for her.

Melanie looked up at him and managed a weak smile. The whole situation had put much more stress on him than he was willing to admit. She knew him, very well actually. His first concern was always his family, and how his actions would affect every single member of it. And while it wasn’t his doing what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Melanie was sure that if Gillian had reacted differently, she’d have much more work to do now. In that respect, he was just a normal man deeply in love with his woman.

Mulder’s office hadn’t been used for over 13 years, and that’s exactly what it looked like in 2015. That was the weirdest part about coming back; that nothing was looking the way David was used to. It was stupid, really. The show had ended a lifetime ago, and everything had changed since then. But this modern, half furnished, too tidy and too spacious office didn’t resonate well with him, and he couldn’t really pinpoint why.

Another thing David didn’t understand right away was how his baby daughter and Piper had ended up in the middle of all of this, and it took him a few moments to take the whole scene in.

Eaden was standing by the desk, still clad in her bright pink pajamas, bedhead at its finest, holding onto one of the blue chairs for dear life. Chris was standing a few feet behind her with a full-blown grin on his face while Piper was kneeling at the other end of the table in front of Eaden, waving her little sister nearer. And Dean, their camera first assistant, was filming everything with their documentary camcorder.

“This is our little girl Eaden, who’s so close to taking her very first steps,” Dean announced proudly and panned the camera away from Eaden to Piper, who gave him the thumbs up, “and that’s her big sister Piper, who took her first steps on this very same lot twenty years ago. Isn’t that cool y’all?”

“Although I was much younger than this lazy little cub,” Piper added with a laugh and extended her arms towards Eaden. The little one was just standing there with her feet wide apart, chewing on her fingers and looking cautiously up at the tall man with the unruly gray curls. “Come on, baby! Come to me!” Piper cheered exuberantly, trying to get Eaden’s attention.

David spotted Gillian to his right standing by the room divider, all dressed up as Scully and taking pictures of her daughters with her phone, her expression a mixture of sheer pride and childish excitement. He couldn’t help but grin at that sight. She was so darn precious.

Coming up behind her, David put his hand on Gillian’s waist and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Hey, what’s happening here? Is she about to walk or are they just taking over our show?”

With a big smile sneaking up on her face, Gillian leaned back against him and shrugged her left shoulder. “Maybe both, I’m not so sure of the walking yet, though. She just woke up and Tina brought her in for her good morning kiss, but she wanted down and crawled around and all of a sudden, she pulled herself up and attempted to take her first step. She just put her foot forward, looked at it for a few seconds, and then pulled it back. She’s making it super thrilling here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed amusedly and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I wonder who she got that from; that streak for the dramatic.”

“Hey!” she lightly stabbed her elbow into his side, and after he winced almost dramatically, they fell into soft laughter and he pulled her closer to his chest.

“Come here, honey. You can do it! Just one step, sweetie!” Piper continued to encourage her little sister, who was now concentrating on Chris coming closer to her.

“She’s not gonna do it,” Gillian sighed, watching Chris squatting down beside Eaden and starting to rub her back.

“Nah, have some faith, Mom. She will, she will… although, can you see how she’s looking at Chris?” he nodded his head towards them, and they started to chuckle at the same time.

Eaden’s little face, the big, doubtful eyes and scrunched eyebrows were just too much. Chris and kids, that combination had always provided the best material for some good laughter. He was so, so nice and gentle with them, but unbelievably awkward at the same time. Piper had always loved him to pieces, but Eaden still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance that in the next ten seconds, she’ll either start to cry or run away from him. My bet is on the crying, though.”

Gillian chuffed a laugh through her nose and nodded.

He crouched down a bit and rested his head against hers, his gaze shifting between her phone and her face. She was concentrating hard, tilting the device from one side to the other, then tapping on the screen repeatedly to try to get her daughters, and Chris, in focus.

It was moments like this that made him the happiest, simply because she was happy.

For a long time, David had wished he could bottle those moments and feelings up and pull them out whenever needed - whenever she was unhappy, or whenever he’d made her sad again. But over the years, he’d learned to concentrate more on the present, on what he was doing and what was happening now instead of holding too tightly onto the past. Cherishing each moment, each memory, whether they were good or bad, but trying his best to make good decisions for everybody’s happiness and joy, that’s what he was concentrating on nowadays.

“Oh!” Gillian’s eyes widened, and David looked up to watch Eaden putting her right foot forward while Chris slowly let go of her. “David!” she breathed almost inaudibly, too scared that she would break some kind of spell if she spoke any louder. He gave her an affectionate squeeze, letting her know that he was just as excited as she was.

When Eaden’s little foot hit the ground, they both gasped and held their breaths. She was standing up all by herself now without any support, and the whole room had gone completely quiet with everyone’s eyes glued to Eaden, who was cautiously putting more weight on her right leg.

And then everything happened so unbelievably fast, almost too fast for a 15-month-long wait.

She lifted the other leg, and all of a sudden, she was standing a whole step away from Chris, arms outstretched to her sides to help maintain her balance, mouth and eyes wide open in both awe and shock at what just happened.

“There you go, girl!” Piper laughed and clapped her hands.

Realizing that Gillian was just staring at the girls by now and had completely forgotten about her phone, David reached over her shoulder and took a couple of pictures for her.

She just nodded her thank you, too awestruck to say anything in that moment, and sniffled. He was sure that she was already crying, and that someone would need to redo her makeup before they could start to shoot the last scene in here. Not that it mattered; not in the slightest.

The only thing that mattered was their little girl with that huge smile taking another wobbly step and then a third, getting more and more confident with herself, and determined to reach her sister’s waiting arms. He couldn’t be any prouder.

“We have a toddler, babe,” David whispered, and Gillian took a deep, shaky breath, before answering, “We sure do.”

And what a toddler they had all of a sudden.

By the time Gillian was done for the day, Eaden was able to walk along the whole length of her mother’s trailer and was immovable of her decision to do it over and over again, much to the dismay of her nanny Tina.

The rest of the day was, to put it mildly, exhausting beyond words.

From the point Gillian had strapped her daughter into her car seat and headed off for lunch with an old friend, the little girl wouldn’t stop screaming until Gillian sat her down and let her run loose. Which had made having a decent conversation or time to eat in peace almost entirely impossible.

With her mother hot on her heels, Eaden walked to everything and everyone she found even remotely interesting, and even though she wasn’t very fast yet, she was tripping over her own feet very, very often, which lead to quite a few tears over the course of the day.

After settling the boys for the night, both tired to their bones due to an adventurous day at a children's camp out in the forest, Gillian contemplated whether she should run herself a bubble bath or simply crash on the couch to watch whatever bad soap opera she happened to come across first.

But she was restless, agitated even despite the long, draining day and the short night prior to it.

Shortly after Eaden and Felix had finally fallen asleep in her bed last night, Gillian went downstairs to give her assistant Alison a call, who’d unsuccessfully tried to reach her while she almost got knocked out by one of Eaden’s knees.

From what Alison had told her alone she wouldn’t have been able to fall back to sleep right away, but then David came home, joined her on the couch, buried his head into her lap and started to talk for the next hour.

Now that the house was quiet and she had nothing to do, Gillian was slowly starting to process everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. And all she wanted to do now was burying her own head into the warmth of his lap and let it all go.

She was sitting at the kitchen counter, chewing on the straw she’d put in her can of Red Bull when she heard someone coming in the front door at around 8 pm.

Piper was mustering her mother and that faraway look of hers suspiciously when she entered the kitchen and let her heavy backpack slide to the floor.

“Hey, baby. How are you?” Gillian asked and ran her hand over her face in an effort to pull herself out of her reverie.

“Hey, I’m good, but busted. Is everything alright?” Piper retorted and headed for the fridge. Her entire shirt was covered with splashes of red paint.

Must’ve been a busy day for her as well, Gillian determined as she watched her daughter retrieving a bottle of coke, and began to nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m just… I can’t sleep.”

“Still too excited?” Piper grinned and took a swig, but Gillian gave her a questioning look. “Because Eaden’s walking now?”

“Oh that, yes... yeah,” Gillian chuckled. “But, um…” she licked her lips. “Would you mind terribly looking after Eaden and the boys for a couple of hours? They’re already in bed.”

“Umm, no. No, I wouldn’t mind. I just wanted to watch some TV before going to bed anyway. Why? You wanna go out?”

Gillian nodded with a smirk. “I think I’d like to surprise someone.”

The parking lot of the Rooster’s Country Cabaret was filled with trucks and trailers, so Gillian parked at the nearest McDonalds, bought herself and Rob, the elder security guard standing in front at the parking lot, a coffee and walked over.

The air had cooled considerably in the last couple of hours, and Gillian was glad she’d put on her black leather jacket over her sleeveless dress and had chosen the knee boots over the heels. With this outfit, she might’ve been able to convince Chris to let Scully do a lap-dance after all, she thought and snickered to herself. Not that she was intending to go anywhere near him again tonight, or anyone on set for that matter. Except for one.

Rob had no problem to let her sneak into David’s trailer, happy with his warm beverage and the quick hug he’d been given.

They were still laughing hard when they stepped out of the stuffy, hot club and into the cool summer night, having had one of the best and most memorial shooting nights thanks to Mitch, Tom, Dean and Bruce. And, of course, the mushroom stamp.

Honky-Tonk Mulder with his eagle shirt, the cowboy hat and the girls dancing around him really was the weirdest thing David had done in a very long time. And that was pretty telling.

“Hey, some people and I will have a drink Downtown, just to unwind a bit. You wanna come?” she offered, and he stared at her for a couple of moments before he found his voice again.

“Um,” David chuckled nervously and averted his eyes to the ground. At this point in his life and at his age, he found himself actually blushing at such an offer. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, Dani. Sounds fun, but I have to pass. I just want to go home to my-, to Gillian and Eaden.”

“Oh, okay. I hope I… didn’t cause you too much trouble and that’s why you can’t come? Because Gillian thinks we-”

“Oh no,” he was quick to reply. “No. Don’t worry, she had a good laugh over it,” he nodded reassuringly, knowing she was genuinely worried. “But I’m old, and I can't wait for to hit the pillow. And if I’m lucky, there might even be a massage in store for me,” he winked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to miss that!”

They laughed and stopped, both turning to face each other.

David shook his head. “No, I really don’t.”

“So… I guess I see you tomorrow?”

“You will. I will not disappoint you, I promise!” he grinned, referring to the dance sequence they would shoot tomorrow.

“I’m sure you won’t. Good night, David.”

“Night, Daniela,” he raised his hand to wave at her and turned, heading to his trailer on the other end of the parking lot.

A change of clothing and a quick beer and he would be out of here, David thought, walking up the stairs to his trailer and opening the door while pulling his phone out of his back pocket.

He didn’t look up when he closed the door and started to text his driver when suddenly, two arms came up around his waist and pulled him backward.

David jolted and gasped, almost dropping his cell, his heart beating fast in his chest until he looked down at himself and found two small, familiar hands making their way up his torso. That’s when he finally took a deep breath, and her wonderful scent filled his nose.

“Jesus!” he exhaled, reaching up to interlace their fingers right over his heart. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hmm?” she hummed against his back.

“You scared me.”

“A little girl like me can scare a big guy like you?”

He didn’t answer, but brought her hand up to his lips before turning around to look at her.

“Hey,” he said, the surprise evident in his face. Now that he could see her, and her radiant appearance, it was a rather good surprise. Her outfit was a dark, dangerous contrast to the blond hair spilling over her shoulders in soft waves. She wasn’t wearing any makeup except for dark mascara. “Wow, you look-” he let his eyes fell over her perfect collarbones to the soft swell of her breasts and licked his lips. “Wow.”

She pressed herself against him, her nose brushing along his neck up to his ear followed by her hot, moist breath causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere.

“I thought you had your heart set on a quiet night at home.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, starting to nibble at his earlobe. “We can do that later.”

He closed his eyes at the sensation of her wet little tongue teasing the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear, and his groin tightened.

She was on fire tonight, and he was the last one to ask more questions than necessary at this point. She was here, hands tucking impatiently at his fly and a pair of soft, full lips had just landed on his mouth. What else did he need to know?

“You’re hard,” she said matter-of-factly, but needed to squeeze him through his jeans to get his attention.

“Huh?” David stammered, fidgeting with her dress, trying to pull it over her thighs. Why was this thing so fucking long?

“You are hard, Mr. Duchovny. Are you hard for another woman?”

“What?” he cried out, his eyes big and dark. “No!”

“Hmm,” she gave him another squeeze, and he buried his head into her neck, almost as if to hide. “Are you sure that all these hot young girls dancing around you didn’t cause this? Were they touching you? I bet they were.” With his fly now open, she reached inside, finding him hot and pulsating beneath his trunks.

“Did they turn you on?” she asked, her voice incredibly sultry. When he didn’t react again, she grabbed him by the balls. “I know they’d turn me on.”

He growled into her neck, his knees weakening by the second. God, what was she doing? Trying to kill him?

“It did turn me on,” he whispered when he finally found a way inside her dress. Having her soft skin underneath his fingers made him feel much more confident to play along.

“Hmm, naughty. So, so naughty.” He felt like crying when she pulled her hand out of his pants, and he squeezed the flesh of her hips to keep her close. She peered up at him; accusingly, defiantly, playfully - he couldn’t really decide, but it made his cock surge with desire.

A goofy smile began to spread across her face. Uh-oh, David’s eyes widened.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she squatted down in front of him, taking his pants with her and letting them fall to his feet.

“I think,” she tucked her fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers, “I need to remind you,” she pulled, and his erection sprang free, “of a thing… or two.”

David swallowed, feeling excitement ripple through him. “What do I need to be reminded of?”

She puckered her lips, tilted her head to the side and ran her fingertips over the exposed skin of her neck.

“Fuck,” he growled beyond himself. Gillian’s idea of punishment was a wicked one, but it was always working.

One of her hands landed on his upper thigh, bracing herself on it while she wrapped the other around his thick shaft, her thumb swiping over his sensitive glans. She tucked at him once, twice, and then let go, raising her hand and sticking her digit into her mouth.

And then she hummed. She hummed in pleasure and closed her eyes.

Jesus.

Yes, he remembered. He remembered very well how much she liked his taste.

“Yeah,” she nodded as if she was able to read his mind.

She released her thumb with a plop, sucked her cheeks in and ejected a gush of saliva onto her fingers before putting them back around his penis.

“Oh,” he reached behind himself for something to hold onto, anything to steady himself with. He didn’t find anything, so he tangled his fingers into her hair.

She raised her eyebrow at him. “Mr. Duchovny, are you swaying? Not because of me, right?” she asked innocently.

“Hunn,” he grunted, wondering when exactly her mouth had come so close to his erection. Did he pull her towards it? No, he didn’t, right?

Oh well, she was grinning now. He actually did pull her closer to his cock.

“Good boy,” she praised and slid her lips over the head of his penis, feeling him tighten his grip on her hair. She looked up expectantly, but he didn’t make a move, even started to tremble from the effort of holding still.

She let her tongue swirl around the underside of his head a couple of times, lubricating it before taking him in deeper and pressing him up against the roof of her mouth.

“Fuck, Gillian,” David finally found his voice again. He gently rocked his hips against her, knowing that she had everything under control thanks to that brilliant little tongue of hers. God, how lucky was he that the woman he loved enjoyed this so much?

She cupped the hand with which she’d steadied herself around the base and squeezed lightly, creating pressure to direct more blood flow to the head.

The sensation increased immediately, and he moaned out loud.

“Fuck, Gillian.” Didn’t he just say that a couple of moments ago? “Babe,” he tried again, cradling her cheek with his other hand. “I wanna…”

“Hmm?” she hummed before slowly releasing him. “You want what?”

“Touch you. I want to touch you.”

“Is that so?” she teased, licking her way along his erection and down to his balls and without warning, sucked one of them into her mouth.

��Fuuhuuck, babe, come here. Please, come here,” he begged and pulled at her jacket, needing to kiss her so, so badly.

After giving his glans a last, lingering kiss, she slowly stood up and smiled at him. God, she was beautiful.

“Oh, so compliant all of a sudden,” he said and pulled her against him with one arm around her waist while the other pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “Is this dress new?”

She shrugged her shoulders, and her jacket fell to the floor. “Maybe.”

He pushed her back and let his eyes wander over her. It was a really, really tight dress, reminding him of one she’d worn for a photoshoot a couple of years ago. Yeah, he was good at remembering these things.

She suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, capturing his lips with hers. She tasted of coffee and of himself. So incredibly good.

She clutched for his ass; flesh hard, skin soft. She’d never met a man with such soft skin in her entire life. How was this even possible, she wondered.

He groaned into her mouth and reached around her, finding a zipper in the middle of her back.

It would’ve required just a minimum of common sense to not be surprised that she wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath this tight little thing, but apparently, he just didn’t have it. Not at this point anyway.

“Oh fuck,” David uttered, not able to stop saying it over and over again. “You’re breathtaking, you know that, right?”

Truth was, she didn’t feel all that breathtaking the majority of the time. She knew that she was good-looking, but she’d always wondered what it was about her that was driving this man completely crazy. She could act as cool as she wanted, but the fact that he wanted her, and just her, would always bring her down to earth, and flood her with so much gratitude and joy she was barely able to breathe.

He had her in his arms before she knew it, carrying her over to the couch they’d slept countless of times on in the last couple of weeks.

And suddenly, she was lying underneath him. His head had disappeared between her legs, and she was only able to feel – his breath on her inner thighs, his mouth placing gentle kisses on her outer lips, and then, finally, his tongue diving into her slit.

“David,” she sighed, bucking her hips into his face.

She couldn’t think clearly anymore by the time one of his fingers entered her, the sensation too good, too overwhelming. This was not what she had planned, but much, much better. Sometimes, it was good to lose control and to trust someone else to take the lead.

He was moving his face from side to side, up and down. His fingers were kneading the curves of her ass, his tongue tracing her outer lips and his lips sucking on her clit.

Her legs started to quiver around his head and she was whimpering for her release. He slowly made his way up, kissing her stomach and gently biting her nipples, just how he knew she liked it, before lifting her legs onto the mattress.

He climbed over her and smiled when he came to a rest between her legs.

Her cheeks were flushed, mouth slightly open. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and this really was his most favorite sight.

“Oh god,” she mumbled as he pushed into her, sinking deep into her warmth.

David held her close for a couple of moments, enjoying to be surrounded by her tight walls before starting to rock against her.

Gillian was incredibly relaxed now, responding to every thrust he gave her with a soft moan. She wrapped her legs around his waist, dug her nails into his back and started to kiss him again.

Nothing about this was rushed anymore. It was two people savoring the sensation of being connected, making love in every conceivable way.

They came quietly with their fingers tightly interlaced beside her head, and she was still shaking even after he’d slid out of her and gathered her close to his chest.

She was still exhausted, but her body was finally calming down.

“I’m so deep into loving you as anyone could be,” he whispered, and she raised her head slightly off his shoulder, eyes sparkling with amusement. He chuckled and squeezed her affectionately. “I remember reading that in a poem when I was fourteen, thinking that if I’d ever find a girl so special, then…” he went silent, biting his lower lip.

“Then?” she prompted, her eyebrow raised high.

He shook his head. “I-, I never got that far. I guess my final conclusion was that I would either never find someone like that or never know if I actually did. Or that it was just a phrase every other overly romantic fourteen-year-old boy would dig. Nothing with actual substance.”

“Hmm,” she nodded thoughtfully. “What do you think now?”

“I think that I have never said it to anyone else. And it feels very, very good right now.”

“I love you,” she said and rested her head back on his shoulder. “And I want to tell you something, too.”

“Hmm?”

“We just got the green light for Streetcar in New York next year,” Gillian whispered, and now it was his turn to raise his head, watching her hand tracing tiny circles on his chest. She licked her lips before she continued to speak. “And, after that,” she inhaled deeply, “I really want to move in with you.”

#moving forward #au #my writing #fanfic #rpf #thexfiles rpf #gillovny #gillovny rpf #txf rpf

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xtruss · 4 years ago

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Our Disappearing Glaciers!

The Man on a Mission to Reveal the ‘Souls’ of Vanishing Glaciers

American adventurer Garrett Fisher flies in a ramshackle antique plane, dangling his camera out of the window to capture the beauty of glaciers before they disappear

— By Patrick Barkham | Guardian USA | Friday April 30, 2021

Glaciers of the Burmese Alps is a comprehensive work containing close and intimate aerial images of nearly all remaining glacial features in the range. Photograph: Garrett Fisher

Satellite images and the latest scientific studies may accurately inform us how quickly the world’s glaciers are melting. But Garrett Fisher’s mission is different: to reveal the “souls” of vanishing glaciers.

This, the American adventurer believes, is best achieved by flying solo over each glacier in a ramshackle antique plane and dangling his camera out of the window to capture their varied forms, textures and beauty – before they disappear forever.

Fisher, a financial consultant who is planning to devote his life to photographing glaciers, has completed his second book. Three years ago, he documented the glaciers of the Rocky Mountains. Now he’s brought his plane to Switzerland to record the glaciers of the Bernese Alps.

Satellite images “can’t replicate the stunning beauty of glaciers”, he says from his current home in Spain, from where he will be embarking on more glacial explorations this summer in his 1949 Piper PA11 plane, which he inherited from his grandfather, who had renovated it after finding it rotting in a barn in North Carolina.

Many glaciers are too inaccessible to reach on foot, or by drone, and helicopters are prohibitively expensive. According to Fisher, his plane, which has a maximum speed of 70 knots – and chugs along at barely 20 knots (23mph) when Fisher dares fly into a 50 knot headwind – uses about the same amount of fuel as a family car.

“With an aeroplane, I can ‘stand’ in a place where a human can’t stand because glaciers are just so brutally unforgiving to cross with their crevasses,” he says. “You can look down into the soul of the glacier from a close perspective.”

Fisher has spent two summers photographing the glaciers of the Bernese Alps, which include some of the most recognisable Alpine scenery, as depicted in the James Bond film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, for instance. He chooses the summer because the glaciers are visible and distinguishable from the surrounding snow. Weather conditions are also slightly more forgiving.

He has to wait for sunshine, with clouds often clinging to the glaciers, and then brave notoriously violent and unpredictable winds – as well as a lack of oxygen – to climb as high as 14,000ft in the Bernese Alps.

“It takes a long time to wait for the right kind of day. The conventional wisdom is that the wind cannot be higher than 20 knots but I’ve gone up in as much as 50. I’m a little special. At high altitudes, the wind tends not to be turbulent if you’re on the proper side of the mountain. So it’s a lot like surfing this giant wave: if you stay in the right spot, everything’s fine.”

He’s only twice been “utterly terrified”: once in Virginia at 3,000ft when his plane was turned upside down by the wind, and another time more recently near Lucerne, Switzerland, where he was “surprised” by vicious winds blowing out of the mountains.

In deep Alpine valleys, he is usually out of radio contact. If his plane got into trouble, the glaciers look like a decent emergency runway, but appearances are deceptive. “Those cavities are so large that if the engine quits and I go in one, the authorities probably wouldn’t ever find me again,” he says. “The risk is improbable, but it’s absolutely worth the risk.”

Experiencing glaciers from a small plane is “exhilarating, transcendental and spiritually elevating”, says Fisher. The images he collects are certainly spectacular. Konkordiaplatz, the meeting point for four glaciers, looks like a spectacular motorway junction of ice, snaking off through the peaks in multiple directions. One picture looks as if Fisher might be about to land on it but such is its scale he took it from 800ft up.

His pictures are taken by sticking a gloved hand out of the plane window with his wide-angle Canon digital SLR. According to Fisher, flying with one hand while taking photos with the other and looking through the camera viewfinder is not as dangerous as taking photographs while driving a car.

“I’ve actually once tried to photograph something with an SLR while driving. You’re in danger of killing yourself in four seconds – you’re 10 feet away from hitting something. In the plane, I’m going at the speed of a car and am usually 1,000ft away from the nearest obstacle. It’s a choreographed art to use what I’m seeing through the viewfinder.”

Konkordiaplatz looks colossal but Fisher’s flying is revealing the rapid melting of many glaciers. He researches each one on Google Earth but finds even recent satellite pictures can be inaccurate because by the time he reaches the glacier he often finds it has drastically shrunk or even disappeared.

Even Konkordiaplatz is 600ft shallower than its 1860 level. “It’s astonishing how much ice has been lost, almost beyond words,” says Fisher. He found another glacier’s “tongue” – its end point, where it discharges water – “scalloping and literally melting like an ice cube”.

Of course, glaciers are always calving and discharging ice and water but Fisher has found he is gradually seeing what’s seasonal and what is caused by global warming. When he flew over Plaine Morte glacier, he admired this “majestic” waterfall that was thundering from the glacier. Usually, the seasonal snow-melt would stop in summer but in 2019 it carried on. “I looked at it and thought, shit. That’s not cool. That was a melt. What drives me is these things are disappearing before our very eyes,” he says.

All but two of the Bernese Alps’ glaciers are forecast to be gone by the end of the century. “Everything I’m looking at will be gone in three generations. People will look at these photos like we look at the old British imperial photos of people dressed up watching the locals in Kenya and think, what a weird scene.”

Fisher has now set up a not-for-profit group, the Global Glacier Initiative, with the aim of assembling a personal pictorial record of glaciers around the world to record what is being lost and campaign for more decisive action to combat the climate crisis.

“I’m willing to take the next 20 years and go chase every single glacier I can find on the planet with an airplane and do the same thing,” he says. He aims to put his images into an online map with free licensing for non-commercial uses such as scientific studies and education.

This summer, it is more of the Alps. Fisher then hopes to record glaciers in Scandinavia, Iceland, Canada, Alaska, Mexico, Peru and down the Andes. The Himalayas will require a new plane and the political terrain is almost as hazardous as the geography. “I’m leaving them until last,” laughs Fisher.

“No one wants to live on a glacier so they’re basically publicly owned and they’re global. When I’m dead and gone, someone’s gonna look and say: ‘Holy shit, this is amazing stuff’. I’m doing this for the future.”

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goodfortune-au · 4 years ago

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Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 7: Halloween

October was winding to a close, with only a couple days remaining until Halloween. With all that had been going on, Angel hadn’t a lot of time nor the enthusiasm to get riled up like in years past for what was surely her favorite holiday, but she still planned to dress up nonetheless. She had plans, too. Nothing too extravagant; she simply planned to take the Losers out trick-or-treating, participate in the festivities as an full-fledged adult rather than a carefree child on a quest for free candy. The Losers spoke of their respective costume choices with glee; Richie naturally chose to play Ryu from Street Fighter, Stan put together an elaborate costume and planned to go as one of his favorite birds, one he'd read about called the European Bee-Eater, and Eddie was going as a Pierrot. Bill, who’d been goaded into coming along at the last second, was attending as a simple sheet ghost.

Angel even had an ensemble of her own to wear, though it had admittedly been recycled from Halloween’s past. A character from one of her favorite movies, one she paid tribute to in one of the posters decorating the walls of her living room, she planned to play the despicable Alexander Delarge from A Clockwork Orange. She had it all; the white dress shirt, carpenter pants and suspenders, the cane, the codpiece, and of course the characteristic black bowler. She enjoyed the look immensely, found it simply outrageous and certainly iconic, and she didn’t mind using it again for this year’s celebrations. She spends the last couple days of the month lazily tracking down all the pieces and then the 31st arrives, quickly dissolving from daylight into dusk.

Let’s have a party

There’s a full moon in the sky

It’s the hour of the wolf

And I don’t wanna die~

Oingo Boingo is playing on her stereo, perfect Halloween music that fills the room and besets it with a truly festive energy. It’s No One Lives Forever, her favorite track off Dead Man’s Party, an album she felt perfectly encapsulated the spirit of the holiday. Just as she’s putting the final touches on her costume, affixing the single pair of false eyelashes to her right eye, she hears a shower of knocks at her front door. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, tucked up into itself to mimic Alex’s almost bob-like hairstyle, and she laces up her Doc Martens to complete the stark and unnerving look. She answers the door and the Losers come parading in, all donning their costumes proudly. She looks them over with exaggerated enthusiasm, and compliments them all on their ensembles. Eddie’s costume was her favorite. And all the while, the music on her stereo warbles along, fast-paced and electric.

I'm so happy

Dancing while the grim reaper

Cuts cuts cuts

Well you can't get me

“Wow guys, not bad! Bill? Simple but iconic. You too Eds, you nailed the facepaint. And Stan? Lovin’ the bird look, it suits you.”

“Thaaaaank you.” Stan says pleasantly, standing up straight and beaming. His plumage is beautiful. "I spent months on it, had to get it just right."

“Well, it came out f*ckin’ fantastic.” She gives him a winning thumbs up.

“What about me?” Richie pipes up from the back. His gi hangs loosely about his chest, and the costume overall looks about two sizes too big. He has a long red tie knotted about his head to mimic Ryu's distinctive headband.

“Hmm… Size it a little better next time Rich, your t*ts are hangin’ out.” She says, half-serious. “Also, are those boxing gloves?”

“Hey, gimme a break. The thrift store didn’t have sh*t.” He says, trying and failing to snag a Reeses from the candy bowl sitting on the coffee table.

There’s giggles from the peanut gallery.

“What about you?” Ed asks, looking her over.

“Yeah, w-what are you s-s-supposed to be?” Bill asks from underneath the sheet.

“A fashion disaster, apparently.” Richie snorts. He’s taken off one of his gloves to get to the candy. “And what’s with the jock strap?”

“Shut up Richie.”

She’s unsure of how to answer the question, scratching her head nervously. “Oh, uh… A character from a movie you definitely … Shouldn’t watch. Not uh… Not until you’re at least sixteen.” Truth be told, she was about their age when she first saw it, but the kids didn’t need to know that.

“I’ve actually seen it.” Richie admits casually, popping the candy into his mouth. “Snuck it out of my parents’ collection one night. The shit is wild.” Then he clears his throat and slips into one of his voices. He mimics Alex’s manner of speaking in perfect nadsat as he slings an arm around Stan’s shoulder, which Stan promptly pushes off. Richie seems unphased. “Welly welly well my droogs, are we ready to have a flip horrorshow time this evening? Time’s a wastin’, o my brothers, let’s get to the streets and crast around the ol' neighborhoods before the night is done, right right?”

Angel stares at him for a moment. “I don’t like that.” She says blankly.

“No one does.” Eddie adds disdainfully. He truly looks a picture-perfect Pierrot at this moment.

“Pshhhh, you guys are no fun.” Richie sighs, shaking his candy bucket at them with a flippant wave of his hand.

“He is right, though.” Angel says, looking at the clock overhead. “It’s getting late, and we only have so much time to make the rounds.” She opens the door and waves them out. “Let’s go, kiddos, after you.”

They go walking out in a single file line and she closes the door behind her. “Alright, let’s make our way down Witcham, shall we? I say we start from the bottom and work our way up and around.” She says, gesturing with her cane.

The night is alive with true Halloween spirit. The moment they step outside, they can feel the biting chill of the air sweeping through them. The streets are filled with questing children all on the prowl for the same common goal, with parents tagging along in mostly halfhearted reluctance. She swings her cane as she walks and leads the way for the Losers, acting as a pied piper of sorts to guide them through the organized chaos of the adolescent-populated thoroughfares. They begin with the house adjacent to Angel’s, and cross over to the house across the street afterward. Angel hangs back as the kids saunter up to the front doors to collect their candy, and the kids rejoin her after accomplishing their end.

“Well, what’d you guys get?” She asks nonchalantly, leaning up against a tree.

“I got a Blow Pop.” says Eds.

“B-B-Butterfinger.” says Bill.

“Two Twizzlers.” says Stan.

“I got shafted.” says Richie.

Angel gives him a look. “What does that mean?”

“Butterscotch.” He says, looking appalled.

She laughs with a shrug. “Better than nothin’, bud.”

“I’d rather have nothing.” He says defiantly.

“Alright, then give it.”

“No.”

They continue on, and gradually make their way through the neighborhood. They collectively start to amass a modest amount of candy, and Angel even finds herself collecting a few pieces here and there at the insistence of a few benevolent parents (including one of her personal favorites, the grape-flavored Tootsie Pop). There’s even a few among them that recognize her costume. Some are amused, others are less so. She found it par for the course; the town was routinely uptight when it came to just about anything she liked. Still, she takes it in stride, and starts to find herself in genuine good spirits. Things had been hard as of late, and it was nice to have another occasion to celebrate that gave her much-needed respite from her troubles. It went without saying, too, but the presence of the Losers always put a smile on her face. Cheesy as it was, they were practically a ray of sunshine in the otherwise moody and fickle storm that was her life. They didn’t always have time to visit, but when they did, it made for good times. She tried her best to cherish that and not take it for granted.

After having sojourned as far down the street as they reasonably could, the party makes a 180 pivot once they can start to see the Hanlon farms off in the distance, and then they slowly but surely make their way back past Angel’s house where they had started. The night is still young but the sky is as black as coal, the moon luminescent as the dozens of flashlights brandished by costumed children scurrying about the pavement. Their chatter and glee makes for pleasant background noise as the Losers collectively journey through Witcham toward Up-Mile-Hill, their pillowcases and buckets rustling with increasing bounty after each and every house. They stop off at a few more doors and then take a moment outside of Bill’s house to assess their current stashes.

“...Two, four, five… God I’ve got six f*cking butterscotches.”

“Heh heh, the old ladies must love ya.” Eddie snickers. He peels the wrapper off a KitKat and methodically breaks off one half to eat. Richie smacks the other half into the dirt with his boxing glove.

“Hey are you f*cking serious?” Eddie exclaims, gesturing to the fallen KitKat in patent dismay.

“That’s the toll.” Richie shrugs. His gi is so baggy it almost slips off his shoulder. “You make fun of me you lose your candy. You’re just lucky it wasn’t anything good.”

“You got something against KitKats, a*shole?” Eddie snaps back venomously.

“Okay, okay, break it up you two.” Angel says from behind a chick tract. She flips to the end of the little booklet and tosses it into the dirt. “The Gay Blade,” it’s called. She crushes it beneath her boot heel.

“S-S-Sorry I’m late, g-guys.” Bill says from underneath his sheet. “T-Thanks for waiting up.”

“Late?” Stan asks. “Late from where?”

“I h-had some trouble cutting the h-holes in the right p-p-places. Went through t-t-two old sheets before I got it.” He laughs.

“Oh. I thought--”

“And what the hell is your costume, anyway, huh? It’s giving me the creeps!”

“Mimes scare you, Richie? What are you, like, five?”

“Weren’t you here with us before?” Stan is puzzled.

“H-huh? No, I don’t… T-Think so?”

“Then, who was--”

‘I’LL LIQUIFY YOUR KNEECAPS WITH MY HURRICANE KICK.”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.”

“GUYS!” Angel roars. They all stop. “Quit fighting or I’m gonna knock both your heads together. Eds- I’ve got an extra KitKat. Richie- quit whinging about your butterscotches.”

“But-”

“Shut it!”

“Sorry.”

“We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover, so if you guys don’t want to waste the night I say we get going.” She sighs.

“Fine, but keep this painted creep away from me.” Richie snipes, scooting away from Eddie. He immediately starts picking at Stan’s plumage. “Looks like it’s you and me tonight, Stan the man. The dynamic duo.”

Stan smacks his hand away. “Absolutely not. And don’t touch my plumage.” Stan glances at Bill again. “Angel--”

“Come on, we’re burning moonlight.”

“Fine, fine.”

He tries to just forget it.

~~~~

The party of Losers makes their way past Derry Elementary as they stroll down Costello Avenue, hitting as many houses as they can along the way. There’s even more people on the streets than before and the traffic seems to be increasing as time wears on. By now everyone has gathered a decent amount of candy, weighty to the point of having to be slung over shoulders and lugged around like dense sacks of potatoes. Their feet are growing tired but still they trudge on, determined to make the most of the holiday and squeeze as much productivity out of the night as possible. Angel finds her mind wandering with her stride, and as she continues she starts to contemplate the presence of her guardian angel. She wondered if they were watching over her that night, wondered if she might find another gift, waiting for her in some crack or crevice ready to be found and picked up for her growing collection. She hadn’t told the Losers about this so-called guardian of hers; she thought it to be a thing best kept private. It was better savored that way, and felt like a delicious little secret only she was privy to. She simply enjoyed the imagined security in silence, the feeling that she was special to something, special enough to look out for and leave little trifles to keep her faith and interest. It was nice, it was thrilling in a sense. She had no idea of the identity of this thing, but she appreciated it nonetheless, so taken with the nice gestures that she was blind to any perceived ulterior motives.

“That makes ten f*cking butterscotches.” Richie says, swiping through his candy in frustration. “It’s like I’m a magnet for them or some shit.”

“Yeah but I’m s-sure you’ve got a lot of other stuff t-t-too.” Bill says, trying to offer a bit of positivity.

“Yeah, look on the bright side, kiddo.” Angel chimes in. “Could be candy corn, or… God forbid, black licorice.”

They all shudder with disgust.

“Still.” Richie says, rustling through his bucket again. “If I get another one I’m gonna f*ckin’ lose it.”

He picks one out and examines it with distaste, then chucks it over his shoulder. There’s a snarl from behind him as it clacks against the sidewalk, and Ed’s eyes widen into saucers as he preemptively steps back, hiding behind Angel.

“Uh oh.”

Richie hesitates, then turns around. Henry Bowers and his gang of thugs, Belch Huggins, Victor Criss, and Patrick Hockstetter are standing in a group on the sidewalk, and the butterscotch had just so happened to bounce off the back of Henry’s head. He gulps.

“Which one of you f*cking twerps threw that?” He asks, turning around. His voice is low and dangerous.

“No one. It was Eddie.” Richie blurts out.

“Dude!” Eddie squeaks angrily from behind Angel’s pant leg. Henry seems unphased as Richie backs away.

The group begins to congregate around the Losers, with Henry advancing slowly on Richie like a slithering snake cornering a helpless mouse.

“I’m gonna gut you like a f*cking fish, Tozier.” He growls, leaning down to look at him. His eyes glint meanly in the darkness and Richie shrinks ever so slightly.

“Hey, that’s enough Bowers.” It's Angel, coming in between the two of them. “Back the f*ck off or I’m calling your dad over. I’m sure he’d be none too happy to find your little punk ass threatening a bunch of little kids.”

Henry stares at her for a moment in silence, then pops his neck and steps back a pace or two. “...Fine. You kids are f*cking spineless, you know that? Always hiding behind big sister.” He mocks. He gives a fleeting look to his goons and gestures with an upward nod of his head. They uncross their arms.

“Come on, guys.” He says angrily. They start to leave. Belch elbows past Angel harshly, but not before whispering something nasty into her ear on his way through. She freezes and glares at him in disgust, watching as they all fade into the crowd in front of them.

“Let’s go.” Angel says darkly.

The kids hesitate, then all agree after an uncomfortable silence. They try to forget it all as they continue on.

Angel is stony-faced and silent for a time, keeping her lips pursed in dismay as she leads the kids forward through the neighborhood. She plays with the pearl heart around her neck, rolling her thumb over the smooth polished surface slowly and methodically while she thinks. She’s angry about them, and she’s upset with herself for it. They were just a few shitty kids, she shouldn’t let their bad attitudes interfere with her night and spoil everything for her. She’s the adult, she’s supposed to be better than this. The kids are quiet, sensing the tension, and not even Richie breaks the silence to keep bickering with Eddie or crack lame jokes. She tries so hard just to let it go, but she’s stewing in silent resentment now. She got so sick of hearing things like that. She’d grown up being called those things, before she even knew the first thing about what they meant or the malice behind them. It didn’t matter if it was true or not, it was… The cruelty and the intolerance behind the words. She hated herself for being so easily rattled, but she couldn’t help it. It’s the way she’s always been.

“Are you… Okay, Angel?” Eds asks carefully, looking up at her.

She pauses, then sighs. “...Yeah. Yeah, I am. Don’t worry guys, I’m okay. Just… Sh*tty kids is all.”

“No need to explain.” Richie says with an uncharacteristic solemnity. “Bowers is just a jerkass. I swear, kid looks for reasons to be mad.”

“Yeah.” she says quietly. “They all do.”

“ I’m still mad you tried to blame me for throwing that f*ckin’ butterscotch.” Eddie says, glaring at Richie from the other side of Angel.

“The dude was sweatin’ me, it just came out!” Richie exclaims, excuses at the ready. “I guarantee you’d do the same damn thing in my position.’

“No, because unlike you I have a sense of honor.”

“Alright you two.” Angel sighs. “We should keep going, yeah? Still plenty of houses to hit.”

“Actually,” Stan pipes up. All eyes fall on him. “O-Oh. Well, I was just gonna say… My house is just down the block a little, and I kind of need to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, well that’s no problem.” Angel says casually. “Go right ahead, we could all use a break anyway.”

He’s silent. “Well, uh… It’s kind of an elaborate costume…”

“Jesus, Birdman, are you really telling me you can’t get in and out of that thing by yourself?” Richie asks incredulously. “What, did your mom help you put it on?”

“Cool it, Rich.” Angel says tiredly.

“That’s irrelevant.” Stan says delicately. “Point is, I need someone to come with just in case I… You know… Last thing I need is a wardrobe malfunction.”

“Eds, go with Stan and help him with his costume please. And be quick.”

“You got it, Anj.”

Angel climbs onto the branch of a low-hanging tree so as to rest her feet and takes a great big heaving sigh as she watches them disappear from her peripherals. Richie and Bill hang back in silence for a time before Richie starts needling Bill with questions about his costume to pass the time. Angel doesn’t participate, finding that the exhaustion of being socially present was starting to weigh on her just the slightest bit now. She cranes her neck up to look at the sky and gets lost in the stars as she swings her feet. They’re so bright from so far, distant and almost vaguely familiar in their golden splendor; lighthouses that beckon brilliantly from lightyears away, from a place so far-flung she could hardly even fathom it and her mind wanders, hopping seamlessly from one constellation into another. She’s lost in fleeting thought about all the complicated little details of her life, from far off memories of years past to old fights she had with loved ones; problems she’s had and forks in the road she’s had to face before eventually arriving here at this present moment in time. Some part of her briefly wonders whether or not her life was building towards anything at all, and whether or not everything that happened to her was all for a reason or simply cruel twists of fate. She suspected it to be the latter.

Still, she couldn’t deny that she seemed exceptionally lucky, especially for an outcast. People… Like her, they didn’t tend to last very long in a place like Derry. She’s surprised she was able to make it this far to begin with, really. Though the 80’s were a modern and revolutionary time to be living in, places like Derry were less subversive. It was such a small town in such a rural place that things at times seemed a little backwards. If you weren’t a specific kind of way, if you didn’t conform to certain standards, you made yourself the target of many. People in this town could be downright nasty and she knew it. It didn’t stop her from being a relatively brazen girl, however. Growing up, she reveled in being weird, in being the oddball. She had a quirky, offbeat sense of humor, she listened to strange music, she drew creepy things no one liked to look at and she dressed like a clown, all bright and offbeat and mismatched. People tried to beat that out of her, and to some extent they definitely succeeded, but Angel was lucky that was all she got. For her own reckless daring she should be dead somewhere, the victim of some lowly scumbag that had crawled out of the dregs below to take their anger out on someone the town surely wouldn’t miss. She shouldn’t have lasted her entire childhood, and that was to say nothing about all the rumors. Those kinds of rumors were exceptionally dangerous in a place like this and still she managed to survive. It was remarkable to say the least.

Was she actually a lucky girl? Hard to say. She’d been the unlucky contestant of quite a few dicey situations over the years, situations that left nics and scratches and mental scars, things that kept her up at night when all that was left to do was think, but she still came out of all of it alive and well in the end. It was hard to ignore such a notable lifelong track record, and although it would have been easy to chalk it all up to good fortune, she knew that things simply weren’t that easy in Derry. With all of the town’s history, with all of the strange happenings and the presence of things unknown beyond anyone’s understanding, good fortune seemed too convenient of an excuse. She wondered, in the end, if she had anything to do with it all, if her fate was somehow tied to this town and all of its intricacies. Maybe the manifestation of her guardian angel wasn’t just a strange development but, in fact, a stepping stone to something she couldn’t yet understand.

She wanted to believe it, but the mere thought of it was making her more tired than before and, in a sense, melancholic for reasons she couldn’t properly justify. She was also starting to worry. It’d been an awfully long time since the kids left, and as time went on she couldn’t stop herself from starting to think dreadful things. For the sake of coping, her mind jumps from these heavy topics into things of less weight. Happy thoughts, she tries to think. Yes, she was looking forward to November. She was looking forward to the holidays to come. She was looking forward to the change of seasons, the segue of gorgeous autumn into breaktaking winter, the way that the trees would shed their foliage completely to welcome the blankets of virgin snow descending from the sky. Derry was positively resplendent in the wintertime, and the sight of snowcapped pines dotting across the land alongside festive lights, garland, tinsel, and other colorful decorations brought the town much-needed vivacity and cheer in perpetually grim times. She couldn’t wait for it.

Despite the excitement of the night, she couldn’t wait to go home either. Couldn’t wait to go home, say a goodnight to the kids and to her precious cat, peel off her costume and crawl into her warm bed where she’d take much-needed relief from it all. Couldn’t wait for the next day, when she would have the house to herself again, when she could turn on the TV and spend the hours searching for things to watch and keep her fickle attention span. She couldn’t wait to drown her troubles in junk food, a nasty habit she did well to keep to herself, and forget all her problems for as long as she possibly could. She couldn’t wait for the Derry Children’s Hour, and she couldn’t wait to see him. She couldn’t wait for the night to come again, where she’d fall asleep all over again and have that dream. The dream that would sometimes play out exactly as it had the night before, or the dream that would go just a little bit further, teasing at something that made her wake every morning with a blush staining her cheeks.

It was not unlike Angel to develop crushes on fictional characters or people on the TV, she’d grown up doing it her entire life. It was one of her most ingrained coping mechanisms, a way to deal with how exceedingly lonely she had always felt. Usually these things, these fixations lasted for about a couple weeks to maybe a month or two at most, and then they would fade to give way for the next one. Some were intense and lasted short amounts of time, others were more subdued and lasted longer. It simply depended on who it was and how much they struck her fancy. This one struck her fancy an awful lot if she were honest. Clowns were admittedly something of a weakness for her. She couldn’t exactly explain it, but her fascination with them didn’t just stop at the way they dressed or the way they acted. There was something else there too. She thinks about him, his bright blue eyes, the way they turned to gold in her fantasies and her stomach flutters with something delightful. And when she lets her gaze fall back down on the crowds of people trekking by, she almost thinks she catches a glimpse of him among the horde and a vision of his form paints itself in her mind, coifs of beautiful wildfire bouncing ever so slightly with each step, pleats of silver silk complimented by the reflecting moonlight overhead. Before she can let her mind wander on him too long, however, her attention is called by the sight of Eddie, who comes running up from the crowd wearing panic on his painted face. His makeup is smudged and he appears a little disheveled.

“Angel, Angel!” He calls frantically. He’s out of breath, and he pulls his inhaler from a specially sewn pocket on his suit. After taking two long indulgent puffs, he puts it back with shaking hands.

She jumps down from the tree, unease striking her veins. “What’s going on Eds? Where’s Stan?”

He’s still catching his breath, but he wheezes out the answer. “Its-- It’s Bowers.” He gasps. “Him and his gang caught us in the alley by Secondhand Rose.”

“F*ck.”

“Are you o-okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Patrick almost chased me down but I got away. I tried to go back for Stan after but I couldn’t find any of them when I did. I think maybe they took him somewhere else.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Okay well--” Angel says, picking up her cane again, which was resting idly against the trunk of the tree. “We can’t waste any time. We’ll drop by Secondhand Rose first just to make sure he's not there, and then we’ll start scouting Up-Mile-Hill. Come on, guys.”

No time to think about the clown now. Her mind is consumed now in the search for Stan, overcome with worry and concern that she cannot assuage with thoughts of a best case scenario, because best case scenarios simply didn’t exist with Angel. It was easier simply to assume the worst so that she wouldn’t take a single better outcome for granted, and right now, she assumed the worst in the vain hopes that she would end up being wrong. The Bowers gang was a violent bunch, and she feared what they might do if left alone with a defenseless child for too long. Stan was also a fairly delicate kid, and besides Eddie was least liable to stick up for himself in dire situations such as these. She tries not to think of it too much, keeping her mind solely on the task at hand. The remaining Losers are calling out for him as they search the streets, and she joins their efforts with a strong, loud call into the darkness.

“Stan, Stan!” They all keep shouting endlessly, but their voices are simply not enough to locate the whereabouts of their lost friend. Their best efforts are only met with silence among the chatter, and no one around pays heed to their dilemma, purely oblivious to their desperation and almost mindless in their dogging pace. Checking the alley of Secondhand Rose proves fruitless and futile, and after reaching that dead end they take their investigation elsewhere. Up-Mile-Hill is saturated with an almost obscene amount of people in costume and as time goes on the masses start to blend into one another, a mosaic of cheap, gaudy material, masks and outrageous makeup. Devils, witches, skeletons, and ghosts litter the streets among other more creative getups, and Angel finds herself thankful in this moment that Stan was wearing something fairly distinct; it made him easier to draw out of the crowd. If she could ever find him, that is. She continues her surveyance of the path ahead of her, searching like a watchful eagle over empty valleys and canyons, eyes trained on a certain and specific target. Her eyes scan restlessly over them all, raking over endless bobbing waves of people wandering aimlessly towards god-knows-what and she thinks she sees a clue on the ground, an iridescent feather distinctive of Stan’s flashy ensemble.

But then-

“Bill!” She hears Eddie scream.

She turns back, bringing their pace to a grinding halt. The crowd moves around them, unfazed.

“Wha- What about Bill? Where is he?” she asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know!” Richie says frantically. “He was right behind us and then when we looked back he was just gone! We lost him!”

“Jesus f*cking-- Okay, okay.” She takes a deep breath, eyes closed tight as she thinks. When she opens her eyes and surveys the crowd again, it's almost as though there’s five times as many ghosts as before. It gives her a headache just looking at them all. “We can’t stop looking for Stan, just-- Just keep a lookout for Bill too.”

“But there’s a f*ckton of kids dressed just like him! How are we supposed to find him in this sea of ghosts? It’s like the goddamn River Styx out here!” Richie exclaims.

“There’s nothing else we can do, Richie! We’ll find them both eventually, just trust me, okay? Come on!”

They start moving again, and she’s even more terrified than before. That ever-familiar fear and mortification frosts over her heart, and it takes everything she’s got not to have a panic attack right there on the sidewalk. She needed to stay strong for the kids, she knew that, so she trudges on, swallowing the dread forming hard lumps in her throat and ignoring the knots twisting and churning in her stomach, different than the pleasant ones from before. Now more than anything she wishes for her guardian angel, wanting to feel their presence simply for the sake of comfort and security in these uncertain circumstances and disheartened that she couldn’t find a single trace of them. As she kept collecting the gifts she started eventually becoming in tune to a certain feeling, an aura that manifested itself in powerful warm gusts of wind or insectile chatter that seemed to come through her from all directions. Strange exhalations of something cosmically different, brief demonstrations that something was definitely watching over her, presumably speaking to her in the only way it could. As much as she longed to feel that aura now, however, there was simply nothing to console her, leaving her alone to navigate this difficult terrain on her own.

“Stan!” She continues calling out. But there’s still nothing.

She keeps scanning the crowd. Her eyes don’t stop for even a second, trying to find the bright and colorful plumage of his intricate costume amidst the comparably dark, bland tones of the others blending into one another. There seem to be more people than before. With each passing moment the numbers only increase, and now Angel can’t even see the path in front of her. Another category of overdone costumes seems to have entered the fold, a swarm of zombies and walking corpses ambling alongside her now as she conducts her frantic investigation. It’s getting tight and claustrophobic, she’s elbowing and shouldering past countless people, hoping in vain that Eddie and Richie can keep the pace behind her, knowing that she truly couldn’t afford to lose any more of them. She doesn’t have the time to look back and check, but the presence of their voices is enough to reassure her. There’s so many people she can hardly believe it, more people than she saw at the concert some weeks back, and surely more people than reasonably existed in Derry. She can’t question it, doesn’t have the energy to, so she just keeps searching, calling. The pace of the crowd is relentless and unstoppable now like droves of stampeding wildebeests, and she fears they might get trampled if they stop for even a second. She’s moving, searching, calling and then she’s interrupted; her eyes fall on something in front of her that makes her heart skip a beat in her chest.

It’s him, moving along with the horde, far ahead of her but still very much recognizable. She can hardly believe her eyes, and he doesn’t disappear when she blinks in confusion. In her panic-riddled mind she briefly wonders if its really him or simply a person imitating him, and she comes to the quick and hopeful conclusion that it must be the former, as she saw no reason anyone in this town would want to dress up as a character on a bizarre local access show of all things. Something strange overcomes her and her pace quickens; she can hardly think as she pushes past more people, becoming consumed now in the throes of a different chase. Her feet feel numb and she can’t control herself. She keeps her eyes on him, his tall figure distinct among the bobbing throngs of people shorter in stature, and she can hardly hear the calls of the children behind her.

“Angel! Angel!” Ed and Richie are yelling desperately. They sound far away, almost as though they had floated off, light as balloons and skyward-bound. She shuffles forward, static in her ears as she leaves them behind. “Where are you going?! Angel!!”

She’s swallowed by a strange desire, something she can’t muster the power to break from; not here, not now. She’s almost hypnotized, taken by an urge she doesn’t understand, but she knows she has to get to him. She doesn’t even know what she’ll do when she does; what she’ll say, how she’ll explain herself. She simply continues thoughtlessly, her canter almost quickening into a run, as much of a sprint as the current surroundings would allow her. It’s almost like a sickness, intense and vivid and overwhelming, heat settling over her temples as she pushes closer towards him.

And then he stops for a second, the crowd moving around him like currents of the red sea parting for the will of god through Moses’ staff. He stops, he turns, and he looks through her with a piercing stare. His eyes are highbeams of golden headlights in the dark of an unlit road.

She becomes dizzy, she loses all concentration. Everything is blurry, she can’t see straight. The static in her ears becomes deafening, almost like there’s a chorus of screams fighting to break free from her veins. There’s something mad roiling furiously through her blood now. Her eyes glaze over for a long moment before she snaps out of it, and she finds him gone from the crowd, almost as though he were never there in the first place. And then as she sobers, it all comes flooding back. Oh. Oh god. The children. She looks around her, but Eddie and Richie are gone now. She’s alone in the crowd. She’s alone, and she’s managed to lose all four of them.

Angry tears brim in her eyes as she immediately breaks from Up-Mile-Hill back onto Costello Avenue, quick and nimble on tired feet, her pulse thrumming in her aching temples as she continues her search more frantically than before. She longed to be at home resting after such a long night but she knew it wouldn’t end until she found them. It was hard, but she knew she had to take responsibility for all of this and see it through. She was just so worried for them. She spends eternal minutes scanning over the comparably empty road, interrupted only by the occasional passing streetcar, shivering in her costume and almost wishing for the feverish warmth of the previous chase to take her again. The feelings of self-hatred are starting to work their way through her blood again, blaming herself for all of it as she carries on. They were all lost and it was all her fault. If she’d just kept everyone in one piece, if she hadn’t gone chasing after the stupid clown, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. This wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

She crosses from Costello Avenue onto Canal Street, and from there she starts to trek across Bassey Park towards the Kissing Bridge. She knew the Bowers Gang liked to hang out there on occasion, and there was the vague possibility they’d taken Stan there. Yes. Yes, it might be a better idea to search for one kid first and move on from there. She could at least take comfort in the fact that the others were simply lost in the crowd on Up-Mile-Hill, and they had a better chance of being safe while she tried to track down Stan. She hoped anyway. The Kissing Bridge comes up on the horizon and she stops for a moment. She slides her hands down the length of her cane until she reaches the bottom, and unscrews a compartment on the end until a hidden flashlight pops out. She turns it on and keeps going, shining it on the path in front of her until she reaches the bridge. She flashes it momentarily at all the names on the bridge, down at the Kenduskeag across the way, then scans it over the tunnel ahead of her. She listens for noises, any noises, anything that might give them away if they were anywhere nearby. So far, there’s nothing. She waits, and waits, but still there’s nothing.

She feels the tears come welling up in her eyes again and she stuffs the flashlight into her pocket in frustration. She leans out over the bridge, elbows propped on the white wood, and starts sobbing as she lets her face sink into her hands. Her cries echo in the emptiness of the surrounding nature, mocking her panic and her fear as the silent moon looks on indifferently from above. She indulges in this dejection for some time, unable to do little else than use this time to collect herself through her misery. She closes her eyes and lets her tears drop from her face into the foliage of the downward sloping hill below. She groans and buries her face in her hands again, but jerks up in alert when she hears rustling in a nearby underbrush. She whips her flashlight out again, cautiously searching with its beam of light to discern what she had heard, but she gets the wind knocked out of her as something rams into her from the side and slams her to the ground.

When she hits the ground her vision blurs, and she gasps desperately for breath as she waits for her vision to return. Something hits her in the ribs again and she sputters, coughing out a shriek as she rolls over and curls into a fetal position, trying to shield herself from her assailant. Another blow, this time aimed at her back and she cries out, further pushed into the wood of the Kissing Bridge. Her forehead scrapes against the pavement and she can see her blood smeared against the ground, black in the dim moonlight. She squeezes her eyes shut, almost hoping that that perpetrator might stop eventually if she just laid there and took it. She wheezes in agony, trying to catch her breath, but she’s suddenly jerked upward by her shirt and slammed against the bridge. She coughs again, blood and drool trickling down her lip, shaking as she faces her attacker.

It’s Patrick Hockstetter. He’s alone, and he wears a look of smug content on his face. Smug content and just the slightest hint of resentment.

“Nice to see you again.” He sneers.

She gasps, still short of breath, unable to react immediately. She straightens her back in his hold and winces at the aching pain in her bones.

“Patrick Hockstetter.” She groans. “I knew one of you slimy fucks was hiding around here.”

He punches her in the ribs and she cries out again, losing her breath as he looms over her. He’s pressing her backward into the bridge like he intends to push her over the edge, but he still holds her there, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

“I’d shut my mouth if I were you, you stupid meddling b*tch.” He says with venom in his tone.

“F*ck...You.” She growls, and he hits her again, this time across the face.

She coughs and sputters, and then she looks up to glower at him.

“What… The f*ck...Did you do to Stan..?” She asks darkly, swallowing back the taste of rust.

“You mean that kid in the lame little bird costume?” He asks. He leans in, and she can smell the revolting stench of alcohol on his warm breath. “...We beat the everloving piss out of him.”

She lunges forward, roaring in rage but he’s too quick. He punches her in the ribs once more and laughs when she lets out a pained howl, crumpling over as she tries in vain to protect herself. He keeps a tight grip on the front of her shirt, and a spike of fear shoots through her veins when she can hear a click from outside her peripherals.

He raises a switchblade to her throat, slowly pressing the sharpened metal against her throat, savoring the way she squirms.

“You’re a f*cking freak, you know that?” He sneers. “Grown woman friends with a bunch of lame ass little kids, f*cking lifeless weirdo. No wonder you hang around with those f*cking losers, you’re no different than they are. ”

“Better than hanging around a bunch of limp-dicked nobodies who get their rocks off threatening women and children.” She whispers with hatred in her voice. Despite her fear, she can’t stop herself from taunting him even in the face of danger.

He presses the blade against her throat harder now as he pushes her back against the bridge.

“Shut up, b*tch, or I’ll slit your f*cking throat right now. I’ll let you bleed out right here on the ground.”

He looks around her and down into the underbrush below. He looks thoughtful for a second, and then an evil grin spreads across his face.

“Or… I’ll throw you over this f*cking bridge. How about it, bitch? Maybe you’ll break your neck from the fall.”

He inches her back even more until half her body is dangling back over the wood, and she’s struggling against him.

“Yeah, yeah I think that’s a pretty good idea. I think this town would be better off without you anyway. Just one less of you making us all look bad.” He says.. He notices the pendant around her neck and smirks. “Hmm, won’t be needing this anymore, will we?” He yanks it from her neck and throws it to the side, delighted at the way she cries out in dismay when it clacks against the ground and skids out of sight into a nearby bush.

"Well, it was nice knowing ya…"

He leans forward to whisper in her ear.

So long dyke.

And then he pushes her over the edge.

She screams out as she falls and then she hits the ground. There’s a sickening crunch upon her impact and gravity sends her tumbling painfully down the underbrush. She’s lost her breath completely and she gasps for air, gulping it down into her lungs desperately as she plunges toward the bottom of the hill. She’s got scratches on her face from stray branches and she’s covered in dust and leaves as she lays there helpless, immobilized in the dirt. The pressure against her ribs is unbearable and it takes all of her strength to roll from her side onto her back. Her bowler is gone, having gotten lost when she was pitched over the side. She can’t muster the energy or the strength to get up, time has slowed to a crawl as she passes the minutes fighting to stay conscious. She can see the black starting to take over and she tries her best to combat it, but she knows it's only a matter of time before she passes out. She coughs into the cold air, and each cough sends a sharp pain stabbing against her insides, sends fresh tears in her bloodshot eyes, which brim over the surface and trickle warmly down the side of her feverish cheek. She’s almost gone when she hears laughing overhead. Laughter, self-indulgent despicable cackling which turns into a blood curdling shriek out of nowhere. She thinks she’s hallucinating the rumbling snarls and the wet, ripping sounds, the chewing, so vivid in her ears like surround sound in a movie theater, the stench of death rolling over the cold air like a carrion perfume. It’s a maddening assault to the senses, one she can’t muster the energy to question or justify as she lies there like a captive audience. Then, just as quickly as it came, there’s simply an eerie silence now where there was once a disorienting cacophony of screams and tears and she can’t stave it off anymore, the pain and the exhaustion. After a few more moments of vainly trying to fight it, her sight eventually goes to black.

Silence, silence, silence and sleep. And then…

“Angel…” A voice calls to her. “Angel…”

She’s still out like a light, but she can still hear it, the sound of someone familiar. The voice is sweet and soft and lilting, almost like a lullaby. Almost like… No, it couldn’t be.

But when her eyes flutter open ever so slightly, she can see something reaching towards her from above, a blackened figure she can’t quite make out in her haze. The figure appears tall and looming; it reaches its hand down towards her and she wants to grab it, but she just doesn’t have the strength. Her sight is returning and the stars above her are so vividly blinding even in her haze; they stare down at her from above, bold but kind as she comes out of her trauma-induced stupor. This moment is so vaguely familiar to her, almost like deja vu; it's as though she’s reliving that night at the Terrace, with the mysterious benefactor that had saved her from getting very nearly trampled. She wants to reach… She tries so hard, but the pain is too much and she falls back again, thudding against the ground. The shadow looms closer still.

“Angel…? Angel!”

The world slowly returns to her weary eyes, and when she comes to all she can see is the kids standing over her.

“Holy sh*t, are you okay?”

They’re all crowded around her in worry, looking over her in concern, crouched to examine her beaten condition. The stars are merely a backdrop now.

“Oh I’m fine…” She says weakly, letting tears of relief well in her eyes. “Just… Slipped and fell. Clumsy me, right?”

She laughs bitterly and then sucks in air through her teeth with a gasp. She groans.

“Nah, I… I went looking for you guys and… Ran into Hockstetter. He beat a raincheck into my stomach and t-threw me over the Kissing Bridge.”

“Jesus.”

“ F*ck man.”

“They got you too, huh?” Stan says, his voice feeble and frail. She takes a closer look at him, standing above her. He’s all disheveled and bruised and his costume is ripped to shreds. Eddie and Richie have him with an arm around each of their necks, propping him up.

“Awh, Stan, your costume…” She says, genuinely heartbroken. She coughs again.

“It’s… Okay. Definitely could’ve been worse.” He assures her. She can see the pain on his face.

“How’d… F*ck… How’d you guys… Find each other again?” She asks, trying to sit up but only making it about halfway.

“Well, Richie and I stuck together in the crowd after we lost you.” Ed explains. “We only managed to find Bill near the library because he took his costume off, and the three of us went down Up-Mile-Hill again to look for Stan after that.”

“We found him in the alley next to Tracker Brothers, said the Bowers Gang split up and left him to look for us after they were done beating the snot out of him.” Richie adds. “They didn’t find us, thank f*ck, but it looks like they found you. Well, one of them anyway.”

‘A-Anyways…” Bill speaks up. “We heard you s-s-scream… From across the Barrens, so we hurried over as f-fast as we c-could. Couldn’t find you on the b-bridge, but then s-suh-Stan spotted you down here near the canal.”

“Sorry we got here so late.” Eds says apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it.” She says, trying to sit up again. She winces. “I just… Think I’ve had enough for one night, and I'm sure… God… All the rest of you have too. Think we should probably find some way to get me home that doesn’t involve a stretcher.”

“We could all try to help get you up the hill, but what about Stan?” Eds asks, glancing at him from the side.

“I’ll be fine.” He says. He steadies himself before removing his arms from Ed and Richie’s shoulders. “I’m sore but nothing seems broken. She’s definitely in worse condition than me anyway.”

“...Thanks Stan.” She sighs with gratitude.

"Don't mention it." He smiles.

“Alright so… Are we doing this?”

“Yeah.” Angel agrees weakly. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Ed and Richie both pull on her arms and Bill supports her back as she struggles to get up. She hisses in pain as she scoots forward on the ground, and then she finds her legs, moving forward onto her knees so she can stand. She gasps as she gets up, and all four of them immediately move to keep her upright. She straightens her back and takes a deep breath in through her nose, breathing out through her mouth as she takes her first step forward. It gets harder as they reach the steep incline leading up towards the road, but against all odds they make their way back up. The walk home is long and painful despite the shortcuts they take but thankfully the crowds have all but dissipated completely at this point. Halloween seems to officially have come to an end and the streets are deathly silent now.

The second they come through Angel’s front door they waste no time in getting her to the couch. They lay her down on the cushions and she immediately sinks into the soft gingham, wincing and groaning in pain. Bill takes one of the pillows laying decoratively on one end and uses it to prop her head up. Richie and Ed help get her situated while Stan sinks down tiredly onto the floor next to one arm of the couch.

“You think anything is broken?” Ed asks worriedly. “Because, I can call 911. In fact, I think we probably should just to be safe.” He’s already walking towards the phone.

“No no, Eds, that’s okay. Don’t worry, I think I’m good. I think maybe my ribs are bruised, but I don’t think I broke anything.”

He puts the phone back on the hook. “You sure?”

“Quite sure. Promise promise.”

“Well… Alright. Either way, we should try to get the other stuff patched up.” Ed says, immediately striding over to his backpack now. “Luckily, I came prepared. My mom always makes me carry a first-aid kit around.”

“Nerd.” Richie mutters under his breath.

Eddie makes quick work of Angel’s wounds, disinfecting them with alcohol and applying bandages to all her cuts. Then once he’s done, he admires his handiwork.

“There. Not quite good as new, but I’m sure you’ll be better in a couple days.”

“Thanks Eds.” She says gratefully. Eddie has already gotten to work patching up Stan too.

“What now, though?” Richie asks. “Do we just… Go home? I was hoping to trade candy.”

“Dude, she’s dying.”

“I’m not dying.” She insists thinly from the couch. “If you guys wanna trade candy, then by all means. I owe you for getting me home tonight.”

“Are you s-s-sure, Angel? We don’t want to make things any h-harder on you.”

“Nah,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I don’t mind. Trade candy, watch a few movies, have some fun. Forgive me if I don’t join you, though, need some sleep after all this sh*t. Do your parents know you’re spending the night?”

“We can spend the night?” Richie asks, perking up.

“Sure. I don’t want you kids walking home alone after what happened tonight, too risky. And I’m not in any shape to take any of you back, either, so I don’t mind.”

“Well, n-none of us really c-cuh-cleared it with our parents…” Bill admits.

“Yeah…”

“...Maybe you can call them up in the morning.” Stan suggests, his voice muffled from between his hands. “Tell them we were too tired to walk home after we got done trick or treating. They know we’re with you, and we’ve slept over before.”

“Works for me.” Angel shrugs. “Well, I’m heading off to bed, you guys know the drill. Out before 6:30 and fold the blankets before you leave.”

“You got it, boss.” Richie salutes.

“Thanks Angel.”

She stops in the doorway of her room. “Thank you.” She says with a genuine smile and a wince. She shuts her bedroom door behind her.

Mayor Jello is already asleep on the bed. Time seems surreal as she gets undressed, peeling off all the layers to her costume and shucking them carelessly off to the side as she tiredly scans the walls of her room in vacant thought. Her eyes travel all over her various keepsakes and eventually make their way over to her open closet. Dozens of painted ceramic clowns stare at her innocently from the shelf as she removes her clothes and in the silent emptiness of it all, she blushes. She pops a couple painkillers, washing it down with a hearty swig of water at her bedside table, then carefully crawls into bed with a long and hedonistic sigh. She can hear the chatter and uproarious laughter of the children just down the hall and it makes her smile.

Nestling into the blanket, she lets her mind wander as she lays her head down into the plush of her cotton pillow, reflecting over all that had happened tonight with a kind of wistfully retrospective lens. She couldn’t deny that it was most certainly a very eventful holiday, more than she quite frankly could have bargained for. She’s just beyond relieved that she and the children all managed to end up together in one piece again. She’s worried for Stan’s condition, and quite frankly, worried what his parents might say when they learn of it, but she pushes those worries away for now, instead letting her mind wander toward Pennywise again. It was strange, what had happened earlier that night. She was almost sure she saw him in that crowd, but even stranger still was her reaction to seeing him in the first place. The urge to approach him had overcome her like a mad fever, and it had been an urge so powerful it separated her from the children. All she could do in that moment was try to reach him, like she was a moth fluttering desperately towards the warmth of faraway flame. And then, once he had gone, she had been so cold again. It was like he was a vision, a mirage so vivid and tangible but a mirage all the same, dissipating into nothing as she drew ever closer. Just a vision, a fantasy, a dream.

Her thoughts bring her into peaceful slumber, and from there she meanders into the all-too-familiar setup again, the same telltale scenario she’d encountered dozens of times by now. Waking up in the morning, getting ready for work… The feeling of loneliness and desolation stewing within the town, the clacking of her heels against the sidewalk the only instrument playing in an otherwise empty orchestra as she makes her way to the library. Working her shift, ignoring the cold shivers that roll down her back, the way the emptiness made her feel small and vulnerable… And the way that things always shifted, when she hears the whispers for the first time. How she follows the voice, and the way warmth seeps back into her bones with every step, like she’s simply a corpse rediscovering life. The feelings that bubble up inside her when she sees him for the first time, there in a place far below the town, standing there like he’s been waiting thousands of years just for her.

He faces away from her for a time, and when the silence becomes too much she always finds inexplicable strength in her voice. She calls to him.

“H-Hello?”

He slowly faces her now, his eyes glowing warmly in the darkness. They’re not mean or intimidating, only warm, like two golden tears shed from the sun, like glimmering, shimmering stars. She does not shrink back from his blinding stare even as it numbs her, even as it makes her blood scream out for something unknown and fills her with shrieking, seething insanity. He doesn’t answer with his words but the way he holds out his hand fills her with purpose; she trudges forward on deadened feet, closing the gap between them slowly but surely. And usually, that’s where the dream would almost always end. Sometimes she would hear a delicious whisper in her ear as she drew closer, might even feel the sensation of hands ghosting lightly over her exposed skin, but she would always wake before anything really happened, before he got a chance to truly touch her. It always frustrated her to no end.

“Angel…” She can hear the smile in his voice. There he stands, waiting for her to come. But then, but then… He takes a step forward himself, keeping his arm outstretched as he moves, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as he does so. This was… This was new. She resists the powerful urge to run towards him now, forcing herself to keep the same slow and composed pace from before as she keeps going. He continues in his own fashion, his eyes rooted on her, his suit jingling ever so slightly with each step and all she can think about is how desperate she is to feel it in her fingers. The thought is so deliciously sublime that each step gets lighter and lighter, and then eventually she leaves the ground completely. She starts to float in the cold air, starts to float away from him, and her dismay only sends her higher, higher and further away from his reach.

“P-Pennywise!” She cries out. She tries to swim down towards him to no avail, the current of the air is simply too strong. He doesn’t speak as he stares at her from below, but his voice is there in her mind regardless.

“I’ll always protect you, my sweet.”

Her eyes flutter open. It’s morning, she can tell by the light that shines through the curtains and the way the birds chirp from the trees outside. 7:27 , the clock at her bedside reads. Reality returns to her waking mind as she wiggles her toes underneath the warmth of the comforter, and as she adjusts her head on her pillow she can feel something odd laying underneath it. Another gift, maybe? As she sits up and regards it with wary eyes, she feels almost like a child unearthing spoils from a late night visit from the tooth fairy, and when she removes it she can’t stop the breath from hitching in her throat, a smile spreading across her face at the discovery.

It’s her pearl heart pendant, and beside it, a grape-flavored Tootsie Pop.

She walks out into the chilly living room, nothing on save for the necklace and a t-shirt. The living room is bare now, all sign of the Losers gone as she surveys the surroundings with tired eyes and steps towards the couch. Unwrapping the Tootsie Pop, she slides it in her mouth as she sits down, turning on the TV with a sigh. The local news is on, and the sight of the headline makes her heart sink with dread.

Patrick Hockstetter was declared missing.

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter seven #halloween #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #tenpence

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sussex-nature-lover · 4 years ago

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Sunday 3rd January 2021

Review of the Year Q3. July, August, September 2020

The weather stayed good and we were very glad to be able to get outdoors and to see so many visitors to the garden, even if some of them were rather naughty.

Question: when are squirrels well behaved?

Answer: let me know when you find out.

2020 was a huge year for Deer in the garden and they hardly seemed bothered by us at all. Sometimes they come alone and sometimes in a group. So called Hooves of Fire wrecked the seed tray and kept churning up the grass. If we can get that sorted this year, just a year behind schedule, we will. Given all the Pheasants and the Deer, it seems a bit of a forlorn hope but we’ll see.

Forlorn. Hah!

17th July saw Captain Tom Moore knighted at Windsor Castle in a socially distanced, outdoor ceremony (scene portrayed by models)

23rd July was my birthday

As a rule the family would gather and we’d have a nice social time. This year we sat at one side of our front porch and Ms NW tY stopped by after work for a drink and some nibbles. She was seated at the opposite side of the porch like we’d sent her to Coventry.

The origins of this phrase aren't known beyond doubt, although it is quite probable that events in Coventry in the English Civil War in the 1640s are the source.

For those not familiar with the UK, Coventry is an industrial city in Warwickshire, England. It is well-known for its two cathedrals; the modern cathedral being built in 1962 to replace the old cathedral, which was destroyed during an intense German bombing raid in 1940.

In the 17th century, when this phrase is supposed to have originated, Coventry was a small town. It has been suggested that the phrase, which we now use figuratively, originated from people being actually sent there.

The story is that Cromwell sent a group of Royalist soldiers to be imprisoned in Coventry, around 1648. The locals, who were parliamentary supporters, shunned them and refused to consort with them.

Over the year I took a few photos that formed a kind of series. One was Birds on the Line - very popular locations, as shown by these Starlings. I did capture rather a lot of Wood Pigeons and Crows though despite my best efforts to find something a little more exotic.

Male Common Darter at Bateman’s NT

There were plenty of posers around for me including Dragon and Damselflies on a bench at Bateman’s. Seeing the new Cheviots up at the farm was a surprise and below, the young Kestrels were comical, striding up and down the barn roof.

Blue Tit on the Christmas Tree

It’s always quite lovely to see the fledglings thrive and 2020 was a good year for Tits and Robins.

Juvenile Robin

We probably made a lot more use of the garden last Summer, as we couldn’t go anywhere else much and the conditions became quite like being away-away.

I also learnt quite a lot about nature in 2020, it was a combination of having a Guru on Twitter to run all my queries by and doing a lot of internet research. One of my discoveries was about Great Spotted Woodpecker (amongst others) having an extra protective eyelid, which makes perfect sense actually if you think about it. I’d never spotted it before though.

Aliums on a hot day

Like Goldfinch (below) the Common Buzzards were plentiful in the skies above and their call could be heard across the valley multiple times a day. Photographing them was quite another matter.

The photo above caused a lot of debate with local ornithologists who debated long and hard before settling on a Honey Buzzard

They’re known to frequent the Reservoir over Summer months.

The days were long and peaceful, sunsets almost Mediterranean. I lost track of how many times we were sat out saying it was just like being on holiday, just without the fight to reserve a lounger or the sounds of the sea. Sometimes when the breeze rippled through The Apostles though, if you closed your eyes you could more or less imagine it.

‘The Apostles’ as seen from ‘Goldfinch Alley’

Our garden at sunset looking exotic

One of my favourite birds, the Nuthatch, did really well and there were lots of young, so we had loads of visitors of varying sizes enjoying both the food and the water.

We spent a lot of time looking at the skies, admiring the clouds and learning a bit about the formations. It was so, so clear and a bit of a revelation to us.

Throughout the year the mystery cat kept visiting. Boy or girl? No idea (still) Nicknamed by us Monsieur Flambeau after a character in the Father Brown books, I always greet them with a cryptic ‘We meet again Monsieur Flambeau’ I’ve heard it said that about 80% of ginger cats are male but this one’s so pretty who knows.

In August,on our walks, we were finding lots of Horse Chestnuts hiding conkers and green acorns falling already.

And in August, two lots of new fencing and new gates - all done on Ms NW tE’s birthday, not that she’s seen in yet, but it certainly tidied the boundary and we were very pleased with it.

I haven’t written about all the National Trust visits we went on through the year. They were mostly for the chance to walk in different territory and gardens. If I started to list them we’d be here for ever, but I did get some nice nature pictures for my collection. The ones below were taken at Standen House, East Grinstead.

I’ve put a tab at the top of the Blog with links to all our usual haunts.

Small Copper Butterfly

Small White Butterfly

White Tailed Bumblebees

We were still enjoying the clear skies and glorious sunsets but Mid September brought the harvest across the lane

and all the leaves started to turn

Sheffield Park

Scotney Castle

Late September brought about a change in the weather. The rolling Sussex skies moved in and the garden took on a totally different look.

Photo taken between 3 and 4pm

Below, pond up at the farm - with added sheep

But it wasn’t all gloom. We got sighting of a Spa Day. Remember them?

and everyone wanted IN.

NOTES FROM THE GARDEN AND KITCHEN:

Direct quote from Crow ‘they can’t be far away, as soon as I went out (with the fat balls and seed) they came’ ...Re The Girls

The last couple of days I’ve noticed quite a lot of activity amongst the Wood Pigeons and the Blackbirds in particular. We seem to have a lot more of both in the garden all day long and the males and females are being quite friendly. Watch this space.

Because we didn’t have a turkey this year we’re not one of those households furiously thinking what can be done with seemingly endless left-overs. We did get quite a good selection of cheese though and have enjoyed some rather nice warm croissants filled with cheese and ham, they keep you going most of the day and we’ve had a couple of meals with salmon, which is a nice, light change.

Decoration of the Day:

A lovely sparkly star for the 10th Day of Christmas because I don’t have Ten Lords a-leaping. I don’t have the Pipers piping or the Drummers drumming come to that.

MUSIC OF THE DAY:

Relaxing piano and birdsong by Peder B Helland

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#review of the year #nature #birdwatching #piano music #naturephotography

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mysticseasons · 7 years ago

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VIRTUE AND MOIR: THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir came back after a two-year sojourn last year because they wanted to skate. And they felt they had more to give.

“We felt like we could be better,” Moir said.

(Above: Youngsters)

No doubt, an Olympic gold medal is on their minds. But it’s not all and it’s not enough.

There are so many days in which they smile the whole time. They wake up wanting to go to the rink. As they said a year ago, they didn’t come back to be who they were – which wasn’t bad, mind you: all those great edges; the intertwining of one movement which unfolds to the next; the novel lifts, new each year; the passion to express.

They spent last year revamping their technique and their style of skating, believe it or not: working on basics and mechanics, shifting the patterns in which their bodies moved. They spent time in the gym. They never fail to mention B2Ten, the group that gives them multi-faceted off-ice support, some of it rather scientific. Their goal was not necessarily to set the world afire last year as they set the groundwork for their second year back: this year.

But they did set the world afire in 2016-2017. They set two world records, for the short dance (82.43) and total score (198.62). And they were undefeated last season against the world’s best, the lone bobble to the exquisite French dancers Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron, who edged them in the free dance at the world championships, but not overall.

Virtue and Moir admitted their free dance wasn’t their best skate. “That kind of stung us a little bit,” Moir said. “And we were trained. We wanted to perform at the level we thought we should have.”

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Even so, they are coming into this season with all sorts of momentum. There should be no surprise if they have taken their skills and their expressive work yet a step further. It’s what they do. It’s the fire that lights them from within. They will be better this year than last. And experience is on their side, too. Last year they had to learn to compete again. They passed that test with flying flags.

”We’re so grateful to have had last year to set us up, schedule-wise especially, just to optimize our training this season and solidify our choreography and give our off-ice team a bit of a chance to home in on our mechanics once again,” Virtue said. “Things have just been rolling along as planned. I think in an Olympic season, you have to be adaptable, but part of that is just giving ourselves a buffer in case anything comes up through the year. I feel like we’ve done that.”

Mostly, they are excited about their material. It’s not a secret that they are skating to Rolling Stones and the Eagles and a bit of Carlos Santana for their short dance and “Moulin Rouge” for the free dance. What is a secret is just what and how they are using the music.

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They did say that the music from their “Moulin Rouge” is coming from the Oscar-winning movie version, starring Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor, a wonderfully dark, grandiose film that became the first musical in 10 years to be nominated for Best Picture back in 2001.

It took its producers two years to clear the rights for all of the music, since all but one song – “Come What May” – were covers of music from artists such as David Bowie (“Nature Boy”) and Elton John (“Your Song.”)

Virtue and Moir have always loved the movie and know that “Moulin Rouge” has been used time and again by international figure skaters (especially “Tango de Roxanne” for ice dancers).

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“But we try, as we always do, to put our own stamp on it, and make it unique,” Moir said. “Hopefully, it’s successful. We don’t want to give it exactly too much of where we drew things from. We want people to experience that for themselves,” Moir said.

Skaters have only a few minutes to tell a story, he added, and he doesn’t want to ruin the experience for spectators by revealing the specifics.

So will it be that riveting Roxanne tango, perfect for an ice dancer to pluck? Or the winsomely beautiful “Nature Boy,” by Bowie – perhaps the most beautiful song of the movie? Or perhaps “Come What May,” the ultimate love song – which would play well with ice dancers.

The public won’t know until their first competition: next week at Autumn Classic in Montreal, where Virtue and Moir will go up against two-time world medalists Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje and Canadian innovators Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier. Former world champions Anna Cappellini and Luca Lanotte of Italy are also in the field. And so are Maia and Alex Shibutani, world medalists from the United States.

It’s not easy keeping secrets in this social media world. But Autumn Classic will represent an unveiling, before Virtue and Moir get serious at Skate Canada in Regina in October.

There is an excitement when they talk about their “Moulin Rouge.” It was their idea. They presented it to coaches in Montreal. There has always been a collaboration in choosing music with coaches and choreographers.

“But this just felt like ours,” Virtue said.

“We are super proud of our 2017 programs for sure,” Moir said. “But the one thing we could have improved upon is picking something that we really connect with. We had a piece of music in 2014 that we couldn’t skate to, because people before us had made it special already.”

But “Moulin Rouge” is different.

“It comes from within us,” Moir said. “Skating to it feels special. I don’t know what it will look like. It might be a complete mess. But I can tell you, we are having a blast doing it. And we feel we have a special connection to it.” It’s high theatre, for sure.

So “Moulin Rouge” has become their standard piece.

“We just didn’t find anything that spoke to us and that we connected with like that,” Moir said. “And Marie [France Dubreuil ) and Patch [Patrice Lauzon] let us play with it a bit. And once they saw our passion and our connection to it, they started to come around a little bit more.”

When they began to create, things fell into place naturally. David Wilson came in to help, as well as their hip-hop man Sam Chouinard.

“We give credit to our coaches to not only let us have the opportunity to do something, but also getting on board and making it more special than we could ever believe,” Moir said.

This season, Latin is the prescribed rhythm for the short dance – and it’s not new to Virtue and Moir who have been together two decades. In fact, they danced a fiery flamenco at the Vancouver Olympics enroute to a gold medal. There will be nothing simple about this Latin piece.

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“We want to do something a little bit different,” said Moir. Dubreuil designed the routine for them and it’s a mix of modern rock. “It’s a bit of a party,” Moir said. “But we love the material and we get a chance to dance. It’s what we love to do.”

It starts with “Sympathy for the Devil,” and moves on to “Hotel California,” but it’s a novel arrangement. “It’s kind of a neat way to do Latin differently,” Virtue said.

Behind it all is a lot of training. They know what it is like to win and to defend – and they know how hard it is to defend. They are very motivated. They don’t have to look for it.

“We are just trying to control our emotions more than find motivation,” Moir said. “We think about it every day. That’s already started. It’s so funny how quick you’re going to be every night, dreaming about the Olympics. You can’t get away from it almost.”

The nice thing is that their Olympic record sets us them up nicely, said Virtue, speaking of winning the Vancouver Olympics and finishing second in the Sochi Olympics four years ago.

“I think we are the underdogs!” Moir said, jokingly.

-Beverley Smith

#Tessa and Scott #2017 #HPC17 #So ready for ACI now!#Beyond ready #Especially for the Free Dance #I just bloody love Moulin Rouge #I hope Tessa goes for red :)

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pixelatedgremlin-blog · 7 years ago

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((Rebooting closed rp with @sentinel-deadshot; everything up until this post is under the ‘read more’))

Rin studied the pictures Nate pulled out carefully and read the descriptions for each on the back. The Institute had been up to much more than anyone thought - there was a lot pictured here that Rin recognized as pre-war only from other books and photos she had seen. There must have been a purpose for it, one perhaps not inherently malicious, but everything involved with the Institute turned treacherous eventually. Not only that, but if they were planning to recreate the old world, did that bring everything, including the bombs that caused this nuclear desolation, back into play?

Nate confessed that the Director of the Institute was his son, and Rin’s eyebrows went up almost to her hairline in her shock. She opened her mouth to speak, but promptly shut it again, thinking better of her initial reaction. She had to choose her words carefully if she wanted this discussion to remain cordial. If she had a child, Rin supposed she would love them no matter what they did.

“He must be talented if he was made Director so young,” she finally said. After all, Nate didn’t look that old, though all of the scarring gave him a more weathered appearance. “So if your son is the Director, does that mean this is you in these photos?” Rin pointed to the figure in the lab coat and the one in the Courser uniform that both bore a striking resemblance to Nate. As far as she could tell, it could have been him in the pictures; there was no telling when these photos were taken.

Rin tugged on the end of her braid as she thought, a nervous habit she had developed at fourteen when she learned that asking questions was not always wise. As much as she wanted to know more about what happened between Nate and his son, she had neither the right nor the obligation to pry; digging for the painful details with Nicky’s business, not hers. Nate had called himself a ‘thing’ again, and Rin tugged a little more insistently on her hair as her brow furrowed. He mentioned before that he wasn’t a synth, and he wasn’t a ghoul - the Brotherhood of Steel referred to even non-feral ghouls as ‘things’ rather than people, and if he was part of the Brotherhood… well, it would not matter, as they would not accept him among their ranks if he was, in fact, a ghoul. But then what was he? Because from Rin’s experience, anything that wasn’t human was put down in the name of ‘safety’ in the Commonwealth.

Sighing, she dropped her hand into her lap and looked up at Nate again. As tall as he was, he looked so out of place in her tiny home; he probably felt out of place too, so she smiled at him, though it was a sort of sad smile. “I know how difficult it can be when family starts falling apart. You’re not… are you dealing with this all by yourself?”

Diamond City. The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. It was the last place post-war that still clung to shreds of pre-war values. From the protective wall to the clear class separation to the radio station itself - bless Travis’ nervous little heart - everyone put on the show that they were trying to preserve tradition and the values of the old world. Whether or not that was actually what was happening… Well, everyone had a different opinion on that. Rin didn’t say much about her feelings on the city and its residents. She nodded to the gate guard as he let her past, commenting his relief on her presence instead of Piper Wright, and made her way toward the small shack she called home.

Karina Andropov had a strange work schedule; she would spend anywhere from two to four weeks wandering around in the wasteland, helping caravans and other travelers by healing them up and selling supplies. She would return to Diamond City to spend a week with her siblings, make sure they were set in terms of food and other supplies, and then it was back into the Commonwealth. It wasn’t ideal for someone who devoted so much time to her two younger siblings, but it paid the bills, it wasn’t terribly faux-pas, and it allowed her to at least keep the few morals she had alive and well.

It wasn’t the ferals or the deathclaws or even the Big Bad Institute that gave Rin her nightmares, but the idea of anything happening to her siblings because of mistakes she had made as a teenager. They were her whole world, the reason she had done all of those terrible things that kept her up at night, and she would be damned if they were hurt on her account. The only person who knew the dark crevices of her history wasn’t even a Diamond City resident, and Rin preferred to keep it that way.

Today, however, Rin’s mind wasn’t on her demons or even on Anya and Nikolai. Instead, her head was miles away from here; she’d heard of a town called Sanctuary and a mysterious vault-dweller. If anyone knew anything about this recent turn of events, it would be Piper. The reporter was nosy and annoying, but she knew all of the latest gossip. She could also tell Rin if anything new was happening in Diamond City; for all that Detective Nick Valentine did for the Andropovs, Rin, hated bothering him with the trivial matters, especially when he was working a case. Maybe she would stick around a little longer this time and finally consider moving her siblings out of the corruption of Diamond City and its questionable mayor.

She was working the medical stand today in place of Dr. Sun, who was grateful to have a day off. He taught her everything he knew, and then she went and acquired other teachers in other places. Rin had always had a quick mind with a knack for absorbing information and putting her own flair on it. It was what drew people with agendas to her, and it was what made her decision to leave such a problem. Learning new tactics also meant learning secrets, not that she had any plan to maliciously spill those secrets. That would just attract unwanted danger. Diamond City, to the trained eye, was dangerous enough, especially since more and more visitors were walking around the market square these days.

sentinel-deadshot

Between all the residents, merchants and visitors, an heavily armored figure could easily be distinguished in the background. It often disappeared behind the various obstacles obstructing one’s sight of the market, but it was there… calmly moving, apparently disarmingly calm, even.

The figure, the thing most people recognized as ‘Deadshot’, hated the noises and the yelling of people ringing inside his head and ears… it always stunned him a little, worse than the explosion of a mininuke a few feet away from him.

Generally, the wasteland wasn’t the best place to be around anyway, but Deadshot had an important mission that required an extensive amount of energies and caused way too much stress for a normal human. He was on the quest to save his son, the only thing he had left of his previously happy life… things met a terrible fate when he found out his loved Shaun wasn’t a baby anymore… but a dying sixty years old man.

Time is a bastard.

Shocked, delusional, stressed and depressed beyond human belief, he continuously tried to drown his demons with drugs and alcohol - unfortunately problems always end up ‘floating’ without ever ending up temporarily forgotten as hoped. Deadshot ended up stepping down from his position of General of the Commonwealth Minutemen because of… unspecified reasons.

It was the price one had to pay for being alive… but was all the suffering worth it? He had no point in living anymore, without his family.

The endless questions about why life is such a pain to live stormed in his head as roamed around the market, hiding the worried and tired expression behind a mask and a pair of tactical glasses and hoping to find a doctor soon… not for himself, but for the big dog at his side, who had a few bullets stuck in his body.

‘Paladin’ Dogmeat, as the name on his custom made combat armour suggested, hardly ever got wounded, but every time it happened it was such a knife to the heart for Deadshot to hear him whine. Despite not loving having humans all around himself, the soldier loved animals far more than he was willing to admit.

“Vamos, chico.” He brushed a hand against the dog’s head to incite him to make just a little effort and reach the doctor’s stall… his voice didn’t sound human - at all. It was probably because of that mask of his, and a microphone changing the way one spoke and distorting the voice to something…ominous.

The man - or the thing, as he’d like to describe himself - moved slowly to reach the stall, stopping nearby the woman working in it and politely calling for her: “Madam?”

He wasn’t the best with manners as a kid, but right now, in this setting, the soldier appeared way too polite and good mannered to blend with the others… not that he wanted to, of course.

The man waited for response… his presence always ended up being ominous because of his height, but the weapons kept where everyone could see them weren’t suggesting hostility… Diamond City was the place he spent most time in when not on duty after all.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

It had been a rather slow day for Rin thus far; on the bright side, it meant that people in Diamond City were staying safe, but it also left Rin alone in her head a bit more often than she was used to while home. People stopped for idle chatter, sometimes one would buy a stimpak or another type of chem, but so far, the only person with whom she conversed extensively was Arturo. The weapons dealer was always interested in her stories from the wasteland - perhaps it was so that he knew what types of guns people would be buying, but it was still nice to be able to talk to someone so casually and not feel like they were staring into her soul. Nick Valentine had that uncanny ability, as did Piper when she was sniffing out her next big story, and even Vadim could give off that impression when he set his head one way and narrowed his eyes just slightly.

“Madam.” The voice behind her pulled Rin out of her thoughts and she spun around quickly to greet him.

“Good afternoon, what can I do-” Her words died in her throat when she had to crane her neck to make eye contact with the head about two feet above her own. The way her gaze raked over the broad expanse of power armor before finding the face of the owner of said armor made Rin feel like she took a hit of bad jet. Her blood ran cold, and she was sure that if she could stand outside her body and look at herself, she would be taking mental notes on how to improve staying calm when the only coherent sentiment her brain could produce was ‘panic.’

Outside of an occasional Raider, the only people who used suits of power armor were the Brotherhood of Steel, and this man certainly did not look like a Raider. Rin didn’t recognize him, though, which didn’t necessarily mean that he hadn’t been an Initiate or even a Knight when she was a Paladin there, but it gave her a tiny glimmer of hope that he didn’t know who she was and he wasn’t here to collect her to face consequences.

Rin cleared her throat and set her shoulders. “My apologies. What can I do for you today, sir?” Maybe having him as a patient - provided that he didn’t recognize her - would turn out to be beneficial. She could gain some information that would decide her next move, both out in the Commonwealth as well as in regards to her family. The prospect of a heavier Brotherhood presence in Diamond City made that settlement of Sanctuary look better by the minute.

sentinel-deadshot

“Hm.” The soldier was taken aback from the woman’s reaction, as studied her expression in curiosity. He could feel the panic in her yet find no reason behind that… unless the one he was dealing with was social anxious or an Outcast or… both. However, dealing with outcasts wasn’t his primary directive so it didn’t really matter.

It wasn’t rare seeing someone reacting badly at his presence, but panicking without reason? Strange.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you, madam.” The distorted voice spoke, with no apparent emotion in it, huge armored hands fiddling with the helmet that had been taken off… the piece of armor had some numbers on it: ‘204863’.

“I’m here because of my dog. He has been wounded in battle, against a Courser. I was wondering if you have some stimpacks or similar meds I can use on him. Promised I won’t take too much of your time.”

The armored soldier looked down at his dog, still whining a little and glancing at the doctor: “Cálmate, cachorrito.”

Deadshot was honestly so stressed he thought death from exhaustion was behind the corner… the Institute was doing its very best to kill off and replace him, and he had to eliminate clones of himself over and over again, being unable to sleep at night in fear of getting killed by a clone.

His grasp on reality was becoming weaker and weaker, and often made him question his own identity. However everything had little importance right now, as his biggest concern was the German Shepherd whining at his feet.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin hadn’t even noticed the wounded dog beside the power armor, and once she looked down at the pooch, her expression softened. She knelt down and held out her hand for him to sniff, trying to get him to trust her before she started poking around. Rin hadn’t encountered many dogs out in the wasteland that didn’t try to kill her on sight, but she had a soft spot for those who couldn’t help themselves.

“Don’t worry. He’s still walking, which is a good sign for recovery,” she assured the man in front of her. It only took a couple of minutes to find the source of the animal’s pain; some bullets in the side would certainly do that. Rin stood and began rummaging around in her bag as well as Dr. Sun’s boxes for the supplies she needed. As she did so, she glanced over at the soldier again. Now that she was in her element, she was able to assess her situation a little more objectively. He was definitely a Brotherhood soldier; the ragtag militia of the Minutemen wouldn’t speak so stiffly, even if they managed to get their hands on a set of power armor to begin with. Speech patterns aside, the man mentioned getting up close and personal with one of those deadly Institute Coursers, at least close enough to get shot at. It was no secret that the arrival of the Prydwen in the Commonwealth provoked more public brawls between the Brotherhood soldiers and the Institute’s endless supply of forces.

He was polite, overly so for someone who grew up in the wasteland, and while it was unexpected to say the least, it didn’t go unappreciated. He wasn’t demanding and he didn’t seem suspicious - both were good signs. Above all else, he seemed to truly care about his canine companion, which meant that for the time being, this stranger and Rin shared a common priority.

“I’m going to need your help in keeping him calm first. I need the get the bullets out before giving him a stimpak. I’ll use a very small dose of Med-X to numb the area. I’ll then remove the bullets, clean the wound to prevent infection, and then give him the stimpak. I’m going to have to wrap a clean towel around his whole torso because regular bandages will get stuck to his fur. You should keep that on him overnight and check the area in the morning. If the scarring has started, you’re good to go, but if he still has open sores, come back.” Rin sat cross legged on the ground with her tray beside her. “Are you ready?”

sentinel-deadshot

“One moment please, madam.” The soldier had listened closely to what the doctor said… luckily some studies conducted in the past gave him the knowledge necessary to understand what she was talking about.

Deadshot took one second to step out of his trusted power armor to avoid causing accidents of any kind, then got closer to Dogmeat again, and kneeled down to scratch his head. It’s not like there wasn’t a heavy combat armor hiding under the bulk of steel anyway, so in case of ambush, the soldier was still ready to everything.

“Oi, cachorrito.” He said calmly, getting the attention of the dog and caressing his head again: “Quédate quieto, ¿de acuerdo? Va a estar bien…” The dog barked softly and licked his mask just a little, as he nodded and added: “Go right ahead, madam. He won’t bite.”

The soldier waited patiently for the doctor to begin the operation, studying every single move she made and swearing to never, ever bring a dog on field again. If some backup was needed, next time he was surely going to build a robot… at least those things don’t suffer, scream, bleed and… die.

It was a concept that would leave most people perplexed… why would a war machine even care for other’s lives? It’s made to kill anyway. The fun part is that the war machine in question, the one that was kneeling right next to Dogmeat, didn’t know. He didn’t know why he cared so much despite all that he had done and seen… maybe in the end, being exposed to other’s death doesn’t make you immune to the psychological damage it causes, but instead enhances the perception one has of the importance of life, and how much others lives matter, too. Despite all that, though, Deadshot wasn’t going to admit anything, not even the existence of compassion in that apparently dead soul of his… and he kept everything hidden behind that mask and fifty thousands lies.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

If Rin had bothered to look around at the other people wandering around the market, she would have noticed that the hulking tin can that was her current customer was attracting a little more attention than any other visitor that didn’t look like a metal giant. She was focused on her work, but even if she had noticed, it wouldn’t have mattered any more to her than if everyone was pointedly ignoring him. She had her own opinion about soldiers, and even then, that opinion varied (somewhat) from person to person. There had been a few of her fellow brothers and sisters in steel that she regretted to leave behind, but at the end of the day, she couldn’t agree with the fundamental beliefs of the Brotherhood of Steel. That didn’t make all of them reprehensible people, but that did make any one of them a potential threat. If anyone suspected this man of being a cold, unfeeling war machine, Rin could only comment on his concern for the dog at his side, and anyone who cared for animals couldn’t be completely without a soul.

However, she did notice that even under the power armor, the man was heavily protected. Rin wondered that if he ever shed his armor and the voice-distorting mask, would the dog even recognize him? If the man was going for a terrifying presence, she was sure he excelled at that, even though that wasn’t what had her spooked.

Even if her canine patient was wary of her, he trusted the soldier enough to listen to whatever it was he said because Rin made quick work of extracting the bullets and treating the wound. She set the slugs off to the side to wash and bring to Nick later; he should get first crack at them before Piper snatched them up for her (not uncalled for) smear campaign against the Institute.

“Make sure he takes it easy for a couple of days until he’s fully healed. The last thing you want is for his wounds to reopen because someone pushed him too hard. If you go to the Dugout Inn, Vadim will even feed him free of charge. He loves dogs. You can mention that he’s a patient of mine and you should get a room for free for as long as it takes to recover.” She gave a small, not entirely forced, smile to the man and a comforting scratch behind the ears of the pooch. “Oh, I’m Rin, by the way. That might help.” She stood, brushed off her knees and dumped the tray in the small sink of Sun’s chemistry station. It was easy enough work, and Rin had learned the value of having quick hands out in the wasteland. “Your squadron isn’t moving out soon, I hope?”

sentinel-deadshot

“I don’t really have a squadron, madam. I’m one of those units that works on its own.”

Deadshot stated, scratching Dogmeat’s head before standing up and looking for a bag of caps hidden somewhere in the pouches of the combat armor: “And I’m two-zero-four-eight-six-three, designation Deadshot; spy and assault unit. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The soldier moved to his power armor, took a sack of caps out one of the pouches near the torso, and got closer to Rin again: “Thanks for your help. I don’t know how much an operation normally costs, but this should contain something close to one thousand caps.”

Something was bothering him, as his eyes searched for a potential threat in the crowd. He felt watched, and hated that feeling… every time someone stared at him that way, something awful was about to happen.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin raised an eyebrow at the man once he finished his lengthy introduction. There was something…off about being identified as a series of numbers, especially for the Brotherhood. It sounded a little too much like a synth designation to her, and after three years in the Brotherhood of Steel, she was aware that if this man gave any indication that he might be a synth, he would have been dealt with quicker than it would take to utter a recall code. On the other hand, it had been four years since she had given up her rank as Paladin and fled the Capital Wasteland, so they might have changed the way they referred to their soldiers. Given her experience with Elder Maxson, Rin certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

Regardless of her personal thoughts on the matter, she nodded. “Good to meet you too, uh, Deadshot.” There was no way she was going to call him by a string of numbers, even if she remembered what they were. She had to admit that she wasn’t all too thrilled at helping a spy, but something told her that if he was meant to spy on her, he wouldn’t admit it. Still, the quicker she could put this exchange behind her the better. Even if he had paid her way more than she was planning on charging him. For the dog as her patient, Rin was willing to take only enough caps to cover the supplies she used as well as maybe a Nuka Cherry or two for Nikolai on her way home. But one thousand caps? Well, she wasn’t going to argue if he had that much to hand out without even attempting to haggle down a price.

Rin looked from the sack of caps back toward Deadshot and opened her mouth to thank him when she noticed a sudden shift in his behavior. After taking care of her younger siblings for ten years, she knew how to pick up on when something was wrong. Even though she couldn’t see the man’s face, the way his shoulders tensed and his face moved as though he was looking for a target gave away enough to know that Rin should be concerned. “Is something the matter?”

sentinel-deadshot

“…heavy footsteps, using a stealth boy, has his scope locked on my head. Enough firepower to burn a normal human to ashes in the span of a few second, in that rifle. Another synthetic clone trying to kill me - the Director of the Institute has clear intentions of what to do with me. Act collected, madam… the synth is here for me only, there will be no casualties under my watch.”

He calmly took out his high-tech sniper rifle, looking almost way too calm for the situation - everything in his behavior gave away how used to having a gun pointed to his head he was really.

And it wasn’t even a lie: the soldier had been dealing with situations like this since he was fifteen… not too much of a big deal in his book, at this point and after all these years.

“Now please look away, it’s going to be a mess to witness… the others will barely even notice.” He added again, mounting a silencer on the weapon, still feeling the gaze of the copy on him.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin’s eyes widened as Deadshot explained what he saw with cold, unfeeling accuracy. None of this seemed to bother him - she had seen synths with more emotion in the face of danger than this man. It contradicted everything she had just seen in his concern for the German Shepherd, but maybe that was just who he was. He cared more for the safety and well-being of others than himself. Rin could relate to that… but she was only speculating here.

He also mentioned the Director of the Institute and immediately Rin started looking around to see if anyone heard him speak. The slightest mention of the Commonwealth Boogeyman sent people around here into a frenzy, and if he was looking for people not to panic, talking about the Institute was not a good way to spread calm.

“‘Act collected’? Are you serious? You must be out of your mind if you think that aiming into a crowd is going to keep me collected,” she hissed, but knelt behind the metal table with only the top of her head peeking out enough so she could see what was happening. “If it’s going to be a mess, won’t they see the aftermath?” This time, she was asking herself the question more than the man with the sniper rifle. She wanted to see what this synth looked like; maybe just looking at it would tell her why it was after Deadshot. Rin may have been happy enough to let him go about his business before, but if he was trouble for the Institute, she wanted to know more. In particular, she wanted to help ensure that they wouldn’t start targeting more people in Diamond City because of his little visit. The thought of witnessing a messy death hardly bothered her; she’d seen - and caused - some gruesome acts of violence during her days with the Triggermen and then the Brotherhood.

sentinel-deadshot

“…quiet…” The soldier said in a whisper, after her questions caused a brief moment of distraction and let the courser shoot a very powerful bolt of blue laser to Deadshot’s stomach - okay, maybe it hurt just a little.

“These things have a puntería de mierda.” A quite arrogant, vaguely pained sounding, quiet chuckle escaped him as carefully adjusted the scope: “They may look like me, but the aim is awful.”

The soldier held his breath and planted an explosive bullet into the synth’s forehead in the shortest second… when the clone fell on the ground, his skull was barely still in one piece, most of the facial features became unrecognizable as well. The guards rushed to find out what was going on, and immediately tensed up as saw the coat the Courser was wearing - the market was now empty.

“They aren’t going to attack this place and the people living in it - just me. You’re safe, the thing is dead. Anyway, your assumption is mostly correct… I am out of my mind, yet have not ran amok just yet.” He spoke calmly as quickly reloaded his rifle and put it behind his back, where it belonged in those rare times a fight wasn’t behind the corner.

“Are you injured at all, Madam Rin? If not, I suppose we could… end this exchange here and pretend nothing happened. There are too many questions that would need an answer, and a scarcity of time to provide ‘em.”

He was… not very calm as sounded. The only thought that his son, flesh of his own flesh, would’ve wanted him dead so badly to continuously try to kill and replace him was a knife to the heart and some kind of boulder over his shoulders… also, the ray of laser to his stomach turned out being quite fastidious.

That sentence of his… the whole ‘let’s pretend nothing happened’ thing, actually managed to put a nostalgic little smirk on his face, remembering those exciting, adrenaline filled moments as a spy, with all the assassination done either bare handed or with a silenced weapon at his side…

“I suppose we’re done, here. I shall retrieve the chip in the synth’s body, and deliver the sample to the Brotherhood.” He stated trying not to get lost in his memories and also lying nonchalantly about the real porpoise behind the retrieving such devices - Coursers had something he absolutely needed to get his hands on: teleportation.

Being even faster had an incredible potential and could be another way to become even more productive, even more efficient and to save way more lives than expected. Obviously, he was more than willing to be his own guinea pig and experiment on himself - that’s what he was born for, in the end.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

“I’m…fine,” Rin murmured, still trying to make sense of everything that happened. First, and perhaps foremost, she had just witnessed a failed attempt made by the Institute to replace someone with their own copy. If Piper were here, she’d be all over this. The Institute was almost perfect in sending in replacements, because no one ever heard stories about someone taking out their exact copy. However, this man seemed to know what was coming, and he had taken out the synth, a Courser to boot, with terrifying accuracy.

Second, aside from the security officers, people had fled the market into the safety of their homes. Everyone would be in a frenzy once the immediate danger passed and they had time to concoct wild rumors, but for now, there were no prying eyes. No matter what he said, this was the best time to get some of her questions answered.

Third, Deadshot had just admitted to being in league with the Brotherhood - something Rin had only guessed at until now - and while she should have been happy to honor his request to part ways, something in her gut was telling her that there was more to this than met the eye. She shouldn’t want any part of this; she had to take care of Anya and Nikolai, not go running off to uncover one of the biggest secrets of the Commonwealth. And yet…

“Wait a minute!” Rin reached out as though to grab his arm, but stopped short of touching him. “You got shot. I can take a look at it, no charge.” She looked around. “You could… come to my house? We’d be away from curious eyes and my sister should be getting dinner started soon if you’re not interested in waiting for Takahashi’s noodles.” This was a bad idea, inviting this soldier home around her siblings, but her desire to know something more about the fiasco that had just occurred was overruling everything else in her brain right now. Maybe if she had more answers, she could find a way to either stop the madness from reaching her family or make it happen faster so it could just be over already.

sentinel-deadshot

As soon as Rin got closer, he took a step back to keep a distance, with what seemed a nervous, annoyed grunt: he didn’t like being touched or having humans getting too close… you can never guess what’s going on in their unpredictable minds after all.

“…you should probably get going and take care of your sister. Family is… important. Hold it dear, madam.”

He looked down at where the laser bolt was shot, realizing the combat armor had gone to ashes in that spot… had it not been for the presence of it, he would have been dead by now.

Apparently Shaun had taken very seriously his father’s refusal to help the Institute… but after what was said and done, such a response was… inevitable, to say the very least. The wound hurt for sure, but what caused more and more pain was knowing the reason behind it, behind why would the Institute want him dead.

It’s not like he wasn’t used to being a moving target, though: before the war the Reds were after him anyway… but knowing that his beloved, long lost son was behind all of this, always filled his heart with nothing but regret and self hatred. “I’ve heard it said a thousand times, but now I know - you don’t know what you’ve got, until it’s gone.” This time, the microphone just wasn’t functioning anymore, and his voice full of regret could be heard in a whisper, from behind the mask.

For once, he didn’t sound completely inhuman - apparently that microphone of his, was completely erasing the tone and accent, distorting the voice to something terrifying and cold, and now that it wasn’t functioning anymore…

“I… should probably get going too, Miss Rin. I’ll be fine…” It was better to get back home before all the weight of his memories and intrusive thoughts crushed him.

And yet, on a second thought, he wasn’t completely suspicious about this particular human - she had agreed on helping Dogmeat, in the end… she couldn’t be that dangerous, right?

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Deadshot’s reaction had Rin drawing her hand back as quickly as it had gone out; she meant him no harm, and she was sure he knew that, but reactions and habits weren’t formed baselessly. That was something she knew all too well. At first, she wasn’t entirely sure it was him who was speaking; whatever was in the mask that changed his voice had broken, and now he sounded…more human. It was also easier to read him, and when he spoke of family, Rin could hear something akin to sorrow or regret. All she could do was nod; she held her siblings dear every day, even when she wasn’t with them. They were the driving force behind almost everything she did, and she would not hesitate to give her life if it meant keeping them safe. Part of it was a promise she had made to herself a long time ago, that no matter what happened in the world, she would keep what was left of her family together and safe. But a small, unacknowledged part of it was perhaps selfish, the idea that without them, Rin had nothing left to live for. If one took Anya and Nikolai out of the equation, Rin had done some terrible, unforgivable things. “If you need anything else, Dr. Sun will be here tomorrow, or my house is back behind the market, next to Valentine’s Detective Agency,” she offered. She doubted he would actually take her up on that offer, but she couldn’t just leave him here without somewhere to go in case of emergency. “Good luck out there, it looks like you’re going to need it…” Rin’s gaze shifted over toward where the security officers were finishing up with the Courser’s mess, but it didn’t linger very long. It took an even shorter time for her to pack up her supply bag, leave a few caps in the box for Sun, and then head off toward Sheng Kowalski’s stand. He mainly sold purified water, but he was known to have a couple bottles of Nuka Cola every now and then.

sentinel-deadshot

“Farewell, ma'am…” The soldier saluted watching her leave, then jumped back on his power armor and made his way to his home on the upper stands.

He didn’t… love doctors and scientists, especially if they were not of his… kind.

Back before the war, when he was still a living guinea pig, scientists continuously experimented on him… Sixty-Three even found himself having perfectly sane bones completely replaced with something much more resistant, having his own designation scarred on his skin forever, becoming immune to radiation like a ghoul and even being unable to age… there wasn’t a cell left untouched in his body.

Well… he hated all of that, he just wanted to be a normal human with a normal life. The memories of scarring, horrid things people had done to him made trusting humans a foreign concept… saying he was afraid of them was the least one could say about his conduct.

…but in the end, there wasn’t humanoid creature he fully trusted. Sometimes even his kind was dangerous… and a reminder of that, occurred in a span of a few hours from that moment he set foot back home. Deadshot will probably never remember clearly what happened that night, but the memory of the day after won’t be able to leave his mind, ever.

He woke up in a alleyway in Goodneighbor, in a pool of his own blood… and soon had to escape from a squadron of Gunners, running with no weapons or resistant armor on, a concussion going on, a broken arm and a few stab wounds on the broken limb, that were causing a noticeable blood loss.

The soldier covered up the permanently beaten up face as soon as got in Diamond City (he looked quite different with normal clothes on), stumbled his way to the doctor’s stall and blurted something with a confused voice and a brain fog as soon as saw that familiar human again: “Madam Rin?”

Now, it wasn’t like being kidnapped and tortured was something excessively shocking to a thing like him, but hearing a twisted, creepy and familiar snickering coming from one of the Gunners made him lose his cool at a nearly hilarious pace.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin hadn’t been the only one to close up early; only Takahashi’s noodle stand opened up again after the incident. Rin went to Sheng’s and picked up a few Nuka Colas and a few Nuka Cherries, as well as a couple of cans of purified water for her next trip out. It wouldn’t be for a few days at least, but it never hurt to be prepared. By the time she made it over to the Dugout Inn to pick up a bottle of whiskey from Vadim, everyone in town had heard about the Courser. Some of the stories were wilder than others - Moe was spinning some tale about how the Courser looked him dead in the eyes before getting shot. No one asked for Rin’s opinion and she didn’t volunteer it; instead, she engaged Vadim in some light-hearted banter, dropped off a couple of Addictols to Yefim (who kept them on hand for guests who were having too good of a time) and headed home. True to form, Anya had made some sort of mole rat stew which smelled good enough to deter from the fact that it was mole rat in the stew. Nikolai asked about the synth in the market and Rin told him not to spread rumors and to eat his tatos. She decided to save the conversation about moving to one of the new settlements popping up around the Commonwealth for another night; she had not yet made up her mind about moving, and she wanted to see if she heard any more about the settlements and the Minutemen before making a decision. After Nikolai was in bed, she explained the scene she had witnessed a bit more to Anya and told her to keep an eye out for Deadshot. From the way Anya pursed her lips, Rin knew her younger sister didn’t like the idea of having an outsider in their home, but she didn’t say anything about it. Rin knew it was stupid of her to be so trusting of this soldier, a man she hardly knew, who tried his damnedest to conceal his identity, but there had been something in the way he cared for his dog, and took out the Courser with the efficiency to spare everyone else in the market, and spoke about family, that had Rin second-guessing her initial distrust of him. The next day dawned and she was out at the medical stand again. It never hurt to make some extra caps on the side, and Dr. Sun was more than happy to have a couple of days to himself. Rin suspected he was seeing someone on the side, but she’d never breathe a word to anyone except Nick, who was very good at keeping a lid on rumors. Arturo stopped briefly to ask if she and her siblings were doing okay after yesterday, and told her to stop by his place before she headed out again to pick up some ammo he had set aside for her. It was shortly after he left that Rin was pulled away from a very nice thought indeed by a familiar voice. He looked terrible, death on legs really, and she had only a fraction of a second while her brain kicked into gear to wonder how he managed to stumble to her stand without drawing attention to himself. He wasn’t in the power armor this time, and Rin grimaced as she looked him over. “Come around and sit before you pass out. You look like shit,” she said, maneuvering to stand close enough to catch him if he started to fall, but not touching him. “I’m not going to ask what you got yourself into, but if this happened here in Diamond City, you should talk to someone on the security team.”

sentinel-deadshot

“Thanks…” The social anxiety, shyness and introversion normally made talking to stranger a bit difficult than expected, and the concussion the man had was not making things easier. He followed did as asked in silence, and sat down with a small sigh.

“I normally wouldn’t bother anyone with this, but I’m afraid I couldn’t… do much with this uh… concussion.” He added sounding confused: “And it wasn’t here… more or less. I just got, uh, kidnapped and tortured just a little…” A stunned chuckle: “The drill, in other words. You get used to it over the years.”

At the moment, the soldier had little control of what he said, and in other circumstances he would have never even hinted at what was said in the last sentence.

Deadshot was… confused and scared, deep down to his heart. Normally being captured like that wasn’t too much of a big deal, but hearing that creepy snickering coming from a figure a bit taller than him, was a dead giveaway of the presence of his father. Terrifying memories from a long gone past were spinning in his head, in a ironic remembrance of how everything started: with a baseball bat bashed to his cranium hundreds of years earlier… and today it could have ended in the same, god damned way.

All those memories sent the coldest shiver up and down his spine, as he muttered something confused under his breath in a sentence that had Spanish words mixed up with Chinese and English ones.

“Uh… I, uh… just need something to get me back on field… I guess? There’s a lot of… rebuilding, s-saving and… and stuff to do.” He was confused, tired, and honestly just wanted to carry on with his duties, focusing also on rebuilding his home back in Sanctuary. A friend of his, Ulf, was doing their very best a mechanic and engineer could do… but time was needed to see the place back to its prewar state.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from interrogating the man. Torture was a peculiar modus operandi, one not often seen in the Commonwealth except when one stumbled upon the final, lethal result. Either Deadshot’s captor wished to send a very specific message or he hadn’t been meant to survive and managed to escape anyway. She supposed it didn’t matter in the moment; he didn’t appear to sustain any gun injuries, otherwise she would have to ask what kind of ammunition was used and then look for bullet fragments. “It’s not something anyone should get too used to. That’s when they start ignoring symptoms,” she said quietly. Rin wasn’t one to judge anyone for their lifestyle - after the things she had done, she had no right - but that didn’t stop her from giving advice to try to minimize injury and death. She urged him to stretch out on the exam table, giving her unrestricted access to his arm, which seemed to require the most attention. There wasn’t much she could do for the concussion except wait for medicine to take effect. When he mentioned going back out in the field, Rin gave him the look that Nick affectionately termed ‘Mama Yao Guai’. “Your head must really be messed up if you think I’m letting you back out in the field in this condition.” She would babysit him at the Dugout Inn if she had to, but this time, Rin was not letting her patient walk away. “Okay, I’m going to give you a stimpak for your head first, try to get the swelling down as quickly as possible. Next, I’m going to sterilize the stab wounds on your arm and bandage them, and then set the break and stimpak your arm. Last, I have a very diluted dose of psycho; it’ll keep you from falling asleep with that concussion until the stimpak runs its course.” Once she had her supplies pulled out, she looked Deadshot over again and frowned slightly. “I don’t care if you keep your face covered, but you’ll need to let me access your neck for the first stimpak.”

sentinel-deadshot

“I know one shouldn’t be used to that, but humans are capable of doing this and much, much more. Machines too.”

The soldier sighed and hesitated for a long second on the mask, knowing it had to be taken off. He sighed and shook his head, taking his glasses off first: “I’m going to regret this.”

Once the disguise was off, the smells, the lights turned out being more fastidious than remembered, as he frowned a little and looked away in embarrassment, wiping away some blood from his nose. He had some deep, very recent scars on his cheeks and throat, the nose was probably healing from getting broken, same thing with a fading black eye… the other scars seemed quite old… enough to make one wonder how old he really was. Without the jacket hiding them, his arms were both covered in scratches and small wounds - some of them had a suspicious shape -, the left forearm and both his hands were bandaged… he seemed to be living through a bad time, judging by all the other bandages that could be seen from his short sleeved shirt… a pair of holotags and one of old dogtags even suggested him ‘belonging’ to two different armies.

“D-don’t worry too much about the whole field thing. Back in Anchorage the reds shot me in the heart, knees and tossed me into a frozen lake. I’m still here, yeah? I’m hard to kill.” The soldier nervously bit his lower lip, as let Rin work on his wounds: “Mierda, I keep olvidar… forgetting how long it has been… umh… s-sorry, Madam Rin.” Deadshot finally went quiet with a sigh, as distracted himself trying to repair the microscopic microphone in his mask with his free hand, asking himself what humans would think if they all knew about the thing he was, and even wondering what to do after the fall of the Institute. ‘I’ll probably just… donate myself to science…’ weirdly enough, his mind didn’t find the thought terrible.

He just didn’t think being a lab rat was a big deal when it came to himself… that’s how his life as a soldier started anyway.

“Madam… my apologies for… not being cooperative enough.” The words escaped his mouth without real control… it just was something he used to say out of etiquette… he surely wasn’t going to let his manners die like the wasteland apparently did, hundreds of years earlier.

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin sucked in a sharp breath when the mask came off and then quickly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was lingering around her stand. They weren’t, thankfully, but she maneuvered her body to block prying gazes as best she could. If he was worried about his identity getting out, she’d help him keep that secret. When she looked back at him, Rin studied the wounds on his face closely. “These look fresh too… the stimpak should help soothe the eye, and I can set your nose since it doesn’t seem to be very far along in healing itself.” At this point, she spoke more to herself than Deadshot, laying out a plan to maximize efficiency.

Once she set to work, though, Rin stopped trying to guess at all of the different injuries she saw on Deadshot’s exposed skin. He wasn’t decked out in the full armor she had last seen him in, so the marks on his skin were concerning to say the least. Of course, she had scars of her own in places no one would guess, and she was willing to bet that there was even more evidence of a life of violence mapped out in places she couldn’t see, but unless he asked for her help with anything else, she wasn’t going to pry… for now. Something that Dr. Sun always said to his patients was, ‘Don’t ruin my hard work by dying out there,’ and Rin was beginning to understand what he meant the longer she worked to keep the people of the Commonwealth healthy and in one piece. It was heartbreaking to return to a settlement or run across a group of raiders she had helped in the past and find that someone she had seen just the week prior was no longer walking this earth.

“You hush now,” Rin replied as she went to work cleaning up his arm. She could already see the medicine from the stimpak starting to take effect in the fresh wounds on his face. They wouldn’t fully heal, but he had gotten to her quick enough that the lines of the scars would be fainter than the others on his face. Once she was finished with the rest of his fresh injuries, she would clean up the blood leftover on his face, but she wanted the wounds to heal as much as possible before doing so. She wasn’t about to cause an infection or any undue discomfort. “You don’t have to apologize for doing your job so long as you don’t expect an apology from me for doing mine.”

By the time she had finished on his arm and dampened a clean rag with some purified water for his face, about half an hour had passed. Rin was used to working in the field where time was of the essence. “I know you turned down my offer last time, but I really want you to consider crashing at my place. I still have some of my dad’s old clothes you could borrow while washing the blood out of yours, and you could do with a hot meal. Plus, I can keep an eye on how you’re healing up and you’d be able to be back in the field tomorrow morning.”

sentinel-deadshot

He had stayed still the whole time, twitching nervously from time to time for having a human this close: she could’ve stabbed him in the throat any second… he had an incredibly big bounty on his head and it was only going to increase in value over time, as there was no way in hell he’d stop doing what’s right.

As soon as Rin was finished with his face, he immediately reached out for his shades with a sigh and slightly shaking hand: “I can’t stand lights…” The mask was put back on his face very soon as well: “…and smells…”

The soldier sighed again, tired: “And alright, madam. I guess you’re not trying to kill me just like the others…” He spoke calmly, almost in a whisper, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with the bandages on his hands: “They seem to find pleasure in the struggle of other beings. I can never understand why. Ah well… I apologize for my mistrust… it’s not intended… lots want me dead and I need to postpone that until the fall of the… you know.” He put his jacket back on, zipped it up and covered his head with the hood. “Perhaps this isn’t the right of place for this kind of talk, madam. Thanks for your help - at the moment I don’t have any caps on me, but I’ll get some as soon as I get back home… it’s not far away, only on the upper stands.”

It normally would’ve bothered him to just make an appearance at someone else’s home, but something told him this person had more than a reason to invite over a stranger. Something in what had happened the previous day had made her curios.

“Madam?” He turned around to look at her as soon as got back on his feet: “I know something made you curios in the witnessing of yesterday’s scenario. I can provide some intel obtained about the Institute, gained from circa eleven months spent in the wasteland making my research on them. It’s not strictly Brotherhood related business, so sharing is permitted. This nightmare will be cancelled shortly anyway.”

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

Rin wished that she could be shocked by his suspicion that she would try to kill him, but she knew that it wasn’t her so much as it was everyone else in the Commonwealth. As Deadshot sat up and pulled on his sweatshirt, Rin started washing her hands and cleaning up the dirty rags and used syringes; she wasn’t sure how much she should say to him, a Brotherhood soldier, but he had trusted her with his injuries, including showing his face, which seemed to be a sensitive thing for him, so she should show him at least a little respect when it came to her own affairs. After all, anyone with whom she interacted could potentially be a target if someone unfriendly finally caught up with her.

“Trust me, I know all about being a target. It’s a shitty situation, always having to look over your shoulder.” Her voice was low enough for only him to hear, but once she was done with the cleanup, the dark expression faded from her face and her tone returned to normal. “Don’t worry about the money, you paid me more than enough last time. But upper stands? How long have you been a Diamond City resident? I don’t remember seeing you around here before, and I grew up here.” Rin slung her bag over her shoulder and headed around the outer perimeter of the market to avoid attracting attention. She was sure it was difficult to keep a low profile considering how he towered above pretty much everyone, but if there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was that people around here usually kept their inquiries to hushed rumors until the guns came out, and once that started happening around Deadshot, no one stood a chance.

He mentioned her curiosity, and Rin couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her lips. Of course it had been obvious, even when she had been unsure about getting involved. “Yeah… you could say that. And I get having to keep information confidential, but whatever you can disclose about the situation, I’m all ears.” She paused for a moment. It was still early in the day, which meant that they would have plenty of time to talk about the Institute and what happened with the Courser the day before. “Look, this is a big deal, and I want to help in any way I can, but I don’t want my siblings to get involved. Fortunately, Nikolai is still in school for a few hours and Anya’s out patrolling outside the wall until late tonight. I try to keep them out of this as much as possible, and my choices have put them in enough danger as it is. But as long as I can lend a hand without them knowing, well, let’s just say I want the threat neutralized as quickly as possible.”

It wasn’t long before they passed Valentine’s Detective Agency and reached the Andropov household. Rin unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. It was small, hard to believe that there had once been plans for five people to live here. It never got to that, but Rin knew that they wouldn’t have been able to afford one of the larger abodes in the upper stands, at least, not without disclosing where the extra income had been coming from. There was a small loft with a double bed, and a sleeping bag on the ground in a corner of the main floor. Dishes were drying next to the sink and there was a small stack of books and the latest edition of Publick Occurrences on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Next to the sleeping bag was a large trunk with a padlock on it, and on top of that, more books. It looked well lived in, even if one-third of the family spent little time here. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll make us some lunch.”

sentinel-deadshot

“I’m…” For a second, he struggled to even speak. He could hardly ever understand why, but always assumed it was his tendency to carefully choose the words that had to be said… he knew the consequences of a sentence said in the wrong tone, and how brutal they could be. Last time it happened, he got his face bashed against the floor twenty times.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry…” He politely sat down on the couch, and found the lights dim enough to take off his disguise again. “Truth to be told, I bought that place a month ago, but don’t spend much time in there. The Commonwealth is a relatively new place to me anyway.” A small pause: “And by the way, people call me Nate. Deadshot is just a codename things like me have, while the series of number is what our names actually consist of after our identities have been successfully erased. I shouldn’t be saying this, but my owners have gone to ashes long ago… and no, I am not a synth. Lots tend to ask this.”

Nate was nervous about being in a stranger’s home… years of experience taught him that even the most innocent looking people of things were capable of doing the most horrifying things. His eyes wandered around the room in suspicion, trying to find any hint of the presence of a trap. “Again, you don’t seem like you’re trying to kill me… I’m used to much more…hate.”

He tried to distract himself and kept working on the small, broken microphone… Nate couldn’t stand seeing, let alone hearing himself, that’s why he held that small piece of technology so dear. Done with the microphone in the span of a few seconds, he started fiddling with his modified pipboy, that seemed to have a few ‘gadgets’ attached to it, other than a black paint job and a red HUD.

“I suppose you have a husband and kids to take care of - don’t worry, I’ll leave shortly and start looking for some leftover caps in my home…” He sighed, then added in a whisper: “…assuming Grunt left any, of course…”

the-folly-of-rin Deactivated

“Okay… Nate,” Rin replied with a small smile. He looked about ready to bolt - not that she could blame him - so she wanted to try to make him feel as comfortable as possible. It surprised her to see that he was comfortable enough to take off his mask once he’d picked his spot on the couch, but she didn’t comment on that; if anything, she’d check the injuries there later to see how they were healing up. Even though he said he wasn’t hungry, Rin started making enough grilled radstag for two. If he still didn’t eat, then she’d save the rest for Nikolai when he got home. “I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone.” And it was the truth; Rin had her fair share of killing in the past, and now she was trying to help people live. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t pull a gun on someone who threatened her or her family, but she wouldn’t enjoy it. She never had enjoyed it and maybe that was part of the problem. “I know that trust is earned, and out in the wasteland it’s hard to find a reason to trust someone, but I’m here to help people.” She suspected he knew that already, considering he had sought her out after whatever had caused his injuries. ‘Torture,’ he mentioned, but Rin guessed there was more to it than that. Before she could think too long on that, Nate said something about her having a husband and kids, and she snorted in amusement. “I’m sorry, it’s just… ah, no, I’m not married. I live here with my two younger siblings, Anya and Nikolai. Nikolai is only eleven, so he’s the closest thing to a kid around here.” It didn’t take too long for the radstag to cook, and soon, Rin set a large plate down on the coffee table and sat on the floor opposite of where Nate was sitting on the couch. It accentuated their height difference even more, but the last thing Rin wanted to do was crowd him. Where to begin? He was clearly nervous, and she didn’t want to bring up something too personal. After all, he offered to ease her curiosity about the Institute, not necessarily about himself. “So you mentioned yesterday that the Director of the Institute is after you. You know that he’s sending synths to replace you, and you’re able to stop them before it happens. I guess what I’m trying to ask is: why do they want you gone? I’ve never heard of anyone seeing their replacement and being able to stop them before.”

sentinel-deadshot

Nate went silent for a long second, just watching Rin sitting on the floor… he was perplexed, as raised his scarred eyebrow a little, but decided to not ask. “Sorry for misunderstanding.” He apologized looking down at the steak, feeling no hunger at all; it had been a long while since the last meal - that solely consisted in Fancy Lads Snack cakes - but he just didn’t feel like eating.

“Thanks for the food, but I just am not hungry… sorry.” The soldier sighed slightly, as rummaged though a few hidden pockets in his jacket. A few photos came out of one of them, and Nate laid them on the table. “For starters, this is the Institute, what it looks like from the inside. I took pictures and snatched some really useful pieces of tech I will use to restore… my old home.”

The photos pictured the artificial flora and fauna that the facility hid, the technology they used, the making of gen 3 Synths, the SRB, the coursers, the advanced medical supplies, the unfinished reactor, the making of gen 1 Synths, and a chamber in which the Gen 3s often got memory wiped… a brief description of everything was written in the back of the photos with a very elegant handwriting.

There were two weird details in the photos, things that probably Nate himself didn’t notice: in the background of the making of the older Synths, an exact copy of him in a lab coat was sitting down and writing something, while in the chamber dedicated to the memory wipe of Synths, another copy in full courser gear was creepily staring at the camera, when it seemed obvious it should have been… not even lucid.

“See, the Institute wants me dead because they know what I am, and they wanted a thing like me at their side to destroy the Minutemen, the Brotherhood and the Railroad. Obviously, I declined, since they destroyed something extremely important to me… well, more or less, that’s how things went. Oh, another detail… the Director of the Institute is… well, how to put it… he’s my… uh… my son…” The last sentence was said with hesitation and embarrassment, like he didn’t want to admit his own failure as a parent…

#rin writes #fallout rp

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