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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

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The Flicker of Rebellion (1)

Requested by: @calkesttiss | Prompt:

Ooo what about Cal and reader going undercover and having to wear inquisitor or trooper uniforms

Cal Kestis x Reader

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

A peacefulness washes over the temple hideout. It’s a normal day in Yavin IV.

Pilots and mechanics spend their break together in the hangar, bantering about dogfights and subjects of engineering. Medics bond with their patients as they receive stories before joining this rebellion whilst tending to their wounds.

Meanwhile, the forest was teeming with hidden gems of fauna—the cawing of the unseen bird amongst the branches, the rustle of the leaves as an apex predator prowls through the vegetation, and the rippling of the water as fish swim through the current—but in the midst of this lush, serene wonder, it was also the perfect place for two certain Jedi to ease their minds.

“Remember to turn in your heel when you do that stance,”

“Good block!”

“Okay, now try to block or evade this one!”

You and Cal exchange affirmations while sparring. It has become your joint pastime while everyone else was busy back in the base; the coolness of the trees and the chirping of the birds were an ideal ambience. The less distractions, the better either of you could work. In a few days’ time in staying in Yavin IV, the two of you already had your personal training course. Sparring was just part of the regimen.

“Ooh, good one!” Cal commented and then pushes you away from your interlock of blades.

“Thanks!”

The birds and tree-dwelling creatures have made a show out of your sparring. Peeking through the thick foliage and hiding behind the wide trunks, they watch curiously at these two strange creatures dancing around with buzzing rods of light.

The sparring was cut short when an alarm blared, it was coming from the base; it had startled away you audience in the tress back into their thickets and nests.

“Could that be the alarm Cere was telling us about?” you asked Cal while keeping your eyes in the general direction of the base.

“Most likely,”

Both of you turn to look at one another. An idea lit up the bulb in your head and your lips curled to a smirk.

“Race ya for it!”

Without waiting for Cal’s reaction, you booked it out of the woods and into the path leading straight back out the base. Cal eventually caught up to you until you were neck-and-neck. The rush flowed around your bloodstreams, the fresh air invigorated your lungs, and the wind blowing in your face made you feel free as a bird. The pair of you pop out of the bushes—startling some of the rebels who were lounging close to its shade—and continued your race from there.

The alarm didn’t stop blaring until for another seven minutes, even when most of the committee has already arrived in the room. You watch the members of the committee pour into the room as they come in, you weren’t expecting to know them but it helps to know who you’re fighting with.

The facilitator of the meeting was Captain Pardell, he took the stand and welcomed everyone first and foremost. He didn’t dwell in the niceties, he grabs the audience by the collar and cuts to the purpose of the meeting.

“As you were all made aware of: this meeting revolves around the subject of the Empire’s next step is. Senator Bail Organa will present his gathered data from the Senate Building all the way from Coruscant first; for those of you who don’t know, Senator Organa represents the planet Alderaan—he is also double-jobbing between us, the Rebellion, while serving his term in the Senate. He also has the most dangerous position among all of us.”

Captain Pardell stepped away from the front and gave the floor to Senator Organa. He thanked the captain’s introduction and spiel, like the captain, he went straight to the point.

“From my time in gathering data, I had the opportunity to join most Senate meetings regarding almost any kind of subject. The one I am presenting now is about the operations that the Empire has begun on Ilum. Like most, I’ve heard of it from our allies—Captain Pardell’s team of spies, Cal Kestis and [y/n]—and then confirmed it further upon my meeting days ago.”

He inserted a data card into the holotable’s data port. The image of the planet llum appears at the center of the table. Noticeable breakage on the planet’s surface and the massive crack along the equator disturbed the audience. Murmurs buzzed about on the benches, heads turn to one another as they comment and bombard questions in hushed whispers. Captain Pardell quieted the crowd with a single raise of the hand, Senator Organa continued.

“This is Ilum in its current state. The Empire has amassed an indefinite load of kyber crystals. The count is unknown, although they’re stored in heavy-duty transport crates—such containers are able to carry a load ranging from 50 to 85 tons. It is highly likely that they are able to hit that 50 or 85-ton mark with the crystals they’ve harvested.”

More murmurs filled the room, you and Cal watch the unhinged committee members in the room turn to one another and whisper their comments.

“They’re killing the planet!” one of the committee members burst while remaining seated.

“What are they going to do with that amount of kyber?!” another faceless voice followed.

Moments later, more and more questions from the crowd were starting to sound like jeers. The both of you had eyes shifting left and right, following each committee member standing up from their bench in an impulse just to voice out their thoughts.

“Enough!” Bail Organa bellowed, and with that the crowd behaved. “As of now, the Office of the Senate was ambiguous as to what they plan to do with this tremendous amount of kyber. This is where our directive comes in.”

Bail introduces Admiral Luthus, a Mon Calamari, like the former speakers the admiral followed the same pattern. He replaces Bail’s data card with his own, as he spoke, projections popped out one after the other.

“Our data specialists managed to take hold a handful of encryption codes from Imperial ships, these encryptions have been programmed into chips such as these,” an image of a sample data chip appeared from the holotable’s projectors.

“Our engineers have retrofitted selected ships so that the pilots can pass through the Imperial blockade since their scanners will register their own code in our ships. Save one Imperial shuttle that we’ve salvaged, repaired, and reprogrammed.”

Another projection pops out, but it was the said Imperial shuttle that the fighters have salvaged from who-knows-where. Admiral Luthus continued.

“Captain Pardell has gathered a small team of spies who will board these ships and infiltrate the Imperial base. He will fill you in on the details. Captain?”

“Once through the blockade, we will land in the planet of Cheth. It is a temperate, tropical planet located in the Scarif system. Reconnaissance tells us that the Imperial has an established base in the planet,”

Captain Pardell flashes a projection of the base’s blueprint and zooms in on certain areas as he explains.

“In this base, there is an archives vault where they store copies of their plans. Security will be tight there, all necessary precautions are exercised there; but we have a trick up our sleeve. Cal Kestis and [y/n] will gain access to the archives vault. While they do their part, my men and I will create a diversion to keep troopers away from the two so they can worry less with close contact and more in retrieving the data.”

The meeting was adjourned, the committee dispersed—some remained inside conversing with today’s speakers, while the others stepped out of the room including you and Cal.

“This is a big mission,” you thought out loud to Cal.

“Yeah. Even when nobody’s telling us, I can already feel their dependence on us on my shoulders,”

“Hey,” you gently tap him by the chest and smile. “Share the load. I got your back.”

The weight that Cal had put on himself somewhat lightened, your comforting words and beaming smile was all the reassurance he needed.

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imaginepirates · 6 years ago

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Norri x Pregnant! Reader.

I am unmotivated and very sorry. This is for @elenawrit, now that I've gotten around to it. It's one where the reader is having a hard time telling James that they're pregnant. Sorry again for awful formatting; I can only use mobile rn.

2100 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had known for a week. The first morning spent kneeling over the chamber pot had been an awful one; you’d been afraid that you were sick. The third morning, your brain began to make sense of things. You should’ve seen it coming, being a married woman, and yet you had been utterly taken by surprise.

Your husband didn’t know. James was off too early in the mornings to catch you retching in the bathroom, and he often came home after you’d fallen asleep waiting for him. He was worked harder than any man you knew. There had been more frequent pirate sightings in the last weeks, and the navy was taking every precaution. You hoped that James would be promoted for his extra hours. He worked hard, and came home worn out each night.

What you wouldn’t give for him to have some time off. With the state of things, it wasn’t likely, but you desperately needed time to talk to him. With each passing day, you grew weary with keeping secrets from him. He needed to know of your pregnancy, but you feared that you’d never find the right time to tell him.

With James constantly away, you went to your friend Elizabeth. She hadn’t married yet, and she had little knowledge when it came to children, but her company was sure to bring you some peace of mind. It always had, in the past, when you were afraid of this or that. You had been thick as thieves for most of your young lives, and she was the one you went to when you fell in love with James.

Each time you found yourself at the sprawling estate, you looked up to the house sitting among the gardens. It was a grand place, to be sure; like a palace among the vibrant reds, yellows, and greens. Elizabeth reminded you of a princess, too. She was composed and put together, and there was nothing she couldn’t do with effortless grace. You’d envied her in your younger years, but she had always claimed you were the smarter of the pair, and many seemed to agree.

It was one of the things you loved about James. He wasn’t deterred by intelligent conversation with a woman. Men tended to frown upon your interests in the studies of history and mathematics. James was different. He’d always indulged you, and lacking the classical education of the lords around him, he’d articulated his interest in what you could teach him. The navy didn’t take time to teach history, though James was perfectly proficient in sums and beyond. He would often talk of triangulating a ship’s location. Once, he’d actually taught you how to do it, and it was one of the moments you blamed for loving him.

Standing under the balcony and before the great doors of the Swann estate once again, memories melted from your mind. There was only apprehension left in you. Elizabeth could surely comfort you, but when you went back home, would worries worm their way back into your mind? Until you could speak to your husband of your condition, there would be no peace for you.

The footman let you in and directed you up the stairs. Half way up, Elizabeth came out to meet you. She leaned over the bannister and called out to you. “Y/N! How are you?” She grabbed your hand, tucking your arm in hers as she led you back to her bedroom.

“Sick with worry as usual. I’m afraid I’ll never see James’ face again with all the work he’s doing. Lord, I’ll be showing before I can even tell him!” You placed a hand on your stomach.

“The navy can’t keep him busy forever.”

“I fear they will.”

“You should write to his superiors. They would understand.”

“I’m not sure they would.” You didn’t want to voice it, but the admiral in charge wasn’t a kind man, and he was the last person on earth you wanted to write to. Likely he’d burn the letter before opening it. “It’s lonely without him.”

Elizabeth held you by the shoulders. “I know. Hopefully, the pirate problem will be solved quickly.”

“Oh Liz, what if they send him away? I can’t bear the thought of him out on some ship fighting when I’m with his child. He’d return to find me pregnant, if he returned at all.” Something about your condition made you worry more about your husband. In all the years he’d served, nothing had happened to him. He was good at his job; it was doubtful that anything would befall him.

Elizabeth laid a hand on your arm. You’d gone through it all before. For a while, the two of you sat in silence. You felt awful for putting your worries on your friend. Hopefully, you could return the gesture someday.

“What should I name the child?” You tried to change the topic to something happier.

“That’s your decision. And James’.”

“What would you name your children?”

“I haven’t particularly thought of it. I think, if it were to be a girl, I’d name them after my mother.”

“I think I’d name her Charlotte,” you said. “I wouldn’t know what to name a son. I think I’d leave it up to James.”

“Would he name the child after his father?”

“I doubt it.” James hated talking about his father. Every word seemed a bad memory.

You left Elizabeth’s estate feeling much better. Your house still felt a little empty when you returned, but you did your best to ignore it. You curled up in a chair with your book, sometimes looking up to watch the breeze blow through the flowers. You dozed off, and that was how James found you when he returned home.

You vaguely felt hands lifting you from the chair. Bleary, you woke tucked against James’ chest. You shifted in his arms just enough for him to know you were awake, and smiled down at you. You kissed his jaw, and he set you down on the bed. Looking through the curtains, you watched the sun setting.

“You’re home earlier than usual,” you said with some confusion.

James’ expression soured. “It would seem that I have business to attend to on the open waters.”

You lifted yourself to a sitting position, a frown forming on your face. “How soon?”

“Two days,” James said miserably.

“Two days?” You wrapped your arms around him. He was just as sad as you were. “I can’t believe it. They’ve never given you such short notice before.”

“Nobody’s happy. I’m sorry, Y/N.” He let his face fall into his hands a moment. When he straightened back up, he said, “It is what it is.”

“But you’re all so tired! It’ll put you all in danger is what it’ll do. You boys don’t have the energy you need to fight. You’ve been worked to the bone these past few weeks; I don’t think any of you have it in you to sail.”

“I’ve been tired before.” The look on his face spoke his displeasure. He didn’t want to go.

You sighed. “At least come to bed with me. You need some sleep. Tell me, have they given you leave tomorrow before the voyage?” A little fluttering in your chest began. You would have to tell him on the morrow; you couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I do.” He sounded a bit relieved. “I might have to go in a short while in the afternoon, though, to supervise provision loading. I am the captain, after all.”

“Of course.”

James didn’t even try to hide how tired he was. You combed your fingers through his hair and kissed his face, eventually settling down with your head on his chest. He toyed with the ends of your hair. He was stiff; he was always stiff when he had to leave. It reminded you both how lucky you were.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you awoke still curled against him. He snored gently, and you watched him for a while before calling a servant to get breakfast. You ate with the windows open, a fresh breeze carrying the sounds of singing birds and thrumming cicadas. The tropics were abuzz with noise.

You spent the day relaxing, just the two of you. You discussed the latest news from London and the East India Company’s newest trade deals. It seemed that they had finally established a firm hold on some land in Africa, and that they were trying to get certain types of tea from China. Just like the British, you thought, to be so invested in new types of tea.

It was a pleasant day, but a worm crawled through your stomach. You still hadn’t told him. You didn’t know why it was so hard, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You didn’t want to worry him more than he already was.

The sun set too soon. James was just putting something in his office when you slipped into bed. Anxiety grasped at your chest. When he came into the room, he sat on the bed and kissed you. He was a sweet, gentle man, and his affections were always pure.

Soon enough, his kisses had deepened, and he moved to unbutton his waistcoat. It had been a long time since you’d last lain with him. He hardly ever came home before you were asleep.

You gasped when he sucked at the skin on your neck. “I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered.

“I suppose I won’t be going out in public tomorrow,” you replied.

He hummed. “I should buy you more dresses with high collars.” He smirked, which was maddeningly attractive, and something he hardly ever did.

You feigned shock. “Why, you scandal!”

He chuckled, only to go back to kissing you. You curled your fingers into his hair, and he took it as a sign to begin unlacing your bodice.

“James.” Your voice was soft, and you weren’t sure he’d heard you. “James.”

He looked up. The worry must have been evident on your face, as he cupped your check with a hand. “Yes?”

“Can we talk?” You felt rather small and frightened, even though you shouldn’t have.

“Of course.” His brows knit together. He shifted his weight, coming to sit beside you.

You took a breath before continuing. “I don’t mean to worry you, and I know this is really the wrong time to tell you...” His face had grown only more concerned. You grabbed his hand, running your fingers gently over his knuckles. “I-” you faltered. “I’m with child.”

James’ mouth formed a small ‘o’, clearly taken aback. He turned away for a moment, processing the information. Watching him, a smile began to creep over his face, and he turned beaming towards you. He grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you excitedly. You laughed against his mouth, and you broke away smiling. It felt good to have gotten the news off your chest.

His smile faded and he began to look concerned again. “Tomorrow... I don’t like to leave you here alone.”

“Don’t worry too much about me. It’s you I’m worried about. I want you to come back to me.”

“I always have.”

You stared at each other a long time before falling into a fitful sleep. You knew that when you woke, you would have to say goodbye.

James left. He returned a month later, and you met him at the docks. People smiled at you, noting the swell in your stomach. You were showing, and it had become the talk of town. Waiting at the docks was torture. Even when the ship had been tied down, and the gangplank laid, the knot in your stomach wouldn’t unravel. It was only when James stepped off deck that you relaxed.

You could tell he was trying to keep his professionalism about him, but he was practically jogging over to where you stood. He had you in his arms in an instant, and his face was buried against your neck. It seemed like hours before he let you go, though you knew it had only been a few minutes. He pressed a kiss to your lips, and then, dropping to a knee, kissed your stomach. By the time he looked back up at you, there were tears in his eyes.

He stood again, taking your hands in his. “The admiral has been generous.” He planted a kiss on your nose. “It seems I have a month off to care for my wife. I’m rather looking forward to it.”

You gasped in delight. You hadn’t expected such a thing, and were elated. He smiled down at you, and you heard a few congratulations from other officers.

You were just glad to have him home.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #pirates #pirate #james norrington #commodore norrington #norrington #drabble #request #writing

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xerxia31 · 6 years ago

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Not Real

All Katniss Everdeen wanted was to see the one who got away one last time...

My contribution to the Fall 2018 edition of More Stories to Save Lives, in support of Hope for Caroline. Rated T. Also cross posted to AO3.

Commander Katniss Everdeen stood in front of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, housed in a glossy candy-coloured glass building that stretched up to the sky, and wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing. This was definitely not her district, not her scene at all. But she’d made a promise, and Katniss always kept her word. Clenching her jaw, she pushed through the doors. Her perfectly polished uniform boots clicked on the slick marble flooring, echoing through the massive, opulent lobby. Vases of tropical blooms perfumed the carefully climate-controlled air, contributing to the feeling of decadence. Everything about the space, the building, the whole damned city, was an affront to Katniss. It was all too shiny, too gaudy, too fake.

Though she was on Earth, her planet, the Capitol was as different from her home in District Twelve as any of the outer rim planets she’d visited in her two plus years in command of the starship Mockingjay had been. Foreign and loud and filled with people who had more in common with exotic birds than with Katniss herself, the Capitol might as well be in the delta quadrant instead of nestled in the Rockies only a fifteen second teleport from home.

Katniss shook her head. She had to stop thinking that way. The Capitol was her home now. District Twelve was no more than a memory. She made her way to the reception desk, gave her name, and was directed to an elevator bank, a charmingly old school feature of an otherwise thoroughly modern building. The four-floor ascent in a mirrored box took longer than transporting to the building from her quarters on the outskirts of the Capitol. It reminded her of - no. She wouldn’t think of that place or that time. Not now. Not yet, anyway. A man of extraordinary beauty stood to greet her as soon as the elevator doors opened. Tall, athletic, with golden skin, bronze-colored hair, his incredible sea-green eyes twinkled as he reached out to shake her hand. He couldn’t be real, she thought. He must be one of the simulations that Trident Industries was famous for. The reason she was there, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone else. “Welcome, Commander,” the man said, his voice deep and rich, flowing like melted chocolate. She couldn’t help but be impressed. The simulations she’d encountered in her years of training at the academy had been jerky, somewhat robotic, obviously fake. This, on the other hand, was incredibly convincing. He reached out to shake Katniss’s hand and she was startled by how solid he felt. As if reading her mind, he chuckled. “Finnick Odair,” he said. “Owner of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, at your service.” “You’re real?” she blurted, years of studying diplomacy forgotten in an instant. But he merely smiled, unaffected, perhaps unsurprised by her question. “I am indeed, and I’m here to make all of your fantasies come true.” It was that comment, delivered in a slightly smarmy way, that broke the spell for Katniss. She couldn’t argue that Finnick wasn't one of the most stunning, sensuous people on the planet. But she could honestly say he wasn’t attractive to her. Maybe he was too pretty. Maybe he was too easy to get, or maybe it was really that he'd just be too easy to lose. Katniss was somewhat of a specialist in losing people. “Mr. Odair,” she said, pulling her hand from his grip. “Your assistant told me you’d be able to design a package to suit my requirements.” “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards a small red loveseat, then settling himself across from her. “Trident Hyperrealism Industries is known across the galaxy for our fully immersive simulations that allow you to visit anywhere in the universe and have the perfect vacation experience. No transport ships, no bad weather, no bad service, nothing but pleasure at any of our four hundred and seventy-six thousand pre-programmed destinations.” He glanced at Katniss’s Star Alliance uniform. “Though perhaps it isn’t travel you’re looking for?” “No,” she admitted. “I’ve been to all of the planets I care to visit and then some.” When Katniss signed up to captain a two-year diplomatic tour, she’d anticipated seeing strange new worlds and meeting fascinating new beings. Instead, she did nothing but work and sleep for twenty-eight long months. Her small crew was hardly sufficient to keep the ship running and she’d pulled double, sometimes triple shifts to ensure that everything got done and that her people were sufficiently rested and taken care of. Every minute of each highly anticipated planetary landing was filled with duty and obligation. Though she’d been to Rigel Seven, she’d never gotten to see its twin moons. On Juno, she’d only glimpsed the legendary Tower of Inysis from the window of a transport. During her last excursion, to tiny Bacchus Minor, she hadn’t even set foot on the ground, her meetings and resupply mission having taken place on a satellite orbiting the pretty jewel-green planet. Adrift in the cosmos, Katniss struggled with the isolation of life on a starship, the exhaustion, the loneliness.There was no glamour, no adventure. And while there was definitely satisfaction in a job well done, it was hollow when she had no one to share it with. Her few hours not occupied with work she had spent alone in her bunk, staring at the ceiling, remembering. Regretting. So after her tour, she’d resigned her commission and accepted a teaching position at the Alliance Academy. She was due to begin work in just two weeks time. And though it would undoubtedly make more sense to be spending her first week back on Earth exploring or setting up her new quarters, she was sitting on a candy-coloured couch in a candy-coloured office, chatting with a candy-sweet man who made her teeth hurt and her skin crawl. “Ah,” Finnick said, and a wide smile showed every perfect, sparkling tooth. “So you are looking for a more personal experience.” “I was told that you could arrange for me to see someone. Or, to see a simulation of someone,” she mumbled, and Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. We have simulations of a wide variety of the most popular beings from history, all impeccably programmed with perfectly rendered with historically accurate voice and speech patterns, reactions and abilities. You absolutely will not be able to tell that the person you’re speaking with isn’t the real deal, guaranteed! You can spend time with Elvis Presley, Alabaster Harrington or Henry Cavill,” Finnick said, listing several sex symbols of the past two centuries. Katniss frowned. “Or,” he hedged, “Maybe you’re looking for a more intellectual experience? Maybe Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein is more your speed?” “No,” she said. “I want to see someone contemporary. Someone who is, uh, still alive.” “Of course,” he said. “Caesar Flickerman is a popular choice.” Katniss recoiled. Caesar Flickerman had to be over a hundred years old. He had been performing on entertainment broadcasts for as long as anyone could remember; his appearance - white face paint, blue lips, and brightly dyed wigs - virtually unchanged in all of that time. “I didn’t know he was even still around,” Katniss mumbled, suppressing another shudder. “But no. The person I’d like to see isn’t famous.” “I see,” Finnick smirked. “A custom simulation.” “Yes. Will that be a problem?” “No, no of course not. We are quite capable of fulfilling all of our customers’ special requirements. As long as he has a digital record, I can produce a simulation so perfect, it would convince his mother.” The slick grin was back in place. “How did you know he’s a he?” Katniss asked. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Commander. And I can assure you that all of our simulations are fully functional, solid, firm, and programmed with a full library of skills.” It took Katniss two, perhaps three beats to understand the subtext of Finnick’s words. Fire raced up her throat, painted her cheeks. “Mr. Odair,” she said tightly, “I am in no way looking for some sick sexual fantasy.” “Of course not,” he soothed, but his lecherous expression was unchanged. “But what happens in the simulators is none of my business, so long as your expectations are fulfilled.” Katniss’s attention drifted as Finnick outlined the specifications of the program, the cost, the amount of time she would have in the simulator, and what she could expect in terms of realism. Her mind wandered, as it often did, to the man she had spent two and a half years missing with every fibre of her being, to the things she’d said the last time she’d seen him. To the things she wanted, needed, so desperately to tell him now, even if it was only pretend. “And where would you like this encounter to be?” Finnick asked, the smarmy tone creeping back into his voice, catching her attention again. “Your quarters?” “It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Your lobby, the sidewalk out front, the virtual location won’t make any difference.” “Surely you’d like something comfortable and private. A hotel? A Turkludiaan den, perhaps?” He was all but sneering; clearly he’d made up his mind that she was some sort of sexual pervert looking to get busy with a stranger on whom she had a crush. But he was dead wrong. Not about the crush part, but about the rest. She wasn’t looking to screw a make-believe stranger. She wanted to see the love of her life. To tell him she was sorry. “It’s not like that,” she snapped, half-rising, and his eyes widened, hands lifting in supplication. She deflated, sinking back into her seat and dropping her head into her hands. Katniss sighed. Every rational thought screamed at her to simply leave. She’d known all along that this was a bad idea. But after twenty-eight months of what was essentially a self-imposed exile, twenty-eight months of not having taken a single shore leave, a single vacation, even a single day off, she was at a breaking point. And it was obvious to everyone around her. Even her cousin, Gale, had noted Katniss’s sadness during their weekly video chats. She was tired and worn out, and Gale was worried enough that he’d threatened to come home from school on planet Spectra to take care of her. Katniss couldn’t allow that. Gale was settled on Spectra and was a model student, hardworking, brilliant. Allowing her own heartbreak and stupidity to compromise his future was unacceptable.

So when Gale, who was frugal to the point of being cheap, sent her a Trident Industries gift card two days ago, just before she’d disembarked from the Mockingjay and walked away from her life on the starship, Katniss had promised to actually use it. “Take a virtual vacation,” he’d insisted. She’d tried to tell him she was fine, needed nothing, but Gale knew her too well. “Live a little,” he’d begged, silver eyes shining in the video relay. “You deserve this, after everything.”

“I just want to see someone I used to know,” she murmured to Finnick, staring at her shiny boots. “One last time.” “Someone you can’t speak with in person.” It wasn’t a question, not really, and the soft tone caught Katniss off guard. She glanced up. The leering, lecherous salesman was gone. In his place was just Finnick Odair, still incredibly gorgeous, but with a kind, compassionate expression instead of a dazzling smile. It made him seem more human somehow. More real. “Right.” “I can do that. I’ll need to access his public records, to ensure the simulation reacts as closely to how he would really act as possible.” “I don’t know where he is now,” she admitted. “He was a student at the Alliance Academy, up until a few years ago. Last I heard, he was teaching at the Panem School of Fine Arts.” Finnick nodded. “That will help. There should be plenty of biometrics available. What’s his name?” o-o-o Katniss talked herself into and out of showing up at Trident a dozen times, but in the end her frugal nature won out. Fifty-five hundred credits was a terrible amount to waste, even if they weren’t her credits to begin with. She berated herself as she got ready, brushing out her long black hair and agonizing over what to wear. It was a simulation. It wasn’t going to care what she looked like! She could have - should have - shown up wearing anything; her uniform, her old hunting clothes, even pyjamas. And yet she pulled from her closet a dress that she hadn’t worn for more than two years, a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. It had been his favourite, another lifetime ago. The building was just as garish as it had been her first visit, but this time Finnick Odair wasn’t there to greet her. A beautiful young woman with an ethereal calmness led Katniss down a long white corridor to a set of imposing silver doors. “Everything has been programmed to your specifications,” she said softly. “The simulation is completely self-sustaining, you don’t have to do anything. But if for any reason you need to exit before the completion of the program, the computer will respond to your commands.” Katniss nodded. She’d studied engineering at the academy before being hand picked for the command program. And while this simulator was leagues ahead of the simple holodecks she was accustomed to, she understood the fundamentals. “Thank you,” she said, but remained motionless outside the closed doors long after the young woman had walked away. Finally she shook aside the lethargy and doubt and entered the simulator. And then gasped. Katniss knew this place, knew every bench, every rock, every flower. She’d spent the past two years seeing this place every time she closed her eyes. The gardens on the rooftop of the academy training centre. Out of every possible place in the universe, how had Finnick Odair chosen this? There was no way he could he possibly have guessed how much this place had meant to her. Had meant to them. It was almost enough to send her running back out of the simulator, down the corridor, back to her spartan grey quarters at the academy. Back to her spartan grey life. But Katniss Everdeen was done running. She stepped cautiously forward, barely hearing the soft snick of the simulator doors closing behind her, immersing her completely in the illusion. She wandered the garden paths slowly, reverently, mouth agape. It was incredible, every detail exactly as she remembered it. She reached out to stroke the glossy green leaves of a hanging vine where it twisted around a pergola. It felt exactly like the vines she’d practiced tying into knots during one of her last visits to the real rooftop gardens. Apple trees perfumed the air. Their gnarled branches just like the ones they’d climbed with abandon during their academy years, playing catch with the sweet fruit. Even the wind chimes tinkling above a lush flower garden were exactly as she remembered them, their gentle chords the soundtrack by which a quiet young woman and a kind young man had made love all those years ago. “Katniss?” She turned slowly at the voice she knew better than her own, the voice of her heart. He was standing perhaps a dozen steps away, an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket in hand, the artificial sun filtering through his ashy curls, crowning him in gold. Peeta Mellark. He was smiling softly, the smile that had always made her feel like the most important person in the universe. As if she could have forgotten how gorgeous he was, how strong and broad and solid. He set the basket down and took a few steps towards her, his grin unwavering. She marvelled at how life-like he was, every detail utterly perfect from his golden eyelashes, so long they brushed his cheeks with each blink, all the way down to the double knots that secured his shoes. It was as if she’d been transported back in time, to those days more than two years ago when life had been perfect, when she’d been happy and loved. All of her pent-up longing overflowed, and she let herself just for the moment forget that it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t really Peeta standing before her, and with a little laugh jumped into his arms. He caught her and spun her around, the arms encircling her just as warm and strong as she remembered. A thousand moments surged through her, all the times those arms were her only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in memory, and now gone forever. As if reading her mind, he pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. Warmth radiated from the spot where his lips just touched her neck, slowly spreading through the rest of her body, enveloping her in comfort. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that she knew she would not be the first to let go. “Still the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he murmured, and Katniss laughed, a pained little sound stained with longing and regret. The real Peeta wouldn’t be so kind, she thought. He’d still be angry, and he should be. She’d hurt him terribly. But when the simulated Peeta pulled back, he was smiling at her as if she were more radiant than the sun. “Peeta,” she started, but he laid a gentle finger across her lips, halting the apologies that yearned to trip from her tongue. “Shhh,” he said. “We have time. Let’s relax first. Have a bite to eat.” Peeta led her down one of the sun-dappled paths to a patch of grass right at the edge of the rooftop. She wrapped her hands around the railing and looked out over the edge, where the sun hit the glossy buildings spread before them, making them twinkle like a vast field of fireflies stretching to the horizon. He moved to stand behind her, his warmth against her back. “I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is up here,” she murmured. His puff of laughter teased the shell of her ear, made her shiver. “That’s my line,” he said, amusement colouring his voice. “And you always insisted that it’s not as pretty as our woods.” He wrapped an arm around her collar bones, pulling her back against his broad chest. She smiled, leaning into him, letting herself truly live in the memory made real. Eventually, he led them away from the railing, to where he’d lain a blanket over the soft artificial grass. When he opened the basket and started to pull out the food it held, she laughed with true delight and his grin widened. Inside was a feast — fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, reminiscent of all of the picnics they’d shared in these gardens over their years together. “And the pièce de resistance,” he said almost shyly, lifting a tureen that she was certain contained lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish she had always said was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer. She sobered. “You have a remarkable memory,” she said haltingly, regret again flaring in her gut. “I remember everything about you,” Peeta said, tucking a loose strand of soft ebony hair behind her ear. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.” “I am now,” she whispered. “Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he chuckled, self-effacing as always. He never had any competition anywhere, she wanted to say. But she didn’t, because it wasn’t true. He’d always been in competition with her drive, her ambition. It’s why she’d lost him. They sat together in the computer-generated sunshine of an unnaturally perfect day. Peeta fed her bites of bread, slathered in goat cheese and topped with apple slices and they reminisced; about their childhood in District Twelve where they knew each other only by sight, about the friendship that bloomed between them when they found themselves the only two children reaped from their district to join the Star Alliance academy, plucked from their impoverished obscurity and dropped into the garish Capitol to train for the elite star force. A friendship that grew so much deeper when only a couple of years into training, a rogue asteroid destroyed their home district in a hail of fire, leaving them both orphaned and alone with only each other to count on. When the food had been consumed, and the remnants tucked away, Katniss took a deep breath. She’d arranged this simulation for a purpose, there were things she needed to say. “I’m sorry,” she said, and his soft smile fell. “No,” he started, but she wouldn’t let him finish. She knew he’d simply absolve her, the simulation was behaving exactly as Peeta had before she’d left him, kind and forgiving and always putting her needs before his own. “It’s not okay, Peeta,” she said, her voice low but steady. “It never was. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. Not without fixing things between us.” She thought back to when she’d been offered the command of her own starship, years ahead of when most young officers were picked to head up missions. It was so unexpected, had flown completely in the face of their plans. They’d always intended on being commissioned together. She would cut her teeth serving under whatever commander headed up Peeta’s first intergalactic diplomatic mission. His talented silver tongue, his ability to paint pictures with words were abilities that made him a star at the academy. They both knew he would ascend the ranks fastest. But he didn’t. She did. And flush with pride, she’d gone to him, excitement about her accomplishment colouring her every word, every thought. He’d been calm, rational, reminding her of their plans, their future. She’d been angry defensive, afraid to listen to anything that could have jeopardized her independence. Unforgivably, she’d accused him of not supporting her dreams. Peeta, who had been her biggest supporter forever. Even as she’d said the words, she’d known they were untrue. But each one flew from her lips like arrows, each hitting her target, piercing him deeply.

The fight had been awful. She’d said so many terrible things, and he’d responded with stony silence. Angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, she’d run. Left him standing on the lawn of the academy stooped in defeat, the waning sun glowing against his dress whites. That image was burned into her retinas, into her heart, and had haunted her for the past two and a half years. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. The anger she’d clung to like a shield only lasted so long, replaced quickly by regret. She’d tried looking him up in the database, but he’d left the academy almost as soon as she’d boarded that damned ship, moved on to a new life that didn’t include her. So she moved on too, threw herself into her work, tried not to think about him, about what he might be doing, who he might be loving. Peeta listened, the slight breeze tossing his curls as he sat on the blanket, their knees just touching, the warmth of his presence giving her the strength to say everything she needed to say. He never once interrupted as she poured out her heart in a way she couldn’t have with the real Peeta, the one who had been so angry he’d blocked her access to his communicator, who probably hated her. This Peeta listened attentively as she told him about her years in space. As she confessed to having thought about him every single day. “I knew I could survive without you,” she said. “But it’s a terrible, lonely life.” “Enough,” he said finally, pulling her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’m to blame too. I shut down, cut you out of my life. If I had stopped being so wounded I would have remembered that our relationship was so much more important than my hurt and jealousy.” Katniss whimpered, burying her face in his shirt, enveloped in his scent. She’d loved him, had always loved him, and yet when she’d walked away that awful day, he’d let her go. When he hadn’t contacted her even once those months before her ship left, she’d simply sealed off her heart. Years of friendship, of passion, of love, were walled up, destroyed, and tossed aside like so much trash. Commander Everdeen needed no one. But she’d been lying to herself. That’s why she was here, on a rooftop, tucked into the embrace of a fake version of the only man she’d ever truly loved instead of virtually touring the lavender sand beaches of Astrazaria. She knew she’d never be able to move on without saying it out loud, without telling at least some version of Peeta she was sorry for all of it, even if he’d never actually hear the words. “Do you forgive me?” she whispered, more for herself than for the illusion of him. His arms tightened. “Yes,” he said. “Can you forgive me?” She nodded against his collar. She’d forgiven the real Peeta’s tiny part in their break up years ago. The sun slid lower in the sky as they clung to each other, soft sighs and gentle caresses speaking of regret, but also contentment. Streaks of pink and gold kissed the horizon, reminding her that their time was almost done. That all too soon, she’d be alone again. The dream, her fantasy, would be over. But she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She’d told him, and in doing so had freed him from where she’d caged up all of her happy memories. Now maybe she could start to heal. “Ah Kitten,” he murmured, and she froze. Kitten was the pet name Peeta had used when they were intimate, never any other time, and certainly never where anyone else could ever have heard him. How on earth had that gotten into the simulation? It was their secret, something that was only for them. She could feel his soft exhale against her temple. “I miss you so much.” His voice cracked, just a little, and her heart shattered. It was too much, his arms, his voice, his words. It hurt too much. This wasn’t going to help her get over him. “I can’t do this,” she mumbled, tears stinging. She wouldn’t let them fall though, she’d never once cried in front of the real Peeta, not even when she’d left him behind two years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in front of this simulation, however real he might feel. His expression when she pulled away and scrambled to her feet nearly gutted her, the confusion, the fear. She turned away, couldn't bear to watch. “Computer,” she barked, listening for the acknowledging beep. Behind her, Peeta gasped. “Katniss?” he rasped. She couldn’t do this anymore, she missed him too much. She was a fool to think that anything could ever heal the Peeta-shaped hole in her heart. This had only made things worse, only made her confront how badly she’d screwed up. How much she still loved him. “End simulation,” she whispered. In the blink of an eye, it all vanished. The rooftop, the gardens, the tinkling wind chimes, all of it disappeared, leaving behind just the bare grey walls. “What the--” a voice from behind her. Katniss whirled. Inexplicably, the simulation of Peeta was still there, staring at her, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “End simulation!” she yelled, but he didn't so much as flicker. “Shit,” she hissed. What the hell was wrong with this computer? She spun and marched towards the sleek panel on the wall. She'd have to override it herself. Behind her, he kept murmuring her name. And she tried, desperately, to ignore the pleading, disbelieving tone of his voice. He sounded like he had when she'd told him she was leaving. When she had broken both of their hearts. She was trying to manually key in a set of commands when his hands fell on her shoulders, so warm and solid that it made her tremble. This was not supposed to be happening. Finnick promised she could end this at any time. Was it her own desperate need for him holding his avatar there, manifesting him with the force of her desire? “Katniss,” he whispered again, and she felt his warm breath caress her ear. Then he was turning her to face him, and she didn’t resist. Blue eyes roamed her face, as if searching for something crucial. His hands, those hands, so perfectly rendered, long-fingered and elegant, rubbed up and down her arms, shoulders to elbows. Then he smiled, a confused, bewildered little half smile. “You’re real,” he whispered. “Holy shit.” Katniss rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help it. Of course she was real, and this simulation was a little too sentient, it was starting to alarm her. But then he was laughing, he was laughing and pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s really you,” he choked, laughter mixing with something much more poignant. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, Odair,” she mumbled, voice muffled against Peeta’s shoulder. She knew she needed to push away from the simulation, but surrounded by his warmth, by his clean, spicy scent, his big hand cupping the back of her head in that familiar way he always had, she just couldn't. His chest shook as another bout of rich laughter rumbled from his chest. “I thought you were a simulation,” he said once his laughter had calmed. “But it’s really you. You’re really here.” He pulled back enough to see her face, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Her brows furrowed. “You thought…” Katniss trailed off as finally the pieces clicked into place in her mind. “You bought a fantasy from Trident?” Was that possible, that he’d been thinking the same way she had, feeling the same regrets, the same need to set things right, however pretend the setting? Or had Finnick Odair somehow arranged this, convinced him to show up, to pretend to be a simulation? Her head spun.

But Peeta nodded. “I paid 6 000 credits to relive the best day of my life,” he said, and his words made her stomach flutter, a tide of hope rising. “You did too.” It wasn’t a question, exactly, but there was a hopeful lilt to his voice. She shrugged helplessly. “You’re really here.” He cupped her cheek in one huge hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I just got back to Earth six days ago,” she whispered “I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted. “Are you disappointed? That it’s really me?” She squirmed with embarrassment; It had been one thing to bare her soul to an empty room. Knowing it had really been Peeta, her Peeta, was horrifying. She fought with her emotions, elation at seeing him again when she’d thought it would never happen and terror that he hadn’t meant the things he’d said, had only been playing a role. “You were so angry when I left.” “God no,” he said, pulling her against him again, his joy palpable. She didn’t resist in the least, wrapping her arms around his waist, her heart overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was here, flesh and blood and Peeta. He was here and he was holding her, like he once had. Like he did in her dreams. Her smile was so wide, he must have been able to feel it against his shirt, but she didn’t care. “I was hurt, and scared, and more than a little selfish,” he admitted. “But I meant every word I said in here, Kitten. I’ve missed you so much. I wanted to see you again so bad.”

“Me too,” she whispered. His soft lips brushed across her temple and he sighed, a contented little sound that she had missed so much. “How long are you staying?” he asked. “For good.” She tipped her head up to meet his confused gaze. “I’m home. I resigned my command and took a job teaching at the academy.” The joy that split his handsome face was almost heartbreaking in its beauty, before he schooled his features into a more cautious optimism. “What does that mean? For… for us?” There was no ‘us’ as far as Katniss knew. She’d come here to get over Peeta, to finally be able to move on after years stuck in limbo. But she finally realized that was the fantasy, that was the ‘not real’. She could never get over him. And she didn’t want to. “That depends on what you want, I guess.” She had been so busy spilling the contents of her soul that she hadn’t asked him about his own life. For all she knew, he had a wife and a dozen gorgeous blond babies waiting at home. The very idea was a like a spear through her heart. “I want you,” he said, serious and solemn. “I’ve wanted you since we were five years old, back in Twelve. I’ve never stopped. And I never will.” He leaned in to kiss her, to really kiss her, and the tears she’d spent forever holding back trickled down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she murmured, the words maybe too soon and yet also far too late. He picked her up and spun her again, laughing as he kissed his own loving declarations into her skin, every word and every caress a healing balm. “Let’s get out of here,” she said when they broke apart, breathless and flushed. “Are you sure?” He waggled his eyebrows, voice brimming with mirth. “We could relaunch the simulator to one of Finnick’s fantasy programs. How about a Pfflachlin coital suite?” Katniss laughed, really laughed, her joy overflowing. “No,” she said between giggles. “No more fantasies. I want real.”

#everlark #xerxia writes #ms2sl

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keywestlou · 3 years ago

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WHAT BUM FARTO AND GOVERNOR DeSANTIS HAVE IN COMMON

WHAT BUM FARTO AND GOVERNOR DeSANTIS HAVE IN COMMON - http://keywestlou.com/what-bum-farto-and-governor-desantis-have-in-common/Since Bum Farto disappeared in the 1970's, people ask :"Bum Farto, where are you?" Today they ask a similar question of Florida's Governor DeSantis: "Governor DeSantis, where are you?" The public has not heard from DeSantis since December 17. Except for his immediate staff, no one knows where he is. Most believe he is on vacation with his family. Whereas Bum Farto never reappeared, DeSantis will. He wants to run for President in 2024. DeSantis should be in Florida working. COVID-19 is at its worst. Not off somewhere enjoying himself. He is pulling a Senator Cruz. Running of with his family to some tropical paradise following the horrible storm which hit Texas. Florida's case load exploded thursday. New cases 77,848. Governor, it is time to come out of hiding. At the moment, Florida needs a governor. As inept as I consider you, Florida needs you! Speak to your constituents! They want to hear from you! Knock off the disappearing act! Interestingly, a pic was run yesterday showing DeSantis at a bagel shop in Ocala saying how great the bagels were. Appeared current. Was not. Taken several weeks ago. Typical DeSantis. DeSantis' hero is Donald Trump. Understandable. They are birds of a feather. Sort of like "Trumpy see, Trumpy do." Except in this case, "Trumpy see, DeSantis do." This past week Florida ran second to only New York in number of new cases. Governor, where are you? You have not had a personal appearance since December 17. As bad as you may be, Floridians are desperate. Looking for leadership. You are that leadership. Today's blog is obviously a COVID one. I continue. Wednesday reflected another COVID high. Every state in the Union was at its highest level of new cases ever. The day gave birth to 488,000 new cases. Children. Our children and grandchildren. Omicron has become a tidal wave as far as young ones are concerned. Those infected are being referred to as "omicron kids." Dr. Matthew Harris is a New York pediatric emergency room doctor. He spoke regarding the night after Christmas. Thirty young patients came in. Twelve tested positive for COVID-19. Every child with a fever had been infected. Several were babies. The shocking thing about Dr. Harris' recitation was when he advised the child Covid cases were the first he had seen in 2 months. Not one positive case in that time. All infected had an underlying condition such as leukemia. The following by Dr. Harris shows the seriousness of what he believes awaits our kids: "What's going to happen 3 weeks from now? These are the sickest kids I have seen in my career." Tonight New York City has some problems not considered by many. Thousands of New York Police and Fire Department members are already out sick. Part of the huge number being afflicted by the COVID surge. On tuesday, 6,600 police officers were out sick. The number represents 20 percent of the police work force. The Fire Department was not much better. The Fire Department's EMS workers were down 30 percent. Overall, 17 percent of the firefighters were sick. Two examples of what is going on here in Key West. We all are beginning to think the booster shot on top of 2 vaccine shots may not be the cure all. Some are personally finding out. My lesbian wife Donna. Wednesday morning at 3 am she drove herself to the hospital. She was having great difficulty breathing. She was diagnosed with COVID. Given several medications and sent home. I spoke with her yesterday. She sounded horrible! Donna is exceptionally religious when it comes to taking care of herself. With Terri's condition as it is, she must. Donna had her 2 shots and then the booster. Donna's job a precarious one. She is a concierge at one of Key West's busier hotels. Always wears a mask. She believes she was infected while working. My grocery shopper is Michelle. She too received 2 shots plus the booster. Called me this morning. She would not be able to deliver my groceries today. She had coronavirus AGAIN. Michelle had her 2 shots and booster. Then afflicted. COVID! She did her duty by God and country and yet has been infected again. She told me she woke at 5:30 this morning not feeling well. Tested herself for the virus. She had it. No fever, however. Two hours later at 7:30, she tested again. No question. Two positive results. And her temperature was 101 degrees. I may never leave home again! We have heard many crazy things in the past two years. The best example was an injection of bleach to cure the virus. Many many in our country do not believe the virus even exists. They come up with different "causes" for the spreading roaring illness. Instead of receiving the shots, the simplest way thus far to control getting COVID, they come up with different things to explain the new surge. COVID does not exist. They are convinced the recent surge is the result of some persons who are spreading anthrax around. An even better one is earlier this year when deep state non believers claimed it was plutonium which was causing the virus. And people believe this shit! Whatever, I am staying in tonight. As I did last New Year's Eve and the one before. Too much at stake not to do otherwise. Enjoy your day! Have a safe evening!

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anothermatrix · 5 years ago

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The first 2 weeks in China were different. Different than in Europe and different than expected. The weather here is tropical. In September still over 30°C with frequent strong but short thunderstorms. The humidity is permanently high. That means my skin is super soft, without any oils, creams or peels. But I am also permanently transpirating! Little note: I brought my Deo´s from Europe because the Chinese don't use it. But would need them partly! Nights without air conditioning were not possible yet. But I was warned that it should be quite cool in winter and showering on the balcony (my shower is outside) will be rather unpleasant (a Spanish but also a Russian told me so). That the Chinese love white skin is true. In the cosmetic studios offer treatments to bleach the ladies. How the men look like doesn't matter at all. The complete contrary: On these wonderfully warm days and nights, the Beijing men's bikini is the order of the day. Simply roll up the T-shirt up to your armpits and hang out the tummy. In restaurants often even topless. The Chinese are all naturally thin - wrong. The ladies are probably crazy about diets and men simply don't care if the bamboo sticks soak up oil while eating. Meat is a firm and area-wide component on every plate here. I was already expelled from the restaurant when I asked for the veggi plate. There's a lot of everything, but I'm still looking for quality. Giant fruit drink cups with gelatine bubbles and mangoes that taste like nothing except synthetic sugar. Fortunately at the beginning of 1900 the german emperor Wilhelm commanded a fleet of soldiers to China, who first teached the Chinese fear and then how to brew beer. In TsingDao there is even an Oktoberfest. There people don't drink from a big 1 Liter glass, but from plastic bags. In supermarkets you can find fresh crabs and dried sea weed, mushrooms, meat and fish, all kinds of food and so on...but no cheese. Although already a Chinese confirmed to me that he, except of Gorgonzola, likes cheese quite much. Surprisingly, there is a lot of cow's milk. The Asians are supposed to be intolerant of this. But it is also considered as a LiveStyle product and the little Chinese dream of becoming as big and strong as European athletes. Two points about that: 1. basketball is totally popular here, and even some (lactose-tolerant) Chinese take part. 2. In order to meet the European breed dream, fertility clinics offer egg donations of western, tall and white university students. They will be mixed with the husband's sperm to preserve the bloodline and the good wife is allowed to carry it. Thus the new generation has the best chances for jobs and marriage market right from the beginning. all in one everyone is quite superficially. People with a dark skin are shunned and blonde, blue-eyed teachers are the showpieces at international schools. Even a strong Russian accent is acceptable as english teacher. On the street the buddy is made attentive with a firm push to the fact that two, very rarely to be found, foreigners pass by. Then they stare extensively and obviously take pictures. To be able to show it to other buddies. Back to nature. The air pollution here in the south is lower than in some European cities. It is also surprisingly quiet on the road. Two-wheeled vehicles with burn engine are forbidden in the city centre (unless you are an officer, then you may also privately quite a lot privileges). It feels like there are more electric wheels and scooters on the road than cars. And even these usually have an electric motor. And so I already had a few collisions, because I simply didn't hear ann noise. Everywhere it is green and the gardeners are non-stop keeping the exuberant flora short. There are gigantic lakes and nature parks in the city. Only the fauna is conspicuously reserved. In the huge parks I haven't seen any hedgehogs, rabbits etc. and there are only a few birds. A Chinese couchsurfer has confirmed that the critters are caught and eaten... What I miss so far? Swimming! Just like in Switzerland jumping into a lake, river or pool, no way. A woman would risk her pallor and almost noone like to swim or is just not able to... To be continued

#livingabroad

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riverflowsthroughit · 7 years ago

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Biologist, Paraglider, Annecy, France

Esther took an advanced paragliding SIV course in Annecy, France. I was the impostor who was there by accident, observing and taking a regular course. SIV stands for Simulated Incidence in Vol/Flight, covering training for controlling the paraglider in extreme circumstances. Exercises involve completely stalling the flying wing, plunging down and re-inflating the paraglider, spinning/spiraling and regaining control, and other magnificent and exhausting maneuvers. Esther completed the course, and was always asking the right questions, reviewing the videos diligently and thoroughly. She is a biologist in Holland, but paragliding is her passion. I thought WOW, here is a kick ass chick sitting in a group of 15 guys, full stalling her glider. I need to get more information. That's how this post came about, I followed her on a typical flying day. 1. Name. Iris Esther Dielissen. 2. Where is your hometown? Zwolle, a medium sized Dutch city with a nice historic centre. For paraglider pilots: It is situated between our beautiful soarable dunes on the coast and the best towing spot for cross country paragliding in the Netherlands. 3. What is your profession/career/title/self-label/designation? Biologist and paraglider pilot. 4. What was the journey like to get where you are (career wise)? When was the mental shift to start the journey? As long as I can remember I've been fascinated by the natural world around me. I am fortunate to have parents who love to travel and introduced me to other countries and cultures at an early age (for example Venezuela, South Africa, Namibia). My dad is a bird watcher so he taught me how to spot wildlife and notice the difference between species. So I am a biologist at heart, although it took me some time to discover that. I actually applied to study psychobiology at first (study close to neuroscience), but when I was hiking in the Azores, I decided that I wanted a study that had to do more with my natural surroundings, instead of doing research on rat brains in a lab. That moment's decision was very important and I have never regretted it. I now work for the regional government as a consultant in ecology and management of the nature reserves within my province. Before this I worked for a travelling agency for hiking & cycling tours. Paragliding is a (very important!!) hobby now, I don't know where I will end up one day, maybe again in the travelling business. 5. What did you study in school? Biology with a specialization in ecology and natural resource management. 6. How is your life different from what you pictured at 20? I didn't picture myself spending so much time in an office, and actually like what I do. My brain is challenged in this job and I can use my skills as a biologist in a way that has impact, which is great. However I still think it should be temporary, say for a few years. The trade off is that my body doesn't get as much activity as it actually requires and majority of the time I am not exploring my surroundings but sitting at my desk. I hope in the future I can do work that is more balanced in both or I just go full force on paragliding and travelling for a while. 7. Biggest accomplishment since making the (physical/mental) move? Getting a permanent contract on my current job as a biologist and to learn how to pilot a wing and fly my first cross country distances. 8. What was biggest disappointment and plan to overcome it? No huge disappointments.... yet! Only small ones, not one in particular that stands out. 9. Advice for other women? Fear less, don't think things are not for you because you are a woman, take a leap of faith now and then, trust your own judgement and go with your gut. 10. Knowing what we know now in current political climate, can women be "all that we can be" in today's world? What is the way forward, as you see it for "feminist values"? I think there is still a lot of pressure on what women should be, especially when it comes to appearance. Prettiness gives a women certain privileges and power over men, however I think for good looking women it is harder to gain respect in a professional career and to get opportunities to lead, especially in male dominated sectors. If you are a good looking you for example may have more chances to get hired, but there is less chance you are hired as a 'boss'. The way forward? I think women should help each other up more. There is too much competition between women, and too little empowerment. This is one of the ways forward, another one is to acknowledge discrimination on gender and on race still exists in modern western societies. 11. Where in the world do you feel “tallest” (i.e. where is your happy place)? In extreme natural environments. This can be in the air, flying but also deep jungles, an arctic tundra, on top of a volcano. The raw beauty of our world in these places is very overwhelming, making me feel very tall and very small at the same time. 12. What extra-curricular activities/hobbies are you most proud of? Why? Paragliding for sure. Because it is very mentally challenging, but also graceful and explorative. Before I started paragliding (2015) I tried diving, surfing and was following yoga classes. But nothing has been as amazing as flying a paraglider. It is very rewarding in terms of experiences and I like the mental challenge a lot. 13. What do you want to be when you grow up? Future goals/challenges? I think I haven't found my ideal job jet, or haven't found a way to make my current job my ideal job. 14. What fears are you still hoping to overcome? I would like to learn to trust my own decisions more. I find it very hard sometimes not to be in doubt, and just go for one way or the other especially in my job. In flying it can be hard to see the difference between 'true fear' and just making yourself crazy with scary thoughts that are not rational nor are your gut feeling. This is something that can be trained if you pay closer attention to your thoughts and feelings while making decisions. I hope that by training this while paragliding and being aware of the parallel with other situations in life will help me to grow more self-confident and be more decisive in my work as well. 15. Anything you'd do differently (if you had another go at life)? Not really, I have very few regrets and am still behind the choices I made in the past because I honestly think they where the best I could do at the time. If I would have a second life to live I would maybe be single for a longer time to see how that feels and how that would influence my self development (I have been in a relationship since 17, 12 years now), but I don't regret any of the choices I made to live the life I have now. 16. What inspires you? Nature, flying and people that are bright-eyed, enjoying life and create positive impact with their job. 17. What are you hopeful about? About the fact I still see myself growing as a person even if I don't always know which way I'm going. 18. What are some ingredients to a good life? Flying, good food, sex, warm relationships and having a job that means something to you and has a positive effect on others. 19. What are you reading now? (what books do you gift most and what are your favourite reads?) I have just started reading Paul Auster's 4321, recommended to me by a friend. And I read Classic Routes a beautiful paragliding book with descriptions and pictures some of the most epic and best known cross country paragliding routes in the world. 20. Who is a “WOW Woman” in your life who inspires you (and why)? One of my best friends Merel, who a professional scientist in tropical ecology and recently moved to Switzerland for a post-doc. I really admire her take on life, she's very relaxed but not in a lazy way. She works very hard on her scientific projects and has a lot of ambition, still she always finds time to climb (she loves rock climbing), travel and invest in relationships. Bèta science is very male dominated, which makes it less attractive to women, but she is definitely holding ground there. 21. Where can others find you/your work (links to websites, blogs, etc.)? facebook linkedin

#wowwoman #wow woman #wow Esther #incredible females #inspiring women #inspiration #spirit #passion #paragliding #student #love #france #annecy #summer '17

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Wow, this is amazing.

::sits here wondering how much of my blatant bullshitting in my fic is completely transparent:: Honest, I know whales don’t sing quite like that, reeeeeally ::hides::

You is an amazing group of people. Everyone make sure you read the comments.

As for me…

I’m Australian, a South Aussie, born, bred and baked every summer.

I’m a librarian which is extremely useful when it comes to researching obscure facts.

I’m also a graphic and web designer, both freelance with my own business and as part of my job as a librarian – I’m the Promotions Coordinator in a public library.

As for my specialities…let’s just say I gather them as I go, and since I’ve been going for forty-odd nearly fifty years, there are quite a few of them.

I’m primarily an artist and a writer. I paint and draw in several different media and styles. My writing background started in poetry eons ago, but I have since explored many other types. I’ve facilitated writing groups both on and offline. Creative skills get applied to everything.

I’m a nature freak. I adore the world around me and hunt down facts about it all the time including plants, animals, rocks, weather and entire ecosystems. I know a great deal about my native environment, South Australia, geography, geology, meteorology, ecology and native flora and fauna. I can speak enough plant Latin to make it sound like I know what I’m talking about :D

As an extension of this interest, I applied the same methodology to my research about the Kermadec Islands, of which Tracy Island (TAG) is technically a part, so I know quite a bit now about the geology of the area (fascinating), the geography and even some of the flora and fauna. So, if you want to know if a certain plant or bird might be found on the Island, hit me up :D I seriously geeked out on this :D

I’m a genealogist and have hunted various family lines, both my own and others back into the dark ages (researched both before the internet and after). Tied in with this is an interest in history. I’ve read up on both Australian and English history just out of curiosity and done crazy things like try to hunt down a John Lawrence in the entirety of Australia in 1841. There were only five, and I think I know which one I wanted, but I still don’t have proof! My librarian streak feeds this obsession. All my knowledge of England and Scotland is historical. My family hails from Lincolnshire on one side four generations back, while the other is from Dundee, Scotland where my mother was born.

I have an aptitude for computers and am very digitally literate and troubleshoot as part of my job. I have worked as a library IT support officer in the past. I’m also old enough to have done my job without the aid of computers…the world has changed a lot in the last fifty years.

I’m a mum, a wife, have had various nasty medical procedures including ICU and an appendectomy (sorry Virg) that provide fic fodder. My parents were not the greatest, so I have a bucket of issues.

I don’t drink tea or coffee, so I’m bullshitting Virgil’s coffee cravings :D I will drink a little alcohol from time to time, but I don’t drink beer or wine, and it is really not a thing for me. So, while I’ve been drunk once or twice, I’m also bullshitting when I write about that.

I drive on the left. Have Christmas in summer. I am a synesthete and think visually. I’ve only been to the tropics once, so base all my knowledge of Tracy Island weather on the temperate clime I live and breathe and hope that I can get away with it :D

I’m an adult on the autism spectrum, but use it to my advantage (see knowledge above). I get anxious, but I manage it best I can. I can obviously blabber about myself for hours.

I’m nuts.

But you knew that :D

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

CALLING ALL FAN FIC WRITERS!

Let's help each other out!

Please reblog with things you have an interest in, are a specialist in and wouldn't mind people asking you about for the good of their fic accuracy. Include as little or as much as you want.

-I'm English, ask me questions about England!

-I'm Pagan, ask me witchy questions!

-Novelist, ask me writing questions!

-Cat mum and human mum, ask me kid or cat questions (also tarantula and snake mum)

- I do baking, ear piercing, editing, host the Gerry Anderson quiz, mediumship, tarot cards/pendulums /runes/, basic candle making etc.

I'm happy to talk about almost anything and if I think of anything else I'll add it to the list.

#nutty is nuts #thundernerds are awesome

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feminastywomen-blog · 8 years ago

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Instead of Killing Myself, I... (Inspired by 13 Reasons Why)

by Jenn Carmen

Thirteen Reasons Why is a brilliant book by Jay Asher that saved my life as a lost, desperate seventeen-year-old. When I found out that it would be adapted into a Netflix series, I was met with conflicting emotions: equal parts excitement and apprehension. I was happy to see the book recognized in such a powerful way. I was worried about what memories it might yank out of me.

The first time a teacher saw cuts on my wrist, they were quick to ask my friends if I was doing “alright” - but, at the time, I wasn’t speaking up. My friends didn’t know. When I got called into the principal’s office and he asked about my arm, I was quick to lie about how I’d hurt myself. I told him I’d fallen.

“Take care of yourself, then,” he told me. “We don’t want you falling anymore.”

It took me years to realize that he had been onto me the whole time. And imagine how surprised I was! I had thought I was the best liar; there was no way anyone really knew what was going on. I was an expert at hiding skeletons in my closet.

My friends did their best to show their support in subtle ways. They would pick me up from school, take me home, buy me a hot chocolate, sit and listen to me ramble, and invite me over for dinner. They were small, almost insignificant, acts of kindness to an average person. But I wasn’t average.

I was struggling. Thirteen Reasons Why is so critical because it’s so real; no other book, or series, has described the absolute emptiness of depression so perfectly before. I’ve got my fair share of problems with the show (it’s a trigger warning nightmare) but its essence is absolutely vital, and its message is pretty clear: being a teenager sucks, but don’t be a shitty person, and definitely don’t kill yourself.

In honor of Thirteen Reasons Why becoming a big hit, I decided to write about this: thirteen things that would have never happened if I had killed myself at seventeen.

INSTEAD OF KILLING MYSELF, I...

Got into college. I was worried about moving away from home for the first time and worried about the amount of independence I would have. While I craved getting out of the small town I had always called home, I had every reason to grow attached to it. I had gone to preschool down the street from my home; I was still friends with people I met in kindergarten. My life had been sheltered, and college felt like a world away. But still... I got in, I went, and my life was forever expanded and changed for the better. Spoiler alert: your hometown will never be as wonderful as it is when you’re seventeen.

Played with lion cubs. Because my college had an exclusive affiliation with Six Flags, I was able to participate in an experiential education course that allowed us to interact with sea lions, giraffes, elephants, otters, tropical birds, pigs with nailpolish and skateboards, sloths, and BABY LION CUBS. My classmates (friends, really) actually got into the newspaper, and I was able to present at a research conference with my peers about our experience. Later, I would give the same presentation to about 700 people. Not so bad, huh?

Published a book. It wasn’t easy. I sat, drowning in drafts of essays I had written for college. I reviewed everyone’s critiques, studied what my professors had to say, and tore myself to shreds. At the end of it came a book. And another. And then a zine.

Came to terms with the past. The older I got, the less the things that seemed so heavy and dark were important. No longer was I devastated over the loss of friendships, or stress at home. Suddenly, I saw things as an adult; I saw things the way they really were.

Hit rock bottom and survived. When shit gets real, it gets real. When you hit rock bottom, you wake up covered in your own vomit with a broken foot. Once you’re done scrubbing the floors and stopping by the emergency room, though, this is a perfect opportunity to take a long, hard look at your life choices. Spoiler alert: there’s nowhere to go but up, and nothing to do but get better.

Reconnected with old friends. As you get older, you truly realize how important other people are in your life. There’s no sense in holding grudges; there’s no logic in holding onto pain. Forgiveness and unconditional love for the people who want to be there for you is just a step towards growth.

BECAME A FEMINIST. Of COURSE this feels like a momentous occasion for me! Every summer, I’m reminded of my “Psychology of Women” course. I took it as a free, fun elective for a quick summer session and left each class feeling both empty and empowered. I was devastated by gender inequality, yet determined to make change happen. Being a feminist is a huge part of who I am today, and it’s inspired me to speak up for myself and others - which was seemingly impossible before.

Helped others. My current job working at a crisis hotline allows me to reach out to people who are in pain, or simply need someone to talk to. The relief in their voice when they say, “thanks for listening to me ramble” is enough for me to keep moving.

Fell in love. I mean, I had to include this. Come ON! Who doesn’t want to hear all about how I’m stupid in love? Alright, I’ll spare you. But love at twenty-five is a lot more fun than love at seventeen. I’ll leave you with that.

Found Jesus Christ. Amen!

Also found a nearby White Castle. Coincidence?

Played too much of The Sims. But my Sims have a high-rise apartment? Also, since when does this game tell you exactly how many hours you’ve logged on and played? I’ve spent about a solid week switching wallpapers with different wood floors like I’m on some HGTV show.

Lived with the pain. This sounds like a lyric straight out of a Papa Roach song, but isn’t it true? Once you’re depressed, you tend to fluctuate between periods of feeling better and bouts of its return. Some days, it’s impossible to get up. The thought of being an adult is exhausting, but that’s the thing. Being an adult means giving yourself thirty minutes to sulk and then forcing yourself to shower. It means giving yourself a mental health day and forcing yourself to meet up with a friend. It means moving on, even when you feel like you can’t. You can.

So THANK YOU, self.

Thank you for sticking it out. Thank you for putting up with the crap. Thank you for waking up every day, even when you don’t want to, and doing your damn best. Even if your best is still shoving chips in your mouth at 1:00AM after writing an emotional blog, it’s still your best.

Thank you.

#zine #feminist #feminasty #feminism #blog #13 reasons why #tw: suicide #tw: suicide mention #depression #mental health #depressive thoughts #bpd #mental health support #support

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jobsearchtips02 · 4 years ago

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Former Presidents Honor Rep. John Lewis at Atlanta Funeral

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from Job Search Tips https://jobsearchtips.net/former-presidents-honor-rep-john-lewis-at-atlanta-funeral/

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rolandfontana · 5 years ago

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Twitter, Banging Pots and Celebration: Eyewitness to Puerto Rico’s Protest

The sidewalks in Old San Juan are just big enough for two people to walk side by side.

The pale pink, yellow and blue apartment buildings that line the cobblestone streets are decorated with wrought-iron balconies and tropical flowered window boxes. Native birds hop from lamppost to lamppost.

All photos and video reportage, except otherwise noted, by Andrea Cipriano/TCR

But, further down the street, the picturesque setting begins to fade, and reminders of the extraordinary protests that made headlines around the world this month become apparent.

Windows are covered over with plywood, obscenities are spray painted along the walls, and the face of former Gov. Ricardo Rosselló, who resigned July 24, is plastered at every turn.

The protests, among the largest ever seen on this island, erupted after a series of disrespectful, homophobic and misogynists comments shared by the governor with his inner circle were published by Puerto Rico’s nonprofit Centro de Periodismo Investigativo (Center for Investigative Journalism) earlier in July.

The release catalyzed the simmering resentment among Puerto Ricans over their government’s endemic corruption, and its continuing failure to address the needs of victims of Hurricane Maria, which devastated the island in September, 2017. The hurricane victims were among the targets of the sneering comments in the 900 pages of texts made public.

It was a social media-fueled campaign, much like the similar mass protests that fueled—and continue to fuel—the giant street demonstrations in Hong Kong in protest over alleged moves by the local government to give mainland China greater control. But unlike Hong Kong, there have been no reported incidents of police or protester violence.

Social media provided much of the impetus for Puerto Rico’s demonstrations. One of the most popular phrases, repeated in graffiti across San Juan, the capital, was the trending colloquial hashtag, “#RickyRenunica!” —a call for the Governor’s resignation.

For many Puerto Ricans, Rosselló’s image has become a symbol of everything they feel is wrong with their current government, led by the New Progressive Party (PNP).

Despite the heavy presence of police in the San Juan protests, there were no reports of violence

On Wednesday night into Thursday morning, a prerecorded video of Rosselló announcing his resignation was released, and the protests quickly transformed into celebrations.

Around midday last Thursday, Puerto Rican police could still be found on almost every street corner. They wore bulletproof vests and carried stun-guns on their belts.

But according to most reports, no excessive force was against the demonstrators—who soon became celebrants with news of the governor’s resignation.

You could hear the honking and cheering before even making it close to the official concrete barricade, a block away from the blue and white colonial facade of the governor’s mansion.

At some point during the past two weeks of protests, Cristo’s street sign was covered, and it now read, “Calle del Corrupto,” meaning Street of the Corrupt. Further down, Fortaleza’s sign now read, “Calle de la Resistencia” which translates to Street of the Resistance.

People overflowed the sidewalks and excitedly waved Puerto Rico’s flag. Drivers slowed down as they turned the corner to allow the car’s passengers to take photos and many others stood by the concrete barricade, waiting to have their picture taken. Children of all ages were celebrating with their families, even toddlers in strollers clapped with flags in hand.

The sounds of the car horns and whistles were deafening, yet the high energy was infectious.

https://thecrimereport.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Video1.mp4

As a small rain shower blew through, some sought the cover of local bars, but many stayed to celebrate.

In the heat of the early evening, the crowd at the intersection continued to grow rapidly. Cars were no longer allowed through the neighboring streets, so the only way through was on foot.

Homemade signs and t-shirts offered the best barometer of the island’s new political climate.

One woman’s shirt read, “Vengo de una raza brava!” (I come from a brave race!) while her young son next to her donned a Guy Fawkes mask, commonly worn by members of the Anonymous protest movement.

A small group of men and women dressed in almost all black quickly became the center of attention as they got the crowd to clap and chant to the people’s unofficial anthem, shouting, “Yo Soy Boricua, Pa’que tu lo sepas!” (I am Puerto Rican, so that you know!)

https://thecrimereport.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Video2.mp4

As the crowd got fired up, Gay Pride flags and Puerto Rican flags printed in black and white to symbolize mourning and resistance, were waved.

Then, the final chant that would ring through the streets of Old San Juan throughout the rest of the night was sung, to the rhythmic beat of people beating on cooking pots—a former of protest that first emerged in similar popular protests elsewhere in Latin America.

The chants first called for Rosselló’s resignation, but they changed topic as soon as the governor announced he had stepped down.

“Dónde está Wanda? Wanda no está aqui; Wanda está vendiendo lo que queda del pa ís!” (Where is Wanda? Wanda is not here. Wanda is selling what is left of the country!”)

Justice Secretary Wanda Vasquez, via Wikipedia

That referred to the state’s Attorney General, Wanda Vásquez, who was next in the line of succession to take over from the governor (after the Secretary of State Luis G. Ribera Marin, one of the participants in the scandalous group chat, resigned July 13).

Vásquez decided she didn’t want the job. It’s not hard to figure out why. Vasquez was already a target of the protesters, for failing to investigate hurricane relief funds that allegedly had done missing.

Residents had already taken to Twitter to circulate their new hashtag, #WandaRenuncia, citing her failure to address gender violence issues and ethical complaints filed against her by the Office of the Independent Special Prosecutor.

A side street’s wall read, “Wanda, no calientes la silla,” (Wanda, don’t warm the seat [of power].)”

https://thecrimereport.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Video3-1.mp4

Above that, an ominous message to Thomas Rivera Schatz, the acting Chair of the New Progressive Party of Puerto Rico said, “Schatz, ahora vamos por ti.” (Schatz, now we go for you.)

Andrea Cipriano

While it may seem like the protesters are getting what they originally asked for, many believe the fight is still far from over. It is still unclear who will step into power after August 2 when Rosselló leaves.

Moreover, many believe real change won’t occur until the current New Progressive Party is out of power completely.

Andrea Cipriano is a TCR news intern. She spent the week of July 14-21 in San Juan, PR.

See a Gallery of More Photos Here by Andrea Cipriano

Twitter, Banging Pots and Celebration: Eyewitness to Puerto Rico’s Protest syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

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