#Union Station pg

[twocupsofsugar]

Another page of space encyclopedia completed, this time the Brakken.

"The creation of the Brakken was a point of contention among the Imsee, as some argued that by intervening in the natural evolutionary process they were upsetting the consciousness within the cosmic intellect and that any knowledge gleamed from their work with the brakken is obscured and illegitimate. Eventually Imsee curiosity overrode any moral quandaries they may have had." - Sagan-V

I'm honestly sort of happy with how this one came out in the end, I've got a few more alien species I want to make introductory pages for, so I've got some cooking to do.

[jedi-hawkins]

Raining Flowers

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor @photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives @nahoney22 - Fox, Tech @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase @l-lend - Wolffe @moonstrider9904 - Howzer @eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Echo x fem Jedi!reader

Chosen Flower: Cherry Blossoms

Word count: 3.7k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Mentions of death, mourning, disordered eating/recovery, nightmares, all canon trauma related to Echo's Techno Union arc, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst

Beta-read by @photogirl894

As a Jedi Master you’re always being run hither and yon throughout the galaxy. Your most recent assignment has you on Naboo as head of security for a symposium of senators. Your squad of support troopers is set to arrive later today. 

You have to admit, you’re a little nervous. The squad that’s being sent is Clone Force 99. You’ve worked with them before and get along with them well enough, but the thought of their newest member is what’s making your stomach churn.

Echo. You knew him before the mission that killed him, before he was even recruited for the 501st. He was your closest friend and confidant. After his valiant efforts on the Rishi Moon Outpost he was stationed on your Venator. You quickly recognized his skill for strategy and recruited him as your personal tactics advisor along with his twin, Fives. No matter how bad of a day you had, dinner and a walk with Echo always lifted your spirits. 

Then Rex had to steal your Domino twins from you. You were so proud of them and you knew Anakin was gaining two of the best soldiers you’d ever seen, but you were still sad to see them go. You still kept in touch with Echo, you could always count on at least one holocall a week. You’d just fill each other in on the happenings in your lives, brainstorm war issues that were giving you trouble, talk about everything and nothing all at once. You were able to see him a couple times when you were sent to work with the 501st and it was always like no time had passed.

Then the Citadel happened.

You didn’t let anyone see you cry for him. A Jedi mourning a single clone? It felt like not many would understand, and the war was still raging. You had to move on with your head held high, and yet you were numb for months.

Fives kept in touch with you, you offered your condolences, but held it together for him. The two of you would share a holocall every month or so to catch up and reminisce in memories of Echo but it still wasn’t quite the same. Even though your best friend was gone, you found yourself talking to him under your breath about your day, just like those weekly holocalls. 

Eventually the pain faded to just a dull ache in the background. Then Fives went rogue and was ‘decommissioned’ as the report put it. The last tie you had to Echo was gone. The Chancellor held that report under lock and key, so once again you mourned one of your Domino Twins with little comfort. 

The numbness took over again, but this time it didn’t linger for quite as long. Just when you got to the point that memories of Echo and Fives  brought happy tears, you got the comm from Anakin. They found Echo. 

The guilt nearly swallowed you whole. Echo had been alive this whole time and you didn’t know. They mounted a rescue for him and you weren’t told. His recovery happened and you weren’t there. Today would be the first time you’d seen or spoken to him since your last holocall before the Citadel. You couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Why hadn’t he reached out to you before now?’ 

You had kept to yourself partly because you were being run into the ground by the Council, but also because you wanted to give him space. You weren’t sure he even remembered you. Would he still be your Echo? 

Rex knew what Echo had meant to you and commed directly after they rescued him to fill you in more than Anakin had. He didn’t reveal much more, but he had let you know that the Techno Union did things to him. That he looked different, that he was found with a lot of integrated mechanics. That was months ago, and you hadn’t heard much since. 

So here you were, anxiously wringing your hands awaiting the arrival of Squad 99. 

You recognize their ship as they land, thankfully they scrubbed their nose art off before this mission. Probably with some convincing from Anakin. The ramp lowers and Sergeant Hunter disembarks to meet you. 

You quickly run him through the plan for today. The symposium isn’t until tomorrow, but it is up to you to survey the venue to note ‘problem areas’ and make sure nothing is compromised. 

Hunter suggests that Wrecker and Crosshair pair off and that he’ll go with Tech. He gives you an all-knowing look when you do the math of who’s left. You’d mentioned Echo in passing before to Hunter while on missions. When he commed to debrief about this mission, he asked how you were and suddenly you were spilling nearly everything about your history with Echo. Hunter had assured you his squad was taking care of him and that your worries would stay between the two of you. 

“You two need the time to talk.” Hunter muttered, squeezing your shoulder and calling to his brothers. 

You’re left waiting at the bottom of the ramp for a few more minutes before a figure appears in the Marauder’s door. Your stomach drops at the sight of him. 

He looks so different. New metal legs shine in the sunlight, and a scomp link is where his right hand used to be. ‘No more double wielding,’  you think to yourself. His new armor is red and black, Batch colors. Your heart does warm at the sight of the kama he’s wearing, at least he hasn’t forgotten that he’s still an ARC. His new helmet is tucked under his scomp arm. 

His eyes brighten when he sees you. Mechanical studs for Maker knows what dot his scalp, but even though his skin is much paler and his face is sunken in, those are still the same amber eyes that you’ve sought comfort in so many times. 

Your voice is shaky at first. “E-Echo?”

Some color spreads across the bridge of his nose as he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, d-different I know. You look good though.” 

You smile at his compliment and lead the way to the side of the venue you two will be surveying. At first you walk in silence, neither of you really sure how to bridge the gap between you. You want to ask him how he’s been, how his recovery went, explain how sorry you are for not being there, but the words keep getting stuck in your throat. 

You open your mouth to say something, but Echo beats you to it. “Do you still like roast bantha?” 

“Y-yeah?” You respond, a little taken aback by his odd question. “Why?”

He shrugs “Because I had some the other week and it was the first real meal I enjoyed since returning.” 

“It was my favorite, still is.” 

“I remember.” Echo gives you a sideways glance. “You can ask, I know you want to.” 

Of course he knew what you were thinking. You go back to wringing your hands. “I- I want to apologize first. I didn’t even know a rescue was happening, I should have been there but no one told me. I was off the grid on Taris.” 

Once the words start, they don’t stop. “Anakin commed me after they got you out but they didn’t let me see you on Coruscant. Then you were reassigned and I didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry I should have reached out, but I wanted to give you space. I didn’t know if you remembered me...” 

Echo stops you by resting his hand on your shoulder.. “It’s okay, really. You don’t need to apologize. I had a whole army of people fussing over me. I should have reached out, that was on me. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about all… this” He says gesturing to himself. 

“Oh Echo, no. I don’t care about that. I was just so worried, I just wanted you to be okay.” You say hurriedly. “Are you- are you okay?”

He nods, turning to start walking again. “I am, there’s been some adjustments but I’m getting used to it.” 

You tilt your head curiously, “Tell me about it. If you feel comfortable.” 

“Of course I feel comf-'' His words are cut off when he stumbles on the stone path beneath your feet. “Well that’s one thing. These damn legs. The Techno Union gave me some rudimentary ones, but these are much more complex. They’re heavier and made me a couple inches taller too. I probably looked like a newborn fathier for the first couple weeks.” 

You stifle a snicker and Echo notices. 

“You can laugh, really.” He reassures you. “I missed that laugh of yours. You always shared my sense of humor.” 

“Did they hurt?” You wonder aloud, glancing down at his metal thigh. 

He shrugs, “Nah, not really. They’re wired up so that I can feel some sensation of moving but I can’t really register touch, it’s more of a dull pressure. Sometimes I’ll get some weird feelings, like an ache or an itch in my leg that’s not there, Tech called it ‘phantom pains.’ The most annoying thing is that I always feel warm now from the mechanics in me.” 

Echo can see the curiosity glinting in your eyes. “Here.” He says, halting and propping his foot up on a nearby garden wall. He moves his kama out of the way before he gently takes your hand and presses your hand to his left thigh. 

You can feel the warmth under your palm. It’s not quite like the warmth from human skin, but it’s not like the warmth from a databank either. It reminds you of the warmth of your lightsaber, you can still feel Echo’s life force pulsing under your touch. 

“Incredible.” You mutter as he readjusts himself. “I remember you were always freezing before.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose I was. I would always steal Fives’ blankets.”

Your heart pangs at the mention of Echo’s twin. “Rex told you, I assume?” 

“Yeah. He did.” Echo sighs. “Said something in his and Tup’s heads malfunctioned but couldn’t tell me much else. We had a little memorial for them.” 

“That’s nice. I wasn’t there when it happened, he and I talked about you a lot.” 

“I know he definitely would have had a few jokes about this.” Echo says waving his scomp link, trying to lighten the mood. 

Your brow scrunches. “I’m surprised Anakin didn’t offer to make you a hand like his.” 

“He did, I just thought I’d keep the scomp. Means we don’t have to lug around an astromec to get into places. I don’t mind it, it’s all right.” A sly smirk spreads across his face.

You groan at him. “Was that a kriffing joke?” You say, fully laughing at him. “You’re terrible. Fives would be proud.”

Echo’s laughter joins yours. “Yeah, he would’ve nearly pissed himself watching me figure this thing out. One morning I nearly took my eye out trying to rub it with this.” 

You cover your mouth and groan at the thought as Echo continues. 

“Another time I was enjoying some morning caf and leaned on the counter, only I forgot I didn’t have a hand anymore and the scomp slipped. Fell flat on my face and I smelled like caf all day.” 

Again, your laughter starts back up at the mental image. “The Batch, are they treating you well?” You ask between giggles. 

“They are.” Echo says with a nod. “They’ve really helped me through some of the rough parts.” 

“Oh?”

“Well of course Tech has helped me figure out the kinks of my new mechanics.” Echo shrugs. “But he also really helped me with speech. For a while my mind was a bit jumbled. My thoughts were broken with old battle strategies, the data Techno Union kept pulling. I would lose the word for something right before I said it, use the wrong word, misunderstand what someone was saying. Tech helped me realize that my brain had literally been damaged, rewired, and that it would take time to come back from that. When I didn’t have the words, he had them for me. Others may find his tendency to finish peoples’ sentences a bit annoying, but I was thankful for it. Saved me a lot of frustration when I was trying to communicate early on.” 

“I’ve always found that trait of his endearing.” You reply, not wanting to stunt Echo’s sharing. 

“And Hunter’s great too. It’s been kind of nice having someone else in charge. He talked to me about it, acknowledged that I had more wartime experience than him, but he knew I needed to take a step back and heal, not be the one with all the answers.”

You smile at his mention of the Sergeant’s intentions. “Hunter has a big heart, he sees a lot more than you’d think.” 

Echo nods. “He helped me with other things too. I sometimes get these electronic migraines. Tech thinks they happen when the mechanics in my head overstimulate the electrical activity of my brain but he couldn’t really figure out a solution. Hunter did though, since he gets migraines himself. Showed me his whole care routine to shorten them and ride it out.” 

Memories of the time you witnessed one of Hunter’s migraines make you wince. “I hope they’re not too bad.” 

“No, not with their help. The hardest thing to figure out was how to gain weight again.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, I mean you look…” Your words are lost as you gesture to him. 

He gives you a sly look, but continues without comment. “Yeah. Food just wasn’t the same for me when I woke up. I don’t really understand the science behind it, but I wasn’t fed in Purkoll. They must have been giving me something but when I woke up I was emaciated and, I just didn’t have an interest in food. The appetite came back pretty quick as I started being more active, but I just couldn’t find stuff that made me want to eat. I mentioned the Bantha roast, that was Wrecker’s idea since he remembered you making it one time on mission. He’s been a big help in finding things I like. He also has this way of packing an insane amount of calories and protein into a meal. He was also pretty big in helping me regain muscle mass. Surprisingly, or maybe not, he was always the one to check in on me, make sure I wasn’t being pushed too hard.” 

You smile. “Wrecker is a sweetheart, and he does have a way with food. He can make those GAR ration packs taste better than anyone. He has a way with people too.” 

“His workouts are intense, though.” Echo jokes.

“Tell me about it.” You shake your head. “I hope Crosshair hasn’t given you too much trouble. He can be intense in a different way.” 

“Crosshair?” Echo repeats. “Nah, he’s okay. He gives me shit like he does everyone else. He was a nice change from all the doctors fussing over me. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile. He didn’t treat me like I was going to break at any second, even when he…” Echo trails off, but you can sense his thoughts. 

“You have nightmares don’t you.” You state gently. 

Echo nods. “One of the first nights I was with them I had this dream. I was back there in that city being taken apart and pieced back together again; having my mind played with. I’m pretty sure I was talking in my sleep, yelling more likely. When I woke up I saw Crosshair was on watch, but he had his back turned to me. He didn’t say anything the next day and neither did the others. I don’t know if they heard me because they’re all heavy sleepers, or if Crosshair told them not to say anything. I don’t know if he’s been doing it on purpose, but he always takes watch when it’s my turn to sleep. Whenever I’m napping too, he’s always there with his back to me. It helped with the dreams, knowing I had someone watching for me.” 

“Echo…” You mutter, unsure of what to say. You want to comfort him, but what could you do for him that his squad hasn’t already? He’s healing without you.

A breeze picks up before you find the words causing soft pink flowers to start raining down on the two of you from the trees above. You move to brush them out of your hair, but Echo’s hand wraps around your wrist to stop you. 

“No, leave them.” He says, “They’re pretty.” 

You bow your face to try to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks as Echo guides you to a nearby bench. 

“Sit with me for a moment?” His voice is timid.

“Of course.”

“You helped me too, you know.” Echo says, tracing his fingers over your palm. 

“How could I possibly have helped you?” You sigh, trying and failing at hiding the sadness in your voice. “I wasn’t there, haven’t been there.”

“But you have.” Echo insists. “It’s hard to explain, but in Purkoll I had these moments where it was almost like I was myself again. It was probably in the lulls when the Separatists weren’t accessing my memories. In those moments I talked to you, like we used to. I talked about my days, reminisced about the good times, funny memories. I think it’s what kept me from losing myself entirely. And when I woke up… I sort of kept doing it. The Batch is great, but they didn’t know me before, you know? They’ve never known me as anything other than this.” 

Echo gestures to himself with his scomp before continuing. “And Rex, he did, but staying with him felt like it would’ve been a step backwards. I needed to move on, but I didn’t want to forget who I was, you knew me better than anyone, even Fives. There were days when it felt like I would never recover, never be the elite soldier I once was. Those were the days I talked to you the most, imagined what you’d say back to me. In my mind you’d let me have my pity party, then tell me to get my ass in gear. I should’ve just commed you for the real conversation, but I was a coward. I was afraid that you’d look at me like I was broken, so I kept you in my head. I hope that’s not weird…”  He trails off.

You don’t even know what to say as your chest fills with awe. All this time, he’s been talking to you? 

Echo gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “These flowers suit you.” He says gently, filling the silence.

You glance up at the tree above you and hum to yourself. “They’re cherry blossoms. Fitting.” 

“How so?”

“They’re a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings.” You explain. “Echo, it’s not weird or cowardly that you’ve been talking to me. I’ve been doing the same actually. I thought about comming you every day after Anakin and Rex told me they found you, but I was so terrified you wouldn’t remember me.”

He gently grasps your chin with his thumb and forefinger to raise your eyes to his. “I could never forget you. You were the tether that kept me, me. I wish we hadn’t wasted time getting back in touch.” 

A light laugh passes through your nose. “Another lesson of the cherry blossoms. They bloom for only few days and remind us that life is fleeting.” 

“If life is fleeting, then I guess I should go ahead and do this.” Echo mutters before leaning towards you. 

He’s timid at first when your lips connect, but grows more bold as the seconds melt into minutes. You can feel his scomp arm pull you closer as his hand tousles in your hair. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your head chastising you, ‘Jedi cannot have selfish attachments.’ You immediately push it aside. 

This, the love you have for Echo is no selfish attachment. You already lost him once, you mourned him and never turned from the light. He was your light. Your confidence builds as his tongue begins to explore yours, the garden around you fading away. The feelings you both harbored for each other all these years are finally confessed without a single word being spoken. It’s just you.

You don’t even know how long you two have been tangled in each other when you can hear a faint beeping coming from Echo’s bracer. He must have heard it too because he breaks away from you with a grumble before answering the comm.

“Echo, go.” He answers.

‘Echo, it’s Hunter. We’ve all finished our surveillance and are back at the Marauder, what’s your status?” 

Echo’s eyes flit to you with your hand pressed over your mouth trying to keep from laughing. “We-uhhh got dis- duh… sah-sidetracked. Something suspicious we had to investigate.” 

From the tiny snicker Hunter lets slip you can tell he doesn’t buy it. ‘Alright, we’ll keep your rations warm. Will the General be joining us?’

“Sure Hunter, I’d love to.” You call before Echo can answer. 

‘Sounds like a plan. Don’t take too long or you’ll kiss- I mean miss dinner.’ 

“Womp-rat bastard.” Echo grumbles when Hunter ends the call. 

You nearly keel over with laughter at Hunter’s comment and the expression Echo has on his face. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing. How in Sith’s Hells did he even know?” He says, obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh please.” You say, grinning. “Hunter’s literally enhanced to sense everything, he got us good. Come on,” you say, standing up. “Let’s finish our round so we can go eat.” 

Echo stands shaking his head, but he takes your hand and gestures further down the path. “After you, ner sarad.”

“That’s mando, I recognize it.” You say over your shoulder. “What does it mean?”

Echo smiles at you, his eyes, those same old eyes lighting up. “I'll tell you all about it.

[bigtimesinsmallspaces]

Post 11: The End

While it seems I could write about trains all day, the reality is that I’m back to my real life which means packing up and getting ready for the summer in New England. I can’t just sit around all day long and think about trains. Writing this blog has been fun and has served as a great way to help me process and think through the trip. And it’s given me a chance to have a lot of interesting conversations and communication with people. So if you are still reading, I thank you! Here are the final questions and answers in case you find yourself curious about train travel; and at the end my favorite video and two pictures.

Q and A Part Two

What are the train stations like?

I could do a blog about train stations. Some of the city stations are beautiful. Union Stations in both DC (opening in 1908) and Chicago (opening in 1925) are beautiful and designed by Daniel Burnham. They are iconic historical fixtures in both railroading and architecture. Both have survived some hard times and undergone many renovations. Today these stations have restaurants, retail, marvelous halls and waiting areas (including the Metropolitan Lounges for sleeper passengers.)

Washington DC Union Station

In contrast the smaller stations on both the Empire Builder and Zephyr routes provide historical portrayals of rural America and a local history of railroading. Stepping into these stations is like going back in time, reminding me of being a little girl in Pulaski getting ready to board the train to Baltimore.

Glenwood Springs, Colorado station

Where did you shower?

Yes we did shower. Let me make that clear. But this required some planning. Showers were available at the Metropolitan Lounge in Chicago. These showers are surprisingly outstanding— they resemble a spa— very large walk in. But the process itself is entertaining. When you arrive you put your name on the list. They announce your name on the loudspeaker and you report for your shower. It’s like the dirty person walk of shame. Regardless, it was a shower! We also had access to a shower when we were located in the sleeper. Now these showers were tiny and it was a bit of a trick to even stand as the train was bouncing down the tracks. Nonetheless, this too was a shower. Finally, we were in hotels for three nights, providing shower access for six days. In the end we had access to a shower on 10 out of 15 travel days— not ideal perhaps, but not bad. Meanwhile there’s always soap and hot water on the train!!!

The tiny tiny shower in sleeper car!

Were you able to sleep on the train?

Sleeping in coach isn’t easy. But it’s not impossible. It’s also nothing like an airplane. First they dim the lights at 10 PM and declare quiet hours. Also they stop announcing the stations— attendants wake up people to deboard the train. The seats are really big. They recline way back and there’s no fighting with the person behind you for reclining— there’s plenty of room. Also, there is a footstool that goes out— it’s really like a big recliner— it’s actually quite comfortable. PG and I would watch a couple episodes of Northern Exposure— with our ear phones of course— just to get sleepy. I usually then tuned into my Spotify playlists or a couple of podcasts (I’m still following those crazy Murdaugh murders) that I downloaded before the trip. And I put on an eye mask to totally block out the light. I had a light blanket (thanks to Pyper and Nicholson) to cozy up with. My Turtl pillow, specially ordered for this trip, was worthless. I managed to sleep maybe three or four hours each night, and PG did a little bit better. (that’s not really that different from a lot of nights for me!!) But toward the end of the trip I was definitely dragging.

Now sleeping in the sleeper car was a totally different experience. The roomettes are tiny. But they do provide privacy— which is a nice thing after days of overstimulation in coach. Peace and quiet is a premium. And being able to stretch out is a luxury for sure. No doubt, this is the preferred way to travel. And you get to wake up to a fresh pot of coffee right outside your room!! All in all I’m really glad we did the one 24 hour segment in a sleeper. It was worth it. And PG slept well.

What did it cost?

PG and I bought Amtrak rail passes. These are $499 for ten travel segments within a 30 day timeframe. We lucked out with a winter sale for $449! A travel segment is defined as anytime you board and then deboard the train. (It’s possible to travel Chicago to California, over 2000 miles, and never get off the train— this is one segment. Or you can go Charleston to Savannah—around 100 miles—and this is one segment.) Obviously each time you transfer to a different train you begin another segment. We used eight of our ten segments and bought one segment separate so we could experience a sleeper.

The rail pass is a great value. To put it in perspective the cost to travel this itinerary in coach without the pass would have been around $900 each. (It will probably always bother me that I had two segments I did not use!) To put the cost of a sleeper in perspective, consider that that one 24 hour segment in a sleeper cost $771 (for two)! But keep in mind this figure included the rail fare, the room, and six full service meals. Still— not exactly a bargain. But it certainly was an experience.

If we had made the entire trip in a sleeper the cost would have been around $6,000 for the two of us.

Regardless of what you plan to book you will do better by booking early. Prices go up and availability go down. If prices do drop— and the cost of our sleeper actually dropped by $71– Amtrak will refund your credit card. Of course you must track this yourself—another great tip I learned from folks on the Amtrak Facebook pages.

We found that the price of hotels at our stops were reasonable, especially considering that we were traveling in the spring— between ski and summer seasons. The hotels averaged out at $150 a night.

What are the things you did that most contributed to a positive travel experience? Are there things you would do different?

There are a few things that really helped us as we traveled:

Lots of planning— We were familiar with the routes and how things worked on the train. We also knew the hotels and even restaurants along the way that we wanted to check out. This also helped us when we had to redo and reticket the entire trip in two hours.

- Packing light— It’s great to be able to jump off the train and walk to a hotel. Even lugging stuff on and off the train can be daunting. Also babysitting tons of stuff across the country would be tiring. It’s a challenge to pack light but it’s so freeing in how you can move about.

- Enjoying nights OFF the train— The train is great but if you’re exhausted how can you even enjoy the scenary? We limited train overnights to two or three at a time. This enabled us to replenish supplies, exercise, and do laundry. This also gave us the chance to enjoy some beautiful places. While the train trip itself was our main focus, the bonus is getting to experience other places. Both Montana and Colorado were amazing.

- Taking advantage of the Amtrak Metropolitan Lounges— These turned out to be lifesavers. Not only do they offer comfortable seating and convenient snacks, but you could refill your water and ice supply, and in Chicago you could shower. In addition, Amtrak customer service folks staff the lounges and in DC were hugely instrumental in assisting us to totally rebook our trip in light of the cancelled Zephyr. They also guide you out to the train platform for early boarding— very helpful in allowing PG and I to get seats together. We were able to use Amtrak Guest Rewards miles to gain access to these lounges even when we were not booked in a sleeper.

The Metropolitan Lounge in Chicago

- Spending one travel segment in a sleeper— While the cost of first class train travel is prohibitive, we were thrilled to have one 24 hour segment in a roomette. Eating in the dining car was so nice. It was a great diversion from traveling in coach.

As we sat in the observation car coming into DC at the end of the trip we discussed what we might have done differently, and literally nothing came to mind. We mentioned that we might have enjoyed another night in both Whitefish, Montana and Glenwood Springs, Colorado. But overall, we decided we had the most amazing, epic, beautiful, fantastical train trip ever— or EVAH!!! (for my MA friends and family).

BEST OF:

-Best Video: Taken out the back window of the last car on the Capital Limited. I love this video.

-Best place to Visit: Train pulling into Glenwood Springs

-Best scenery: Outside Glacier National Park

[rogueemmy]

There are other species on earth. Only human arrogance would assume the signal must be meant for mankind. -Spock

This was, quite literally, the initial premise of Star Trek IV. In it, a "probe" slowly moved into the solar system, knocking out communications and power to all ships, planets, and space stations it encountered. It was broadcasting a signal into Earth's oceans, and would not respond to the human inhabitants who were now desperate to find a way to answer.

SPOILER ALERT on this 1986 movie - they were attempting to communicate with Humpback wales. In the movie, mankind had hunted them out out existence, and it took several hundred years for the probe to find out why it lost contact. In the whole of the movie, the thing never once communicated with the humans, or any non-water-based race, despite their advanced civilization and interstellar unions and wars.

[lex1nat0r]

White Elephant: Sanctuary Blue

AAR #07

Session report from my ongoing Lancer campaign.

Characters (LL 1):

Raiju (They/Them, Hacker 2/Ace/Centimane, Barbarossa 1) - GMS Everest - Delta

Sunshine (They/Them, Grease Monkey/Technophile/Engineer/Juggernaut, Pegasus 1) - GMS Everest - Exchange of Affection

Rook (He/Him, Walking Armory/Stormbringer/Brutal, Balor 1) - GMS Everest - Not Fun By Myself

Daylight (She/Her, Technophile 2/Crack Shot/Infiltrator, Vlad 1) - GMS Everest - Hits Different

Magpie (They/Them Hacker 2/Technophile 2, Goblin 1) - GMS Everest - General Protection Fault

NHPs:

Molotov - Via Sunshine’s Technophile talent - Projects as a small velociraptor - unshackled

Willow - Via Daylight’s Technophile talent - Projects as 1-2 squid - unshackled

Murgatroid - Via Magpie’s Technophile talent - Projects as a wizard? - shackled

Prev session writeup

As the Eye of the Tiger approaches the network of stations around Sanctuary Blue the ship receives a message welcoming them to the Sanctuary Blue safety perimeter and instructing them to power down all weapons. After complying they receive a transmission from someone calling themselves Kline, who seems terribly overworked, letting them know that they will be the crew's liaison with Cortex Concord, the organization that controls Sanctuary Blue. Captain Borrego informs Kline that they want space and material for repairs and privacy, both of which Cortex Concord offer, but not for free. The lancers' reward for saving New Aeonia will cover some of it, but they'll have to find a way to get more. Fortunately they're at the biggest hub of mercenary activity in the sector and tactical officer Nightingale volunteers to sift through job offers to see what they can find. The Eye of the Tiger is directed to a docking berth and the lancers find themselves on shore leave.

The first thing they come across is station security knocking on a door trying to take someone into custody. The security officers clearly know Scutty, who isn't under arrest they're just needed for questioning. When Scutty makes a break for it carrying a suspicious case the lancers collectively decide to restrain them, Magpie palming a vial of whatever chemical they were trying to escape with. Handing Scutty over to the security officers it comes out that Scutty is a combat stims dealer, entirely legal and above board, but with Union moving into the area Cortex Concord needs to abide by their regulations which includes making sure the composition of Scutty's stims is approved by the Union equivalent of the FDA. There is also the possibility that their stims have been linked to some deaths, but the security officers don't seem to worry about that. Magpie later examines one of the stims in the Tiger's medlab and as far as they can tell it's basically equivalent to Juice, just with a different mix.

Rook goes to get a damn drink and picks up a miscellaneous useful item, Raiju hacks into the nearest available terminal and picks up information on Cortex Concord, Sanctuary Blue, and the three big mercenary groups: The Crimson Unlimited, Goblin Riot, and the Skulls Brigade. Magpie is intrigued by Goblin Riot, who claim to be the inspiration for the HORUS Goblin PG which is of course unverifiable, and hacks into their chatroom to make friends. Sunshine is still looking for a sentinel eye of midnight sensor suite and finds one just as it's bought by a member of the Skulls Brigade. Daylight did some fruitful dumpster-diving.

Sensors officer Fasola pings the squad net, saying a situation is brewing. There are four unknown ships hurtling towards the berth where the Eye of the Tiger is docked and three just launched missiles. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when the missiles are revealed to be targeting the unknown. The missiles will impact before the ship reaches Sanctuary Blue's safety perimeter, so Cortex Concord won't do anything. Gunnery officer Edelweiss says they could use the Tiger's guns to intercept the missiles. The three aggressors are the Hound, First Fang, and Corpse-Chewer frigates of the Chain of Knives mercenary group allied with the Skulls Brigade. The other ship is the Beloved, carrier of the Sanctity Group, generally well-liked by the Sanctuary Blue mercenaries. Kline advises to not get involved, which is eventually what the crew decide to do, watching as the missiles impact with the Beloved, which limps to safety.

Helpful(?) diagram. The Sanctuary Blue safety perimeter is at range 1.

Nightingale comes back with three potential job offers:

Neuropa, a local megacorp, has an urgent request about Blackspine terrorists taking over one of its facilities planetside where they could be making a bioweapon. They need someone to blow up the facility before that can happen.

Rimtech, another local megacorp, needs bodyguards for an inspection team to make sure their planetside facilities are complying with Union regs.

Union itself is offering a bounty for a slaver who is known to be hiding out planetside.

The group leans towards the Union job, but Kline points out that rolling up in a battleship and immediately going to work for the hegemony that's moving into the sector is going to raise some flags. They try to steer the crew to taking the nice low-key Rimtech job, but the lancers' curiosity is piqued by the Neuropa job. Kline agrees, saying there shouldn't be a facility on Sanctuary Blue capable of making a weapon as deadly as Neuropa fears. Further, Raiju and Magpie's investigations turn up rumors that the "Blackspine terrorists" don't actually exist and is just what Neuropa blames any major incidents on. Kline says the job should have been pulled for review before it could be accepted, but since it got through they'll let the lancers take it because Cortex Concord can't be seen to be taking jobs away from mercs. Eager to stir up trouble, the lancers accept the job from Neuropa and get ready for a briefing.

Next time: de_sancblu?

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.1 (after 1980)

1980 – "O Canada" officially becomes the national anthem of Canada. 1983 – A North Korean Ilyushin Il-62M jet en route to Conakry Airport in Guinea crashes into the Fouta Djallon mountains in Guinea-Bissau, killing all 23 people on board. 1983 – The Ministry of State Security is established as China's principal intelligence agency, 1984 – The PG-13 rating is introduced by the MPAA. 1987 – The American radio station WFAN in New York City is launched as the world's first all-sports radio station. 1990 – German reunification: East Germany accepts the Deutsche Mark as its currency, thus uniting the economies of East and West Germany. 1991 – Cold War: The Warsaw Pact is officially dissolved at a meeting in Prague. 1991 – The Finnish operator Radiolinja is launched as the world's first GSM network. 1997 – China resumes sovereignty over the city-state of Hong Kong, ending 156 years of British colonial rule. The handover ceremony is attended by British Prime Minister Tony Blair, Charles, Prince of Wales, Chinese President Jiang Zemin and U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. 1997 – Space Shuttle program: Space Shuttle Columbia is launched on STS-94, a re-flight of the prematurely-ended STS-83 mission with the same crew. 1999 – The Scottish Parliament is officially opened by Elizabeth II on the day that legislative powers are officially transferred from the old Scottish Office in London to the new devolved Scottish Executive in Edinburgh. In Wales, the powers of the Welsh Secretary are transferred to the National Assembly. 2002 – The International Criminal Court is established to prosecute individuals for genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes and the crime of aggression. 2002 – Bashkirian Airlines Flight 2937, a Tupolev Tu-154, and DHL Flight 611, a Boeing 757, collide in mid-air over Überlingen, southern Germany, killing all 71 on board both planes. 2003 – Over 500,000 people protest against efforts to pass anti-sedition legislation in Hong Kong. 2004 – Saturn orbit insertion of Cassini–Huygens begins at 01:12 UTC and ends at 02:48 UTC. 2006 – The first operation of Qinghai–Tibet Railway is conducted in China. 2007 – Smoking in England is banned in all public indoor spaces. 2008 – Riots erupt in Mongolia in response to allegations of fraud surrounding the 2008 legislative elections. 2013 – Croatia becomes the 28th member of the European Union. 2020 – The United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement replaces NAFTA.

[casbookproject]

Frank Wisner

(https://www.cia.gov/legacy/museum/office-of-policy-coordination-established-to-manage-covert-action/)

Wisner was born in 1909 to a wealthy family with a lot of land in Missouri, one of the states in the US South governed by Jim Crow laws. He grew up in an insular, privileged household. As a child, he didn’t even put on his own clothes—he would lie down, raise his arms and legs, and his black maid would put his shirt and trousers on for him At the University of Virginia, he was tapped to the join the Sevens, a secret society so baroque that it only revealed the names of its members at their death. Afterward he became a lawyer at a white shoe firm on Wall Street. Restless, and driven by an intense sense of moral purpose, he enlisted in the Navy a year before the Japanese attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor. The OSS(pre CIA) liked to hire elite corporate lawyers from the best schools, and Wisner was perfect for it. He got into the intelligence service with the help of an old professor and took to the the life instantly. When he was out on covert operations he would not only gather information but also extensively partying (lots of drinking) with royalty and Soviet agents.

"Frank Wisner, who had a story he would tell every time he was trying to explain why he did what he did for the United States government. Wisner had flown into Romania in September 1944 to work as station chief for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the temporary spy agency that Washington set up during the war. Once there, he heard, and believed, that the Soviets were scheming to take control of the country, but his bosses back home were in no mood to hear that their allies were up to no good. In January 1945, Stalin ordered that thousands of men and women of German descent be taken back to the Soviet Union to be “mobilized for work.” Wisner knew some of them personally. As the forced evacuation began, he rode frantically around the city, as he told it, trying to save them. But he failed. Thousands of people were herded onto boxcars and sent to labor camps. According to his family, those scenes would haunt him for the rest of his troubled life" (pg. 45).

In Berlin in 1948, Wisner was working on the big issue of the day in Germany—financial affairs in the divided country. Wisner pressed hard for an adversarial stance toward Moscow. He supported the creation of a new currency in the Western-occupied areas. In June 1948, the Allied governments decided to unilaterally issue a currency for West Germany, the deutsche mark, catching the Soviets off guard and likely forcing the long-term split of the country into two. By 1951, Wisner’s OPC had been absorbed into a newly formed Central Intelligence Agency and became the head of clandestine operations. From the beginning the CIA had two basic divisions. On one side was the gathering of intelligence through espionage. Their job was something akin to providing a private news service for the president. On the other side was covert action—the rough stuff, the active attempts to change the world. That was Frank Wisner’s territory. Through out his career he caused several successful coups and operations but the majority of their plans failed. This would often cause many to be killed, many of the troops he sent into regions never made it back out. Though the US denied this publicly, the CIA had been encouraging the Hungarians to revolt, and many did so thinking they would receive support from Washington. When the Dulles brothers decided against this course of action, seemingly hanging the protesters out to dry, Wisner felt personally betrayed. His behavior became increasingly erratic. William Colby, a senior CIA officer in Rome, said in 1956 that “Wisner was rambling and raving, totally out of control. He kept saying, all these people are getting killed.” His son noticed that he appeared overworked and was deeply emotionally involved in the events in Europe. In 1957 Wisner warned the Dulles brothers that the rebellion would be an unpredictable, potentially explosive affair. They ignored his concerns, and gave Wisner the authority to spend $10 million to back a revolution in Indonesia. The revolution failed. "Frank Wisner began to act increasingly erratically toward the end of 1958. Sometimes he would appear too excited, talking too quickly. Sometimes his eyes would just glaze over. Back in Georgetown, he saw a psychiatrist. He was prescribed a generous dose of psychoanalysis, and underwent shock therapy." (pg. 99)

On October 29, 1965 in Galena, Maryland—Frank Wisner found one of his sons’ shotguns while staying at the family farm, and used it to kill himself.

[secondwhisper]

Pg 24,

[Sarah] Hale [...] dedicated her Ladies' Magazine to the modest goal of educating women, "not that they may usurp the station, or encroach on the prerogatives of man; but that each individual may lend her aid to the intellectual and moral character of those within her sphere." [...] It was a career that revealed all the ambiguities of image-making as a means of self-advancement. Hale was a businesswoman anxious for success, but she gained respectability by advising a domestic role for women.

We have never stopped having to critique housewife influencers I see

Pg 26,

"Starve us to prevent us from getting drunk!" union leaders bitterly commented on the temperance argument for low wages

The "poor people are buying drugs instead of food" discourse has been around for at least 200 years too, in this case borne out of overt calls for wage suppression as tactic to indirectly enforce sobriety‽

Unitarianism stressed the value of intellectual liberty and social harmony, thus reflecting the interests of well-educated people too committed to Enlightenment ideals to govern willingly by visible authority.

The THIRD thing on page FIVE alone that makes me go 👀

I should not have held off reading this book for so long this is already so totally compelling. But also this is quite a statement to make in the history/premise chapter. As just like a given apparently? Fuck em up Anne

[fiction-allows]

Washington Square (Laurel/Hardy, 4800 words, PG-13)

For @theempressar and @stanxollie - a little Valentine from me to you! mostly fluffy L&H fic. thank you for all the fun we’ve had :D

warnings: PG-13 for a paragraph of noncon, period typical language and conceptions of gender, flexes the grittier style of their early works

This was inspired by stanxollie’s great retelling of Why Girls Love Sailors, where the drag queen gets the guy in the end. :p I hope you enjoy. question mark.

It was closing time when he stumbled on the kerb and took a dive off his heels. He laughed it off and quickly flashed the green silk hem of his dress up over his bloomers, to give the drunks a little show - all part of the joke, keep walking. He didn’t want their sweaty hands on his silk. He didn't need help, he needed shoes that fit - he climbed to his feet, righted his ringlet wig that had slouched over his eyes - he needed hat pins, too; a box didn't last long when all the jennies he lived with helped themselves. He straightened himself up and squared his shoulders. Fierce. It was only three in the morning. What was he going to do with himself?

He had a dime in his pocket. Maury hadn't paid his talent up, and wouldn't until next week. 

He wasn’t talent, anyway. He was incidental entertainment, called on when one of the girls was too drunk to perform. The rest of the time he was hanging around the tables, cracking jokes and flouncing. When the molls wanted to use the powder room, he escorted them and kept them laughing. 

It wasn’t exactly a career, was it, Stanny boy?

Maybe he should find something, someone, anything, anywhere else. The city bit shit in the winter. He could go to Union Station and talk his way onto a handsome dame’s ticket, headed for California. He could stow himself in a bunk, bundle up and sleep, and stay there until they crossed the Rockies.

He tripped again, which brought the daydreams to a halt. Stan pulled his fur wrap tighter around his bare shoulders and took serious stock. He had enough for breakfast if he didn't eat tonight. He could get warm if he went to the train station. He couldn't go home, it was Lonnie's night to use the room for sheepshead. She’d be good for dinner tomorrow. His stomach told him that was worth a night in the cold. 

He straggled behind the foot traffic down the sidewalk toward State. He stopped to bum a cigarette from Lady Godiva, who answered to Herbert during the workweek, and they stood under the dark coffee shop’s awning exchanging a few pleasantries about the weather, shoes, who’d been locked up in yesterday night’s raid on the park. 

“Never do it in the bushes,” Lady Godiva said sagely, and Stan nodded with equal sagacity, and his wig slipped down over his eyes again. 

Godiva reached into her velvet purse. “Honey, here.” 

Now he had a dime and a few bobby pins in his pocket. He was about to move on, when Lady Godiva gave him another nod. “Honey - there.” 

Stan turned to look. A big man had come up the street, contra-traffic. The slight weave in his step said he'd been turned out from one of the other night clubs. He had stopped when he heard Stan and the Lady talking, and was examining some graffiti on the side of the brick building with intense interest.

Some background might help: Lady Godiva was the world’s foremost expert on the identification and classification of men and males who wanted something and were willing to pay for it. 

Not that this fellow was easy to miss: Towertown was full of girls in trousers and boys in skirts, big boned frames in dainty dresses and elfin gals with impeccable Windsor knots, and he was planted on the sidewalk in a white sailor's uniform like a bull moose in the headlights. A bull moose trying to make itself look like part of the furniture. He had looked up insouciant in the dictionary, but accidentally read the entry for awkward.

Background, part two: Lady Godiva was good at matching fighters by their weight class. She knew exactly how hopeless Stan was at the game - but this one was a nice soft target. A practice dummy, if you will.

Stan, in a completely inarticulate way, had reached the same conclusion. The guy must weigh eighteen stone if he was an ounce, but he was trying to look smaller than he was in his white uniform. His age was hard to pin down, because he looked travelled, but not even the side profile could hide the baby fullness of his face. 

To Stan, he looked like an absolute lamb.

Someone else would take advantage in a minute. There was Esme, poised outside the walk-up to her john’s apartment, watching the dispersing crowds go by. She was clocking the lamb too. She caught Stan’s eye, gave him a sly smile, and the race was on.

Stan moved to head her off. He stepped into the man’s shadow, and touched the blue-braided sleeve of his jacket.

"You lost, baby?” Stan asked. 

The big boy jumped. He turned away from the public art and glanced Stan up and down. Then again, a double-take that Stan didn’t take personal. An awkward, innocent fluster of hands, fingers, a scrunched nervous grin, followed the mad goggling yo-yo of his eyes. "I seem to have t-taken a wrong turn." 

He stuttered. He had weeping willows and southern charm in his voice. He was a little drunk. Oh, honey.

“Where’re you headed?” Stan laid his hand flat on the man’s arm. Behind them, Esme hissed and faded back into the night.

The man was suddenly mannequin-like with uncertainty. “Not far.”

“Then I’ll walk you,” Stan decided for them both. “What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

Stan smiled, twined Oliver’s arm with his. “Are you from around here, Oliver?”

“My room’s on Division Street.”

“Originally,” Stan clarified, as he gently pulled Oliver to get him moving up the sidewalk. Stan felt a rush of heat from him as Oliver blushed. 

“Georgia,” Oliver said quietly.

“Georgia. Peaches. Wonderful. Don’t look at them.” A hail of whistles as they turned the corner, some of Esme’s mates. It wasn’t often that Stan hooked such a big one. Stan stuck out his tongue behind Oliver’s back. More jeers. He crushed Oliver’s arm against his ribs and drew him away northeast.

It was only a few blocks, but the crowds thinned out fast as they left Washington Square. The nightlife faded to sniffing junkies and unlucky panhandlers, and the sidewalk was empty by the time they reached the four-story boarding house Oliver was calling home.

“Well… here’s mine,” Oliver said, feebly.

ROOMS FOR RENT - LONG TERM, said the optimistic sign propped on the window ledge of the ground floor. The place looked fleabitten, like it had mange. But Stan looked enviously at the glowing windows. They were nearer the lake and the wind picked up an extra bite off the water, and he was losing feeling in his toes. Then he looked at Oliver, whose arm was still in his.

The moment to clinch or cut loose had arrived. There was an awkward pause, because neither of them knew exactly what happened next, when it was a bloke from Georgia and a bloke in a dress.

“Do you want to come in?” Oliver asked. His tone was smoother, now that the walk had cleared his head.

Stan smiled dumbly. He was feeling shy. He had come this far, hadn’t he? Come on, Stan, say something. But he was frozen, and it wasn’t the temperature. “I...”

“You don’t have to,” Oliver said, with a painfully gallant smile. 

He sounded relieved. And Stan felt hurt, and suddenly piercingly lonely, which broke the impasse just a moment too late. The opportunity had closed in his face while he was tongue-tied.

Oliver extracted his arm, then stuck out his hand for a shake. “Take care, then.”

Stan reached for his hand, feeling all at once like he wanted to cry. The night was dark and… big. He nodded miserably and took Oliver’s hand.

Oliver winced as their bare palms touched. “What are you, cold blooded? Some kind of salamander? Why are you so cold?”

“I don’t -” Stan stammered. 

“Where’s your place?” Oliver demanded.

Another gawping shrug, as Stan tried to make sense of the sudden veer in the conversation. It was like Oliver had dropped him in a bottle and spun it. “Can’t go there,” Stan said helplessly.

“What? Why not? You know what - forget it. Get in here.” Oliver shooed him up the steps and to the door, and pounded on it. 

Stan panicked. “Wait, what do we tell -”

“You tell him you’re my sister from Savannah.” 

Stan had a minute to get into character before the landlord answered. He grunted when Stan fluttered his eyelashes and claimed to be a sister from Savannah, but he let them in, and harrumphed back to bed without comment. 

And that is how they ended up in a room no bigger than a very small room, with a bed, a cupboard, a stand and basin, and Oliver’s work clothes inexpertly washed and hung to dry over the light fixtures and radiator. He was using a pair of his long johns as a sort of makeshift shade over the room’s single drooping window. There was a palpable draft about shin-height due to the sagging window frame, like wading through ankle-biting ghosts.

Oliver sprung into action playing host, scooping his grease-splattered overalls off the radiator to let some warm air into the room, hiding his underpants by kicking them under the bed, and then he offered to take Stan’s wrap, and Stan let him take it and hang it, like the most pathetic garland in the world, on the hook on the back of the door.

“Won’t you sit down?” Oliver asked with exaggerated politeness, indicating the bed. 

Stan sat, crossed his legs, brushed down his silky dress, subtly hiked it up a few inches on the upstroke.

“What about you?” Stan asked, with a put-on high-pitched giggle and wiggle. 

Oliver was undoing his neckerchief. He glanced at Stan in the mirror propped above the wash basin. “I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“The floor?” Stan asked, in his babygirl voice.

“You take the bed. Bathroom’s down the hall. Don’t steal my money, will you? If you’re good, I’ll buy you breakfast tomorrow.”

Stan’s legs uncrossed, his heeled foot fell to the floorboards with a shocked little stomp. “You brought me up here to… sleep?” He forgot the pitch of his voice in his surprise.

“It’s miserable out there,” Oliver said. He slid his collar stay out, dropped it on the stand, and started on his top button. “Throw me one of them pillows, will ya?”

Stan hopped off the bed. He grabbed a pillow, and handed it to Oliver. Oliver fluffed it between his big hands, then dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

“I’ll wrinkle my dress if I sleep in it,” Stan said. The femme was back, and she was distressed. He clutched at his neckline in dismay.

Oliver’s eyebrows knit together. He raised one slightly as he appraised Stan. “You do one nice thing,” he groused, though his heart wasn’t in it. “There’s a clean nightshirt in the cupboard. You can borrow it.”

Stan opened the cupboard and grabbed it. He excused himself to the bathroom down the hall. 

When he returned, heels and wig in hand, dress over his arm, clad in an entire circus tent’s worth of nightshirt that billowed around him like topsails, Oliver was prone on the floor, head on the pillow, one of the blankets primly tucked over him. Looked for all the world like he really meant to spend the night right there. His eyes were closed. Could he already be asleep?

Stan crept into the room quiet as a mouse.

“It occurs to me I didn’t catch your name,” Oliver said. He wasn’t asleep at all.

“Stan,” Stan said, flatly. He had shed the girl with the wig and heels. He supposed a man was better suited if this was a set-up to a murder. He placed his shoes on the floor, hung the wig next to his wrap, and stole a hanger to keep his dress looking tidy in the cupboard overnight. 

Oliver was watching him through slitted eyes. Stan knew he must look a sight with his short unkempt hair, the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, the huge nightshirt with sleeves that slipped down to his fingertips. He smiled apologetically. “Sometimes you take a lady home, and you get something else.”

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” Oliver said. “Go to sleep.” 

Stan crawled into bed. He flailed and paddled in the huge nightgown, and finally found his hands again to pull the covers up. He looked at Oliver again, on the floor in the draft, and he shivered in commiseration. He cleared his throat. “You know, it’s foolish to sleep on the floor. You’ll catch your death.” 

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be stupid, come up here.”

Was that a chatter of Oliver’s teeth? Oliver grunted, threw an arm over his eyes as if that would shut Stan up. 

“I promise no funny business,” Stan insisted. He was getting worried. He couldn’t possibly go to sleep himself if Oliver slept on the floor. The thought of it made him utterly miserable. Tears pricked his eyes. “Please don’t catch your death.”

The arm came away from Oliver’s eyes, and his expression was that of a man who has ended up in an enclosure at the zoo - not the lion enclosure, or the gorilla enclosure, but perhaps the penguin enclosure, and they’re pecking at his knees. “You’re a weird one, aren’t you.” 

Stan nodded honestly, still fighting tears. 

Oliver sat up. Then he held out his hand, and felt the ice cold draft flowing in from the window. 

He gathered up his pillow and blanket and threw them at Stan on the bed. “Move over.” 

Stan swam through his nightshirt toward the wall, and Oliver heaved himself onto the mattress. They settled, an elbow apart, after a little burrowing and tug of war over the coverlet. Silence ticked by for a few moments, as they both got used to the sensation. The weight pulling at both sides of the mattress, their body heat starting to pool together under the covers.

Stan sniffed away the last of his tears. He folded his hands over the coverlet in satisfaction. “There. Isn’t this better.”

“Who lets you out on your own?” Oliver asked in disbelief. But he already sounded sleepy.

Stan was fading fast, too. He yawned. “It’s Lonnie’s night to use the flat for sheepshead.” 

“Sheepshead.” Oliver snorted. 

“Goodnight, Ollie.” 

He heard a breathy chuckle. Oliver - Ollie - liked it. “Goodnight, Stan.”

* * * 

Stan fell to sleep and commenced a light snore, cocooned in Ollie's nightshirt. Oliver crossed his arms under the bedclothes and tried to ignore the predicament. Stan had still been wearing his - her pantyhose, and her hose-clad toes were scratching at his shin. She hadn't scrubbed all the perfume off. There was a flowers-and-musk scent trapped with their heat in the blankets.

Oliver, my boy, you need to get a hold of yourself. You wouldn't take advantage of a lady. 

Whatever Stan was, exactly. 

Adrift, it seemed to Oliver. 

He kicked Stan’s foot back toward his side of the bed, blew the air from his nose and closed his eyes. 

* * * 

The sun was shining cheerfully through the union suit when they woke up. At breakfast, Ollie watched Stan pack away a pound of home fries, four eggs, two rounds of bacon and a stack of pancakes. He ate like he hadn’t been fed in a month. 

He was a pretty normal fella over the breakfast table, even in the dress. Well - not fully normal, the way he put sugar on his eggs, but Ollie let it slide. He was funny, and he thought Ollie was funny, which tickled Ollie right in the cockles of his pride. 

Stan listened with rapt interest when Ollie talked about the merchant marines and where he had been, and the convoys during the War. He got that doe-eyed look that dames did when Ollie got on the subject (though Ollie neglected to tell him he had, in fact, been a cook), which also tickled Ollie in a way he couldn’t explain. It made him want to flex his arms and look big. 

Three stacks of pancakes between them later, Ollie paid the check and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

 "I have to report," Ollie said. "You might want to head home and ah -" He swiped his cheeks and chin with his palm.

Stan nodded. His whiskers needed sanding. The waitress had stared at him a little.

Ollie was staring at him, too. His eyes were sparkling. 

“Come to Maury’s some time,” Stan said. “You can see me work. I’ll be there every night this week.”

“I’d like that,” Ollie said, but Stan couldn’t tell if it was a punt or a promise. 

Ollie tipped his hat. “See you around, doll," he said. 

Stan flashed him an angelic smile. 

* * * 

No Ollie on Wednesday. No Ollie on Thursday. Not that Stan was anticipating. His tips were suffering, though; he wasn’t quite as funny when he was distracted. The mobsters didn’t trust a freak who wasn’t also a clown, and their girls didn’t like a downer. It was hard to be charming when every bigger guy who walked in the place sent a little jolt from his scalp down to his knees. But they always were too - something. Too rich, too crude, too repressed or too married. Their greatest crime, of course, is that none of them were Ollie.

Monday came again, and Maury didn’t pay him, even when he filled in for Bernadette a few times over the weekend.  

He needed money to eat, though. And for a ticket out of here, since it looked like he was back on his own.

Best way to make a quick buck? Well, Lady Godiva could tell you.

It started civilly enough on Tuesday night in the alley behind the club. The dumpsters made for convivial surroundings, and the romance was palpable as the rats scurried away from their twirling feet and the single bulb above the back door fizzled in its socket. The man was sweaty with beer and wanted to dance, sort of a swaying grabbing twisting motion - suddenly Stan had his chin elbows and knees up against the brick wall of the alley, and a hairy steel beam of a forearm across the back of his neck. Stan protested, with a giggle that was high with alarm. That big body ground against his and he ground into the dirty bricks. He clawed a little to get some purchase to shove back.

“Hey, wait, wait,” he protested, and that got him dragged around to face the guy, who didn’t look very keen on waiting. 

A few things went through Stan’s mind. One, he didn’t want to be here. Two, he wished he wasn’t. Three, his heels gave him a little extra height but the guy still had half a head on him, and four, this large drunk man was going to be shocked in a minute if his hand kept going - and that is a very specific kind of fear, the fear of being found out by an angry grasping hand in the dark. It vitalizes.

Stan struck back at him and gave a shout. 

And like a miracle, he heard an answering "Hey!" 

It might have been an angel. It was a big voice, if not very deep - but it was alarm enough to get the hand out from under his skirt. 

Stan took the opportunity to use a knee, and the man folded up like an ironing board. 

Stan looked up and there was - 

Ollie's shoulders filled the alley almost wall to wall as he came toward them. He swept the scene, the man crouched on the ground retching, Stan’s disarray and his heaving chest. 

His hand stretched out to Stan. "Come along - he can’t hurt you - well done." 

Stan took the offered hand and stepped over the gasping, sputtering heap. He slipped by between Ollie's double-breasted jacket and the brick wall, and heard Ollie give the guy a kick for good measure. 

On the sidewalk, Ollie brushed off his mink and repositioned it on Stan's shoulders. There was a run in his hose from the scrapes on his knees. His mascara was smudged up like two black batwing eyes. Ollie pressed his handkerchief into Stan's hand so he could clean himself up.

"Did he hurt you?"

Stan shook his head.

"Good. I'd go back and kill him." Ollie removed his coat because it was the gallant thing to do, and draped it around Stan’s shoulders. 

"Where have you been?" Stan asked. He didn’t want the coat - he was still hot from adrenaline, and mad at Ollie for abandoning him - but he grabbed it and pulled it tight around him all the same.

"What? Oh - they sent me to Omaha to pick up a load. Just got back into town tonight." 

Ollie looked so perfectly, sweetly innocent. Completely guileless. Just concerned for his friend, and very handsome in his dark suit. 

"Oh," Stan said.

"I’m sorry I didn’t make your show. I left a note at the boardinghouse."

"Oh," Stan said again.

Ollie's voice was very gentle. "Were you waiting for me?"

Stan nodded.

"I'm here now. Come on, let me walk you home."

Stan folded the kerchief shakily. ' 'I can't. Sheep-"

"Sheepshead, I know." 

They ended up back at the boarding house, together, Stan with his face scrubbed clean, snuggled in the crook of his arm sleeping soundly, as Ollie propped a book on his chest and read in the pink and orange glow of the jewel-papered lamp. 

This was nice, Ollie thought, looking away from the book to the window. Snow was hissing against the glass like an angry cat, but it was warm, Stan was snoring softly. It was nice. 

Stan exhaled, blowing the pages of Ollie’s book, sending him back some pages. Ollie thumbed forward to his place. Stan exhaled again. They fluttered back. And so on. Eventually, Ollie turned out the light and went to sleep. 

* * * 

They had fun. Stan left Maury’s club and found a job at a boutique, giving all of the broad-shouldered ladies and theydies advice and helping them find the right fit. Ollie put in for a couple months of shore leave, and for a while it was easy street. Sometimes they played darts, drank beer, argued, rode the L until they were sober enough to remember their stop. They went to the lake front and laid on the grass and teased the stone lions in front of the art institute. 

Sometimes Stan slipped on his little black dress and his heels and made Ollie prove he deserved him. Those were the days Ollie turned into a gentleman. Doors opened as if by magic, never an inconvenience to be seen. Kisses on his knuckles as if they were perfect, delicate strings of pearls, a hand possessively on his swishless hips as if to say, I got you. 

I get you.

Stan took Ollie to his first drag ball. Ollie was a hit in his best suit. He was easy to like and even easier to love. On the floor he lead with such a light-footed agility that Stan sometimes had trouble keeping up, and every one of the drag queens tried to budge in for their turn. It was a matter of feminine pride, wasn’t it, to try to ride the bull. Stan let them play, because at the end of the night, it was always him and Ollie. Stan belonged here, and Ollie belonged to him. 

And the clock ticked on. The stuttering from the Stock Exchange, so far away, became a rumble, became an avalanche. Towertown - like Greenwich, Times Square, like Camden, like babylon Berlin - was a dream, a fleeting Camelot that couldn't last. The crackdowns on public disease - of the flesh and of the spirit - closed the fairyland clubs and scattered the communes. The dreamer was stirring. The pendulum swung to the right, picking up momentum as the glory of glitz-and-jazz became hunger and want. Markets crashed and the soil turned to dust.

They skipped out of Chicago when Ollie’s shore leave was up. They tramped through the upper midwest on the bus routes, St Paul, Fargo, Duluth, as far as Bismark and back again to Cleveland, and then all the way out west to California. The horizons were dark, the faces in the street were drawn. Shangri-La faded into sopping wet socks, holes in their jackets, and odd jobs. 

History lurched from the sickly sleepwalk of hunger into a waking nightmare of war machines and atomic death, into bodies piled in camps and on the streets of Stalingrad and the tide lines of Normandy, and souls suddenly unmade by a flash in the sky. All this played out in the papers as he and Ollie scraped and saved and wandered the home front. Stan’s youth faded, too, he wilted and widened and wrinkled, and the only grace was his ill-fitting jacket hid some of it even from himself. 

* * * 

1955. They lived. They saw the war end, the men come home, and the prefab suburbs start stamping across the landscape. Eisenhower and his administration drew big bold lines across the nation and decided to pay for them with a gasoline tax. The commies took up residence under American beds, and the homosexuals fell back to the closets for self-preservation. They were good days for the nuclear family and a straightjacket for everyone else. 

Speaking of straightjackets - in the new atmosphere, Stan felt more and more like he needed one. 

The suit had never fit exactly right, but sometimes, it didn't fit at all. Then - in secret - he opened his battered case and pulled out the things he kept under the false bottom, fake gems and wrinkled velvet, and tried to breathe free, if only for a moment, in a strictured world.

He tried to keep it private, so as not to embarrass Ollie, not to shame him in front of his friends. America was bestride the world, the least Stan could do was keep up appearances in their little sphere of the second-hand antique shop (VERY OLD THINGS - Laurel and Hardy --- Proprietors). 

They had dinner tonight with some of Ollie’s new friends from the local Charitable Brothers lodge. He had been strangled for air all day… he didn’t want to go there looking like this, with his suit coat and shirt and the trousers that Ollie had pressed so nicely. It wasn’t… him. The thought of playing that masquerade all night… he was tired, he couldn’t do it. 

He held up the dress.

It was hopelessly out of fashion now. It smelled like he had packed everything from shoe polish to ham sandwiches on top of it. But he smoothed it out, put the stiff wrap around his shoulders, shook the last drops of perfume from the vial and dabbed them behind his ears. He strung the pearls around his neck and smiled at himself in the mirror. 

The pearls had lost their lustre, and his teeth showed another twenty-some years of coffee and cigarettes when he smiled. The smile quickly faded.

"Are you ready yet?" Ollie demanded, barging heavily into the bedroom, hat on his head and impatient.

He stopped short when he saw how Stan was gazing at the mirror, the haunted look in his eyes.

Ollie took off his hat. 

"I'm sorry -" Stan looked at the old bag in the mirror. "I'll change."

Ollie crossed the room and stood behind him, gazing over his shoulder into the glass. "Why? You look wonderful."

Stan snorted.

Ollie reached for his hand, pulled on it to turn Stan toward him. "As beautiful as the day I met you." He kissed Stan's knuckles with a bow and flourish. Returned Stan's hand to his side. Then spun one finger in the air. "Turn around, I'll do you up."

Stan put a hand over his mouth as Ollie's fingers crept down his back, then pulled the edges of the dress together and slipped the buttons into their holes. One by one, up his spine until the clasp at his collar, and Ollie put his hands on Stan's shoulders.

"Don't cry," Ollie said, gently.

Stan dropped his hand. He was grinning. He spun and hugged Ollie to him tight. He reached up to grasp his chin, turned his face, and give him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

Ollie kissed his forehead. "There you are. Come on, we'll be late.

* * * 

Shuffle the cards. Masculine, feminine, man, woman, Mars, Venus, two houses and a trench and barbed wire and the guard towers of convention in between. He lived in no-one's land in between, bombarded from both sides - and then Ollie had stumbled across him, stuck his head over the lip of the trench and called him doll, eyes sparkling. He recognized a fellow outcast, a fellow question without an answer.

They got out of the cab. 

Stan felt warm lips catch the cool metal of his dangling earring against his neck, and he shuddered. Ollie's hand squeezed his. It didn't matter if people stared. Let them.

“Who’s this?”

Ollie’s hand on the small of his back. "This is my wife." No shame and no joke. Daring the world to doubt it.

[mishpacha]

[The Soviet Ambassador] picked himself up and turned to the Israeli Ambassador.  'You speak French,' he said.  'Tell them that I am the Soviet ambassador and that I am here to help the poor Congolese workers and peasants.'  The Israeli gave him a quizzical look.  'And what concessions is the Soviet Union prepared to make to Israel?' he said.

Chief of Station, Congo: Fighting the Cold War in a Hot Zone by Larry Devlin; pg. 26.

[diavolodigitale]

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Andromeda Galaxy - pt.4 Voeld

And, finally, this is the last existing part of this pathetic piece of writing. It is even more awkward than the previous ones since here you can witness attempts at “plot”. Anyway, there is no continuation to this and never will be unless someone manages to convince me otherwise (I don’t think it’s possible though). 

Genres: comedy, romance (vaguely), friendship maybe.

Pairing: m!Ryder/Evfra

Characters: Ryder, Evfra, Jaal, others occasionally 

Rating: PG

Warnings: cringe alert!

Size: this atrocity is around 17 PAGES LONG so, yeah, keep that in mind

All chapters: Pt.1 - Pt.2 - Pt.3 - Pt.4 ----- All chapters in PDF

“Pathfinder, you have a new email,” rang out SAM’s lifeless voice on the bridge.

“Thanks, SAM,” replied Ryder even though he didn’t really have to.

He approached the terminal, wondering who the email might be from.

“I bet it’s Peebee,” presumed Kalo when Ryder approached the terminal, “you know how she likes sending emails instead of just coming up to you and communicating directly.”

“I can hear you!” yelled Peebee from the escape pod and loudly dropped something on the floor.

 Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I received information according to which colonists from Taerve Uni attacked the Resistance Base. I do not know any details yet. The shuttle of the colonists is now being examined by my specialists.

I advise you not to spread the word on the Nexus. Come to Voeld as soon as possible. I will meet you at the Base.

 “Shit,” mumbled Ryder, dismayed by the news. “Kalo, we’re changing the course. The new destination point is Voeld.”

On their way James was sweating profusely. He felt flustered and didn’t know what to expect from the situation. He was afraid that the moment they stepped onto the icy surface of Voeld, the Resistance soldiers would raise their weapons and no negotiations would be held. Ever.

“You okay?” Vetra closed the door to the airlock section where he was sitting and approached him.

“Could be better,” he answered without even raising his head.

“Who else knows?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.

“Jaal, obviously.”

“Yeah, not telling him would be stupid. If things go south, he’s the only one who can help us out.”

“I just hope everything isn’t how we think it is,” said Ryder quietly and sighed. “We cannot allow any mistakes. With angara, there are no second chances.”

“Don’t think about it yet, we’ll draw a conclusion when we see everything with our own eyes.”

“Thank you,” James exhaled loudly as if their conversation helped him to calm down a bit and looked at Vetra. “I mean it,” he said and forced himself to smile a bit.

“Stop it. I’m so used to your dumb jokes that seeing you being sincere seems freaky.”

“I knew my sense of humor isn’t that bad,” said Ryder more gaily and lightly bumped Vetra’s shoulder with his fist. “You should appreciate it while I’m here with you all, ‘cause something tells me Evfra is going to beat the crap outta me. Then I won’t be able to come up with such ingenious jokes anymore.”

“You’re overexaggerating. I think you’ll still be able to talk, hon,” retorted Vetra and returned him the whack.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

They set together until the Tempest landed. Following Evfra’s advice, Ryder decided not to tell anybody on the Nexus or aboard the ship about the reason for their coming to Voeld. He didn’t want to make the crew agitated before confirming or disproving the information he got. This didn’t include Vetra because he knew he could trust her with such matters: she was the pillar of strength in every difficult situation, always able to think clearly in spite of unfavorable circumstances. Jaal was the second one to be let in on this secret since keeping him in the dark when it came to his people was simply mean. He was the member of the Resistance after all.

“Are you going to tell us what’s all the fuss about?” asked Suvi when Ryder was hastily leaving the ship. The tension aboard the Tempest was practically palpable at this point.

“Nope,” he answered without hesitation.

“All the emails are supposedly checked by the Nexus, so if something’s up, we’ll know sooner or later,” stated Kalo, remotely closing the lock after the Pathfinder left.

“Should’ve known that…” hissed Peebee in her escape pod, rummaging in her observer.

“Wait, Kalo, open the lock!” Vetra rushed onto the bridge in full gear. Jaal followed her swiftly.

“Guys, could you have made up your minds sooner?” asked Kalo irritably.

“Hurry up and open the lock or he’ll leave without us!” Vetra was clearly pissed and couldn’t see any reason for Kalo’s incompliance.

“If you exploit mechanical parts of the ship too much, they break faster and—”

“Kalo!”

“There is really no need to be so rude…” Kalo felt like complaining, but still did what he was asked to.

Using her jump-jet, Vetra made it to James in a couple long jumps.

“Hey, Ryder! What about us?” She caught up with him and stopped on his way.

“I think it’s best if you stay on the Tempest. I’ll deal with it on my own, nobody has to get in trouble. I’m the Pathfinder and it’s my responsibility,” he said dejectedly.

Vetra clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

“Ryder, let me come with you,” almost pleaded Jaal in a hoarse voice; he was obviously anxious. “I may be able to change Evfra’s mind. I have known him for a long time now, you won’t handle him alone.”

James had already decided to go into the beast’s lair on his own so now he was just thinking over the plausible excuses to make everybody stay aboard the ship.

Vetra knocked on his helmet with her index finger.

“Hello? Anybody in there?”

Pathfinder loudly coughed and, trying to calm himself down a bit, started his impromptu speech.

“You know, I am really grateful to you all, but there are moments in life when you just have to accept some things and be ready to sacrifice…”

“Boy oh boy, he really thinks this nonsense will work,” said Vetra in a monotonous voice.

It seemed to Ryder that she even rolled her eyes under her helmet.

“Just take Jaal and go. But I want a full report after,” she conceded, “since you’ve decided that I should know about all this. See you later, I guess.”

Ryder and Jaal exchanged quick glances as she returned to the ship.

“Fair enough.” Pathfinder wiped the screen of his helmet with his left hand. The snow was clogging it, making it impossible to see.

The Tempest had landed right near the Resistance Base. Ryder didn’t want to go to the human colony until he saw what really happened and decided what to think of it.

Evfra was waiting for him inside the construction hunched over the reports lying on the table. It was dead cold, as always, but, because James was so uneasy, he felt as if he was on Elaaden with its scorching sun and torrid sands.

“Pathfinder,” sharply said Evfra, still towering over the pile of datapads on the table. That startled Ryder who was at the moment thinking of how to initialize the conversation.

“Evfra… I already forgot how cold it is on Voeld on days like this…” James was nervously rubbing the holster of a pistol attached to his leg. Jaal tried to encourage him with a light pat on the back, letting him know that he was still there.

“I’ve inspected everything. No casualties from our side. A few angara are mildly injured, but nothing serious,” went on Evfra. Surprisingly to Ryder, he did not even sound particularly mad.

“Meaning… you are not going to beat me?” asked the Pathfinder cautiously.

“I was thinking about that,”—Evfra finally turned around and faced Ryder—“but no. Not today, at least.” He nodded to Jaal, recognizing his presence.

“What about those who attempted an attack?” asked Jaal who obviously had more control of himself than Ryder.

“Little is known for sure. They were wearing colonists’ outfits. The shuttle also belonged to the colony. Nobody survived the attack, so we couldn’t interrogate them. At the moment we have a crashed shuttle and five unidentified bodies,” emotionlessly reported Evfra.

Jaal addressed Ryder, who looked like he was awaiting further intelligence still.

“Ryder, we should take a look at the shuttle.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s go,” agreed the Pathfinder almost immediately.

Evfra led Ryder and Jaal to the crash site. A few angaran soldiers were guarding it.

“Quite far from the Base itself,” noticed Jaal.

“Yes, and only one shuttle. It doesn’t look like a well-planned intrusion to me.” Evfra dismissed the soldiers and invited the Pathfinder to examine the site.

With estranged look and blank mind, Ryder began scanning. Even though Evfra didn’t seem mad and the other angara weren’t hostile towards him, the situations worried him. He couldn’t understand why somebody would do something like this. The colony on Voeld symbolized the union of two races and served the needs of both. People who agreed to live there knew what they signed up for when they came to the planet shared with the angara.

“Pathfinder, I cannot identify these people. They are not on the list of Voeld inhabitants,” reported SAM using public channel.

“What about the Nexus?” asked Ryder, confused. “We are the only people who came to Andromeda. There is no way they are not from the Nexus.”

“At the moment I have no access to full census. You can request that the next time you’re on the station,” responded SAM.

Ryder continued to scan, desperate to find at least some useful clues, while Evfra and Jaal were examining the bodies and the equipment of the intruders.

“The clothes as well as some of their supplies indeed come from Taerve Uni. They were listed as missing a week ago,” continued SAM after Ryder scanned the leftovers of a few containers.

“Why didn’t we receive any reports about that?” he asked. It seemed as quite an important piece of information to not share with the leadership of the Nexus.

“Perhaps, the governor of the colony considered it to be too insignificant to inform the Pathfinder,” assumed Jaal.

“What about their weapons?” asked Ryder the AI, agitated.

“The colonists do not use these models. They come from elsewhere.”

Evfra was looking through the possession of one of the attackers when he found an almost undamaged datapad. He shook the snow and ashes off of it and held it out to the Pathfinder.

“Ryder, take a look at this.”

“Is it… kett?” Ryder scanned the datapad just to be sure, although he could already recognize those scribbles. “It’s encrypted. SAM, can you decode it?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. I would need a few minutes to do that.”

Ryder’s worries grew bigger and bigger starting from the minute he read Evfra’s email on his terminal on the Tempest. Worse than human colonists attacking the Resistance Base could be only human colonists affiliated with the kett.

“Hey, human,” Evfra addressed James after watching him struggling with himself for a minute or so, “do not lose hope yet. The attempt was too disorganized. I don’t think your people are planning a conspiracy against angara. Although, if we presumed that you were the one responsible for it, then all the sloppiness would be justified, and we should lock you up.”

Jaal chuckled softly. For somebody whose people have recently been attacked, both Jaal and Evfra seemed a little bit too carefree.

Soon SAM’s voice distracted Ryder from his thoughts and brought back to the real world.

“Pathfinder, I have decrypted the data. This datapad appears to hold the plans regarding the attack. It also includes the navpoints as well as the layouts of the angaran Resistance Base on Voeld as well as for the human colony Taerve Uni.”

The details SAM discovered didn’t quite fit into the picture in general, so Jaal said aloud what, perhaps, most of those who gathered there were concerned about.

“I do not understand why the colonists would need the navpoints for these locations. If they live on Voeld, they should know where the Base is situated since they cooperate tightly with the Resistance.”

Ryder was barely listening. He couldn’t apprehend that somebody on his side would commit such a treachery so he decided to get to know the truth, whatever the cost. He used his omni-tool to get in touch with the Tempest.

“Suvi, contact Priya Blake and ask her about the missing clothes and supplies. I want to know everything. Also check where one can find these weapons. I’m sending the scans.”

“Will do,” calmly answered Suvi without asking any additional questions.  

“Let’s get back inside. I’ve heard humans don’t perform very well in the cold,” rather stated than offered Evfra and headed back into the building.

James silently agreed and followed. On their way inside, Jaal approached him, worried about his reaction to the events.

“Evfra is right. You should not lose hope, Ryder. Anything is possible, especially if the kett are involved. And you shouldn’t forget that he also will not abandon attempts to establish beneficial cooperation between our species that easily. Even though he tries to pretend that he will.”

Ryder simply nodded in response.

“Do all humans value our alliance as much as you do, Pathfinder?” asked Evfra inside the hideout, already nestling beside a specially constructed heater. His voice gave in his genuine interest.

“Frankly speaking, I have no idea. I just try to believe they do,” answered Ryder. He had not given it much thought previously.

“So, at the moment everything holds only on your initiative? In that case, I would really like to know about your motivation. Besides survival of the species.”

Ryder took some time to reflect on his own viewpoint. There weren’t any other species in the Andromeda galaxy with which his people could build an alliance, but it seemed to him that something made him feel a special kind of sympathy towards angara.

“You know, while on Aya, I met your chief astronomer, Maariko,” he said, confusing everybody as to how it related to Evfra’s questions. “He asked me to find several missing anagaran satellites. To cut the long story short, we found out that they were scavenged and taken to pieces by exiles from Kadara, and the team he sent to locate those satellites was vanquished. I wasn’t responsible for that, exiles aren’t part of the Nexus anymore, but still… When I told him what happened, he was so… disappointed. He was so enthusiastic about our people working together, but this news made him change so drastically. Seeing him like that made me feel the worst I have ever felt in my life,” he summed up. He sounded tired and upset having to recall this story.

Evfra wistfully hemmed. He took a seat on the chair at his desk and turned to face Ryder and Jaal.

“Is regret your driving force then? Do you do this only because you’re ashamed and want to prove that humans aren’t that bad?”

“I—”

“Evfra,” almost exclaimed Jaal, interrupting James with no remorse. “Ryder must not feel ashamed of what other humans do, the same way we are not ashamed of the deeds of Akksul and his kind. Every individual is responsible only for his own actions.”

“I see you two grew to understand each other quite well…” said Evfra and nodded to himself. “But it doesn’t matter. Your worries are groundless. I am not trying to offend the Pathfinder, Jaal. I just wanted to know what he thinks of the situation we’re in.”

Jaal’s courage and support inspired Ryder to be more confident and not to yield to Evfra’s provocations. No matter the obstacles he had to overcome, his purpose was true and he would stick to it till the end, even if everybody doubted him.

“I think that this newly established bond between our species is beneficial for everybody. It is not perfect, we still have lots of stuff to work on, sure. And this is why I will do my best. If we really are the ones to blame in this incident, I’ll pay the price and earn your forgiveness. That’s what I think,” he said, somehow making it sound as though he prepared this speech long ago.

“I can respect such an answer,” said Evfra approvingly.

Ryder’s omni-tool made a beeping sound letting him know that somebody was on the line.

“It’s Suvi,” stated James to inform everybody else in the room before turning on the public channel.

“Ryder, the supplies from Taerve Uni appear to have been stolen. The security footage shows a group of people entering the warehouse and taking some of the stuff. Presumably at that time one shuttle was stolen as well. Priya Blake says one of the colonists had to be helping the intruders since they weren’t able to find any other clues and all other footage appears to be corrupted.”

“Got it. What about the rifles?”

“They seem to implement some of non-Initiative technologies. Our best bet would be to say that they come from Kadara.”

“Exiles then,” said Jaal quietly to himself.

“Thanks for your help, Suvi,” said Ryder and turned off the communication device, not letting Suvi ask any questions about what was happening.

“I suggest we go to Kadara right away. We shouldn’t waste any time,” said Jaal.

“Yeah, I would also like to get things sorted out as soon as possible,” agreed James.

He tried to take this incident in all its seriousness. Even if it meant running from one planet to another in search of any bits of useful data. Besides, the possibility of exiles being responsible for the offense gave him courage. Believing that the colonists had barely anything to do with the incident was all that kept him going.

“There is no need to do that. I will reach out to my agents in the port immediately and let you know once they discover anything important,” suggested Evfra.

His proposal looked like a real gesture of goodwill. Even though it was a little suspicious of him to make the life of the Pathfinder easier instead of complicating it, Ryder didn’t feel like refusing.

“That would be really convenient. We will stay on the Voeld’s orbit for now then. Are you going to come back to Aya?”

“No, not now. I’ll stay here until we clarify everything. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else. Do you have a minute?” asked Evfra mysteriously. Ryder could not even imagine what else he would want to discuss after the matter with the colonists was settled for the time being.

“I’ll return to the Tempest, you can take your time. Goodbye, Evfra,” said Jaal, retreating before he was asked to. He felt that he shouldn’t stay. Since Evfra wasn’t really mad, his job there was done, so he decided to return to the ship and give them some privacy.

After Jaal disappeared out of their sight, Evfra offered Ryder a seat. The surface of a chair was quite cold to the touch.

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk about Jaal,” began Evfra. “I’m glad he left without me having to ask him to do so.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Not bothering, no. I am wondering how he’s doing on the Tempest.”

Evfra was not the type that would talk much and especially not the type that would uncover that he worried about someone. Seeing him being open about what he cared about made Ryder feel more at ease in his presence.

“Jaal has become a valuable member of our team. He always provides us with helpful insights in situations otherwise obscure to us as newcomers. And he’s a skillful fighter, what more could I ask for,” he replied happily. There really couldn’t be too much praise for Jaal after what he did to help them.

“Good. I want to make sure he doesn’t feel left out. After our experience with kett, it was very risky to let him go with an outsider.”

The moment James met Jaal, he immediately understood that this angara is one of the most adventurous and decisive aliens he had ever seen. Nonetheless, only weeks after did he realize how big of a step had his new teammate made in terms of changing angaran foreign policy. The kett were the only aliens they had met before and that contact certainly didn’t have any positive outcome.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Ryder, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I mean, cultural clashes are unavoidable, but nothing we cannot handle so far. The Tempest crew is as diverse as it can be, so he fits like a puzzle piece.”

“Keep it that way. Or I will be forced to retrieve him. He is still an important agent of the Resistance,” said Evfra in a serious tone, although not threatening. He admired Jaal as one of the best assets in his movement and, understandably, didn’t want to lose him.

“I don’t think you will be able to do that. He seems to enjoy being on the Tempest. And, at this point, I won’t let him go,” said the Pathfinder laughingly.

“Do you like him that much?” asked Evfra. From the tone of his voice or the look on his face it was difficult to determine if it was a serious question or not.

“Well, he is a great interlocutor,” began Ryder, not really knowing what exactly Evfra expected to hear. “Considering the fact that he doesn’t know much about our customs and habits, he holds himself pretty well. Also, the female part of the crew seems to be fond of him. Especially the female part. And Liam. For some reason.”

The expression on Evfra’s face was one of confusion and incomprehension mixed together. Hearing this was definitely not something he anticipated.

“Are you saying that they are attracted to him?” he inquired in an attempt to define what Ryder meant.

“Kind of. Nothing serious, I’m sure, but he knows what to say and not say. Albeit I start doubting that when he opens a discussion about how asari reproduce. That is uncomfortable.”  Ryder bit his lip looking blankly at the snowy floor beneath him and thinking of how to continue the conversation. “Anywa-a-ay,” he began in a sing-song voice, seemingly having come up with something else worth noting, “coming back to his positive sides, he smells really nice. You also smell nice, by the way. I mean… not that I’m sniffing,”—he rubbed his neck like he usually did when he was nervous—“probably, it’s because of the lotion. Or something else. Jaal told that angara use lots of different self-care thingies, a-and I probably should stop talking about that already, shouldn’t I..?”

Evfra did his best not to bury his face in his palms because of how uncomfortable he was. There was always this moment during his conversations with Ryder when he just didn’t know how to react. He thought that if all humans were so perplexing and held so little control over their emotions, communicating with them on a daily basis must have been a real pain.

“You say your crewmates are discussing ways of reproduction,”—he tried to skip the embarrassing bits of the conversation and get to what really interested him—“I recon Milky Way settlers don’t know much about angara. We are not used to affairs with other species. Isn’t it too early to talk about such matters?”

“Humans discovered the intergalactic community less than 30 years ago and… well, plus 600 years we spent to get here, but let’s disregard that for now. All I’m saying is it didn’t take us long to fully adapt. Even though previously we too thought we were alone in the world. And, dare I add, our first contact with an alien race developed into a 3-month war. At least you’re not willing to fight us just ‘cause you don’t like us,” said Ryder without giving it much thought. Evfra was quite surprised at how confident the Pathfinder was in his words, almost as if he had previously considered this problem.

“Then that is your standpoint. I see,” replied Evfra and crossed his legs. For James it looked a bit weird considering angaran anatomy, but he tried not to stare. It was already awkward enough.

“Back at the Milky Way there were some species not compatible with human physiology at all,” began Ryder again. “Having all kinds of strange tentacles and rows of sharp teeth. And the batarians… Just imagine something staring at you with four eyes”—James twitched sharply—“I still have chills. So, yeah, angara don’t seem as such a bad option to me.”

“But isn’t survival of your race a priority now? There is no future for you if you don’t create great families and develop a new community,” objected Evfra. However persuasive the Pathfinder was, some of his opinions just did not sound practical to Evfra.

“I look at how angara cherish every member of their huge families and I aspire for us to live that way. But you just cannot force yourself if you strive for something else. Or somebody else,” said James without prevaricating.

Evfra narrowed his eyes and started drumming his fingers on the desk.

“That’s an interesting thought to hear from a person holding a position like yours. I don’t think your superiors would like it.”

“Well, I’m my own person.” Ryder leaned on the back of his chair. It didn’t seem so cold anymore. “And I still don’t get paid for the job so the least they could do is letting me date who I want to.”

“Be careful, Ryder. Now you make it sound as if it never was about the choice of others but rather about your own decision regarding this issue,” warned him Evfra. Despite his serious tone, he had no intention of revealing what Ryder told him to anybody else.

“Even if it is, what’s then?”—James tilted his head to the left a little—“unions between separate individuals of our species would have a great influence on our affiliation in general. If we can feel sympathy towards each other, then we are not so different after all. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something to have something else instead.” He sighed and slightly disappointedly added, “and my genes aren’t special or anything, so the humanity won’t lose much.”

Evfra checked the time on the terminal on his desk. He then stood up, implicating that it was probably time to wrap up the talks.

“It’s already quite late so I won’t hold you here any longer, Pathfinder. Your crew has waited more than enough.”

“Guess you’re right.”

Ryder stood up as well and quickly adjusted weapons hanging on his leg and back.

“I’ll accompany you to the Tempest if you don’t mind,” said Evfra.

“Not at all. Sometimes I get lost in your caves here so it’s always nice to have somebody show me the way around.”

They exited the room and set off into the network of icy caves, filled with equipment and appliances belonging to Resistance as well as a great number of soldiers and researchers occupied with their individual tasks.

“When we first came to Voeld,” said Evfra, observing his people at work, “we didn’t bring much resources. It was difficult to operate here, so we thought using these caverns would be a good start. Later we were able to equip everything with necessary facilities and make life here more comfortable. It indeed goes to show how far the ability to use surroundings to your own benefit can bring you.”

“I think you did a really good job surviving here. Can’t imagine how difficult it had been before we activated the vault,” commented Ryder, sincerely amazed by the job that the Resistance did on Voeld.

“It was extremely cold. We couldn’t make ten steps from the heaters unless we had special equipment. But, perhaps, even worse than that was what the planet looked like. Deserted and dead-white. The kett were there somewhere, we knew it, but through blizzards and snowstorms it was impossible to see anything. Lots of soldiers couldn’t handle such desolation for long.”

Evfra looked thoughtful for a few moments. The topic of colonization of Voeld brought back some memories about how it used to be. One look at his scarred face was enough to understand that it was anything but simple.

“The cold here is still unbearable, but… I don’t think it looks that bad. The beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,” mused Ryder.

“Is that another human saying?” asked Evfra curiously.

“Yes.” They’ve finally reached the exit from the cave. Ryder dreamily stared at the white sky almost melting together with white mountains and slopes. “It means that nothing is really objectively beautiful or hideous, it depends on your perspective. You just need to learn to see good in everything. Even if there isn’t much of it.”

“My dislike for Voeld mostly came from the fact that it was so different from my home. But now it is better. Now that you are here,” said Evfra casually.

Ryder abruptly turned his head, shifting his gaze from the sky to Evfra’s rigid face. He felt that he was blushing under his helmet because of how astonished he was. The words sounded dubious, not like something Evfra would say.

“I mean the human colony,” added Evfra calmly. “We are not alone on this planet anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” nodded Ryder and coughed awkwardly.

Barely noticeable notes of discontent in Ryder’s voice didn’t escape Evfra’s ears. It was strange to hear that, but he tried not to overthink. After all, it was impossible to know what humans had on their mind.

After a moment of puzzlement Ryder went on, “I’m also glad we’re not alone on Voeld. It would be a hell to maintain an outpost on such a secluded planet.”

“Yes, it would.”

They walked the trail to the landing area in silence. Frozen snow was creaking under their feet and dim lights that defined the way flickered through blizzard, hardly noticeable. Guards were on their duty, constantly checking the perimeter for potential intruders. Even though it wasn’t so cold anymore, they tried to keep close to the heaters and stayed mostly in pairs.

Approaching the Tempest, Ryder made the last attempt to heat up the conversation. He hated to leave things the way they were.

“So-o-o, do you want to know a strange fact about humans?” he asked, pretending like it was a perfectly normal thing to ask after not talking for five minutes.

“Why would I want to know that?” Evfra turned around and faced Ryder, baffled by the question.

“Jaal once asked Liam and I thought… It’s okay if you don’t, really.”

“Go ahead then,” said the angara. At the moment he did not really care much about knowing more about humans, but rather wished to hear what Ryder wanted to tell him so eagerly.

“When humans are on the last stages of freezing, they get naked.”

This time Evfra couldn’t keep himself from closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead for a few seconds, feeling weary and jaded. Communication with humans really did make him think harder than usually. His brain just couldn’t handle such pressure every time he tried to analyze what was really going on in their heads. Particularly it applied to Ryder.

“Well, anyway, I’m looking forward to hearing from you,” said the Pathfinder and got aboard the Tempest. Evfra stood outside for some time, thinking, before returning to the Base.

Surprisingly enough, nobody aboard the Tempest was mad at Ryder for not sharing the reason for their come. Kalo tried to complain about the Pathfinder not trusting his team, but it didn’t take long for him to accept the fact that Ryder just didn’t want them to worry about the whole case. They stayed on the orbit of Voeld in order to be able to get back to the planet as soon as possible in case the situation needed them to.

James talked to Vetra and Jaal, convincing them that Evfra really didn’t say anything offensive and really didn’t threaten him. Hardly did they believe him when Ryder said, that the leader of the Resistance just inquired about the whole air aboard his ship. Realizing he would probably not say much else, they left Ryder alone.

The day went on with nothing noteworthy. Drowning in different reports from colonies and the Nexus, Ryder didn’t pay attention to the passing of time and soon found himself the only one staying awake. He was exhausted because of all the anxiety and jitters he had to experience today, so calling it a day didn’t seem to be a bad option. Although it took him some time to fall asleep because of all his spinning and turning in bed, he slept quite calmly and didn’t see any dreams.

He was woken up by SAM early in the morning.

“Pathfinder, you have new emails at your terminal.”

“Are they from Evfra?” asked Ryder, yawning.

“One of them,” answered SAM without getting into details.

James used to the terminal in his quarters to check the emails.

 Some info for the captain

To: Ryder

From: Reyes Vidal

Yesterday I got a task from Evfra (don’t worry, it’s not classified, I wouldn’t write you otherwise). As soon as I heard the details, I immediately knew it had something to do with you, so now you’re reading this.

It happened so, that a friend of mine wanted to take part in a shady venture. I, being a kindly person I am, told him not to. Some of his other friends weren’t as smart as him and didn’t listen to my advice, so they ended up dead in a stolen shuttle near the Resistance Base on Voeld. Do you follow me? I hope so, because it seems like if it hadn’t been for me, more exiles would have attacked the angara pretending to be your people. And we all know where that could lead.

Now I hope you’ll acknowledge my assistance in this matter and pay me back for being this good of a friend and taking care of your image so professionally.

Let me know when you have a free minute to chat.

Reyes

 Ryder blinked a few times. His eyes hurt from starring at the terminal screen right after waking up.

“I think I’m now more confused than I was before if that makes sense,” he said rather to himself than to SAM. “Okay, let’s see what the second one has for us.”

 Update on Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I have some intel we were looking for. I recon Reyes is now writing an email to you as well. I couldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing that, but you can never be sure of what he is going to tell and what he isn’t, so I’m writing as promised.  

People who attacked our Base were indeed exiles from the Kadara port. They managed to get in contact with kett who saw a great opportunity to use them and had promised them power and resources in return for undertaking this offense. My assumption is that they wanted to disrupt the alliance between humans and angara by making it look like your people attacked mine. However, I think their commandos didn’t know about this plan. It looks too irresponsible and lacks elaboration.

Someone in Taerve Uni helped exiles get in and steal what they needed. Reyes mentioned one of them having a relative in the colony, so it’s best if you investigated this further.

Angara do not blame you for what happened. Some of them feel for you and send their support.

In case you need me, I’ll be on Aya. I am flying back today.

I am glad there is no reason for us to be at war.

 “Somehow, imagining his face while he writes it makes it sound even better,” mumbled Ryder to himself and closed the email. He was too sleepy to be able to answer it properly right now.

[twocupsofsugar]

I had an idea, of a sort of mecha / vehicle that my race of aliens the Imsee might use. Sort of their version of a chicken walker. I'm still figuring out what their tech looks like, but i want it to look very organic.

[redslilstories]

You’ve got to be kidding me

Author: lilyme (aka. redslilstories aka. me ;)) Summary: It was a quiet night. No fireworks, no party. Just them. But that didn’t make the outcome of this night any less spectacular. Characters: Callie/Arizona Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show “Grey’s Anatomy”. They were created by Shonda Rhimes and belong to her and the ABC network. No copyright infringement intended! All mistakes are mine.

She had to admit it. They were getting lazy.

Preferring to spend the night at home on their comfy and inviting couch rather than go out and party.

But they deserved this quiet time after yet another eventful year. The clinic Arizona had opened with Nicole Herman seven years ago had made itself a name as the most innovative and extensive institute for women’s health in the United States. And with growing prestige and success had come the decision to move to a bigger location this year.

And Callie, for four years the Chief of Orthopedic Surgery at New York’s most renowned hospital, had this year gotten the recognition she deserved. Had been rewarded with the Burlingame Award for further developing the cartilage project she had begun way back in Seattle.

Arizona could not be any prouder of her girlfriend, who currently lay nestled into her arms as they were cuddled up under a blanket, watching a random greatest hits show with songs from many decates ago. From back when music was still good.

It was one of those shows that were typical for the last night of the year. The night tv stations hardly chose to invest in anything spectacularly exciting. But then again, when did tv stations ever show anything exciting nowadays anymore?

She chuckled as she looked down at the brunette, whose closed eyes indicated just how fascinated she seemed by the program. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me before the year is over,” Arizona amusedly admonished her and tapped her nose with the tip of her finger.

Confronted with this accusation, Callie blinked her droopy eyes open and smiled at the blonde hovering over her and making her face her fingers’ playground. “Just resting,” she argued, even though her sleep-raspy voice easily betrayed her. “Enjoying the quietness of the house”.

“Uh-hm,” Arizona nodded slowly at the meagre excuse, and leaned in to kiss Callie’s temple lightly. But there was some truth in it. Their teenage daughter was spending this night at a party at her friend’s house. Strictly chaperoned by the friend’s parents… at least they hoped so. They knew her friend Danielle and her parents, so they were actually confident everything was fine. And Sofia was a good and well-behaved kid, who hardly gave her parents any trouble.

So, it was indeed quieter than most nights. Definitely quieter than the New Year’s eves of past years. No pondering if they should head to Times Square to watch the ball drop at midnight. No gatherings at someone’s house that you often wished you could leave before the year was over. No, tonight it was really just them. And it was perfection.

Arizona had hoped for a night like this. Happy that Callie had agreed to this less action-packed plan.

Not that Arizona hadn’t planned anything for tonight. She had big plans, actually. And she figured it was time now. Before Callie truly fell asleep and snored her way into the new year. Which itself would be endearing… but not tonight.

“We’re nearing midnight. You up for some champagne?” she wondered, and immediately more life came into Callie’s body.

“Sounds good,” the brunette nodded and watched as Arizona crawled out from behind her and slipped on her prosthetic with ease.

Before Callie could protest and offer to get the champagne herself, the blonde had already disappeared from the room.

Returning a good three minutes later with two glasses filled with the sparkly liquid… and an oddly nervous look on her face.

Callie frowned, wondering what had happened between leaving the room and pouring them each a celebratory glass.

But as soon as Arizona put of the glasses before her, it became clear.

Warily she looked at her girlfriend, who sat down next to her.

This one saw the reaction and began to panic, “I know it’s a kitschy movie thing, but I thought it’s still too cute to pass up on. Especially since the last time I didn’t even have one for you,” she chuckled.

An amusement interrupted by Callie getting up with an incredulous, “Yo’ve got to be kidding me,” when Arizona’s words seemed to confirm her suspicions regarding her  plan.

Arizona watched dumbfoundedly as it was Callie’s turn to disappear from sight.

That was… really unexpected.

Really not what she had hoped for.

Was it the ring? Was it not what Callie liked?

Or… was something else the problem?

They hadn’t talked about the possibility since getting back together five years ago. Happy just living their lives together as a loving couple. Without anything official to proclaim their union to the world.

And now that she was faced with Callie’s reaction, she felt that she should have left it this way instead of now possibly losing her girlfriend and the love of her life.

She took the glass containing the white-gold engagement ring with a one carat diamond, fished the item out and gulped down the liquid to calm her nerves. The other glass following seconds later. Courage - so she could go look for Callie.

Who obviously didn’t want to marry her. Maybe too scarred by her earlier marriages. Or their earlier marriage.

Dammit, she really should have considered this, Arizona figured.

As she stood to walk towards where her not-fiancée and possibly now-not-even-girlfriend-anymore had ran off to, Callie suddenly returned.

With a smile on her face… that confused Arizona more than anything.

“Okay, before you completely freak out,” the brunette stated, her face growing more apologetic as she saw the lingering insecurity, “yes. Yes! I absolutely want to marry you!” she affirmed and walked towards Arizona, who stood with the ring held dumbly between her fingers.

Callie wanted to marry her. Callie wanted to marry her, her brain registered. But then why the great escape a mere minutes ago?

The brunette finally explained her actions as she brought forth the hand that Arizona noticed had until now been hidden behind her back. A hand that revealed a velvety black box, that upon Callie opening it to her, mesmerized Arizona with its shiny content. Platinum with a sapphire in heart shape.

“You…,” Arizona started and began to smile. Suddenly Callie’s earlier ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’, made a lot more sense.

“I had actually planned to bring this to you tomorrow morning. You know, breakfast in bed. A big tray full of all your favorite treats. A rose and… this box,” Callie smirked as she took the ring from the box and took Arizona free hand with the other. “I have long thought about this,” she assured her love. “And I had my doubts, because I’ve failed. We’ve failed, you know?” she admitted, and Arizona nodded slowly. “But we’re not the same people anymore. We’ve grown and we take our time and we try to make sure our decisions are the right ones. And this decision is right. Or,” she rolled her eyes at her own wording, “to make this a little more romantic: I love you, Arizona Robbins. And I’ve never been more sure about anyone. You’re the love of my life, and were from the first time you kissed me in Joe’s bathroom. And you make me so tremendously happy. So… will you make me even happier by marrying me?”

Arizona looked between the two rings that were so different, yet so beautiful in their own way. Just like the two of them. And then her eyes met Callie’s anticipating ones. “This has been my dream for so long. Not the thought of marriage itself, because I know marriage can go wrong. But life with you… spending my life with you, even if it’s the most normal and uneventful nights,” she laughed. “Life with you, hopefully until we’re hundred… that’s my dream. And I had that feeling from early on. From the moment I saw you try not to break down crying at the bar, I knew I wanted to make you smile and forget your sorrows. I know I’ve been a cause for some… for a lot of them in the past. But we survived this. Not intact and not together, but we survived,” she gulped, as she clasped Callie’s hand stronger in hers. “But surviving means, we didn’t die from it, even if it left scars. I’m…. I’m so happy that I still manage to make you smile. That you still trust your heart with me. And I want to keep it this way forever. I love you more than ever before, Calliope. And I want nothing more than to marry you,” she nodded as her eyes welled up.

Callie barely noticed, her own eyesight a mess of tears. “Oh, my God, I love you,” she gulped and kissed her now fiancée lovingly, and soon registered the funny ring dance their hands holding the engagement ring intended for the other were performing between them, trembling in excitement. “Give me your hand,” she ordered and slipped her ring onto Arizona’s finger, squealing lightly when it fit just perfectly.

Arizona followed suit and gave Callie the ring that five minutes ago she had thought she would have to return. Or throw into the ocean together with her crushed heart. She sighed at the two newly decorated hands clasped in loving union. “I love it,” she grinned at her ring, and then at Callie. “And I love you,” she hugged Callie with everything she had. Not ever wanting to let her go again.

Callie hummed into the embrace, holding onto her fiancée. Her third fiancée; or second, depending on how you counted. But never had she been more certain about taking this step and about the person she was taking this step with.

“So, do you actually like your ring? Because part of panicked me thought you found it bug-ugly, when you ran out,” she perceived Arizona’s muffled voice, as thus one was busy burying her face in her taller fiancée’s inviting neck.

Callie chuckled, using the opportunity to inspect her ring. More classic than the one she had bought for Arizona, but definitely just right. “This is exactly what I always wanted my ring to look like,” she promised as the sound of an incoming call on Arizona’s phone forced them apart.

They frowned, wondering who it could be. Checking, they saw it was an incoming call from Sofia.

Arizona picked up, “Sweetie, what is it?” she wondered, panicking a little, wondering if something was wrong.

“'What is it’?” the girl on the other line wondered. “It’s the new year,” the girl explained. “Happy New Year!”

The women checked the clock. Indeed it was four minutes past midnight, and Sofia was calling to send them wishes for the new year. Just as they had agreed on just before the teen had left the house earlier.

“Oh, it is,” Callie gasped, startled by the fact that they had missed it. And that she didn’t even have to be asleep to miss it. “Happy New Year, sweetie!” she greeted and Arizona soon followed.

“Wait… you didn’t know…?” Sofia wondered, suspicious of the fact. “Oh, God, do I even want to know why you didn’t know?” she inquired, a myriad of scenarios springing to mind. The worst ones not what you really want to imagine your parents doing when they are alone.

“Don’t be silly,” Callie admonished. “But… we’ve been doing something. Well, your mother just did something”.

“Wait, no, your mother just did something!” Arizona added and only intensified Sofia’s confusion.

And that was how Sofia learned of her mothers’ engagement. Something that – spending everyday life with the love birds – she had seen coming. And was more than supportive of. And more than happy that they had never given up on their love for each other.

A love that the three of them were certain would hold forever.

[bigtimesinsmallspaces]

Post #3: The Empire Builder

[Note: When I said WiFi and phone service was limited on the train I think I was underestimating the problem. I will make an effort to get out shorter posts more frequently.]

It was pretty exciting to walk into Chicago’s Union Station after viewing the eclipse, and race to board The Empire Builder, one of Amtrak’s flagship cross country trains, going through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington, and ending in Oregon. PG and I are both experienced train riders but we have primarily ridden on Northeast Corridor trains. The long distance trains are very different. We were seated together in a coach car right next to the Observation and Cafe car— a nice place to be as we wound our way for the next thirty hours through Lewis and Clark territory and across the Great Plains, making our way toward Glacier National Park for our first 24 hour respite stop. (Suffice it to say we were going to be in need of one.)

The sun rose gloriously over the plains and I had time (actually quite a bit of time) to think about Laura Ingles Wilder and consider how amazing it was that Pa was able to make his way across the terrain in a covered wagon. I myself was challenged to make it another night across the Great Plains in coach. As much as I love the train I admit I was encouraged to know that by Tuesday nightfall we would be heading into our stop at Whitefish, Montana for 24 hours of not-train food, a cushy bed, and a ground that wasn’t swaying, not to mention the beauty of mountains and snow. Well the train was a little late pulling into beautiful Whitefish, but after thirty hours, who’s counting.

[The attached photos show: sunrise over the plains, Minot ND train stop, more of the Plains, the Whitefish Railway Station]

[kayteewritessteve]

Love and War - 5/16

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 5,620 ish.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

You storm into your room, anger coursing through you. Dinner had ended up in a battle over this farce of a wedding. It had all started with a comment about how you should look more joyful the eve before your wedding day, which of course you had snapped back saying, ‘you mean the eve before I am forced to marry that ridiculous cretin? Ah yes, I guess I should be more excited to forever be tied to an ape like Hepha, my apologies.’

Well, Athos didn’t like that one bit and you both went head to head once again. It finally ended when you stormed out of the dining hall, refusing to listen to anymore of his ‘reasonings’ for why you should be overjoyed to marry someone of Hepha’s standing. As if his station were higher than your own. Except his isn’t, he is a bottom feeder compared to you.

You slam the door to your room and place your forehead against it’s cool surface, sighing out deeply. Maybe you could run away in the middle of the night. Far, far away. Alarick would return and find you missing, then he’d come after you. He’d be able to find you for sure and then you could explain why you’d fled, and beg him to stay with you. Both of you never to return to the kingdom and you can just live out your days together, happily. You just needed more time before this wedding, you just needed to postpone it long enough for Alarick to return.

You could maybe fake being deathly ill tomorrow, so ill that the wedding couldn’t go on. And then it would have to be put on hold until you were better—but you knew after the war that went on over the dinner table tonight, no one, mainly Athos, would actually believe you were sick. They would all see right through it and force you to attend this travesty of a union. You sigh deeply again and bang your forehead on the hard wood surface of the door in frustration.

“I ask that you not harm the beautiful brain without that lovely skull,” came a deep voice from behind you, and you knew instantly exactly who it belonged to. That voice sending a glorious ripple of goosebumps across your body, as a welcomed shiver ran down your spine.

You whirled around and came face to face with a ridiculously wide chest, your eyes slowly climbed up to a set of stunning eyes. Eyes that could only belong to the one person you truly, wholeheartedly loved. More than anyone else, maybe even more than yourself.

“Ari,” you breathlessly whispered your nickname for him. Both slightly in shock that he was even standing here in front of you, and slightly dazed to just be gazing upon his unearthly handsome features. The latter was normal for you though, you always forgot just how beautiful he was, until he was right before you, and you were instantly reminded of how much of a treat he was for your eyes. “What are you—you’re here?!”

He grinned down at you, he always enjoyed when he could fluster you. “I am, my moon.”

His nickname for you causing your heart to flutter uncontrollably. He’d always called you ‘his moon’, at least for as long as you could remember. You’d asked him one day, long ago, why he had chosen that nickname for you, and all he’d simply replied with in return was, ‘because you are the light in my darkest of hours.’

“But how?” You whispered softly, still disbelieving that he was actually there, standing in front of you. “Your father. He-he said you weren’t to return for a few more days?”

“That is because my father,” he scoffed, “underestimated Premala’s sheer unwavering love for you. She tracked us down, and told me of how you were being forced to marry Hepha,” he growled the lesser mans name, “behind my back. So I came back as fast as I could, to put a stop to all of this.”

You quickly ran to him, flinging your arms around his waist, and burying your face in his muscular chest, as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. A position that always brought you great comfort in trying times. “So you came to save me?” You mumbled into his chest.

“I will always come to save you,” he whispered, his fingers gently gripping your chin to angle your face up towards his. He laid a sweet kiss on your forehead, his lips grazing the skin as he spoke, “you are mine, Y/N. Just as I am yours. And so long as I still breathe air, no one will ever take you away from me. I will not allow it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, he was actually here, he was going to stop all of this madness. He was going to rescue you. Though, you had no clue how he planned to actually do that. “What are you going to do, Ari?”

He took a moment, probably to think of some sort of plan. He had a brilliant mind for tactical maneuvers and plotting how to conquer his enemies efficiently—but this wasn’t a battlefield, this was his kingdom. And this wasn’t just some war over land, money or power, this was your life, the potential happiness of you both. The outcome of his failure in this wouldn’t just be a sore spot, it would forever mark both of your hearts.

In one morning, you both would lose your other half. The one person who completed you both. He always claimed you were his soulmate, though you knew deep down that that wasn’t true. But yet, you slowly started to believed him more and more, every time he said it. Every time the word left his beautiful lips, it broke you down a little more, made you strive to be exactly what a soulmate would be to him. If they existed within your kind, you and Alarick would be soulmates for sure.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

You nodded, “of course I do.”

“And do you love me?” He whispered, as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes following the movement.

“With everything that I am,” you answered truthfully.

“Then marry me,” his eyes flicked over to yours, locking on, “tonight, before my father or Hepha can interfere. If you are already married to me, then you can not marry another.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You didn’t need to. You nodded vehemently, “yes,” you answered, your voice coming out stronger and more sure then it ever had before. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Alarick.”

He smiled that glorious smile at you, the one that made your heart flutter and your knees weak. Thank the Gods his strong arms were around you, or you’d be a puddle on the floor for sure. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to finally hear you say those words,” he leaned down and kissed you with more passion then he ever had before. You leaned into him more, melting into the kiss, and him. But then he pulled away all too quickly, leaving you urning for more. So, so much more.

But you knew now that you’d get more, you’d get a forever of more with him. As once you both were married, he’d be yours and only yours, forever. “I think I have a pretty good idea of just how much,” you smirked up at him. Earning a glorious chuckle from the large, living stone sculpture of a man in front of you.

“I have to prepare a few things, but I will return in one hours time to retrieve you.” He lovingly kissed your forehead once more then reluctantly moved away from you. “Be ready. And do not leave this room, no matter what.”

You nodded, “I will be ready and waiting.”

He smiled, “we will both get our happily ever after, my moon. I promise you I will make it so.”

And you believed every word, this immense joy that flooded your body was how a bride was supposed to feel before her wedding. You didn’t feel nervous at all, not one bit, you were going to marry the love of your life. What more could a woman ask for? “I’ll hold you to that promise, Ari,” you smirked and he grinned in return.

With one more chaste kiss, he vanished out the door, glancing at you as he softly closed it behind him. You peered around the room, your lips aching slightly from the massive smile upon them, you lifted your fingers to touch them. Still feeling as if Ari’s plump ones were upon them.

But the sound of your bedroom door being flung open startled you, and you spun around quickly to see who was intruding on your gleeful moment. Only for your eyes to land on the one person you never wanted to see again.

Hepha.

A knock on your door causes you to open your eyes, they quickly scan the room and you remember you’re in the castle. You are sitting in the arm chair in the corner of your room, you don’t remember falling asleep, but clearly you must have dozed off, sometime after the 3 ladies had helped you change. Now wearing a different olive green dress, one more fitting for dinner.

“Come in,” you call out as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and stand from the chair. Quickly straightening out your dress as the door opens and in enters an unfamiliar man. But the friendly gapped tooth smile on his face puts you a little more at ease.

“My Lady,” he bows his head, “I am Sir Samuel, but you can call me Sam. I have come to escort you to dinner.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Sam,” you nod, “but please just Y/N is fine.”

His smile grows larger, “Nat informed me you preferred Just Y/N. So Just Y/N it is,” he winks.

You smile and shake your head as you make your way towards him, you can already tell, just from his friendly presence, that you are going to be fast friends—Well, at least you will be for a little while. Just until you are granted leave from the King to return home.

Once you reach him, he offers you his arm which you take then he begins to lead you out of your room. “So, which position are you? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

He glances down at you, “I don’t mind at all. But as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we do things a little differently here. We don’t really have titles for our positions, per se. We were all appointed by the King to oversee or head up different areas based on our skills. I guess if you really needed a title for me, you could call me a General. I am in charge of both ground troops and the cavalry forces. So basically I facilitate most of the military operations.”

You nod, “yes, I’ve noticed that this kingdom is run very different from the others. Why is that?”

He shrugs, “honestly, it is how the King wishes it to be. He isn’t one to follow in the footsteps of others, in any way. He prefers to forge his own path, to do things the way he feels are most efficient, and will give the best results. Things he feels are just and true.”

“So he just chooses everything for himself? Makes up his own rules as he goes?” You furrow your brows, “that seems rather egotistical, don’t you think? If he refuses to follow the traditional ways, how is he to be governed, how is he to be held accountable for his actions?”

“No one governs our King,” he says coldly, and you are learning that questioning the King to his higher ups isn’t a smart move on your part. They all clearly respect him immensely. They are fiercely loyal to him. Which is a good thing, you guess. “He answers to no one but himself.”

“How can that be?” You push a little more, “all Kings have to answer to a higher power. Does he not believe in the Gods? Does he throw out their rulings, their practises, their laws?”

He halts his steps and turns to you, the same stoic mask on his face that Nat wore earlier today. “Oh, he believes in them, more than most, actually. But he does not agree with all of their ways. Their teachings. Though he does take them all into consideration, but ultimately picks and chooses which he actually wishes to follow. We do not question him on his decisions, just as you should not either. You may not know much of our realm, or our people, but I can guarantee you have heard of our conquests. Of the many battles we have fought and won alongside our King, or have you not heard?”

You nod, mumbling a, “no, I’ve heard.”

He begins to walk again, pulling you along with him. “So then you know that clearly his decisions have been proven correct. They have been proven to be fruitful. He isn’t like other Kings, he comes from a long line of noble and triumphant leaders. Ones who have passed on their learnings and knowledge to each new generation. He is currently the greatest leader this kingdom has ever had, as he holds all that passed on information in his own mind. And when he is to produce an heir, his son will be a better ruler than he, and so on and so forth. Where most kingdoms become weaker with time, be it because of scandal, tyranny or treachery. Ours only gets better, stronger.”

“How can that be. You can’t honestly tell me that none of Winterbourne’s previous Kings have never been tyrants. Or have never been on the receiving end of a treacherous plot?”

“I can, and I am,” he nods. “It has never happened. And it will never happen.”

“But how? What makes the rulers of this kingdom so different, so special?”

“That is a story for another day.”

“Oh hogwash,” you glare up at him, “you can’t tell me all of that and then not explain why it is so. Now you must tell me the full story.”

He chuckles, raising a brow at you, “oh, must I?”

You nod, “yes. It is only fair.”

He halts his steps once again, sighing deeply, “alright, fine. Though I shouldn’t really be telling you any of this, but since you insist,” he smirks then leans in slightly, lowering his voice just for you to hear. “Many, many moons ago, there was a fearsome God of War, who fell madly, and deeply, in love with a radiant Goddess. But not just any Goddess could have captured his eye,” he shakes his head, “no, she was the Goddess of Love, of Beauty, of Passion. It was said that she was a true sight to behold, but that no matter how lovely she was on the outside, her looks paled in comparison to her true heart, her brilliant mind, and her entire radiant being. She was kind, and caring, and compassionate. She was ethereal, and everything the God himself, was not. But he strived to be worthy of her, to deserve a gentle creature such as she. To win her heart for his very own.”

You nod, completely enraptured by his story. “And did she love him in return?”

“Oh yes, very much. Some say just as much as he loved her, others say she loved him more. But either way, it is a truly beautiful love story, but like all tales of love, tragedy stuck.”

“What happened to them?” You urge, your voice only a whisper. You desperately want to know the whole story, but fear what is to come next for the two lovers.

“The Goddess was stolen away in the night, vanished into thin air as if she’d never been. When the God came to see her, she was nowhere to be found. He scoured the heavens in search of her, for hundreds of years he continued to search. Until he finally realized she wasn’t anywhere in the heavens, she must have fallen to earth, somehow, someway. So he too fell to earth, giving up his title as a God so he could stay on the mortal plane for as long as he needed, for as long as it took to find her—“

“Did he ever find her?” You interject hopefully, your nerves climbing with every passing second. You pray he did, you hope desperately that they were reunited.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head, “patience, Y/N, I’m getting there.”

You huff playfully, but stay silent, motioning for him to continue on.

“But when the God got to earth, he realized he had no way to track her. To find her. As he didn’t know this plane well, at least not well enough to know where to start looking. So he wandered the planet in the hopes of finding her, eventually he stumbled upon a pack of wolves, watching as they flawlessly teamed together and tracked a deer through the woods. Capturing it not long after. And then he knew exactly what he needed to do. He managed to find a very powerful witch, with the help of a few nearby mortals, and told her his love story of woe. She agreed to help him on the condition that he and his descendants protected her and hers, forever. He agreed and then together they offered the wolves a deal. If they helped him find his lost love, he would offer them the opportunity to be man. And that both themselves, and there future lines, would always hold positions of power in his kingdom. They would always be taken care of, and able to control and protect this land from others, forever.”

“And they accepted the deal?” You ask.

Sam smiles widely and nods, “they did. They all agreed to help find the Goddess. So the witch changed them all to man and together they searched for her. Finally finding her not long after, thanks to the wolves. But because he’d given up his Godly powers to search for her, he could no longer return to the heavens. Though he did not want that to stop her from returning herself, should she wish to.”

“She stayed, didn’t she?” You ask through a giant smile. Already guessing that she’d chosen to stay with her true love.

He nods again, “she did. She couldn’t leave him behind, not after going so long without him. Not when he wouldn’t be in the heavens with her. So together they built this castle to be their home. They had a few children, and from there on the kingdom was slowly built into what it is today. And since then, every King to come has had the blood of not one, but two highly respected Gods coursing through them. The blood of two of the most honest, loyal and true eternal beings that there ever was. So their line has maintained those traits, has only bettered them with time. And therefore have all been immune to the troubles of regular man. Meaning none have ever been tyrants, and none ever will.”

“I see,” you nod, not overly believing that reasoning. Not when the current King is a fearsome and ruthless warlord. If you’d ever label anyone a tyrant, it would be him. But you know Sam’s mind is unchangeable on this all. So you leave it alone, choosing to instead ask the next question bouncing around in your head. “And what happened to them? To the fallen Gods, I mean.”

“No one really knows,” he shrugs. “Once their eldest son was old enough to rule the land, they left to live out there days, peacefully and alone. So your guess is as good as mine, about where they’ve both ended up.”

“And the wolves?”

“Well, the God, turned King, kept his promise to them. They all held positions of power in his realm up until they died, and then their children took over their titles. I’m actually a descendant of one of those original wolves,” Sam added that last part proudly.

You nod, a small smile on your lips. It was a beautiful story, to be sure, but that’s all it was. That’s all it could be. A story, a myth, a legend for which Winterbourne’s people could rally behind. Could believe to be the story of their true origin. “That is a truly lovely tale, Sam. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“It isn’t a tale, Y/N,” he shakes his head. “I will happily stack my life on it’s legitimacy, if that helps ease some of your disbeliefs.“

You furrow your brows, confused by how deeply Sam believes this all to be true. How he believes it so much, that he willingly ignores the fact that his King is a merciless man. One feared by all who learn of him.

But on top of that, you are reminded of how Natasha spoke of the King. Which also deeply confuses you. How can a ruthless warlord King like him, evoke such a loyal response from his ‘Generals’. Yet still be the very thing of nightmares to everyone else. Maybe his ‘Generals’ are actually scared of him? Maybe they fear the consequences of speaking against him. That would seem more believable to you. You’d fear him as well, if you had to interact with him daily. Gods, you fear him now, and you’ve never once even spoken a word to him, never once even so much as laid eyes upon him. So yeah, you can completely believe that they’d truly fear him.

But yet, they all—or at least the two you’ve met thus far—speak of him with such passion. Such love and utter respect. Things of which one can not fake, or pretend. No, those deep emotions can only show through if the speaker wholeheartedly feels them. You nod your head at him, “it eases my mind a little. But that’s all I will say about that, my thoughts on all of this really do not matter here. Especially since I do not plan on staying in this realm any longer than need be.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, as if he is in on a joke for which you are not. But you ignore that feeling. Who are you to question his beliefs? You are no one here, this isn’t your home, nor your people. Plus as you said, you’ll be gone soon, once you are given permission to leave. And then you will most likely never see any of these people again. That last thought though, oddly enough, sends a pang of sadness through your heart. As you are growing rather fond of a few people you’ve met here. But not enough to happily stay confined, in the home of a merciless King, just so you can see them.

“Of course you don’t,” he mumbles quietly as he chuckles once more, then clears his throat, “so, shall we go in?”

You look up and realize you are standing in front of a large wooden door. One you are guessing leads to the dining hall. And just like that your nerves pick up, unsure of what you are going to encounter behind this very door. Who you will be dining with tonight. Will Nat and Bucky be there? Will the King be there!? Oh Gods, you shouldn’t have agreed to this. You should have just eaten alone in your room.

But before you can answer, Sam opens the door and walks you both into the loud room. The sounds of boisterous laughs and lively conversations ring in your ears. And then as if you are transported to somewhere entirely different, all the noise halts and you feel a bunch of eyes upon you now. The room becoming deathly silent. So quiet that you are afraid to even breathe, for fear the sound will echo loudly through the impossibly still room.

You quickly drop your eyes to your feet, afraid to see the expressions now upon everyone's faces. This was a horrible idea. You are going to ring Bucky’s neck the next time you see him—well, if you can even reach it, that is. And if you can even get that close to him, before he figures out what your plan is and stops you. Though you’d gladly spend a night in the cells if it meant teaching him a lesson.

Then all of a sudden there is the sound of chairs scraping on the worn wood floors, and you snap your head up to see everyone now standing. Except not upright, no, they are all bowing in your direction. But there is no way they are all bowing to you. You glance up at Sam, who still stands beside you, and he is already looking down at you. A massive grin on his lips, as he whispers an answer to the question you never actually voiced, “they are all bowing to you.”

Your eyes widen as you look forward again, to see they have all raised their heads now, but yet they just continue to stand there. “Why?” You whisper to him, “I’m not a Noble or a Royal. There is no reason for them to be bowing to me.”

He shrugs, “It's a respect thing. You’ll get used to it.”

“Everyone keeps saying I will get used to it. But then something new happens and I’m once again caught completely off guard. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to any of this,” you mumble, causing Sam to laugh.

“Come on, let’s get the introductions over with or they will just continue to stand there,” he pulls you towards the table and you noticed now that there are 4 spots left open. The head of the table being one of them, hopefully that means the King will not be dining with you tonight. Then the two spots on either side of the King’s, at the end of the table are also still open, though you notice now that Nat sits on the King’s left, in the second seat from the end. And then the final open spot is on the Kings right, directly across from Nat.

Sam pulls you to the open seat on the right of the King’s, which doesn’t seem appropriate at all. This is the place where Bucky should sit, or at the very least an honoured guest. Not you though, not someone who was originally caught trespassing on his land. This all just isn’t right, this isn’t proper.

Sam stands behind the seat next to yours, then begins going around the table and introducing you to everyone.

“Nat you have already met, she is the Kings,” he hesitates for just a second then continues on as if nothing happened, “second in command. She is in charge of tracking and covert operations.”

She nods her head to you, a friendly smirk on her lips.

“Next to Nat is Sir Anthony, he is in charge of our weaponry. He designs and builds all our artillery, his creations are highly sought after but he only produces them for our Kingdom. They give us a great advantage on the battlefield.”

“Yes, please continue stroking my ego, Sammy,” he chuckles then nods his head to you, “but just call me Tony, My Lady. Sir Anthony makes me sound so uptight and boring,” he playfully huffs.

You snort, having attempted to stop the laugh that wanted to bubble out of you just then, but failing to fully catch it in time. You smile at him, “I shall only call you Tony, if you agree to call me Y/N.”

“You have yourself a deal, my dear,” he chuckles, shooting you a wink.

Sam shakes his head, “anyways, moving on. Next to Tony,” he says the name playfully, “is Sir Thorfinn, the head of—“

“Just Thor,” the large mans deep voice cuts in, amusement clear in his voice. Which causes you to snicker quietly to yourself.

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes, and then turns to you. “Okay, to save us some time, I’ll just tell you who they are and what they prefer to be called.” You smirk but nod your agreement to that.

“So, that’s Sir Thorfinn, who goes by Thor. He is the head of the King’s Guard.” Thor smiles widely at you, looking almost like a large puppy. You just want to go over there and rub his belly while telling him that he is ‘such a good boy!’ In your best baby voice. But you refrain, for now. However once the glare from his bright smile subsides, you’re barely able to contain the cringe that wants to rip through you, as you realize he was one of the men who had captured you and Wanda. Then dragged you both back to the holding cells. And now you want to scold him for being a ‘very bad boy!’

“Next is Sir Uruloki, also known as Loki. He is in charge of our dungeons and anything involving prisoners of the King.” The tall, slender man nods, and you recognize him as the other man who caught you and Wanda trespassing. Sam bends down to whisper to you, “even though they don’t look it, Thor and Loki are actually brothers.”

You glance between the two, and he is right, they don’t look like brothers at all.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, My Lady,” Loki says from his place at the other end of the table. And this time you do cringe. You couldn’t stop it even if you’d tried.

“Yes,” Thor pipes up, a regretful frown now on his lips, “our deepest apologies for yesterday, My Lady. As we deal with many trespassers, one can become rather unfeeling when faced with the same problems over and over again. Though I’ll say that none have ever gotten as far as you did, I should very much like to pick your brain one day, about how you got so far. If that is alright with you?”

You give Thor a small smile, you fully understand that you and Wanda getting as far into the King’s territory as you did, could only stand as a direct reflection on the abilities of Thor's Guards. And that it could make them all look bad and unqualified in the eyes of the people, of the King. What with the fact that two small, untrained women were able to get by them all, unnoticed. “That is alright with me, though I’m not sure how long I will be here, but any day before I leave should work fine. And there are no hard feelings, Thor. I understand that you were just doing your duty.”

“And how is your leg today, My Lady?” He then asks, glancing down as if in shame.

“It is much better today, I’d forgotten all about it, actually.”

And with those words he looks up, and his frown vanishes and is replaced by a giant blinding smile once again. “I am so pleased to hear that,” he nods happily, then Sam continues on.

“Alright, since you already know of the awesomeness that is I,” he gestures to himself, “we will skip me. So that leads us to this handsome devil to my right,” he says as he claps the blonde man on the shoulder, causing the man to chuckle. “This is Sir Clinttun, also known as Clint. He is the head of our Archery Division. The man is as close to a human hawk as you will ever find. He never misses a target.”

You lean forward slightly to see Clint a little better passed Sam, he smiles at you and gives you a small wave, which you return.

“Then beside him is Sir Tobruceian, also known as Bruce. He is a philosopher, and doesn’t really head up one thing in particular. But more so dabbles in a great many things, mainly astronomy, alchemy and medicine. Whichever calls to him that day, really.”

You glance to Bruce and see him nod, but he doesn’t look at you. You assume he must just be extremely shy. Which doesn’t bother you one bit.

“And then last but not least is Sir Scott, he oversees the town of Winterbourne. He is sort of like a Mayor and a Sheriff all mixed into one. He takes care of the needs of our townsfolk and helps play the middle man between the King and the people.”

You look down towards the man, who gives off such a friendly and approachable vibe. You can instantly tell he is probably perfect for his position, even before speaking a single word to the man. “What, no shortened name, Scott?” You playfully ask, “I’m not too call you cot, or something of the like?”

Everyone at the table bursts out laughing, Scott laughing the hardest out of the bunch, “if you wish to call me that, feel free, My Lady. But unfortunately, it’s normally just Scott, I’m clearly not as fancy as the lot of em.” He glares playfully at the others then grins widely at you.

“Then I shall call you Scott as well,” you grin back at him. “As I rather like that name, it suits you very well—“

A deep menacing growl reverberates around the room, halting your words and trapping them in your throat. Everyone's laughter ceases immediately and you look around to see everyone now facing something—or someone—behind you, and bowing their heads respectfully. A shiver runs down your spine, but oddly enough, it isn’t a bad one. It’s a rather pleasant one, actually.

You turn and come face to face with those gorgeous blue eyes from last night. The ones attached to the ridiculously large blonde who caught you. The giant golden wolf.

Your eyes widen as you just stand there, staring at him for a moment. He is much more handsome than you remembered, and maybe even more handsome than anyone you have ever laid eyes on before, or at least anyone you can actually remember laying eyes upon. Being that you still can’t remember much from before Wanda and Pietro found you in the woods—but just then a thought crashes into your dazed mind. Is he the King?

Oh Gods!! He is the King!

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

@hopefulmoonobject @caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @marvel13princess @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original

[player-1]

The Near-Death-Experience Theory (KH Unchained)

Oh boy...Don’t I have something fun here... (Also a TLDR at the bottom)

With the translation to the Union X novel finally released, in-depth secrets come to light, of course, with a little bit of digging as well. 

In my case, one thing seems to puzzle me more than ever...the Player's connection with Nightmare Chirithy; something that eluded most of the fanbase since Unchained and Union X was released. Of course, the Chirithy the Player has acts more like a parental figure than a close friend (now implied with Elrena and Blaine’s Chirithies), but maybe there's a reason for that...What if something happened to the Player and he had to have his Chirithy replaced? 

As the title says above, what if the Player suffered a near-death experience just before Unchained and his Chirithy "disconnected" from his wielder to later become a Nightmare? And what if said Nightmare becomes the focal point of the War? (To avoid running on old steam, I'll call the Player Hero (personal headcanon name) and the Nightmare Chirithy OG Chirithy. I'll mostly go off the novel for the fine details and list the pages, so have fun following along if you have the novel too! [I’ll add some screenshots of the pages or just explain the major details, don’t blame me if it’s a bit sloppy or all over-the-place..It’s more than recommended to read from start-to-finish, just in case.😉])

Comment or reblog if you’re interested!

First, I'm going off some unusual traits Hero possesses that might describe some past "incident" and the repercussions that follow.

How Hero obtained the Keyblade (Page 15) The one thing that contrasts between the novel and the game is the introduction. Of course, it means the Keyblade hero of Light goes through some weird dream sequence at the Station of Awakening and gets their Keyblade, right? Well, not for Hero's case. The mobile includes that feature (albeit the lack of self-portrait glass mural) while the novel doesn't even bother to describe the scene at all.  Why, you ask? Well, most people ignore this key detail...

Out of every dive in the heart in the series, they usually wake up from that sleep (either on the beach for Sora or in Twilight Town for Roxas), but Hero starts off fresh out of Dive-time at the Fountain Square.  (Little tidbit and KH3 spoiler, the Station of Awakening is akin to the veil between life and death. The more you know...) In my opinion, I would suppose that the Foretellers would pick their wielders, or the wielders pick their Master, vice versa; just a normal application or suggestion to get the ball rolling...

Hero's sense of navigation (page 22) Little sidenote honestly. But how does a kid who was born and raised in Daybreak have no idea how to get to the Waterfront Park? 

Screw that, he should know the place like the back of his hand!

The Neo Shadow Trio (Pages 31-33) Now, this trio caught me a bit by surprise. Of course, even if they didn't survive the Neo Shadow attack, the last member managed to hold them off for a couple of days until their final breath. That's a bummer, I know, but it's strange how Hero never considered working with a team beforehand. But the question still remains...

Here's a simple answer for you; kids die!

The Power Bangle (Pages 33-34) Isn't it just a coincidence that when Hero wants to get stronger, especially when he wants friends that actually stay with him, a Chirithy comes around with all the answers he needs? Even if the promise is enticing, he hesitates.

"Wasn't guilt that awful feeling you got when you did something wrong?" In my opinion, Hero's definition of Guilt is somewhat confusing. While the Neo Shadow Trio "left him", Hero felt guilty about not being strong enough to protect others. In a strange sort of way, those are the two things he feels guilty about, and the two things that all Keyblade wielders have to follow.  Having friends to give them strength, and power to protect themselves. Hero, for that brief moment of loss and confusion, was guilty about not following either of those pieces of advice. 

Finally, Hero's little speech before throwing himself into the jaws of possible death (Pages 84-85) While it was pretty inspirational and moving, even if this reaction was spurred on by Ava, he had a lot more of a burden to get off his chest after Ephemer's "death".  He explains how, no matter how hard he worked for Anguis, it felt incredibly unfair to have that all taken away from him.  What caught me off guard was his realization of the Darklings and how he was ready to throw his life away to "avenge" Em. 

I had to fight who I considered my friends? Did Hero know that the Darklings were the Neo Shadow Trio?

Of course, for such a young and ambitious wielder, none of the Foretellers take the time to describe what Darkness should be. Even with his sense of heroics, no one would have the balls to go against a Foreteller, especially not the one they follow. Also, don’t just be a child soldier, be a child soldier with feelings!

Alright then...even if this seems like a stretch, but it feels like Hero holds some kind of untold trauma in his heart, but just doesn't understand (or remembers) why. He's way too quiet than other people, doesn't think a lot about others (or getting help from other wielders), and even if he got friends, he can get pretty defensive if something happened to them or blames himself for something out of his control. It's a bit interesting, right? 

Well don't worry, it gets far more interesting with the OG Chirithy, believe me!

OG Chirithy reflects Hero’s original personality before the accident (Pages 33-34, 79-80) As mentioned earlier with Elrena and Blaine, I believe that, if given enough time and partnership, they can reflect their wielder's more intimate and personal interests and personality. (ie, Elrena's Chirithy is caring and considerate of others, as opposed to Elrena being spunky and more of a lone-wolf kind of girl. Blaine's Chirithy is sassy and demanding, something Blaine puts aside for a cool and charismatic mannerism.)

With that little fact in mind, we can put together Hero's "original" personality based on OG/Nightmare Chirithy's appearances.

First, when Hero is given the Power Bangle. The first thing OG Chirithy does is congratulate Hero for all the hard work and how much he grew since day one (something the other Chirithy tones down to a teacher-student kind of exchange), and Hero was just thinking about getting stronger; offers him the Power Bangle.  The entire conversation seems relaxed and straightforward; with the Bangle, Hero can collect Lux and Guilt for his Union and himself respectively.  It's also worth noticing that "The sparkling Power Bangle fit so comfortably that it was hard to believe you'd only just put it on. You were so pleased you couldn't help but show it off." (pg 33). It's really surprising to consider how that Chirithy knew Hero's wrist size, even for a simple accessory. It's tempting to say the least...or he just knows his measurements, something like that. 

Second, after the battle with the Darklings. Despite the surprising revelation with the Darklings' origin, OG Chirithy was surprisingly calm about the whole situation.  "I thought if I took away everyone's Lux, there'd be no reason to fight anymore." Of course, this was all because of Hero learning about the coming end-times and wielders starting to fight over Lux from Skuld, so it's strange to consider why taking wielder's Lux would solve the problem.  In my opinion, this means something more: for everyone to be equal. Lux means fighting stronger Heartless, and the more Lux a wielder has makes them arrogant and prideful. By equalizing wielders' Lux income, that would mean them working together as a group, producing more Lux as a whole than a single overpowered tank could.  Surprisingly enough, that's also the one thing that Hero desires; friends he can relate to and fight alongside with. Even if the manner of achieving this dream seems drastic, it's something Hero's current Chirithy wouldn't understand. All in all, OG Chirithy seems to be calm and in-control of everything around him, wants to be strong so he has friends that care about him, and he’s more than happy to make sure his wielder is happy too...albiet in some pretty unusual ways.

Now, even with the existence of a Nightmare Chirithy, everything about it seems to break a recognized loophole in Unchained. When a wielder dies or falls into Darkness, their Chirithy disappears alongside them. And even if a wielder falls into Darkness (ie turning into a Darkling), they're unable to wield a Keyblade or use Medals in their state.  Well, here's where everything gets blown out of the water!

How in the world does the OG Chirithy know about Spirits and Nightmares, while Hero's Chirithy doesn't? Even if the novel is in the point of view of Hero's new Chirithy, there seem to be some key points that Chirithy 2 doesn't mention (the story with Backcover and the Foretellers, and even the Master of Masters himself), but here's where it gets interesting. The only Chirithy that knows about Nightmares is the very first Chirithy MoM created.  What I'm trying to say is this...If Chirithies are so interconnected with their wielders they're all "If I die, I die with you", what if the first Chirithy was a prototype Spirit?

While that warning with a wielder falling into Darkness and creating a Nightmare seems threatening enough, not a lot of wielders have enough strength to even control that Darkness, nonetheless use it with their humanity intact.  A Chirithy becoming a Nightmare, at most, would be an extremely rare case; that would mean the wielder getting overcome by Darkness and surviving on their own, and I'm pretty sure a bunch of teenagers wouldn't live up to that if they even tried.

So why, pray tell, does this mean with Hero?  Some interesting connections, actually.  In pages 65 and 87, Ava seems to know that Hero can easily be overwhelmed with his emotions (more so in the heart), but Hero seems pretty resilient to the Darkness as a whole.  If an ordinary wielder knew that their friend was offed by a Foreteller, they would've been acting a lot more brash and destructive than that; but Hero doesn't, he just acted far too calm about it all.    

The day before Hero meets Ephemer, Chirithy meets OG Chirithy, though a bit darker in shade (pg 38). At that time, Chirithy remembers the Foretellers "Who's the traitor?" scene in Backcover (pg 52). Isn't it a bit of a coincidence that just as Hero finally gets a new friend, the Nightmare starts to make a move? 

Even if the Foretellers knew about the Nightmare, they only looked upon themselves as this "traitor". After all, isn't it easier to put the blame on those closest to you than a random stranger? And even if the Foretellers knew about the Nightmare's wielder, would you really think that they had to put down some random kid who just so happens to possess the root of all evil?  Hero doesn't look or act corrupted at all, so he practically stays under the radar the entire time as the Foretellers eventually tear each other apart; focusing more on the "traitor" than getting rid of the obvious threat. 

I know I'm rambling way too much at this point, but one thing also seemed to elude me...

Was this all part of the Master's plan? 

To give a random wielder a prototype Chirithy and hope for the best? Well, if the Master didn't know what would happen, the War never would have occurred. If the Master predicted that, with the simple act of giving the first Chirithy to Hero, would eventually lead to him almost losing his heart to Darkness (or Heartless, idk), and eventually creating the Nightmare he warned about?  And before the Foretellers could realize what happened, MoM just kept cranking out more and more Spirits to cover up the tracks; eventually leading to an army of identical Scottish Folds and absolutely way too many kids to count.

And if, after that horrifying accident, Hero suppressed his memories of the event; and in a sudden jump of adrenaline, somehow managed to reclaim his Keyblade?  (I know it seems a bit dumb to mention this now, but try to relate this to the aftermath of Sora's almost-norting from DDD. Almost losing his heart to Darkness could put a lot of strain on it; and as a result, his Keyblade suffers a "soft reboot" of sorts. After all, a Keyblade is a reflection of their heart, right? If it gets hurt, the Keyblade reflects it, no matter how stupid that plothole might have been.)

The Master of Masters said about the traitor that would start the War, all that kind of stuff in the Lost Page, but the Page never described who or what the traitor would be. Just pick out someone evil who has a way of spreading Darkness and that's that...But that's the problem here. Only the Nightmare is spreading Darkness, not the wielder; even without the person's knowledge. Hero’s connection to Nightmare Chirithy is like a walking paradox; while the wielder collects Lux and works like every other Keyblade wielder, his Chirithy works behind the scenes in ultimately causing tension and violence across for the Unions and Foretellers.  Despite the whole world practically revolving around you, maybe now you realize why...You the Player, in some crazy convoluted future-vision crap, was the traitor the whole time! 

TL;DR  The Master of Masters gave Hero the very first Chirithy, but Hero almost died from Heartless/Darkness, causing him to lose his memory from the trauma (that PTSD jazz) and resetting his Keyblade's abilities. Meanwhile, with Chirithy's bond weakening from the attack, obtains the bangles, taps into the wielders' Guilt, and spreads Darkness all throughout Daybreak Town; eventually becoming the traitor and the main cataclyst of the Keyblade War.