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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

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I'll crawl home to you

Next chapter

a/n okay this sat in my notes for so long. I wanted to delete first, then I thought hmm... let's indulge, right? Also, please be gentle, I've never written for Javi.

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warnings: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood, mentions of death...I think that's all.

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"Is Carillo in?", both males lifted their heads from their never-ending piles of documents right as you approached. Each step was laced with nothing but confidence. Only fools would stand in your way. You were nothing like the women Javi was used to. He had never seen you striding across the office in a skirt or a skimpy shirt that most secretarial women preferred here. But then you weren't a secretory ether.

"Yeah, he should be", Steve said, beating Javi to an answer and eyeing the files in your hand. Neatly put as always, followed by the colorful tabs that no one else used, and even if Javi had made fun of them in the past, it was something that constantly reminded him of you. "What's that?", Steve tried to reach for the reports, but you only slapped his hand away playfully. As if he was nothing but a curious kid, shoving his nose into something that wasn't for him. "You'll see. Meeting in five, watch", you stated before walking through Carillo's door, closing it with daring eyes and a wink.

Carillo was the one to command emergency meetings, so you calling the shots looked nothing but childish to an unknowing ear, but then, not even two minutes later, Carillo emerged from the door, "Meeting in five", his voice boomed through the office, and with the corner of his eyes, Javi could see you leaning against the table smiling to yourself.

You fascinated him. There was no other way to go around it. Back when you just joined the team, Javi did doubt you. Toxic masculinity and all that shit got him humbled real quickly alongside all the other sorry fucks who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. There were not many females among the leading troops, but you were unbeatable. Many men were pissed beyond any mark when Carillo made you his second in command. Even Javi was pissed. Because most of the fuckers here had been here for years, some ten and counting, and it took you less than two to climb almost to the top. But then, no one was better fitted for that role, and with time passing, one thing got even clearer. The thing that pissed Pena off the most was that your position got you and Carillo way too close for Javi's liking. Not that you were his. Not that there was an us.

But you were like an illness clinging to him. Javi couldn't think clearly. Most of his brain was occupied with you. He fucked so many whores when he felt his heart starting to want to lean just to you. He had fucked them all by that time, he was sure that he liked you, but that only made him feel worse. Common Bogota whore. That's what he was. Equally as much, he sold himself both for information and because he needed someone to cling to him, even if it was for the money.

"Why an orphanage?", Steve was leaning against the table, looking down at the papers you had forbidden him to touch five minutes ago. "Would you look there?", you sassed back, making Steve shrug his shoulders in agreement as he continued to flip through all the other documents. "We don't need a full-blown mission. It would just be a check. If we find something to hold onto, we'll send more men", you continued, glancing to Carillo, needing his nods as validation now that the room was dead silent.

"Pena", Carillo called out, getting the agent's eyes to shoot up at him, "You haven't said anything". And it was true he hadn't. One thing that Javi loved was disagreeing. You two were the best at that. But he was never this silent. Regardless of whether he liked the idea or not, he would still share his thoughts, but now you got absolutely nothing.

"Send an armed force; do the thing. I don't understand why we are even discussing this", Javi carelessly threw the case with documents onto the table before crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth thinned into a straight line. "No armed forces are walking into an orphanage. Those kids have enough trauma to last them a lifetime".

Javi scoffed, running his hand over his beard. "What do you suggest we roll up for a walk there with no guns, no nothing?", he said in an almost mocking manner as his lips curled upward. The room stayed silent. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly. Something in Javi's face twisted. "You can't be serious…", he trailed off. "I'll just go and look; we only need access to the basement parts; hygiene security paper will do the job", you said firmly. The plan seemed simple enough. "You're not going to a potential hideout without a gun", Javi leaned closer to you over the table, fists starting to clench as he glared at you.

"It'll look suspicious", Carillo added, seeming so unphased by all of this and all the things that could go wrong that Javi had to pull the last string of self-control to not pinch him in the face. "Suspicious, my ass, she can be walking into a trap", Javi raised his voice as he shot daggers at the head of the national police unit.

"Since when do you care?", those words took a moment to sink in. And when Javi turned back to you, there was no resemblance to the man you saw a couple of minutes ago. They were dead empty, and there was only anger there. "Good luck dying there since you seem so eager", Javi spat out, not turning away from you because he wanted to see the way your face fell.

"Javi…", Steve muttered. Out of everyone in the office, he was the only one who truly knew just how much you cared for one another. Your eyes started to sting, but you didn't drop the stabbing gaze that Javi was hurling your way, "Don't worry, agent, no one will send you an invite to the funeral". With those words, you turn away from him. Snatching the papers from the table as you turn towards Carillo as if Javi was no longer around.

Did Javi regret his words instantly? No, but he regretted them the moment he watched you unbutton the dress you were going to wear so none other than Carillo would strap communication devices onto your body. He hated that his hands were on your body. Fingers tracing the soft, warm skin. Does Carillo know that Javi's fingers were there too? Does he know that Javi would give up everything, even his career, for the chance to feel that soft skin again on his body every morning? With a frown on his face, Javi put his cigarette out before snatching his jacket off the chair and heading out.

This seemed silly, but you had never gone on a mission with Javi upset with you, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, you argued often. Agreeing on something with that man was a challenge, but you made it work most of the time. You would blow each other's brains out by shouting at the office, and then one would always join the other outside for a smoke or just a breath of fresh air.

You would bump Javi's shoulder, making the frown even worse, until your fingers would sneak to pull the cigarette away from his lips so you could take a drag yourself. You would rarely talk. Both stubborn and aware that it would most definitely lead to more fighting. So silence it was. You would lean on Javi's shoulder, and he would never miss an opportunity to bring you closer to him.

The embraces at times felt so intimate that fighting back tears was a challenge. But the smell of Javi's aftershave and the smoke lingering there brought you unimaginable levels of comfort. The same comfort that you felt laying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It had only happened a couple of times, but those couple of times were enough to make you addicted. Because the Javi at the office was nothing like the Javi you got to see behind closed doors. And it wasn't because he fucked good. No, that anyone could tell. It was because his touch did linger, and behind the wall that he had built for protection was the man who was so capable of love - he had just forgotten it.

"How could I help you, ma'am?", a voice asked, bringing you out of the trance and causing you to flinch slightly. You needed to put your head in check. This. You couldn't allow yourself to think about this while doing your job. "Hygiene check", you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to the elderly lady. She looked you up and down. "Since when are they no longer sending creepy old men?", she asked you sarcastically, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Since I told them that it's inappropriate, especially around the kids". The woman nodded her head, dropping the paper on the front desk before reaching for the keys. "I'll walk you through the upper floors; the basement is easy to navigate on your own", she stated, moving to walk in front of you.

"Ask her about the size of the lower levels", Carillo's voice rang in your ear, and you flinched again. God, what was going on today? How can you forget that you had a communication set on, with microphones and all? They could hear your surroundings just as much. Focus, you told yourself once more. "A small basement for such a place—surely that's an issue?", you asked her, bringing the fake criteria papers to your chest and reaching for the pen so you could pretend to mark stuff.

"We don't need it. Things like fresh food and other products come in almost daily", she stated. "You have a company you work with?", you asked, looking at the pictures that covered all of the hallways. "Yes, I can give you the information, and the truck that delivered today's packages is still downstairs", she said, yet her voice slowly died down as your eyes fell on the kids playing in the colorfully painted rooms. The big windows allowed you to take a full look at them.

"Why is he alone?", the lady twisted to look back, stopping mid-sentence about the new vegetable stock, catching and following your gaze, now focused on the boy, seated in the furthest corner of the room. Knees up to his chest as he scarcely looked at the other kids. The lady sighed, "He got here not long ago. Hard to adapt. Both of his parents died, as did his sister. He's alone", bile rose in your throat as you swallowed thickly. Suddenly, you wish you had somewhere to lean on.

Javi's muscles tensed as those words rang through the car they all sat in. Carillo was about to speak into the headset, but Javi snatched it out of his hands. He doubted that Carillo knew. Maybe. He would like to believe that no one else did it besides him. That you had only trusted Javi with the story from your past that night. That you had cried because you hadn't told anyone else beforehand, and reliving it was too painful. Javi waited some more, pointing a warning finger at Carillo, who was cursing Javi in Spanish. Javi wanted to give you a moment to try and pull yourself out on your own. You were a big girl, and he knew that you could handle yourself. But everyone had their demons who possessed them at times; this just happened to be yours. Yet another reason why Javi didn't approve of this in the first place.

"You're in Bogota, not back in D.C., carino", Javi's voice filled your ears, and you had to blink a couple of times, feeling the shiver run down your back. Shiver that was followed by a wave of warmth, because if you could hear him, it meant that he came along after all. "Is he looked after?", the question seemed stupid, but you just had to know, even if it had nothing to do with why you were here, "All kids are looked after here, ma'am".

Javi cursed under his breath. You were slipping, and he could feel it. This was just too convenient. Too out of the blue. This had to be set up. To throw you off the hook so they could take you out. Javi could just feel it, and the worry only grew stronger. "Y/N, if you don't feel well, back down", Javi said again. His voice was firm. It was an order, and you knew that it was the correct one as well, but… "I'll look through the basement today", you said softly as you turned to the old lady. "Of course", she said with a nod, rushing to give you the keys.

"Y/n", Javi spoke again as a warning, but you didn't say anything. You closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself, right as the lady showed you to the back door. Javi moved to get up instead once the line fell silent, but Carillo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "You don't have the order to interfere". That made Javi's blood boil, "You, out of all people, should feel that she's not in the right mindset to be there", Carillo said nothing, only locking the car doors, his eyes now fully fixed on Javi.

The hour you spent inside there was a nightmare. You took a couple of pictures. Sneaked in some papers that seemed off. Now all you needed to do was walk out of the building, and then it would all be over. A breath that Javi didn't know he was holding slipped past his lips as he watched you walk out of the building, turning back to wave to the elderly lady before you moved closer to the street that separated you from the rest of the team. Even from back there, Javi could tell that your eyes looked hazy. A new worry sparked. What if you misread the speed of the car? What if you get hit? Javi reached for the door handle, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You looked around a couple more times before stepping forward; your eyes met Javi's desperate ones. And even if he knew that you were beyond pissed at him, you still shot him a slight smile. A little something that would keep his nerves at bay for now. Until you crossed the street and Javi could once again sense your perfume lingering in the car.

And then a blink of an eye changes everything. A bullet suddenly pierces your shoulder, sending you staggering back onto the street. It feels like the world had stopped as Javi watched the red stain get bigger and bigger. "Get down", Carillo shouted at the top of his lungs, making a handful of men drop to their knees, but Javi didn't move. He pushed off the car and rushed forward, "Pena, that's an order", but he was done with following orders for today. Another shot rang out. This time it sounded a lot stronger, and you suddenly gripped your lower stomach. That made Javi lose all sense; he took off running, and suddenly the distance seemed way too long. Pushing panicked people to the side as he scratches his way to you.

You didn't register the first bullet; it was like your mind blanked, and only the feeling of something wet dripping down your shoulder made you frown at the situation. It's the second bullet that pierced your left side that made you let out a scream. One that kept ringing in your ears. You could see people moving, but no one was stopping to look at you. Your mind was running so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Blinking started to get harder, your breaths were painful and shallow now.

"Carino", you heard before you could even see the face, and for a second, it felt like you were imagining it all. "Keep your eyes open", said Javi, who was now leaning over you, palm cradling your cheek as he pats it a couple of times to keep you conscious for as long as possible. Another shot rang out, and Javi turned around to fire his gun before his attention was back on you. "Not safe", you mutter, your weak fingers now wrapped around Javi's wrist. "I'll be fine", he stated blankly, drawing his gaze up for just one moment, catching a glimpse of Steve tackling a male to the ground before he's looking down at your paling face, "Can you press your palms to your shoulder, baby?"

When you don't move, Javi is the one moving his palm over the second wound, pressing as hard as he possibly can. "Let me", you mutter, and God or whatever that people believe in knows Javi was glad you don't finish that sentence because he can't and won't think of that outcome. "Don't you dare? You're walking out of here, you hear me?", Javi said letting go of your shoulder. He patted your cheek again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. Anger only rushed faster as Javi shouted once again for an ambulance or a medic.

"He had Michael's eyes", you muttered, breathing now even, though Javi knew what that meant - your body was crashing. "Did he, carino?", he knows this is not a conversation he should be having with you, but he's desperate to keep you awake for as long as possible. Javi's hands were soaked with your blood by now, and so was your flowery dress. You nodded your head weakly and said, "I saw Mikey". Javi clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "I hope you said hi from me as well", but your head lulled to the side. Javi's blood went ice cold because, for a split second, he thought that was it—you were dead. You bled out in his arms. Letting go of your wounds, Javi pulled you closer to his chest, your limp body looking nothing like a rag doll in his arms. The sirens rang somewhere in the air, but now all Javi could think of was how he would never be the same if you never opened your eyes again.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #javi pena x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #narcos imagine #narcos x reader #narcos fanfiction

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gatheredfates · 6 months ago

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Good morning all, happy Sunday! 🌸 I am pleased to announce there are a couple of resources added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives. A huge thank you to some of the members in SEAFLOOR who helped in their sourcing!

As of today (05/19), you can find the following new additions:

LORE

Hingan Alphabet — Compiled and translated by @forever-halone, this guide assists in the understanding of the Hingan alphabet as a derivative of Hiragana and how it can be used for Far Eastern characters.

MISC

A Fisher's Guide to Eorzea — An absolutely massive guide on how to catch every single fish in Eorzea (and beyond!), created by @fisherfruity.

Fonts Of Etheirys — Created by bulletbill4l on Reddit, this font transforms your text into its Eorzean or Hingan equivalent, depending on what language you use!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here, send me an ask with the relevant information contained on the Compendium, or join my Discord at SEAFLOOR (21+ only)! If you'd like more information about my server, you can click through to this handy-dandy post.

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. Again, all accessible on the document! 🌻

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads.

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include in-character tabloid blogs used to generate RP.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

FAQ.

I want to put my community on the compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community on the compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it.

What resources/communities can I add if I'm not the owner of them?

Mutual consent is extremely important to me, so anything that isn't a large-scale community OR a publicly accessible resource must be endorsed by the owner/admin/moderators in order to be added to the compendium. I operate under the assumption that a resource posted to a public space (tumblr, googledocs, youtube, etc) is open to all. A large-scale community is one with a significant member count or openly advertises itself as being accessible to everyone for whatever purpose it serves. If in doubt, please get in touch with me. I'm happy to contact your community owners for you!

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, absolutely contact me about that.

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv community #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea's community compendium #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks

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curio-queries · 14 days ago

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I just like reading your thoughts on things, so I'm curious, do you think bts will leave hybe when their contracts end in 2025?

Before 2024, or even just earlier this year, I would've said that question was ridiculous because why in the world would they, but as more comes out related to the legal battle with mhj about what is going on behind the scenes at the company and their incompetency (the leaked document today is especially damning which painted a target on jimn's back while admitting they do nothing about the hate the boys get that gets reported to them), handling of yoongi's situation, jungkook speaking out in a way that did not explicitly support the company, basically ass promotion for their work (the company has learned to rely too heavily on fans doing the footwork for bts), etc. it is kind of making me wonder. K-army across the board pretty much hate hybe and have for a while, everything that comes out just deepens their hate. I do think bts are in a weird position because a lot of the issues are coming from hybe, rather than BH and they seem very close with a lot of the staff who are also intertwined in all this. I also have no idea where they'd go. More and more kpop idols are leaving their agencies and starting their own, but I doubt bts wants to deal with all the business stuff.

Idk, 9 months ago I wouldn't have even considered this question, now I really don't know based on everything we're learning about the company. I do feel bad for jin though, hybe/BH mess plus yoongi's situation have kept bts' name being constantly dragged through the mud since he was discharged. I've been an army since 2016/2017 and I don't think I've experienced a period this bad. I hope all the boys are doing ok right now, I've seen some people say they're glad in they're in the military right now just to be away from all this, but at the same time I imagine it feels awful to be that helpless watching this stuff go down and you can't speak out or defend yourself or each other.

Hi anon,

Thank-you for sending this in; I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you with my answer though...or non-answer more like.

So, the short answer to your question is that I choose to have no opinion. I'll put the reason why below a cut so anyone not interested can pass:

There was a vlogbrothers video years ago about the concept of giving up having opinions on things and I've fully embraced this idea. Basically the idea is making an active decision to not hold an opinion on something. The example they give I think was about other people's m&m flavour preference? Something like that? But have you ever had the experience where someone shares a benign preference like them preferring the peanut m&ms over all of the other flavours and someone else respond with shock about they could prefer different one from you. Having an opinion on someone else's preference over something so trivial adds absolutely no value to your own life experience so it's just wasted energy.

Once I started noticing these kinds of inconsequential opinions that I was holding, and had practice in giving them up, I was also better able to recognize situations where an opinion on my part would just disturb my personal peace unnecessarily.

Back to your question about BTS possibly moving companies in light of the current drama. This is such a large issue that requires some specific insight. At minimum, here's what I would want to consult with an someone more knowledgeable on:

Landscape of the music industry in Korea both past and present

BTS's involvement in the actual hierarchy of the companies involved.

Knowledge of the current events surrounding the investigation

Confidence in the quality of translations

Cultural context

There's more but this is what's sticking in my brain right now. And all of these areas are so far outside the scope of my knowledge that I realized just how much work it would be for me to even feel somewhat confident and informed in making an opinion. When everything started unfolding, I had to make a conscious decision whether to dig in enough that I could get to that point. I recognized that I just don't have the energy or time to really do my due diligence in this area.

My engagement in kpop beyond just listening to the music is wholly an escape. If it ever gets to the point where I'm not ultimately being uplifted, I will stop engaging. Life is hard enough as it is without adding further burden from something that's supposed to be entertainment. So I'm purposefully not planning to delve further into these speculations.

I will give one piece of advice for anyone that is engaging in this. Be very mindful of the sources that you are listening to and try to become aware of what they may have to gain from presenting the events from either perspective. There was a while where I was getting fed some videos of people talking about it in my algorithms but there was always something that didn't sit right with the various viewpoints being presented, no matter which side was presenting it.

I've definitely seen some parallels between this situation and the endless 'discussions' regarding whether the members would receive exemption from their military service. It was so peaceful no longer being subject to that topic once the announcement was made.

Anyway, that's all I have to say on the subject. I hope you find some people that are able to engage in this discussion in the way you're looking.

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 8 months ago

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Ooh, can I have "Alex Lois thing" for 200? It makes me think of Cool Aunt Kara AU, but I'm sure whatever you've come up with is fabulous

In a shocking turn of events, it was actually a canon thing! XD Long, loooooong ago, I noticed this parallel between Lois and Alex and I started brainstorming a crossover fic. But then I fell behind on Superman & Lois and thus the motivation to see it through kinda petered out. XD

Here's what I had:

“Are you going to tell him?”

They're standing in what remains of the main cavern of the Fortress. Alien weaponry and salvaged Kryptonian artifacts litter the floor, the shelves that once displayed them reduced to slushy masses of ice chips.

As Alex surveys the damage, she wants to laugh at the question. Are you going to tell him? Clark will know, the minute he returns to the Fortress, that something has happened.

But she sincerely doubts she'll get a questioning phone call.

“No,” Alex tells J'onn, her voice sounding much stronger than she currently feels. “No, we—we don't know anything—won't know anything until Brainy is finished with the diagnostics.”

J'onn's expression is skeptical, and she can tell he wants to press the issue further, so she moves to start putting the scattered items back...somewhere. Anywhere. Anything to keep her hands and mind occupied, away from the only concrete thought she's had in the last hour or so.

Kara is trapped in the Phantom Zone. She's gone. She's—

“He needs to know, Alex.”

J'onn's voice is low and gentle. She shoves aside a pile of snow with her bare hand, ignoring the way the chill is starting to settle into her arms and legs. A stark reminder that this place...really isn't meant for humans.

“Not yet,” Alex says. She briefly worries that J'onn will argue with her...and that she'll lose that argument, because she can't come up with a single, compelling reason as to why she shouldn't tell him.

She just...she can't. Because the only time they call Clark is when the world is ending—literally. Clark is a last resort. Clark is...he's...

Next of kin is the phrase that comes to mind.

And Alex refuses to even acknowledge that possibility.

J'onn must sense her thoughts—an impressive feat, given how hard she's trying to suppress them—and simply nods.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Not yet.”

It's a bright, beautiful, downright pastoral day in Smallville. Not that Lois would know, as she's spent the greater part of the last...seventeen? hours? Seated at the kitchen table, pouring over the collection of files Maxy was able to dig up and send her way.

She finishes skimming another accounts report, and checks it against another document on her laptop. Notes the inconsistencies, moves on to the next.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

“Mom. Mom.” Lois blinks, and looks up from her mountain of files. Jonathan stands at the far end of the table, holding a bowl of cereal. “You're using like. The whole table.”

“Oh,” she stands and starts to try and clear a space for him. “Sorry hon. Let me just—”

“Actually, I think I'll go...” he nods towards the family room, wearing an amused look. “Coffee table looks safer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves off his gentle teasing. “Use a coaster!”

He disappears into the family room, and Lois smiles, ultimately grateful for the interruption; the mention of the coffee table has made her acutely aware that some caffeine would be...pretty good, right about now.

She moves to start a pot, checking her phone as she pulls the filters and grounds from the cupboard. The usual alerts appear on her notifications screens—The NY Times, Gotham Gazette, National City Tribune...

In fact...there have been a lot of alerts from the Tribune, of late, and yet hardly any coverage of Supergirl exploits.

She skims the top stories—a few mentions of other meta-human heroes. Nothing about Kara.

Gonna have to tell Clark his cousin is slacking, she thinks as she turns on the coffee maker. ...Maybe have him call—

“Mom, mom!”

It's Jonathan again, but his voice is high and distressed, coming from upstairs. Lois drops her phone on the counter, all thoughts of the Tribune and coffee forgotten as she hurries for the stairs. There's only one thing on her mind, only one thing that could make Jonathan call out like that.

Jordan.

Probably won't return to this but would love to (maybe? someday???) write more Lois. She's such a great character, and so often underserved in the actual comic books. DC greenlight a new Lois books you COWARDS. XD Thanks for sending this in!

#stranger replies #WIP tag game #stranger writes #SG fic #this has reminded me about my Lois rant re: the main supes book making her editor in chief @ the Daily Planet and then doing NOTHING WITH I

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leftistscum · 1 year ago

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I AM CURSING YOU FUCKBAGS TO 1000 YEARS OF OWOFIED NONSENSE. I HAVE TO SUFFER, NOW YOU HAVE TO SUFFER WITH ME.

Update:

All this effort and it doesn't even work. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Current theory is that I didn't include an important part of it in the while loop. The bot scans new posts, and I'm not gonna re-post this for the second time. It's only been actually tested two or three times including this try, and I'm keeping this as a sort of devlog. Update 2:

I restarted the OAuth apps that I made earlier today (an OAuth callback server to catch the keys, and another OAuth thing to generate the Authorization verifier). I worked almost all day to get these two to work together. The API ended up sending this error, and I don't know what it means, but it doesn't throw any errors client-side. Here's the error it throws. {'meta': {'status': 429, 'msg': 'Limit Exceeded'}, 'response': [], 'errors': [{'title': 'Limit Exceeded', 'code': 0, 'detail': 'Minor hiccup. Try again.'}]} Like, okay, great. Now I gotta actually look at the documentation and find out what this magic gibberish means, because this could relate to all those times I tried to authenticate, OR I hit the daily limit on posts seen by my bot, which I highly doubt. Update 2.5 after some research, I've learned absolutely nothing. That error code is a giant ball of nothing that basically says I exceeded a rate limit, but doesn't give any explanation as to which rate I exceeded. Thanks, Tumblr. At least Reddit threw client side errors that you didn't have to go to a broken API console to see. Fuck all of you, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Side note: I am surviving off one breakfast pizza from Casey's, one Pipeline Punch, one grape flavored 3D, 4mg Estradiol, 50mg Spironolactone, and I currently have 100mg Progesterone dissolving in my stomach, which at this point, might actually kill me. It's only 9:36 at the time of writing this, but it feels like I've been working on this for days. This is to say that I may have missed something super obvious, and if that's the case, well, I'll leave tomorrows problems to tomorrow's me.

Update 3

Just woke up and re-ran all the assorted programs just to get a fresh start. I'm still getting that error code, but more importantly, my access token and secret changed? I'm not expert when it comes to stuff like this, but I though tokens and secrets are constant and specific to apps. I can't actually test this thing until the API lets me through. Update 3.5

Found the error code. It wasn't way too hard, but it means my bot probably did something way too much yesterday and I have no idea what. It works on the server's clock and goes by callendar day. This means that if a bot hits the error code at 11:59 PM, it can hit it again at 12:00 AM. For an error 429 to happen, any one of the following has to trigger it.

300 API calls per minute, per IP address.

18,000 API calls per hour, per IP address.

432,000 API calls per day, per IP address.

1,000 API calls per hour, per consumer key.

5,000 API calls per day, per consumer key.

250 new published posts (including reblogs) per day, per user.

250 images uploaded per day, per user.

200 follows per day, per user.

1,000 likes per day, per user.

10 new blogs per day, per user.

20 videos uploaded per day, per user.

60 minutes of total video uploaded per day, per user.

So I can't test this until the server's calendar deems it a new day Update 4

It still doesn't work, but I am one step closer. Because of Tumblr's broken-ass console, I've had to find an alternate way to get an OAuth key. It turns out I was using a temporary access key, which is why it changed when I re-ran everything. I had to do this by using two other scripts. One of them is Tumblr's interactive console on Github , and the other one was a Yaml parser because boy do they like to encrypt. This has been my morning so far. Day two and 5 scripts later, just to finally have something that I should've had at the start.

Update 4.5

I FINALLY GOT AN API RESPONSE!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Update 4.5.5

I have implemented a feature that makes the thing wait for a second then search for any comments with a timestamp older than the last time it waited and has the right keyword in the 196 tag. I have obviously accidentally wasted all my API tries today, but testing begins again tomorrow. You will fear my wrath soon enough. Update 5

Decided to check up on the bot, and ran straight into this wall of text. It looks like blog info? Some of those links take me to profile headers. This isn't a static thing either, it updates every 20 seconds like clockwork. Because I made it update every 20 seconds like clockwork. I think this means it's testing time. Wish me luck. Breaking News. Didn't work, but we're a lil bit closer. Again.

#I figured out how to get access to the API #and now you have to deal with my bullshit #This would have taken no time at all with Reddit's API #196 #r/196 #rule

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rosetintedgunman · 10 months ago

Note

Poison type for Actor Mark?

Send me ANY M.arkiplier C.inematic Universe and a type, and I'll make them a team and be a nerd about it! (Accepting)

Heh heh, I see what you did there.

Not falling for that trap though :P

This a team from the better days!

Grafaiai and Toxtricity are both artists. Mark would be enthralled by the painting, and enjoy the low hum of the bass music while reading scripts. Roserade imbues theatrics, but it's graceful. There's little doubt in my mind that she helped inspire Mark to perform better. Weezing might seem like a strange choice. However, it is known for clearing the air. If the theatre was using heavy, dangerous paints for scenery and backdrops, this Pokemon would help negate the fumes that could cause sickness. Crobat evolves through friendship! He's also Mark's self-imposed bodyguard at night, often accompanying the actor on late walks in the garden. Finally... Mark is rich. He's got connections. If he heard there was a rare breed of Sneasel, you know he'd try and get his mitts on one. However, these are documented to be nicer in personality than the common variant. Though their species doesn't form packs, it is friendly... Even if she would leave little claw marks on the outside of the manor while climbing.

#trainer type prompt

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faveficarchive · 2 years ago

Text

A FLY IN THE OINTMENT

By IseQween

September 2001

The following is a continuation of my post-FIN "The Ghost of A Smile." You don't have to read "Ghost," though it does introduce characters and events referred to in this story. Beware lots of spoilers, especially for seasons 5 and 6. -- IQ

Gabrielle chewed thoughtfully on the shaft of her quill. Of all the battles she'd fought, few cost more sweat and tears than this one. It wasn't over yet, but if they won, the victory would be sealed in ink, not blood. The document she labored over served as their anthem. It sang of nearly everything she'd loved and worked for. Her hopes for peace and compassion. Her dreams for a strong Amazon nation. Her desire that Xena live on through her legacy of defending the greater good.

She glanced fondly at the urn on her desk. She'd had it specially made to hold her soulmate's ashes. Its bronze swirls duplicated the design on the warrior's signature breastplates. The lid copied Xena's joined dark and light chakrams. Gabrielle ran her fingers lightly over the sculpted images. "You said I could do it. I never should have doubted you." Sighing, she returned her attention to the unfinished scroll in front of her. "Now, if only I could find the right words '."

Bzzzzzzz.

Gabrielle swatted distractedly at the insect hovering near her nose. It flew a short distance away, only to return when Gabrielle put pen to parchment. She frowned and swatted again. This time the winged annoyance landed on Gabrielle's scroll. It was a fly. She blew on it, sending it skidding until it gained its balance and flew off. Gabrielle resumed trying to write.

Bzzzzzzz.

"Curses." Gabrielle glared at the fly, which proceeded to circle her head. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as they followed the insect shoot straight up toward the ceiling, then dive into a series of loops that ended lazily on the scroll. Gabrielle stared at the fly. It stared back. She shook her head, smiled thinly and leaned forward until they were eye to eye.

"Very impressive." The fly fluttered its wings. "However, your acrobatics aren't helping me much here. I'd appreciate if you'd practice elsewhere until I can be more properly attentive." The fly held its ground. Gabrielle held hers. It inched its way onto Gabrielle's hand.

"Uh uh. Sweet, but no cookies. Shoosh." The insect flew off to rest on Xena's urn. "Nice try, but guilt won't work either." The fly didn't move. "Fine. Stay there. But if I hear another sound from you, I'm going for the bug spray."

"Scout Leader?"

She turned to see a young girl standing tentatively in the doorway. Her Amazon leathers were unadorned, save for a diagonal slash of purple cloth with a small "X" at the shoulder embroidered in gold. Gabrielle smiled broadly, stood and gave the girl a salute. "Yes, Scout Tania, how may I help you?"

Tania suppressed a grin, returning the salute smartly. "Pardon me, Leader Gabrielle. The troop has finished its drills and wishes to know if you would like to review our form."

"Good, Scout Tania. If you're any better than my last review, I'm afraid you might embarrass the Amazon warriors. Please tell the others they're finished for the day. I'll review them once more before the ceremony."

Tania beamed. "Yes, Leader Gabrielle, I will do as you say." She stood tall and snapped her right hand to her forehead, before relaxing and letting out a giggle. "Bye, Gabrielle. And, um, you have a fly in your hair," she added jovially, skipping off.

"Xena?!!!! Xena, get ' out ' of ' my ' hair! This instant!"

The fly went back to the urn.

"No. You had your chance. You know how important this is to me. I'm sorry, but you're too much of a distraction. Find something else to amuse yourself that doesn't involve interrupting me."

The fly slowly lifted off from the urn, hovered a moment, then headed away.

"And Xena?"

The fly hesitated, its wings fluttering expectantly.

"I want to see you tonight."

The fly buzzed quietly out the door, just as Marta came rushing in. "Ugh," she said, ducking her head away from the exiting insect. "I hate flies."

Gabrielle winced. "Um, well, they're basically harmless, if annoying sometimes." She gazed fondly at the young redhead who'd been tagging along with her the last few years. Marta had matured into quite the scholar, soaking up every drop of wisdom that came from Gabrielle's lips or from the varied people they'd met on their travels. She was getting pretty good with a staff too, despite little desire to excel at physical skills. But the orphaned young woman idolized Gabrielle and was interested in whatever interested her mentor and, now, family.

"So, what's your news? You look like the hydra that swallowed a harpy."

Marta laughed. "Yes," she said excitedly. "The shipments of scrolls and tapestries have begun arriving. Eve's plowing through them now."

"Oh? Anything special?"

"Maybe," Marta said mysteriously. "I'm not permitted to speak about it, though." At Gabrielle's scowl, she added, "It's a surprise."

"Great," Gabrielle mumbled. "That's all I need. More surprises."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that bunch of gargantuan sailors Singer conscripted to help us with the building."

Gabrielle laughed. "Good. But I have to admit they've helped enormously. Everything else going okay?"

"Yep. That's my progress report." Marta hugged herself. "I am soooo excited. I can't believe how calm you are."

"I don't have time to be anything else," Gabrielle chuckled. "Still no rumblings from Melop and his gang?"

"Nope. You must've really scared the pants off him during your last ' negotiations."

"Let's hope so. And when you see Eve, remind her it's not nice to trick Mother Gabrielle."

"Will do," Marta said, grinning. "Anything I can help you with before I go?"

Gabrielle sighed. "No, afraid not. You're doing a great job helping coordinate things. Just keep it up."

Marta blushed. "Thanks. I'll go check on Singer's group."

Gabrielle plopped back down in her chair. She eyed the incomplete scroll, then the pile of other ones on her desk that needed attention. Her thoughts drifted anyway to another hairy issue. She rested her head in her hands. "Gods," she muttered. "What's with her? She's the inspiration for all this. I know she's proud of me, yet makes me want to squish her every chance she gets."

She made a quick mental scan of everything that needed to be done. Three more days. Just three more days and so much would fall into place. She had to stay focused. Surely Xena of all people should understand that. Gabrielle looked wistfully at the urn before collecting herself once again for the task at hand.

*****

Gabrielle took her time preparing for bed. This was the most anxious she'd felt in four years. Sure, she'd had her ups and downs coming to terms with Xena's death in Japa. Even now there were times when the warrior's spirit was not enough. She knew she could count on Xena's wisdom during her contemplation of big issues, that Xena would be a comfort in her darkest hours. What she missed most was the carefree physicality -- like water fights, elbow nudges, or that game they played where one of them "fell out" and required resuscitation. But for the most part, she'd felt fulfilled, especially once her travels and studies had led her to the grand idea that rekindled her sense of purpose. And Xena had been with her, mostly as a presence she felt inside, but often glimpsed in a child's vulnerability, a mule's stubbornness, or in the shadowed beauty as the sun set and in the radiant promise of its rise.

She moved in front of the mirror that hung above her dressing table. She knew that face well. She'd made herself gaze into those eyes often enough, at first to see if they still had life in them. Examined the tiny lines at their corners for signs of good times, as well as of time itself. Wondered whether those lips would dry into husks that could continue to speak the truth and not crack. Practiced focusing on that still young visage to the point where she could see herself more than Xena.

She felt a warmth at her back, around her shoulders. She shifted her gaze up a little and smiled. Yes. She didn't have to see Xena to know that her soulmate was behind her. Her eyes caught something dangling from the mirror. It was the tiny Xena she'd fashioned that time the warrior had to single-handedly fight a Persian army. For a long time Gabrielle had worn the stick-and-leather doll nestled between her breasts. Until a couple of years ago, when she'd finally believed her soulmate would always be everywhere, anywhere, whenever Gabrielle needed her.

She looked once more in the mirror. She nodded. Yes, it was a good face, a peaceful face. The face of someone she was grateful to know. Still, she reached up and took the stick doll from its place on the frame. She tied it around her neck, tenderly tucking it into her nightshirt near her heart. She'd be seeing Xena tonight as she hadn't in some time. She had a feeling she'd need all the reassurance she could get. She blew out the candles, lay down on her bed, relaxed as best she could, and closed her eyes.

"You're sure I'm not 'interrupting' anything."

Gabrielle turned to her side to see Xena standing rigidly next to the bed. Gabrielle smiled. "Quite sure. In case you've forgotten, you're here at my express invitation."

"Well, I know you have more important things on your mind than the ghost of some old has-been warrior," Xena responded, continuing to stand. "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

Gabrielle clenched her jaws, then nonchalantly slid her hand over the doll's resting place, reminding herself to shift into sensitive-chat mode. "Xena, I much prefer talking to you like this, than to a fly on the wall."

Xena's posture loosened up a bit. One corner of her mouth twitched. "I see you've got that dolly in there again. That could be a bad sign, like maybe you want to smother me." Xena's mouth curled into a semi-grin. "If you could."

"No, silly." Gabrielle moved to the far edge of the bed and held out her arms. "Though I haven't quite given up on that yet."

Xena rolled her eyes, then cautiously put one knee on the bed. "No swatting?"

"No swatting. Promise. Now get your pesty self in here. This instant."

Xena suppressed a grin. She stretched out on her back, legs crossed, hands behind her head.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. She scooted over, resting her head in its customary place on Xena's chest, relieved when long arms soon pulled her in closer.

"Comfy? Contrary to popular opinion, we flies aim to please."

"Mmm. Quite."

"We haven't done this in awhile."

Gabrielle lifted her head and brushed Xena's cheek. "I know. It's not just that I've been busy. I guess I didn't think we needed words so much anymore."

"Yeah," Xena sighed, stroking Gabrielle's arm. "So what'd you want to talk about?"

"Flies," Gabrielle replied, still looking up.

Xena stopped stroking. "Flies?"

"Uh huh." Gabrielle laid her head back down. "Normally they bring out the 'kill 'em all' in me, but there's this one special fly I was hoping you could help me with."

Xena tensed. "You mean, like how to get rid of it?"

Gabrielle raised up again. "I thought you were supposed to be changed now - you know, more 'save 'em all.'"

"I am, I am," Xena protested. "It's just that you seemed to feel this special fly was a ' special pest."

"No," Gabrielle responded, settling down again. "I want this one buzzing in my ear forever. I'm trying to understand why it's been behaving the way it has lately."

"Oh," Xena said, relaxing again. "What's it been doing?"

"Well, for starters, it's been shifting shapes. It's been with me for a long time now, but more ' invisible. Sort of like my own private little cheering section and sounding board. It's traveled all over the world with me, encouraged me to build a new life. I thought it wanted me to rely on myself more, that it was okay if I put to use what I'd already learned from it."

"So you didn't need to see ' this fly ' as much anymore. That's a good thing, right?"

Gabrielle raised her head again. "Oh, no, I still needed the fly. Rarely does an hour go by when I don't see it in some person or some object I might pick up. I got kinda used to that. But lately the fly's been making itself ' more obvious. One time it was a spider, another time a bee, then a cricket. It pops in to surprise me, mostly when I'm doing something I'd think it wouldn't want to distract me from."

Xena chuckled nervously. "Bad fly! Must have a dark side that needs redeeming."

"No, I don't think that's it." Gabrielle held Xena's eyes. "This particular fly has been cleansed and redeemed and sacrificed so much you can't see it anymore. Unless it has a special connection to you, like it does with me."

Xena swallowed. "So what's wrong if maybe it shows itself sometimes? You know, just to prove it hasn't disappeared."

Moving away a little, Gabrielle inched up so that the two were head to head. "To itself, or to others?"

Xena turned her eyes toward the ceiling. "I'm not sure," she answered quietly. "But it's not your problem anyway." She looked at Gabrielle with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sorry I've been acting like such a brat. Especially now when I should get out of the way and let you shine like I've always known you would."

Gabrielle studied her soulmate a moment. "Xena, if you have a problem, then it's my problem too. We've shared that along with the good. You're not in my way. You've never been. If I shine, it's because you've given me ways to do that."

Xena brushed her hand against Gabrielle's cheek. "Thank you," she murmured. "Whatever else I may have deserved, I'll never believe I deserved you. Let's not talk about flies, okay? I really am so full of joy at what you're doing. It's what I always dreamed. Seeing you fulfill it is all that really matters."

"No, Xena, that's not all that matters. Not to me. I thought you were at peace. Just as I saw you in everything, I thought your ' existence ' was full of everything, not just me. I didn't worry about you, but I see now that maybe I should."

Xena sighed. "It's nothing, really." She chuckled. "We souls have a grand old time. I'm luckier than most because I'd already been in so many different spirit realms even when I wasn't dead. Heck, I'm known in some I hadn't visited. They're all eager to meet up with me, even some I put there." She grinned sheepishly. "You thought those loops I did earlier were impressive. Well, news of the 40,000 souls I saved traveled far and wide. Seems I set some kind of record."

Gabrielle grinned. "That's my girl. Always the champion, no matter what field." She felt an answering rumble in her soulmate's chest. They lay quietly, until Gabrielle suddenly raised up and regarded Xena curiously.

"You're bored."

"Pfff. Me? Bored? You gotta be kidding." Gabrielle continued to look at her. "Oh, come on. I get to commune with dead folks from around the globe. Mortals see or speak of me even when I'm not there. I can be a bird and soar higher than I ever did with my flips. I can peek in on you or be there for you, which I like most. How could all that possibly be boring?" She looked to Gabrielle for confirmation. Gabrielle didn't seem to be buying. Xena sighed. "Yeah, okay. Sometimes I'm bored."

Gabrielle resisted the terrible urge to laugh. Boredom might sound innocent enough, but not when it involved Xena. Instead, she gave her soulmate a sympathetic squeeze and carefully considered her next words.

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"I was afraid I was boring you."

"What?!! You? Never. How could you think that?"

"All those questions I had, those mistakes I was afraid to make. You'd already been there, done that. You were right about it being good for me to try things on my own, to have confidence in my judgement. After awhile I thought that was best for you too. I realize now that maybe I gave you the wrong impression."

Xena shook her head. "No, you're not taking the blame for this. I did what I thought was right, with no real idea of what it meant. I got peace, but it wasn't the freedom from earthly cares that most of the other souls have." Xena gazed wryly at her soulmate. "We knew our connection was strong. Boy, is it ever."

Gabrielle smiled gently. "So it is partly my fault."

Xena rolled her eyes. "Maybe so. Happy now?"

"Infinitely. Tell me more."

Xena glared. "You know, I always suspected you were the evil one." She begrudged a lop-sided grin, accompanied by a kiss to Gabrielle's forehead. "I'm such a ninny," she sighed, relaxing back onto the bed and nudging Gabrielle back to her chest.

"At first everything was fine. You needed me more then - I mean, to help you through indecision or ' or through your pain at losing me like that. As you got stronger, you needed more space to figure out things on your own. I didn't mind knowing less and less of your thoughts. It was fun being surprised. I could see how good you felt learning just how much you're capable of. And you had Marta and Singer with you, and later Eve. It touched my heart to see how you supported each other, how they came to treasure you as I do."

"But?" Gabrielle prodded softly as Xena fell silent.

"That's when I started checking out the other spirit realms. I figured it was time for me to find a ' an 'existence,' as you call it ' for myself, till we met up again in another life. But it wasn't enough. I was still drawn to you, to your world. Except there wasn't much for me there either."

Gabrielle nodded. "I see. These last couple of years must've been really tough for you, with me so focused on my grand plans."

Xena kissed the beloved blond head. "And it's coming together wonderfully. I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it."

"But you felt left out. Invisible."

"Worse," Xena admitted. "As much as I wanted that dream fulfilled, I feared it would mean exactly what I said I wanted for you." Xena closed her eyes. "A life of your own."

"Oh, Xena. You mean without you? Without thinking of you or needing you?"

"Yeah," Xena murmured, so softly Gabrielle barely heard her. "I pictured you with such a full life, surrounded by people who needed you. Saying 'thank you' to my urn, then storing it away in some cupboard where it belongs."

Gabrielle raised up again and took Xena's face in her hands. "Xena, I want you with me tomorrow. I'm working on a couple of documents that I must do by myself. But if you promise to be quiet, not to crawl up my arm or otherwise startle the life out of me, you can visit in whatever form you like."

"Could I tickle your toes, maybe as an ant?"

"Only if I'm not writing or trying to have a serious conversation with someone. Deal?"

Xena grinned. "Deal."

*****

Gabrielle dotted the last "i" and crossed the final "t" on the all-important document she'd been worrying over the last couple of days. She surveyed the completed scrolls on her desk. "Done," she said to herself with satisfaction and more than a modicum of relief. "And not a moment too soon."

She threw a kiss to the fly on the wall, which, as agreed, had stayed out of her hair. It zipped across the room a few times, did a series of intricate dive bombs, buzzed some laps around her head, then finally came to rest on her shoulder.

"I know, I know," she laughed. "Must've been Tartarus having to sit still that long. I hope the wait is worth it." The fly fluttered its wings excitedly. Gabrielle had spent the last couple nights with Xena, but hadn't told the warrior everything about her plans. She knew Xena was bursting to see all that Gabrielle had wrought. "Go on, now. I'll be out in a little while. I've got a couple things to do that won't be helped if I'm lulled into those enchantingly beady eyes." She wasn't sure how, but the fly managed what appeared to be indignation before it winged its way through the door.

Gabrielle walked into her sleeping quarters. She donned her most impressive Amazon leathers, which just happened to complement the purple sash she draped across her shoulder. She stood before her mirror, making sure every hair was in place. She gazed into the eyes that smiled back at her, green with confidence and serenity. "This is for you," she murmured. "And you," she said, stroking the gold "X" at the top of the sash. "For both of us."

"Gabrielle? You here?" It was Marta.

Gabrielle walked back into her office. "Yes. Is it time?"

Marta gasped. "Oh, Gabrielle, you look positively beautiful!"

"Thank you. I figured if there was any time to pull out all the stops, this was it."

"All the dignitaries are here. Singer said we can start the tours as soon as you're ready."

"All right, then," Gabrielle said, straightening her shoulders and striding for the door. "Let's do it."

*****

Even Gabrielle was stunned. The presentation platform seemed more like an Athenian stage than a structure cobbled together on the outskirts of Amazonia. Large strips of purple and gold satin hung at intervals from a tall frame mounted on the floor. Bouquets of flowers in every hue ringed and softened the edges. Girls with purple sashes stood at ramrod attention on either side of a long purple runner that led to and covered the few steps up to the platform. At the top gleamed a podium painted in gold. Gabrielle gave a sideways look at Marta and Eve, wondering which one of them was guilty of this flair for the dramatic. Both beamed back at her with no shame whatsoever.

"Gabrielle's coming!" someone yelled. The large assemblage began to quiet. Gabrielle proceeded down the carpet, the girls along her path saluting her in succession as she passed. When she reached the top step and turned, the blaring of trumpets startled her into nearly taking an ignominious tumble down the steps she'd just climbed. Teeth gritted behind her smile, she vowed never again to tell anyone to use their imagination.

Gabrielle stood in front of the podium and gazed lovingly at those gathered before her. "I am Gabrielle. It is with great pride and humility that I invite you to see what wonders you have helped create. Welcome," she said, spreading out her arms. "Welcome to the Village of Dreams - your home whenever you need it."

A roar of approval met her words. She waited for the din to quiet, thankful that it gave her a few moments to stem the tears streaming down her face and to find the voice that threatened to choke into silence. Marta and Eve made their way to the platform to flank her. She squeezed their hands in appreciation. She nodded at the third presence she felt at her back. Eyes still brimming, she cleared her throat and forged on.

"This afternoon, you'll have a chance to sample what the Village has to offer." Gabrielle took a deep breath as she surveyed the neat new buildings within eyesight. She pointed to her left. "That way is the hospice. It has healers to care for mind, body and spirit. Over there is the library. Its scrolls, tapestries and other works will take you on journeys to lands from every part of the world." Gabrielle gestured to an area behind the platform. "That section is devoted to developing the talents of girls and young women. They will be on the practice field throughout the afternoon, demonstrating their leadership and physical skills. Most of the smaller huts you see in the residential area will serve as quarters for refugees from disaster, abuse and bigotry."

Gabrielle put an arm around the waists of the two young women beside her. "Marta and Eve will be your guides. We'll meet back here before sunset for the official ceremony. Enjoy."

*****

The Village of Dreams couldn't have opened to a more perfect day. The late Spring sun warmed the celebrants just enough to allow those from both the hottest and coldest climes to wear their traditional garb. The rainbow of faces and costumes blended naturally in the wooded oasis verdant with wildlife. Birds and a nearby waterfall added their voices to the symphony of sounds emanating from varied instruments and throats throughout the compound. Open grassy areas joined the practice and planting fields with the housing and activity sections. Large trees protected the roughly circular layout and provided shade in strategically located relaxation spots. A communion-meditation hall centered the village, its cone-shaped roof alive with fluttering bright ribbons that beckoned any and all to join in.

Gabrielle peered out from behind one of the drapes on the presentation platform, which she had surreptitiously mounted again shortly after the tours began. It was a dream all right - one she still couldn't believe was real. But the people milling about had believed in it - in her - even when she had doubts. Some had begun sending her items and preparing for their trip here before the first public structure had been raised.

She noted the ebony-skinned guests conversing with Amazons outside the hospice. They were representatives from M'Lila's homeland. Word reached there long ago about how the abducted young woman had been freed by a warlord turned hero who later became known for "the pinch" and bronze swirls she'd borrowed from M'Lila. Singer had found M'Lila's people on one of his voyages. They felt honored to participate in efforts that Gabrielle credited M'Lila for helping inspire.

Near the refugee section, a clump of men and a Centaur seemed to be arguing the finer points of hut construction. Many were children of violence who knew intimately of the need for safe havens. Virgil had watched his father, Joxer, die at the hand of Xena's daughter Eve. Ephiny's son Xenon had barely escaped the massacre that wiped out his people because they walked on four legs rather than two. Next to him stood Borias' son Belach - the perpetrator of that heinous deed as well as grandfather to Xenon's own son. Belach donated most of the funds needed for these homes, the first of which had been inhabited by Xenon's little family.

Gabrielle swept her gaze over to a small group of women talking with her sister Lilla in front of the communion hall. She recognized one as Lao Ma's daughter Pao Ssu and another as the Norse Valkyrie Grinhilda. The other women appeared to be from Japa. Gabrielle's eyes misted when she realized they were probably relatives of the souls Xena had died freeing. She felt a gentle caress across her cheek, a whisper in her ear, knowing it to be more than the light breeze that stirred the ribbons atop the communion hall. She closed her eyes and folded her arms around the satin drape, hugging it to her. It meant so much to see dreams come together like this, to share it all with Xena. She wondered, not for the first time, how a body could ache with so much with joy.

*****

Lamps and firelight now supplemented the sun's dimming glow. Laughter, drums and savory scents filled the early evening air. Youngsters squirmed impatiently, while adults shifted where they sat with barely contained anticipation. They watched the procession of dignitaries and honorees file to the presentation platform. Gabrielle smiled down at them. They were all like children at a magic show. She hoped they didn't lose their wonder and enthusiasm when they realized what lay behind maintaining its reality.

Singer stepped to the podium. "May we have your attention please!" he boomed in his resonantly deep voice. Once he had everyone's attention, he graced them with a moving song he'd composed especially for the occasion. Gabrielle grinned at him with the usual affection. The multi-talented sailor had been a rock to her since she'd met him on the ship from Japa. She and Marta had journeyed with him, waited eagerly for him to meet them in various ports, relied on him to spread word of their project and to help build their dream. He'd been the first to help her free Xena to more than a memory of what couldn't be and to free herself for the possibilities of what could.

"Thank you," Gabrielle said to him when he had finished. She hugged the surprisingly bashful man of the world. "`Listen For The Sound Behind' is beautiful." She glanced at her shoulder and whispered, "We couldn't have asked for a more fitting song."

Singer smiled conspiratorially. "My pleasure," he whispered back. "I thought she'd like it."

Gabrielle walked over to the podium, which was piled with scrolls. "All right," she shouted with a mischievous grin, "let's seal this deal!" The crowed laughed in agreement.

"Will the representatives please step forward."

One by one, representatives from the surrounding communities approached the podium, including Gabrielle's niece Sarah from Poteidaia, Xena's nephew Xoris from Amphipolis, Singer's brother Lyceus from Lythos, and the Amazon Queen Cyane.

"You have all read through these treaties, correct?" They nodded. "Then I will simply summarize their contents for all present." They nodded again.

"Let's begin with the defense agreement," Gabrielle said, selecting the top scroll. "Your people have agreed to establish a combined force to protect the area, each other and, especially, the Village of Dreams. Are there any objections to the terms outlined for the composition, leadership or duties of this force?" No one objected. "I call for signatures to this copy, which will be kept in the Village. We will provide duplicates to be signed later this evening, which each of you can take with you." The representatives signed.

Gabrielle held up a second scroll. "This trade agreement covers the goods and services that will be exchanged between the Village and your communities. Each community has been designated to provide the Village with a particular resource, such as food, transportation, building supplies or skills. In return, the village will provide a haven for those of you in need, including the care of orphans until they become of age. You will also have full access to our library, communion hall and grounds when they are not in use by the Village. Are there any objections to the conditions set forth in this document?" There were none, so everyone signed.

"This next document is the key to all we dreamed of accomplishing today. It is a pledge to support the principles governing this Village, which seek to promote peace, safety, understanding, and growth. No one will be turned away because of who they are. This is not a sanctuary for those seeking to escape punishment for some crime. However, individuals' rights to privacy and voluntary departure will be respected unless the agreed upon documentation or the Village council establishes otherwise."

Gabrielle paused and turned to the onlookers. Her hand slid up to stroke the gold "X" at her shoulder. When she began speaking again, her voice was heavy with emotion.

"I have known those who should have had the innocence of babes, who instead had rage in their hearts and came to harm nearly everyone in sight. I have known those who harmed, yet had love in their hearts and came to defend nearly everyone in sight. I won't promise you that we can always tell the difference, because sometimes those people may be one and the same. I can only say that, if I hadn't tried, we probably wouldn't be here today. I ask you to think long and hard before you commit to do likewise."

A hush settled over the assemblage. They knew Gabrielle was putting her faith - their faith - on the line. A line that went straight through the heart of a certain Warrior Princess' legacy. Most knew of Xena through hearsay and believed the good parts because they believed in Gabrielle. Some believed the good because that's all they had experienced. A few had been touched by both the bad and the good. Regardless, Xena seemed larger than life, a mystery, a phantom that wouldn't show up at their door to either threaten or save them. But their neighbors - well, that was a different matter.

Many on and around the platform stole glances at their fellow celebrants. Some had fought against each other, been long-time rivals or even mortal enemies. Had competed for land, fortune or mates. Others held conflicting beliefs about everything from divine wisdom to whom one should bed. It dawned on them that this day wasn't really about a dead woman. It was about them. Whether they could trust enough to fulfill the spirit of the treaties they signed. Truly support a Village of Dreams that might harbor their fears along with their hopes.

Gabrielle inhaled deeply, wanting to breathe Xena's presence inside through every pore of her being. This had to be about the living for it to work. They needed to face themselves and their faith in others. To believe in themselves, not just in her or Xena. And so she waited, buoyed by the love and trust it was her quest to share.

"Stop! Let us through! You people are fools to listen to that woman!"

Gabrielle didn't have to look up to recognize this potential pin prick. Melop. A warlord turned politician who'd used his rag-tag "associates" to bully the entire region into accepting him as "governor." He'd taxed, extorted and terrorized the people at will -- until Gabrielle's arrival. When he learned of her activities, he pronounced her a dangerous cultist and sent emissaries to persuade her to move elsewhere. They limped back bloodied and bruised. Word of Gabrielle's successful defiance enabled her to organize a motley crew of Amazons and local villagers who convinced him they could do without his services.

With force no longer a viable option, Melop resorted to the usual divisive tactics, dredging up and fueling every old feud or bias he could. In the end, he proved to be his own downfall. Gabrielle's inter-village defense force discovered they shared common goals and learned that some "strange" ideas weren't so bad after all. The concrete threat Melop presented to their well being contributed greatly to the widespread energy and commitment that succeeded in building the Village of Dreams.

Having made his living off his victims' insecurities, Melop figured those to be his best weapon against Gabrielle's idealism. He'd swaggered into the Village with about ten cronies - enough to make a scene, but too few to have a "fair" fight with the seasoned Amazon warriors closing in menacingly on the unarmed interlopers.

"I thought this was supposed to be open to everyone!" Melop yelled at Gabrielle. "I'm one of the people. I deserve to be heard, yet you send these unnatural women in to crush us like bugs."

BZZZZZZZ.

Gabrielle turned away from the big pest in front of her to a smaller one buzzing angrily near her ear. A wasp. "No!" she said, louder than she intended. A hush fell over the assemblage, as all eyes focused on her. She cleared her throat and looked out. "I'll handle this," she instructed, signaling to the Amazons to move away from Melop's group. One of the representatives on the platform cautiously approached her to warn her about the wasp, but it flew off on its own at Gabrielle's command to the Village guards.

"Melop." Gabrielle made the name sound like something that smelled bad. "I wondered when we'd have the pleasure of your company. Please excuse our welcoming party if they were a bit overzealous. You had something to say?"

Melop stood tall and leered at the celebrants. "See what she's brought you to. You used to think for yourselves. Now you listen to a ' woman ' who follows in the footsteps of a murderer. You looked out for yourselves, protected your own. Now you get in bed with people you despise. You had morals and a way of life that your ancestors died for. Now you want to study heathens and teach womenfolk how to destroy your families. I upheld the values that allowed you all to carry on as you have for centuries. This so-called Village of Dreams will become a nightmare of chaos and back-stabbing. Come to your senses before it's too late. Leave this place with me tonight, and tomorrow we will restore it to the peacefully uninhabited valley it was before it became haunted by that woman and her gods forsaken ghost."

People murmured and shifted uneasily in their seats. They looked from Melos to Gabrielle, waiting for the latter to say something. She stood with her arms folded, looking at them.

Suddenly Belach stood. "My men slaughtered his people," he said, pointing to Xenon, "because I didn't want my daughter to be with his kind. I became the villain I wrongly accused my father of being. Now my grandson must learn true honor and integrity from the one enemy I failed to kill. I can't bring those Centaurs back, but I can make sure there's at least one place where people like that will be safe from people like me." Belach locked eyes with Xenon. Xenon nodded. Belach nodded back and resumed his seat.

Another man rose. "I am Kellum from the village of Balsus. My family has a farm that borders sheep land in Lythos. We've feuded for generations with our neighbors, each side accusing the other of thievery, godlessness and worse. We lost nearly all our possessions in last year's terrible storm. If it hadn't been for our neighbors lending us clothes, our new baby might have died."

Before Kellum could sit, a woman stood. "And if it hadn't been for Kellum's family, ours might have starved." Soon others were up on their feet, revealing how they'd been wrong about someone, or someone had been wrong about them. A few walked over to each other and embraced. Those still seated looked on in amazement or exchanged opinions with the person next to them. Melop could only watch with his mouth open.

Gabrielle turned to see those on the platform equally engaged. While she was more than happy to be forgotten in the melee, she was becoming concerned about how to get things on track again. She searched the crowd until she finally saw Marta. Marta smiled and gave her the "okay" sign, then resumed talking with the woman beside her. Gabrielle shouted and waved her hands until she got Marta's attention. Marta gestured for her to calm down and gave her the "okay" sign again. Gabrielle sighed in frustration. Then was nearly blown off her feet by the sudden blaring of trumpets. She noted with satisfaction that she wasn't the only one. "Heh," she chuckled to herself. "Maybe imagination isn't so bad after all."

Gabrielle strode back to the podium. The crowd had recovered from their startlement sufficiently enough to give her their attention. "So," she grinned, "should I take that as a yes?"

"YESSSSSSS!" the onlookers yelled back.

"And you?" she asked the representatives. "Are you prepared to approve the document before you?" In response, each representative walked over and signed.

"Melop? I believe you have your answer. Perhaps those women you admire so much can escort your entourage to safety. We wouldn't want it said we allowed you to be attacked by heathen beliefs." Gabrielle smiled evilly. "Or wasps." She waited until Melop was lead none too gently away, before clasping her hands together and addressing the crowd. "Well, enough for the intermission. Let's get back to the main show, shall we?"

Gabrielle turned to those on the platform. "By agreeing to the principles of the Village of Dreams, you have cleared the way to honor some of its first fruits." She beckoned to the small group of girls with purple sashes who had been standing quietly on the platform throughout the proceedings. They marched with dignity to stand to one side of the podium. Gabrielle turned back the audience.

"Of everything we do today, nothing fills my heart more than recognizing young people dedicated to embodying the honor, perseverance, compassion, and excellence of the Warrior Princess who is my inspiration for the Village of Dreams. A little over a year ago, I came to some of you and explained a plan for developing such girls. I told you that we would instruct them in a variety of disciplines - from philosophy and the arts, to practical skills for nurturing and protecting life. You trusted us with your children. Today, we recognize them for striving to be exactly what we hoped."

She gestured to about 50 girls with purple sashes seated around the platform. They rose. Gabrielle addressed them.

"Each of you has faithfully attended sessions here at least twice a month, often more. You have passed a rigorous test in mental and physical skills. You have pledged to serve yourselves, your families and your communities with respect in whatever capacity you choose."

Gabrielle looked out at the audience. "Brothers and sisters, I now officially present to you the first class of Xena Scouts!"

Everyone grinned and clapped, including the Scouts. Gabrielle addressed the girls again.

"Some of you will continue seeking higher levels of accomplishment. Some may choose to petition for acceptance into the Amazon Nation. All of you will leave knowing that you are more prepared for whatever life presents. Go forth, proudly, in the name of one of the truest, noblest warriors of all time."

Fifty hands went up in salute. "YES, LEADER GABRIELLE," fifty voices shouted. An astonished Gabrielle watched the Scouts strike their fists into their chests, as they chanted, "XENA! XENA! XENA!" They stopped in unison, gazed a long moment at Gabrielle in silent tribute, then resumed their seats.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, Gabrielle found herself struggling to maintain her composure. "Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening. "Now, let's hope I can get through the rest of the program without some of you having to use your skills to save me from drowning in my own tears."

The Scouts and the crowd laughed. "That's okay," someone in the back yelled. "We've got all night."

"Ha! Maybe you do, but I don't," Gabrielle responded, smiling. "Besides, I'm anxious to get to the second part of my favorite activity." She turned to the Scouts on the platform. "I will now award badges of merit to those who have distinguished themselves in a particular area."

She called each girl forward and pinned various symbols on their purple sashes - a quill for scholarship, a staff for martial arts, a bird for nature studies, a hammer for building skills, a dinar for commercial projects, and a bundle of wheat for farming and homemaking. Singling out three in their late teens, she said, "These young women have excelled at leadership. They are prepared to head troops in their hometowns, as well as to journey to other places which have expressed interest in the Scouts." Gabrielle pinned an insignia above the gold "X" on their sashes. "Wear this chakram with pride. We entrust you with nurturing Xenas for the future."

Gabrielle addressed the crowd. "Sisters and brothers, please join me in congratulating all the girls and young women who represent what the Village of Dreams stands for."

The guests rose and gave the Scouts a long, appreciative ovation. When the applause dwindled, Gabrielle announced, "This concludes the formal ceremonies. Please join us for food and celebration in the -" She paused, puzzled, as she noticed Eve making an unscheduled trip to the platform, carrying a long bundle wrapped in brown cloth. "Um, hold on. It seems we're not quite finished yet."

Eve walked to stand beside Gabrielle. "Greetings," she said to the audience. "I am Eve, daughter of Xena by blood and of Gabrielle by adoption. Gabrielle has given so much to us. She's wanted nothing in return except our happiness and prosperity. I would like to present her with a gift in gratitude for this day."

Eve unwrapped the bundle and held up the contents for everyone to see. "This exquisite tapestry is from Japa. It depicts Xena's battle with the evil spirit Yodoshi and how my mothers made the decision to put others above themselves. The people of Higuchi sent this to honor the love that saved the lives and souls of their village."

Gabrielle listened, fingers pressed to her lips. In the silence that followed Eve's words, she reached out and touched the tapestry. She traced some of the figures that represented her and Xena, as though reliving the events portrayed. Finally she took the tapestry and held it to her body, mouth trembling. Eve placed her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders and bent to hear some whispered instructions.

Eve smiled and turned to face their guests. "Gabrielle apologizes for her uncharacteristic loss of words. She thanks all of us for our generosity, especially the people of Higuchi." Eve signaled to some drummers in the back, who began tapping their instruments lightly. "She says we've had enough crying for one day. Please -- eat, drink and be merry!"

As one, the guests brought their hands to their foreheads, then their fists to their chests in the Amazon salute. Like the Scouts, they stood silently a long moment, paying their respect to Gabrielle, before moving to pick their way to the refreshment area.

"Gabrielle? Are you all right? I didn't mean to upset you."

Gabrielle was leaning against the podium, seemingly a million miles away. She focused on Eve. "What? Oh, yes, sorry. I'll be fine." She slowly rolled the tapestry and stood it against the podium. "Come here, you naughty girl," she scolded, holding her arms open to Eve. "Marta hinted you had a secret," she said, hugging Eve tightly. "This makes everything complete. For Xena and for me."

Eve broke apart and smiled through her tears. "I pray so. I'll talk to you about interpreting it on our way to dinner. You'll be '. Oh, look," she whispered.

Gabrielle glanced down to see a golden butterfly perched atop the tapestry. It fluttered over to Eve's shoulder. Both women smiled. Gabrielle reached her hand to the butterfly, and it walked onto her finger. They watched as it seemed to preen, then finally flutter off gracefully to follow the crowd headed to the food and wine.

"My," Gabrielle said. "Wonders never cease. You think maybe it's trying to tell us to shut up and get something to eat?"

*****

The day over at last, Gabrielle sat wearily in her office, soaking up the welcome silence. She'd made sure the guests were safely ensconced in their quarters, that all was prepared as it should be for the next morning's breakfast and closing activities. Marta and Eve had assured her that she could relax now, that they had everything under control. She glanced around, relieved to see her desk cleared and all extraneous paraphernalia removed. Sighing contentedly, she stretched and reached across the desk to retrieve Xena's urn. She caressed it fondly before carefully storing it in a carry bag which she took with her into her sleeping room and placed behind the curtain that covered her clothing closet.

Gabrielle felt exhilarated, despite her tired feet and a slight headache. She did some deep breathing exercises to calm her whirring thoughts. She wanted to see Xena as soon as possible tonight, as they had much to discuss. She lay on her bed with anticipation and closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the one dream she'd never tire of having.

"Xena?"

"I'm here."

"Where? I can't see you."

"I - I don't want to intrude."

"Intrude? Xena, you can't intrude on a conversation you're supposed to be a party to."

"I meant intrude on any conversations you were having with yourself. It's been a long day. An important day. I've gotten a lot more sensitive to your need to be alone with your thoughts at times like this."

"Are you a fly on the wall?"

A chuckle in the darkness. "No."

"A spidah? Gnat, wasp or something equally unsavory?"

"No, I'm considering it, not likely, that depends."

"Well, get over here so I can see for myself."

Xena appeared next to the bed, a smile playing at her lips.

"Hmmm." Gabrielle slowly examined the tall figure from head to toe, then in reverse. "You look savory enough to me." She patted the bed. "Sit."

Xena eased down onto the bed, her hands in her lap, eyes on Gabrielle. Waiting.

Gabrielle rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand, looking up at her very serious friend. "We're awfully formal tonight," she teased.

Xena gave her a little smile. "It was a big day for me too. Awesome, in fact." She looked past Gabrielle thoughtfully. "I used to wonder what you meant when you told me what is was like watching me lead armies or leap across oceans. Hearing people applaud me when I saved their children. I guess I took it for granted, because I didn't see it as that extraordinary, the way you did." Her eyes returned lovingly to her soulmate. "I understand now. I felt it today. It was like watching the woman of my dreams." She slid her hand across the bed. Gabrielle grasped it, too moved to do or say anything else.

"Everything's in place now. Your life is full with work and people who need you."

"Yes," Gabrielle agreed, her eyes brimming with emotion.

"I see you've ' you've packed up my urn."

Gabrielle blinked. "Um ' yes, I did."

"Seems you're ready at last to move on."

"Yes, I believe so."

Xena swallowed, finally moving to Gabrielle and pulling her soulmate into a mighty hug. "I am so honored that you let me share in this. You've given my life more meaning and existence in death than I ever could when I was breathing and kicking." Xena smiled wryly. "I'd tell you I can now die a happy woman, but I'm afraid it'd be a bit redundant."

Gabrielle pulled away to give Xena a long stare. "Is that supposed to be some kind of farewell speech?"

"I'll always be here when you need me. That won't ever change."

"But you're expecting that my thoughts of you will be packed away now, sort of like your ashes."

"Yeah, I guess so. I understand that. Like I said before, it's what I'd dreamed for you."

"Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"You're right. You can be such a ninny sometimes."

Xena's brows shot up. "What?"

"You heard me." Gabrielle rested her head on Xena's shoulder. "Remember back in Japa when I said it wasn't right for you to stay dead?"

"Gabrielle, I thought we were past that. We agreed -"

"Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"You're interrupting me again."

"Oh. Sorry. Once a pest, always a pest."

"Not necessarily. We'll work on that. Now, as I was saying '." Gabrielle readjusted herself to think more comfortably. "I'm not sure I was talking about justice or even the greater good. I've gone over and over that moment for four years. I believe I felt it wasn't right because it wasn't meant for you to stay dead."

Xena frowned. "You mean like fate or destiny? I told you when Caesar tried to change our lives that I believe things happen precisely as they should. As much as I'd love to be here with you in the flesh, I still believe that." She looked down at Gabrielle. "Don't you?"

"Sort of. I can't deny there's been some good to this. You got to respect yourself in a way you might not have otherwise. I got to prove to myself - and you - that I could carry on, even prosper, on my own. Neither of us has to worry so much about your shadow anymore."

Xena gave Gabrielle a squeeze. "True. It was worth it to me if only for that."

"I'll give you that," Gabrielle said, squeezing Xena back. "It's the staying dead part I'm still having problems with."

Xena sighed heavily. "Gabrielle, I know I promised not to fight you on that, but --"

"No, if I remember correctly, you said you'd try to be happy if that made me happy." Gabrielle paused for Xena's exasperated huff. "Hear me out, okay?"

"Fine."

"I wasn't stuck in trying to bring your body back. I was trying to make sense of what happened. I've talked to holy people, shamans, healers - you name it - everywhere I've traveled. When I found Eve in India and told her about it, she was devastated. Nothing in Eli's or anybody else's teachings seemed to explain why those trapped souls needed to be avenged, especially after you risked your life to eliminate Yodoshi's evil spirit and free the souls. Eve sent inquiries to a priest she knows in Japa. She was a little surprised to hear back that the people of Higuchi mourned you as a hero."

"As opposed to rejoicing that a criminal had finally been punished." Xena placed her fingers against Gabrielle's protesting lips. "I'm only saying the coin had two sides; it was a toss-up as to which one they'd see." She smiled gently. "Not everyone flips it so it always lands up, the way you do."

Gabrielle ducked her head. "Um, well, sometimes you can have a hand in something even when you're just going along minding your own business."

"Oh?" Xena asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, see I went to the Ghost Killer's memorial service. I felt a special bond with him, I guess because he'd understand the real sacrifice you'd made." Gabrielle exhaled a deep breath. "The true loss."

"Yes," Xena said quietly, "He trusted the love and courage in your heart that was the key. He understood your sacrifice as well."

Gabrielle nodded her head against Xena's chest. "He'd told his family how you'd agreed to work with him and that he'd given me the secret to bringing you back. They expressed regret that I'd run out of time. I said I hadn't, that you'd chosen to stay dead so the lost souls could have peace. They looked at me strangely, but didn't say anything, just backed away, bowing. They must've told their neighbors."

"I couldn't believe representatives came from Japa. That tapestry they sent was stunning."

Gabrielle smiled against Xena's chest. "More than you know. Eve's friend heard about the tapestry and told the villagers I'd probably like it for the library. She wanted to surprise me with it at the ceremony, so didn't tell me it had arrived yet. A note came with it, explaining that a seer had woven it, that every scene has a certain significance. Apparently Eve's been examining it in minute detail. She saw something puzzling that she wanted to talk to me about after the presentation."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. It shows you and me with our hands on your urn, just before you told me not to immerse it in the water that would restore your body. Then it looks like you're somewhere with what must be the freed souls, looking down on me standing alone." Gabrielle paused. "But it doesn't end there."

"It doesn't?" Xena asked, not sure she wanted to know how it did end.

"Uh uh. The souls appear to be pushing you away."

Xena swallowed. "They don't want me?"

Gabrielle chuckled softly. "We're not sure why," she responded diplomatically. "They do seem to be pushing you toward a blond figure with its arms outstretched."

If Xena had had a beating heart, it would've been thumping or skipping. She swallowed again. "Is the blond figure '. Is she '."

"Dead? I certainly hope not." Gabrielle smiled impishly. "At least not while she's still got that deliciously firm body, those defined -"

"Grrrrrr."

"Okay, okay," Gabrielle relented, laughing. "She's looking up. Her arms stretch up. The souls seem to be pushing you down toward her arms, her world. The last scene shows you walking off with her into the sunset."

Xena lay silent, absentmindedly stroking Gabrielle's arm. Finally she asked, "Does it show how to make that ending happen?"

"Eve's friend thinks the seer may know. That's why I packed your urn. We're going back to Japa."

Xena gently disengaged from Gabrielle and scooted up to prop herself against the wall. "Are you sure that's what you want? You said yourself everything is finally the way you wanted. Why leave all this for what may be false hope and more heartache?"

Gabrielle raised herself up to rest against her soulmate. She reached over and turned Xena's face toward her. "Xena, I planned to start that quest even before I knew about the tapestry."

"You did?"

"Yes. It's why I've been working so hard to put things in place, to make sure there are others to carry on this work. It's a base for Eve and Marta, for me. I've received invitations from all over the world to help establish other villages like this. I planned to combine that with searching for insights to bring you back. Maybe do a little barding here, butt-kicking there, along the way. The only thing that might have stopped me was you."

"Me?"

"I didn't realize you could think all this would ever replace you." Gabrielle turned away. "But I can see why. I think maybe that's what I was trying to do at first. I accepted that you did what you felt you had to. But questions kept nagging at me. Why did it still feel wrong? Why couldn't anybody explain the spiritual basis? Was there no forgiveness possible in those freed souls? Was it, in truth, to appease the living? But those were my questions. I didn't want to disturb your sense of peace unless the answers would make you 'whole' in every sense."

Xena pulled her soulmate closer and grinned. "In other words, you missed me."

"Grrrrr." Gabrielle whacked Xena lightly across the midsection. "The issue is that I didn't know how much you missed me, not until you started ' bugging ' me like that. And when you admitted you were bored, I didn't feel so selfish about wanting to bring you back. The tapestry confirmed what I felt all along, except now we've got somewhere to focus."

Xena shook her head. "Amazing."

Gabrielle nodded. "Yep, amazing."

The two sat a few moments, side by side, each contemplating the possibilities that lay ahead.

"So when do we start?"

Gabrielle nearly choked with laughter. She gave her soulmate a long, grateful hug. "Not tonight, that's for sure. Some of us need sleep."

"Will I get to be more active on this quest? More involved in your thoughts and decisions?"

"Yesssss." Gabrielle smirked. "Your advanced wisdom could be useful. After all, I figure I'm still at least a couple of years younger than you."

Xena smirked. "All the more enticing to gnats and bees."

"Speaking of which, that was lovely how you appeared at the ceremony."

Xena grinned malevolently "It'd've been even lovelier if you'd let me sting the bastard. Um, not that I had any doubts you could handle him, of course."

"I meant the butterfly, after Eve gave me the tapestry."

"Oh, yeah, wasn't that something the way it showed up like that? Made me think of Lao Ma."

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying that wasn't you?"

"Do I get points if I say it was?" Xena noticed she was getting an exasperated glare instead. "Pffff. Not creepy-crawly enough for my tastes. Too flimsy to do dive bombs."

"Xena, I swear I don't know how anybody can be such balm to my soul and still be so -"

"Like a fly in the ointment? Bwahahahahahaha!"

"Xena?"

"Hey, fair is fair. You said yourself you're partly responsible that my otherworldly retirement home wasn't the paradise advertised."

"Xena."

"Yes, my dear, sweet, forgiving, irreplaceable, eternal soulmate?"

"You know how I said you'd been cleansed to the point of invisibility?"

"Vaguely."

"That hasn't quite worked out like I thought either. It may be that you can take the fly out of the darkness, but that you can't take the darkness out of the fly. Which may not bode well if - when - we get your body back."

Xena's brows furrowed. "It's true," she said seriously, "we haven't really talked about what we might be getting if I'm mortal again. Are you ' are you sure it's worth the risk?"

Gabrielle pulled her soulmate's head down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'd bet your enchantingly beady little eyes it is. Good enough?"

"For now." Xena wriggled down to a prone position, pulling Gabrielle with her. She smiled to herself. Yep, the butterfly was a nice touch, but even in death she had a certain stoic image to maintain.

Gabrielle yawned and snuggled into her soulmate. She smiled to herself. That butterfly had been the perfect touch. Yes, even in death, Xena couldn't resist doing the right thing.

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #Xena/Gabrielle #Xena/Gabrielle Fanfiction #fanfiction #xwp #mel/janice #mel/janice fanfiction #xena au

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anonymitywriterprescott · 5 months ago

Text

Kidnapped Part 1

Working at a secret government operation disguised as a fancy tech means you never know how each day is gonna go.

Most days you simply manage your team, come up with and build new tech.

Some days you just get told to invent whatever you want to see where it goes as long as no one gets hurt and the building stays intact.

Sometimes the day is going as normally as possible, and you're sitting peacefully at your station

Then the red emergency lights flash around you, and the entire building around you shakes violently, the ringing in your ears feels like it's piercing into your brain and as your eyes flutter open you see the destruction surrounding you, everything in the room being tossed everywhere, cabinet doors flung open or off the hinges.

The ringing in your ears dies down as you start to hear screaming on your radio.

---------------------------------------------------- The following is a transcription of the audio recording Nick: DO YOU COPY? I REPEAT DO YOU COPY? [REDACTED]: I COPY SIR, WHAT HAPPENED Nick: BOMB IN THE SECOND FLOOR, WEST WING. WHERE ARE YOU [radio static] [incomprehensible] Nick: DID YOU HEAR ME? OVER [REDACTED]: I HEAR YOU SIR, SORRY SIR, I'M ON THE 8TH FLOOR, WE FELT IT UP HERE TOO. WHERE DO I NEED TO BE Nick: I NEED YOU TO EVACUATE YOUR FLOOR AND MAKE YOUR WAY OUT. WE HAVE POSSIBLE HOSTILES WITH WEAPONS WE BELIEVE THEY ARE TARGETING THE FOURTH FLOOR SO AVOID AT ALL COSTS [REDACTED]: THEY- [static] -NOT FO- [static] -HER- [silence] Nick: YOUR CUTTING OUT, REPEAT [REDACTED]: NOT FOURTH FLOOR, TARGETING 8TH [heavy breathing] BACKUP, I NEED BACKUP Nick: SENDING PEOPLE YOUR WAY, WHAT'S HAPPENING [REDACTED]: [static] [silence] ----------------------------------------------------

You're sitting back against the door, the cold settling into your shoulder contrasting the feeling of warm liquid dripping down your arm and chest.

The radio beeps loudly 3 times before shutting off.

Dead.

Shit.

The only thing you can think of is everybody who is trapped in the building and the fear they are feeling.

The enemy is coming towards you, and you know you'll do anything to make sure they don't take anyone else.

"WEAPONS DOWN, HANDS UP NOW"

You oblige, slowly placing your gun on the ground. As you raise your hands, your right shoulder suddenly stings with sharp pain, you can feel it go from your shoulder through your entire body.

You realize your wound is pretty bad as your head starts to feel light.

"This is as high as I can fellas, the bullet you put in me won't let me go further" Snark drips off your tongue.

What appears to be the boss turns to the others.

"Move them out of the way, then cut the door open."

The door you are leaning on stores the documentation of the things you build every day.

The men start towards you.

"Wait wait wait, if you want information, I know more than anything in that room."

The boss looks at you, analyzing your face. "Yea?"

"What are you after? I can help instead." Did you want to help these people? fuck no. But you need to do something.

"I doubt you're giving it up for free."

"I'll tell you anything you want as long as you leave here, and don't take or hurt anyone else."

"How fucking noble of you." He shoots a glance at his companions. They grab you by your shoulders and force you up to his eye level. Due to the height difference, this means you feel your feet dangling as they hold you.

He steps towards you. "How about we just take you instead, and we'll get the info out of you one way or another." He motions with his hand and his men start taking you to their transport. You don't even yell, you know it's no use. But it doesn't matter, they're leaving just like you wanted.

You feel a small sting on the side of your neck and everything goes black.

#prescottstories #writing #writerscommunity #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #writers and poets #my writing #writers

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anderwhohn · 3 months ago

Text

Nihlus listens, his mandibles pulled tight against his jaw and even his subvocals suppressed to a disquieting silence as he takes in this new information, forest green eyes watching her unwavering as she provides her own perspective of just exactly where she's been for the last two years.

"Given the... difficulties I had getting any information out of Anderson, Hackett, and the Alliance after the surviving crew were recovered..." A low growl rumbles deep in his chest at that, shaking his head as he recalls, "There was at least a couple escape pods unaccounted for, suspected to have been wherever the wreckage landed, but they refused to send anyone else into the Terminus for rescue and recovery efforts."

Even the Council had tried to deny him leave to go look himself, and had it not been for a mission that happened to require he go to Omega anyway, even if it was weeks after the attack on the Normandy, he might never have been able to see it for himself, though he had only been concerned with finding the remains of the ship's captain, though he did tag and document the rest for recovery if anyone else was ever sent after them. The lack of loyalty to the missing crew was enough to have him petitioning the Hierarchy directly to send someone themselves, though as with anything done through bureaucratic channels, it was tied up in politics thanks to the human ambassador.

The fact that Cerberus got their hands on her while he was dealing with idiotic politicians determined to just shove everything under a rug and ignore the threat the Reapers pose to all organic life in the galaxy... Not that he isn't glad to have her back - as much as he can be sure, right now, that it is her - but that she's found herself with only Cerberus supporting her right now...

As she mentions the salarian doctor, his brow plates rise as he looks at her in surprise. "Dr. Mordin Solus?" he asks, a thoughtful hum threading through his words. "Bau's worked with him a time or two in the past. He's STG - retired, last I heard, and running a small clinic on Omega. Though there's been some troubling rumours coming from the station lately, but nothing concrete's made it this far, even with our intel."

With Solus on the station, and Cerberus sending Shepard there presumably to recruit him... There were enough ties to something potentially shady enough to worry the Council that he could probably get them to agree to let him investigate, potentially even to keep a close eye on Shepard in the process...

"I assume Sparatus was his usual delightful self when you spoke to him," Nihlus notes, one mandible flaring a little in a hint of a smirk. "If you're not shoving off immediately, I'll see what I can do to get more than just some token resources for you. I got the ping that your Spectre status was reinstated, but I doubt they gave you access to anything more than just that. Laiel may not like it, but if they're acknowledging your Spectre status, then they should be giving you full support as a Spectre."

And if that 'full support' just happens to come in the form of another Spectre, then well... He's always enjoyed this particular human's company - she's got... what do they call it? 'Spunk'? It was one of the very qualities about her that his cousin didn't much care for, which in Nihlus's opinion, just made it all the more entertaining for him.

"Give me a couple hours to see what I can pull with Laiel. Meet me at my apartment after? I'll send you the navpoint and access codes."

@anderwhohn said: "When they first said you were back, I thought they were delusional. Now I worry that I’m the insane one." (from Nihlus, ME2 reunion? Either on the Citadel, Omega, or Illium, depending on how you wanna play it?)

an old meme / PROBABLY ACCEPTING ↷

❝ If it helps, ❞ she says, knowing that it’s likely to do the opposite of that, ❝ I keep thinking I must be crazy. ❞

Convincing Tali that Wren was herself had made her feel unexpectedly vulnerable ⸺ she doesn’t dare, somehow, to confidently assure Nihlus she’s real, she’s alive, she’s here. She doesn’t dare, because if he expresses doubt... Wren thinks she might shatter.

She looks as vulnerable as she feels for a moment, staring middle-distance towards the Presidium lake, unseeing. Then, she rearranges her features, shutting off a little, forcing a neutral look. ❝ I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but it was Cerberus. I was dead, properly really dead, and they spent billions of credits into bringing me back to life. Cerberus. ❞ She says the word as if it tasted bitter. ❝ They tell me I’m me ⸺ not a clone, not an AI who thinks they’re Commander Shepard. Got a hell of a lot of new bits and bops in me, ❞ she touches the faintly glowing scarring of her face, ❝ but still me, apparently. They had to regrow some of my organs. I don’t even know ⸺ how much of me is organic, how much synthetic. They say, other than the supportive tissue and some enhancements, most of me should eventually be back to organic, but... ❞

She’s rambling. It’s easier to recount facts than to face how she feels.

Nihlus, it’s been over two years for Nihlus. It’s been a couple of days for her, since the Normandy was destroyed. Has he moved on? Are they close, anymore? They never really... Are they even friends, anymore? She smooths down her hair, a nervous gesture, hands trembling slightly. ❝ Anyway, of course I’m... Of course I’m going to do what I can. I’m here on a supply run ⸺ I have a lead on Omega, for a Salarian doctor. ❞ Nihlus is about the only person in the galaxy she doesn’t hesitate disclosing this information to. She wants him to come with her, but she’s scared to ask. Unsure if she can take another rejection. ❝ I was asked to build a team, to go after the Collectors. ❞

#dutyworn #dreams of elsewhere ( ic )#cool under pressure ( nihlus kryik )#shipverse || wren shepard / dutyworn ( dutyworn | nihlus )#wren shepard || dutyworn ( nihlus )#connection / dutyworn ( nihlus & wren shepard )

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years ago

Text

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Next chapter]

Part 1

You drive into the parking lot for Stark Industries. You had worked here for the last three years. Hiring out bodyguards was just a small service he provided among other things these says, but you guys had a whole floor to yourselves, so you weren't about to complain.

You parked, got out, and needed straight indoors. You greeted the receptionists at the front desk and made your way up to the elevator.

Over the past few years you had been working as a bodyguard. You had done many little jobs, providing security for celebrities at award shows, or being hired out to watch over parties and events here and there.

The pay was good and you loved your job. Granted, not every job is exciting and action filled, but you have met lots of wonderful, crazy, and questionable people over the years. You have kicked people out of parties, prevented crazy fans from getting too close, and one time had secure a lockdown for a client whose life was considered in danger one time.

You had plenty of stories to tell.

Today you were on your way in to receive your next assignment. Apparently this was a big job and Stark had put your name on the list. He needed the best he had, and you were one of them.

No doubt he had put Natasha down too.

You took the elevator up your floor and walked out. You headed into the changing rooms to put your suit on. It was important you looked smart for the job.

Once you were ready, you met up with the others in the meeting room at the time they asked you to be there.

Steve Rogers was the first one to greet you.

Steve was the head of the group. He, and his buddy James Barnes, were professionals at this job. They had been bodyguards much longer than you had and had secured the rest of the team over the years. It was Steve who trained you in the beginning.

"Glad you could make it," he says, smiling at you.

"I was told it was important."

"You're right about that. This is probably the biggest job yet, and could be quite time consuming too."

"Well, I'm ready to hear it out."

You take a seat. Bucky joins you. Steve slides a file across to you and you open it. You are presented with a photo and a document.

"This is Baron Helmut Zemo. Sokovian royalty. We've been requested to send bodyguards over while he travels through Europe to better his connections or something. We're not privy to all the details. Sam and Nat are already out there, flew put three days ago. You'll be flown over with Bucky and I'll join you in a couple of days. This is going to be a time consuming job, so keep your wits about you."

"Alright. I'm ready whenever," you say, looking at the photo.

He was handsome, that much you could tell. Brown hair, combed away from his face. Dark brown eyes and a confident aura surrounding him.

"A Baron, you said?"

"Yeah. You'll be situated as Castle Zemo. They'll provide rooms. You'll receive your schedule from Natasha when you arrive."

"Alright."

"You can keep hold of the file," he nods at it. You close it and pull it closer to you.

"When do we fly?"

"First thing in the morning," Bucky replies.

"See you tomorrow."

Steve dismisses you and Bucky. You both leave together. You tuck the file under your arm and walk in sync with your dear friend.

"Royalty. That's a new one."

Bucky chuckles.

"It's definitely going to be a job for the books."

"What's he like, this Baron?" You ask, glancing up at him.

"I don't know much. We're not suppose to."

"Yeah, I know. Aren't you a little curious though?"

"Yeah, I am," Bucky laughs, "but I'm a professional, and I'll keep it that way."

"You say that now."

You both knew you would both look him up because you always did. You both just liked to know a little about the person you were hired to protect. You never let anything you knew get out though. You were both professionals.

"I'll see you later, go eat and I'll be round in the morning."

"See you, Bucky."

You part ways and you go home, picking up some food on the way. When you get home you pull out your laptop and sit down in your living room. You lay out the file beside you and look him up.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

His picture popped up again. Yeah, he was definitely handsome. He lived in Castle Zemo in Novi Grad, Sokovia. That's where you would be stationed tomorrow before he flies out.

There wasn't a whole lot of information online. Just a little backstory on his family line and where Castle Zemo was located. Being a Baron, he was only a low form of royalty. Most of the news was about the decline of Sokovia. The country was struggling, hence why Baron Zemo was making a trip to strengthen connections here and there.

You felt like you understood him a little better, not that you were going to let this affect your job.

You close the laptop and finish your meal.

You wake up to constant buzzing on your phone. You reach out and grab it, answering the call and bringing it your ear.

"Hello?"

"Finally, I'll be there in ten," you hear Bucky say.

"Ten?"

"Ten minutes, get up!"

You sit up and check the time on your phone, its5later than you anticipated. You give a hurried 'see you later' down the phone and hang up, scrambling to get dressed and make some coffee to start your day.

By the time Bucky arrived at your door, you're ready and have a coffee in hand. Even have an extra for him.

Bucky actually looks impressed.

"Let's go."

You both hop into the car and he drives you to the airport, sipping your coffees as you went.

"We'll be spending the night in his home tonight, neither of us are on night duty, we'll be swapping out with Nat and Sam when we get there. We fly out for Paris tomorrow."

You listened to Bucky explain.

"What will happen in Paris?"

"The Baron will be escorted to the hotel, all guards will be present on that floor. Steve will meet us there with the last of the group and the Baron will be taken to his meeting spot."

"Just follow the routine, got it."

"You nervous? This is a big job after all," Bucky glances your way.

"A bit, but I'm going to prove to you all that I have what it takes. Nat trained me herself."

"Hey, we know you're capable. For what it's worth, none of us have ever done a job this big before. It's a first for us all," he smiles at you.

"Then we can do this together."

You both nod at each other.

You settle in for the rest of the ride. At the airport, you both quickly manoeuvre through the building. Bucky has the passports and boarding passes on him. You're both at the gate in time and board the plane with ease.

This was your first time to Sokovia. Your first time in the presence of royalty.

You were beyond nervous.

Bucky places a hand over yours and smiles at you. You smile back. It's all the reassurance you needed.

The plane takes off without delay.

This was going to be the biggest job of your life, and perhaps, just perhaps, your life would change too. You just didn't know what to expect when you got there.

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles

#helmut zemo #marvel #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #au #baron helmut zemo #zemo #bodyguard au

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blushing-starker · 4 years ago

Text

I did this instead of writing notes for science, have slightly angsty starker

"Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please, it's really fine. I can just stay here; May's apartment is just fifteen minutes away and Happy misses her anyway. It's a win-win!"

Tony snarls, clutches at his hand, keeps heading to the front desk with enough of a murderous aura people scramble to clear a path. His heart thrills, basically leaps with joy because this is for him, this is his partner outraged on Peter's behalf. And then the anxiety goes from its usual ten to a thirty because this is happening because of Peter.

A tug does absolutely nothing so he yanks, uses just a bit of super strength to haul Tony in a shadowed hallway where the overhead lights won't show how he clings like a koala to a heaving chest. Tony could be frothing at the mouth and out for blood, but the man would never hurt him, even accidentally.

Peter nuzzles a warm neck, tightens the grip around Tony until the billionaire relents and slowly returns the hug, body slumping around his smaller frame. It's ok, Peter can hold them both up. One breath, two breaths, fifteen breaths to calm a heart much more fragile than his own.

"I can wait here. The conference is for Tony Stark, not Spider-Man and definitely not me. You'll be late if you don't go now and Pepper's counting on us to see this through. It's my first week and, unlike a certain someone," he tickles right below the third rib, gets a startled chuckle in exchange, " Miss Potts can fire me if I don't 'produce results that benefit the company'. She cares for me, but I have to work hard to earn my place, make it harder for people to say I'm only in the company because I warm your bed. "

Tony jolts back, ready to discourage that line of thinking, assure him that's not, would never be the case and Peter can't fucking cry in an airport because Tony will be late for work. But Jesus, he's really grateful he fell for someone that loves him so much they'd always make sure he knew that.

Thing is, Peter doesn't have the secrets to the universe. Can't be certain, 100% certain of lots of things like whether or not there are multiple realities, if Ned really was serious about dating Betty and who the hell taped him dancing to Abba during a particularly odd fighting session with miss Natasha. Anyway.

The point is one of the few things he does know, will never doubt for as long as he lives, is that Tony Stark, the 'Man in a Can', the saviour of the world, loves him with all his heart. Metal parts and all. So he pins his boyfriend to the wall and doesn't let him speak.

"Tony, it's fine. A pilot refusing to let an intern board the VIP plane can be expected. He doesn't know who I am and that's ok because you promised me we'd tell the company six months in. It's been a week. If we had to wait til I turned eighteen for you to hug me longer than five seconds, we can wait till I've proven myself. Besides, going to the parks was a bonus, not the main thing."

It's not like he hasn't walked into an amusement park since he was twelve and his parents were still around.

Tony mumbles, starts to wheeze and shit yeah, Peter has to rein in the strength. His lover inhales deeply, waves off the concern and pulls him in again to disappear into fluffy, previously styled, hair.

"You're telling me you don't wanna ride the Hulk rollercoaster and take a selfie to send Banner while he's giving class? You're really telling me no to that?"

Well, at least he's back to normal.

"Tony, don't be mean. And I'm your intern. What would people say if they saw me rubbing your back while you puked over a bridge?" That earns him an indignant squawk from his ridiculous boyfriend and a peal of laughter from Happy. Crap, he forgot their security team could hear them through the earpieces.

"Excuse you, kid, but I was flying into the air at more than a hundred miles per hour while you were in kindergarten. "

"To be fair, I think he was in middle school."

"Shut it, Hogan, or I'll tell May you hate her walnut demons."

Peter gasps, turns to the now flustered Happy with mock surprise. "You don't like May's baking? Happy. She'll be so disappointed. Might even reconsider getting the Stark dating app." He ducks, grins when the stack of documents Happy always carries around smacks Tony right on the nose.

"Bullseye." Frank, the new security detail's leader, coughs into his shoulder, but the so called genius still glares at him before shoving the papers into Pete's hands.

"Fine. Be a good intern and hold these. I thought 'oh no, I can't let Pete's honor be questioned so I should get the pilot fired and my boyfriend a seat next to me. He's my partner and I can take him anywhere he wants in the world. Let's have a nice date after the conference, that could take his mind off of things'. But it's fine, Mr Intern. I'll just say you're my assistant. See how you like economy while I'm flying first class." Tony stomps away, angrily complains about ungrateful boyfriends , traitorous best friends and incompetent bodyguards.

While heading to the opposite gate.

Peter snickers as he turns back, manages to bite his lip when Tony seethes and warns them to not say a word about being old and unable to decipher directions. Frank absolutely loses his shit right there, has to grip his second in command's arm when Tony plucks Peter up like a kitten and drags him beside the philanthropist's hunched figure.

An arm wraps around his shoulder and refuses to move until they're on the plane, the pilot's sulking in the airport cafeteria and Peter's just a seat away from the world's most ridiculous, loveable, caring boyfriend. Tony tugs at him, says something about being cold and spiders running hot. But they both know he's just happy to have his lover, uh, intern close by. For matters of the company, yeah.

(Still. Peter shows exactly how happy he is to have such a considerate partner by winning every single plushie at the amusement park for Tony. If he later shows his appreciation privately in the CEO's office, well. Interns are expected to help the boss stay awake during working hours, after all.)

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #starker #peter x tony #my moodboards #i am sleepy #ceo!tony #intern!peter #happy hogan #happy is exasperated #soft!starker #peters actually an intern au

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lovenona · 4 years ago

Note

hey it's been awhile.

Everything passes; may it be an event, a feeling, a frustration or a person. Everything that holds significance could pass in a blink eye and in the blur of brisk conversations. But on days like these, it is easy to forget.

It was the way that the soft hum of the air-conditioning made the white noises in the four blue walls that you were settled in. Your traitorous gaze wandered towards the digitally drawn portrait of two lovers that settled atop the white desk; a fine day, you remembered. It was sunny, happy and comfortable, taken on one of your regular gym sessions. Choso, unexpectedly, prepared a little food session for the both of you. A surprise, or so he says. Choso was perfect.

You sighed. As perfect as he is, who wouldn't want him?

Though it felt like minutes has gone by, you were sure it was only a few mere seconds. Idly, you looked around. A shirt, you remembered. Right, that's what you were here for.

Yet as you let your gaze travel around the room, countless memories resurfaced in your head and the sickening feeling returned in your gut. It has been two weeks since the argument; two weeks since a dreaded agreement. You were a confident woman, there was no doubt to it. But as the days itched close to their settled deadline, your felt your confidence dwindle, like crumbs threatening to fall at the expense of an excessive bite.

You shook your head. No, this wasn't the time to dwell on that. Today is a happy day; a hangout. Things were going well, or so you convinced yourself.

You maneuvered your way around the house; your steps faltering as you inch closer to the garage. You gripped the shirt tightly as you passed by the lounge, where movies, chips and wholesome intimate moments were shared. Enough, you scolded yourself, today is not the day.

Today was a different day.

Yes, oddly enough, it was. Right after sitting around and watching YouTube videos, Choso had asked you if you'd wanted to clean the car with him. His reasons were that for you to use during your late afternoon drive at the top of the city. Of course, you agreed. Afterall, it was another new memory to harvest.

But as you stepped into the garage and stared at the way your lover wiped the trunk, an odd thought settled in your mind; perhaps he’s done this for there was less need for communication and, instead, more focus at the task on hand.

You swallowed.

Walking towards him, Choso raised his head and smiled at you. "Thanks. Could you wipe the windshield?"

You blinked. But that's right up front, though, you thought, out of your view. "U-uh, yeah. Sure."

Trying as you might, you willed your arms to work the circular motion; quickly moving from the windshield to the hood and made your way to the windows. At this point, the will to do the task simmered and your movements became unsteady, lanky and half-hearted. Why wouldn't it be? After all, there was nothing but silence between them; the inches of emotional space turning into miles, and you wished of the days where tournament tables were the only thing that held space between them.

A passing feeling, you dismissed. Everything was fine, what was there to panic about?

Yet, now that he was within vision, you allowed yourself to ponder over the last few days. Contact was less, messages were dull and kisses were more of a requirement than a need. And the more you stared at him, the more the moments shared between them dulled. You felt, though you hated it, him slip from your trembling grasp.

You now realized, as the days etched towards finger counted remains, that your confidence was slipping; that the thread of hope you held together was burning your hands as it pulled and pulled, until the ends met your aching palm.

"We'll put a foam right here, so we could lay down." Choso’s voice slashed through your running thoughts. "Let's bring the cooler so we could get the drinks cold. I'll make it the best."

You hummed; your hand absently wiping down the watermark on the window shield. That sounded nice; laying at the back of a pick-up truck with cold drinks and food settled between them; a nice view before them and the cold breeze that would coat the bleak night. A peaceful date. It was almost as though he was trying to make it perfect, comfortable and steady. And had it not been for his words, his distant demeanor and indifference would've told a different story; one that doesn’t say the perfect goodbye, where he doesn’t save the best for last, quite literally.

The best. Last.

You dropped your hand and at the same time, your stomach followed with dread at the realization that this wasn't going to what they agreed upon; it was never going there in the first place. This wasn't working things out; this was, instead, preparation. Setting up boundaries, both physical and emotional; he was gradually putting a safe distance between them, yet you, stubbornly, refused to give up the fight; allowing him to wield the sword as it pushed against your shield.

Oh, so that was it.

You spoke, though to your ears, your voice broke; showing signs of your vulnerability. At once, memories of your last moments with your best friend and the image of his kind smile flows through your mind. You were sure you whimpered the words out.

"I don't want to let this go."

Separation anxiety, or what was that called? The dreadful fear of abandonment, yet realizing it at the same time. The desperation for emotional independence that was lost through the years of trust, faith and comfort that intertwined within their three year bond. It was about to crash, you knew; the pillar that you had leaned on.

Choso turned, water flowing from the host he held. He stared, with a look of neither comfort or reassurance, and settled a gentle hand a top your head. Smiling as you thought he was, it looked more of a grimace; the unyielding silence from the man you loved digging painful shovels down your heart. You must've looked desperate—pitiful—to receive a look like that.

And you knew then, as painfully as you shoved it towards the back of your mind for the last few weeks, as uncomfortably it suffocated you as you slept and as you desperately ran away while it chased your waking steps, that it was about to end.

Everything passes, but on days like these, where a suffocating void forms in the depths of your mental resilience, where the lingering fear of abandonment chases you through the night, it was easy to forget that.

i took this out of a novel i was working on. i don't have a fanfic writing blog on tumblr but i really wanted to send this to you because i looove your works (will try uploading it on ao3 but i have zero balls for that). i have something of musician!sukuna for you after i finish this stupid koga document analysis. do not, i repeat, minor history.

- yuki

YUKI WELCOME BACK U NEVER DISAPPOINT HOLY FUCK THIS KNOCKED ME TF OUT HOW . pls i always look forward to u sharing ur writing thank u SO MUCH. drink water n have fun on ur assignments and i can’t wait for u to bless me again 🥺🤲

#LITERALLY UR TALENT IS UNMATCHED THIS MADE ME FEEL SO MHCH #THE ANgst. THE YEARNING. UNBELIEVABLE #IM GONNA REREAD THIS 500 TIMES #letters to adele #from yuki

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lovelydeadlysocialite · 4 years ago

Text

Request for Reassignment (Vyn/Kat)

Vynette sat at her desk, finishing up the paperwork assigned to her, just like any night in the office. The only difference was her demeanor. Something about her was tense. She caught a look from Kat more than once for her heel tapping nervously, and the elf kept sneaking glances at her Director to almost make a comment before sealing her lips again.

Finally, without looking up, some of the proposed words in her head finally managed to tumble out. "I was talking to an agent from another Unit today. I guess they've had eight agents now put in to answer the call for aid. From, you know, the Covenants."

"Uh-huh," Kat muttered in response without looking at the elven operative, her focus remaining on the papers she shuffled, expression blank.

It was more or less the kind of response Vyn expected. She sighed, knowing she was going to have to move things forward. "It seems like the need for more trained hands is still pretty great. And what with the duties of wartime off everyone's plates, more or less," her voice trailed softer and quicker as she mumbled, "I was considering requesting a temporary assignment to offer my abilities. Ma'am."

Kat froze in place, staring at the document in hand as a slow exhale spilled over her lips. Eyelids shut as lips curled inward over the teeth and the paper set aside. "There are plenty of eager hero types and jar-heads t' fill the ranks." Her response monotone as the stark gaze shifted to the elf.

"We have plenty t'do here."

The air in the room thinned out at Kat's tone and in any other instance, Vyn would have dropped the topic. Unfortunately, the circumstances here were unique. "I know. There is work to be done, and I'm not ignoring or underplaying the work we do." She may have come to Unit Eight looking for a job and a safe place to hide, but she did understand the value they added to the Alliance she was somehow a part of now.

"It is just... the request came for me specifically." An uncharacteristic uncertainty softened Vynette's voice. "My teacher is part of the House of Eyes. He has called for me to aid the Necro Lords."

Without missing a beat, Kat's eyes narrowed sharply following Vyn's confession. "I see..." Her tone and demeanor turned ice-cold, and the eye contract broke, the Director diving back into her papers.

"So after everythin', I've done, everythin' I've risked, yer going t' abandon me just like that." Pain and anger laced Kat's words, her jaw tightening towards the end. "One letter from a ghost and I'm nothin' t' ya'."

Vyn's bright blue eyes went wide at the shift in tone. It was rare to see such intensity drawn from the otherwise collected and calculating Director. As someone who genuinely respected Kat, Vyn felt the pit of guilt in her stomach. "No, that's not it at all! You're... you mean a lot to me. You took a chance on me." She spoke of the risks Kat took for her in a hushed voice, not wanting to raise suspicions of anyone who might still be lingering in a nearby office. "I owe you everything."

Taking a deep breath, Vyn pressed forward, mustering up her determination. "I am not looking to leave beyond a temporary reassignment; my home is here. With you and with the Unit." Their office was one of the few consistent places anyone could find her these days. "But he was the one who got me here. He saw value in me and gave me purpose. And I failed him. And he died," she finally admitted.

"And I saw value in ya', and gave ya' a new purpose!" Kat quickly countered, pointing a finger in the elven woman's direction. "A purpose that could have, and still could, get us both killed."

With a scoff, Kat's head shook, and her arms crossed as she stood from the desk and paced. "Ya' failed him, but he sends a letter? Have ya' gone dense Vynette?" For once, the Director addressed her elven shadow by the first name rather than the forged surname. "It has trap written all over it. Or did ya' forget how ya' were ejected from the Horde?"

It would have been easy to call her paranoid; plenty of people in SI:7 had already. The real pain came from the truth in her words.

"I was overconfident when I got set up. I'm not that anymore thanks to you," she pointed out. "Being by your side is important to me."

Vyn was to the point of pleading, even when she knew Kat was not so easily swayed. What else could she do? "Kat..." She addressed the woman, not the title. "There's still closure I need from my time as an apprentice. Shit I'm still carrying with me. My loyalty is with you; no one can change that. So I'm asking-- begging for the chance to serve the cause in the Shadowlands and put my ghosts to rest."

A heated exhale pushed through the nostril as Kat turned her back to Vynette's pleading, facing the wall where documents, pins, and red string put together the tapestry of their current case. She did not appear to be swayed by the elf's begging, not entirely. Something in that final statement did bring a silent pause.

"If bein' by my side is so important, then why so eager to leave it?" She chose to hone in on other points and skip over the please, keeping her back to the elf. There was still a tinge of pain and anger in her tone.

"Livin' in th' past never moved anyone forward. I need ya' here. Or is suddenly wot I and this job I graced ya' with no longer of importance? I didn' say a bloody thing when I came back to find yer visage eerily similar to mine, plucked a hair from the office, no doubt. Even when my patience is tested by yer sometimes questionable motivations and comments in the borderline territory of breakin' my rules, I allowed yer leash to remain lax. I never asked fer anythin' other than service in return, even after footin' the bills to fake and create yer life in the Alliance. But this is the thanks I get? T'be abandoned fer some Horde dog."

Vynette got to her feet, because she disliked the tone Kat was taking regarding her teacher. Vyn rarely defied Kat; it was not in her nature. Still, she persisted. "You've let my leash remain lax because I've done everything you've ever asked of me, without question. I've followed every order, completed every mission," her voice dropped lower, but picked up its intensity, "I've done every off-book task you've needed with a smile because I'm your knife. I've committed sins for you and I'd commit them thrice over and you know that."

Scrunching her nose at the realization that her tone was getting away from her, Vynette composed herself. "He's not some Horde dog, Director; he's found a place of high standing in the House of Eyes. If I went over your head, they'd give me the go ahead. Hell, I could go to Fiske. I didn't do that because I don't give a shit about their authority. You're the one I follow."

Looking down at her desk, Vynette sat back down feeling resigned to defeat. "If you command me to stay, I'll stay. I don't ask for much. But I'm just asking for you to trust me. I have debts to repay, but he's not my master anymore."

As the Operative's tone began to get away from her, Kat looked back over her shoulder. One brow lifted as she stared the elven woman down from across the room as if cursing her for the act of defiance.

"Go over m'head or t'Fiske, and it won't be a temporary reassignment." The Director barked. Whether it was a threat or fact was anyone's guess.

Fingers ran through her raven tresses, pulling the strands back as she sighed quietly, seemingly content with Vynette's concession. "When this case is over," Kat motioned to the wall at her side as she turned to face the elf. "Then I will consider signin' off on a temporary reassignmen'. I will no' make any promises, however."

The tension in Vyn's shoulders released. Resisting Kat's authority made her physically uncomfortable, but she had made it to the other side. They both knew the elf would not go over Kat's head, but she was still being given an out. She could handle finishing their assignment at hand. She would cling to the hope that, if she continued to be on her best behavior, Kat would give her the chance to settle her past.

"Of course, ma'am," she replied with an earnest salute and a genuine, radiant smile. "Til then, the only thing on my mind is our case. I'm all yours; you have my word."

"Good," Kat murmured as she returned to her desk and the papers scattered atop it.

"Now get out of m'sight for an hour or two before I change m'mind, and there better be a bottle in one hand when ya' return."

[ @kat-hawke ]

#Kat Hawke #director hawke #the director's shadow #Operative Mistcaller #shadowlands #rp #necro lords #house of eyes #blades & button ups

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thetomorrowshow · 5 years ago

Text

The Poignancy Of Silence, Pt. 2

A/N: This is the second half of my entry for @stop-it-anxiety‘s fall fic contest! Here is the first part! This is now completed, but I have ideas for one-shots/an epilogue that takes place in this universe. So those may happen at some point.

Word count: 4735ish

Tw: I don’t even know where to start, depression, discussion/mentions of suicide, brief mentions of self-harm, light kissing, Dee’s a gay disaster

Pairing: Roceit

“Oh, Mr. Boiga. You've never done a restraining order, have you?”

“No, sir.”

Professor Reynolds handed him a folder. “There you are. Name's Roman Gutierrez. He's asked for a restraining order against his brother. I'll need you write three pages about each meeting. More details are in the folder.”

Dee rubbed the scruff that grew on one side of his face. “How many meetings will it take?”

“As many as necessary.”

Professor Reynolds, wanting the students in his Masters program to get real-world experience, requested local firms to send real cases for his classes. He assigned them to students based on grades, priority, and type. For example, a failing student might be assigned an everyday, low-level case, while the top of the class would get intriguing, high-level cases. Dee was somewhere in the middle, receiving low-priority cases that were still decently interesting, and he was learning a lot.

Those the case concerned were asked to sign a slip, acknowledging that it would be handled by a student, and in turn, that they wouldn't sue the firm. As Dee was handling this case, Roman Gutierrez had obviously given permission.

The public library had a private conference room. Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, it was reserved from 3pm—8pm for students, who signed up for hour-long slots. This service was generally utilized by the law students and tutors. After some communication, Dee reserved a slot on Friday for 5pm—6pm.

Roman Gutierrez hardly spoke. At points during their meeting, Dee looked up and thought that Roman Gutierrez could have been handsome, were his hair combed, his eyes not unbearably sad, the dark shadows from his light grey hood not quite hiding the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and nose.

“So I looked up your brother, Remus Gutierrez. Apparently he's currently on parole after trying to steal the car in the mall?”

Roman Gutierrez shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was unbelievably soft, making Dee wonder if he'd ever raised it. “Hadn't heard about that one. It does sound like Remus, though.”

They'd been in the conference room for forty minutes. Dee kept trying to get a reason out, why he wanted this restraining order, but Roman Gutierrez didn't seem to want to talk about it—or anything, really. He'd even asked outright. The man had just shrugged again and looked away.

“Well, Mr. Gutierrez, unless you feel comfortable telling me why, I'm afraid we'll have to end this meeting here.”

“I'm sorry,” Roman Gutierrez apologized immediately. “I'll—I'll drop it, it's not that important. I'm sorry for wasting your time.” He stood, awkwardly pulling on his over-sized hoodie.

“No, no,” Dee said, standing as well. “It's fine. We can meet every week until we figure this out.” He glanced at the file. “I might be able to get the order based on what he's done alone,” he added dubiously.

Roman Gutierrez sighed. “You're busy. I don't want to bother you.”

“You aren't bothering me.” A lie. He was already annoyed that he'd wasted a good hour of his time trying to work with an uncooperative client who wasn't even paying him. Still, he very much wanted to become a lawyer. He had to be dedicated to this man's case.

“Really, I'll be fine. I don't need it.”

“Roman Gutierrez.”

The man winced, then looked at him. His eyes were an odd mix of grey and brown, a stormy sea, swallowing any positive emotions that tried to brave the thrashing waters. All frustration Dee felt for the man momentarily dissipated, replaced with fathomless pity.

“I will not give up until we resolve the issue. Trust me.” It hurt dully to say that, remembering all the times his lies had eaten away at his trustworthiness. It was okay, though, he realized, as the other man gave him a doubtful look. Roman Gutierrez didn't trust him anyway.

Three meetings in and Roman Gutierrez still hadn't explained his reason for wanting the restraining order. Outside of meetings, Dee was digging through reports of Remus Gutierrez, printing everything that could be of any help to his case. His folder grew steadily thicker, but he never opened it in the conference room of the public library.

They talked about memes, movies, politics. Dee expressed the pains of a law major and Roman Gutierrez confessed that he'd dropped out of community college to pursue a failing acting career. Dee found that odd. He didn't really seem the acting type, but maybe he was different onstage. Happy.

Sometimes, a spark of something almost happy flashed in Roman Gutierrez's eyes, pleasing Dee immensely for some unknown reason. The man was warming to him, cautious smiles and eye contact.

Knock. Taptaptap. Knock knock.

Dee's head swiveled toward the door. A couple of classmates were tapping on the window in the door, their personal songs that only Dee could hear emanating from the other side of the glass. They beckoned to Dee, who smiled briefly and shook his head.

“What do they want?” Roman Gutierrez asked uncomfortably.

“Oh, game night. Hitting the slots or whatever.”

Roman Gutierrez stood hurriedly. “Oh, I can go. Sorry for holding you up. Go have fun.”

Dee laughed a little and waved him back into his seat. Two meetings ago, he would've been begging for an escape from the fruitless conversation. Now, for some reason, he found that he was sort of enjoying their awkward chats. “No. Gambling was a habit I kicked about a year ago.” And a year too late, he added to himself.

“Are you sure you don't want to go?” Roman Gutierrez looked awkward as he looked at the door. “That guy seems to really want you to.”

Dee turned back to the door to see a blond man throwing flirty eyes at him. “Oh, that's just Remy. He flirts with literally everyone, but won't commit.” He knew. He'd been down that road.

Silence for a second. Then Roman Gutierrez said quietly, “He's kinda hot.”

Somehow, the words made Dee a little . . . jealous? No. There was nothing to be jealous about. He was just a little mad at being ignored. He'd just said that Remy was a player, hadn't he? Roman Gutierrez needed someone dependable.

They were meeting twice a week now. They could only meet once in the library conference room, so where the second meeting was varied. One week it might be in a cafe, the next in the campus library. For confidentiality purposes, Dee didn't bring his folder on Remus Gutierrez to these meetings.

He told Roman Gutierrez that these meetings were for trust, and so he could get a better idea of why he needed a restraining order. There was another reason, though. One that he would never say aloud.

Roman Gutierrez didn't have music.

The man had smiled, laughed (neither of which quite reached his eyes), but never a single note. Dee wondered if he actually had none, or if he just never truly experienced a positive emotion strong enough to trigger a tune. Before he'd met Roman Gutierrez, the only person without music had been Dee himself, a fact that often brought him down. Now, though, he wasn't the only one. Who could blame him for wanting to get to know the man better?

They grew looser, more friendly. Dee found himself reminded of Roman in the most unexpected places and tasks. Their text thread, which had once been strictly formal, was now flooded with memes sent by both, captioned with little “saw this and thought of you”s and “me rn”s.

Dee saw their two meetings as the bright points of his week, his face lighting up when he saw those grey-brown eyes under that mop of dark hair, the fourteen freckles spotting his caramel-toned skin. His heart jumped at every smile, cheeks grew warm at every joke.

Dee couldn't deny it now, couldn't say that the reason he arranged the meetings was to study the man who had no music.

Dee had a crush on Roman Gutierrez.

Roman Gutierrez didn't own a car, so Dee often picked him up or dropped him off at his town house. Roman had three roommates who were never home, architecture students who stayed out late and left home early every day.

Roman always seemed down—well, more down—at their parting. Dee always made him swear to send a text the next morning, and though Roman rolled his eyes, he always promised. Dee was growing increasingly worried that . . . that Roman Gutierrez might harm himself. Light research told him that the man displayed a good amount of the symptoms of depression. Maybe he was just being paranoid, maybe he just cared too much. Better safe than sorry, though. He really liked this man—far more than he'd liked anyone in years. He couldn't lose him.

“I stayed with my dad on weekends.”

They were in the conference room again, but instead of sitting across from each other at the sleek table, they were relaxed on the floor. Dee had brought some pillows and Roman had ordered a pizza. The heavy folder sat untouched on the table.

“He wanted custody of me and Remus, but my mom wanted us too. They ended up splitting us. I kept dad's name and visited every weekend,” Roman frowned. “Remus never visited us, though.” He smiled brightly; no music sounded. “But, all's well that ends well.”

“It's not the end yet.”

“No. The hero always has more challenges to overcome. But the ending of the story is magnificent.”

Dee hoped that was true. He wanted Roman Gutierrez to have the best ending possible.

He couldn't help but remember everything he'd read in his high school literature class. Happy endings were nice. No one ever said they were guaranteed, or even common.

Dee filed the request for the restraining order. The document was packed with Remus Gutierrez's wrong-doings and warnings from the law, as well as a short testimony from Roman.

He tried to tell himself that he hadn't put it off, that he'd needed all his spare time to do homework, that it was okay that this project had extended a month past its tentative deadline.

It was hard to finally click 'send' on the very professional-looking email requesting the order. The meetings would end. He and Roman would drift apart. He'd never get the chance to hear the music that might not exist.

He decided then, that as soon as the request was approved, he would ask Roman Gutierrez out on a date.

Hello?

It wasn't necessarily the message that immediately bothered him, nor the tone of it. What first stuck out was the fact that it was a voicemail, not a text.

It's Roman . . . Gutierrez. In case you know any other Romans.

Dee flew out the door, not bothering to put on a coat or shoes, despite the brisk autumn air of the night. He fairly threw himself into his old brown car.

I, uh, I dunno. This is hard to say.

“C'mon, c'mon,” he muttered. The car was slow in the cold, he knew that. But this was important. He didn't have time to wait for it to warm up, he needed to get to Roman.

I've decided to drop everything against Remus.

He'd left an email open on his laptop before going to bed. A message from the firm, saying that they were certain it would be approved, there were just a few more hoops they needed to jump through. It was so close.

So, I won't be bothering you anymore.

The car finally started; Dee threw down his phone and swung it into reverse. His searches were still pulled up: how to talk someone out of suicide—what to do when you find a suicide note—when a loved one takes their own life—

I'm sorry. For taking up your time. You didn't need to patronize me. Sorry—sorry for making you put up with me.

That intersection, the one that was so busy during the day, the one that still brought painful flashbacks of waking up on asphalt and blood and that shining freckled face with the music he hadn't heard in almost three years.

So, um, please. Don't—er, you don't need to contact me again. I—I won't be bothering anyone again. Click.

He drove recklessly. The radio showed a green 1:41 AM. The roads were the quietest Dee had ever seen them, no one waiting at intersections, no one honking at slow-moving pedestrians. He ran three red lights with no consequences, considering this a matter beyond traffic laws.

Roman? Roman, please. When you get this message, call me back. We'll talk about this. Please.

Here it was. The street with too many cars parked on the road. The town house with one car in the drive, the car with two flat tires and no air conditioning that none of Roman's roommates ever bothered to fix.

I'm coming over, okay? I'm coming over right now and we'll talk about this. I'll help you through this. Where are my keys—Click.

He tore the keys from the ignition and leaped out, slamming the door shut and running for the porch, the grass damp and poking under his bare feet. The window glowed through the curtains, so someone was up—and the other tenants weren't home, judging by the singular (broken) car in the driveway.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

“Roman, let me in,” Dee pleaded. “Come on! Please!”

Knock-knock-knock-kn—

Then the door was open, and Roman was there, and he was alive and here and Dee couldn't hold himself back and wrapped him in a hug, needing to confirm his solidity. Roman froze, then gently detached himself.

“You haven't taken anything, have you?” Dee asked frantically. “No drugs or poisons or anything?”

“What?” Roman sounded confused. Dee looked him up and down for signs of harm—sweatpants, t-shirt (for the first time, he noticed light, uneven scars on his forearms), messy hair. Tear tracks down his cheeks from red-rimmed eyes. “Why are you here?”

“You wouldn't answer when I called!”

Roman shrugged, his feigned nonchalance entirely transparent. “Sorry, my phone died. That doesn't mean you had to drive here at—” he checked an unseen clock— “almost two in the morning.”

All of the emotions that Dee had been keeping inside by sheer will burst out. The mind-numbing fear when he'd received the voicemail, the deep pits of dread in his stomach when Roman wouldn't pick up, the panic as the car wouldn't start and he was certain that Roman Gutierrez would be dead by the time he arrived—and he couldn't stop seeing his lifeless body, blood pooling around his wrists or foam leaking from his mouth or—or—

“I thought you were going to kill yourself!” he yelled, tears spilling out onto his own hideous face. Roman's face grew stony, but a tear rolled down his perfect face as well.

“Why would it matter to you if I did?” he said bitterly.

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

The shout echoed through the neighborhood, and Dee clamped his mouth shut. Never yell at or insult someone you believe is suicidal, one webpage had said. Oops.

Roman let out a jarring bark of laughter. “No, you don't,” he corrected. “You think you do. But you don't. No one ever does.”

“Okay, maybe I don't. But I want to!” The truth was was spilling out uncomfortably, but Dee couldn't stop. “I was planning to ask you out as soon as the case was closed! I—I feel good around you. Like I could mess up and not be embarrassed. Like I could say anything and know you would still care about me! I feel . . . happy.” And he knew it was true, even without music of his own to prove it.

Silence. Too long of a silence. Dee looked away, pretending to be enthralled with the tinkling wind chimes hanging on the neighbor's porch.

“I know,” Roman choked out eventually. Dee turned his eyes back on him, saw the deluge of tears brimming in the man's eyes. “I know. But—I was. . . .”

Dee nodded. He didn't know what Roman was trying to say, but understood somehow.

Roman cleared his throat. “I called you because I just found out I'm getting evicted. Remus was the only person who offered me a place to stay.”

“That would be awkward,” Dee tried. He got a small, sad smile in return.

“Yes. Probably shouldn't get a restraining order against the one person who's giving me a home.”

“Wait—you're actually accepting?”

“It's my only option.”

“Um, no, it isn't.” Dee shuffled his feet on the rough pavement. Now he really wished he'd taken time for shoes, or a jacket, or something. “Heck, I've got an apartment. I'd love to split rent with someone.”

A spark of hope glinted in Roman's eyes, then disappeared, as if he was too scared to let it stay. Dee continued, his teeth chattering.

“Besides, I'm not dropping this case, hon. We're in the final stages. It's going to be approved. And,” he said, quieter, softer, “I don't know—and I never have to know—what Remus did to you. But it's okay to get away from him. Forgiveness doesn't mean you have to put yourself back into a toxic situation.”

A moment of bated breath. Dee counted the fourteen freckles (to make sure that they were all there) and stared into Roman's eyes, the grey-brown irises disbelieving, and brimming with tears, and so so tired.

Finally, suddenly, Roman's face crumpled. “I—I can't say th-that I wasn't—that I didn't think—that I wasn't planning—” he sobbed.

Dee didn't know what he'd said that had broken the dam, or even if it had been something he'd said, but it didn't matter. Roman fell into his arms as soon as they were open, burying his face into Dee's shoulders.

“I—I'm sorry,” Roman gasped, his voice muffled. “I'm sorry I'm so b-broken.”

Dee didn't know how to respond. He let his fingers comb through Roman's hair, mumbling something about how it was going to be okay. He wanted to say that he himself had thought the same thing many times. Wanted to tell Roman that he wasn't broken, he was just hurt, and healing took time. Wanted to say that he would hunt down and threaten whoever had hurt Roman so if they even so much as thought about him.

But he didn't say any of those things. Instead, Dee just held Roman Gutierrez as he shook, and knew that this was just the beginning of a long challenge. But by Jove, would he do anything for the man crying in his arms.

“Come on, Dee. We'll miss the opening of the gates!”

Dee straightened the bowler hat and smiled at his reflection. Roman had assured him that Steampunk was perfectly acceptable at a Renaissance Festival, so he'd thrown some gears on a dapper suit and bought a patched leather half-mask, matching the leather of his gloves. He flashed a tentative smile at himself, adjusted his frilly collar, then left the bedroom.

The stowaway bed was pulled out of the couch, blankets curled up on it, as well as a stuffed lion. They'd been 'officially' together for months, but Roman wasn't comfortable sharing a bed (something that made Dee curse Roman's abusive boyfriend from the past).

Dee caught sight of his boyfriend by the front door and felt the oxygen leave his lungs. “Wow, Moondrop. Now I know why you wouldn't let me see it.”

Roman reddened slightly. His princely uniform was a silky white, ornamented with golden accents and a red sash stretching from his right shoulder to his left hip. A sheath at the other hip held a sword Dee knew to be wooden. White pants tucked into tall black boots; shimmering gold make-up applied around his eyes brought out specks of gold in his irises that Dee had never noticed before. The stormy sea that he had always found himself comparing those eyes to now had rays of sun peeking out through the clouds.

A small smile played at Romans lips while he waited for Dee to say something, which made him realize that he had been staring for a little too long.

“Wow,” Dee said again. He leaned closer, swept Roman's dark hair from his forehead. “You look simply breathtaking. Are you sure you don't need a crown?” he added.

Roman laughed. “A prince never wears his crown while on an adventure.”

Dee placed a hand on the back of Roman's head, then leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and light and full of love, and for a moment , he thought he heard some barely-audible violin strains. It had been happening on occasion as of late. He hoped it meant that Roman was happy.

“Let's go, my prince.”

The April morning was crisp as they roamed the festival. Roman bounded ahead, his excitement akin to a small child's, his smile threatening to split his cheeks. Sometimes, kids pulled on his sleeve and he suddenly became Prince Roman, holding his head higher and telling stories about faraway lands with dragons and slumbering forests and doves made of pure sunlight. Not for the first time, Dee marveled at his imagination. He caught whispers of maybe-Roman's-music through the dozens of overwhelming tunes that floated in the air. For perhaps the first time, Dee was glad he didn't have a song of his own. If he did, it would only be adding to the cacophony.

They purchased turkey legs and relaxed to watch some shows—a fire-eater named Dr. Dumpe, an act called Bob The Incredible Juggler, a high-school choir. Under the acts was that music.

Under everything there was music, of course. He was good at ignoring it, but this certain music felt important. And it was always in his ear. Always near Roman.

The song was floating and brash, sad and enthusiastic, pondering and rushed. Strains of strings were echoed by brass instruments, an ensemble of discordants coming together to create beauty. Sometimes, when Roman was entertaining a particularly awestruck bystander, an electric guitar or drumbeat would join the mass, somehow accenting the best parts of the tune. It really was the most wonderful sound Dee had ever heard.

Roman Gutierrez was truly happy. Dee couldn't help the joy that rose in his chest.

“Dee? Are you all right?”

Dee opened the door to his bedroom. He'd shut it as soon as he'd gotten home, needing to be by himself and knowing that Roman liked to be alone right after a rehearsal. Roman stood outside, his hair mussed with sleep.

“How'd rehearsal go?” Dee asked instead. Roman shrugged.

“Fine. I had to call for my line three times.”

“And what good things happened?”

“Um. . . .” Roman chewed his lip. “I made someone laugh. But what's up with you?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Dee lied. “I'm fine.”

Roman sighed. “You never shut your door. What's wrong?”

He really didn't want to tell his boyfriend the problem. He was afraid Roman would laugh, or brush him off like Patton always did, comforting him in the moment but making him feel worse in the future. “I, uh. I just get fed up with my face sometimes.”

Roman nodded slowly. “That's a start. What happened to make you feel bad now?”

“Nothing,” Dee said. “I just—” and it was all going to come out, he could feel it— “Sometimes I think maybe I would be happy if I looked normal! Maybe—maybe I could have a—” He cut himself off. There was no way that was going to get out of his head.

“A what?”

“Nothing,” Dee muttered. “You can go back to bed.” He hated that he did this, he always did this, pushing people away when he needed them the most, not wanting to bother them with his problems. Roman, however, didn't move. His face was shadowed with stubbornness.

“Dee, you're here for me on my bad days,” Roman said softly. “Let me be here for you on yours.”

“Maybe I could have a . . . a family.” Dee cringed, waiting for Roman to say that he did have one, and it was him. That wasn't what he meant, though. He wanted parents and banter between siblings and a loving home to come to whenever he needed it.

Then Roman's arms were around him, and Dee was crying into his shoulder, the tears that he'd dried before opening the door coming back tenfold; his face pressed into the Lion King themed t-shirt. Roman's hands rubbed small circles on his back.

“I love you,” Roman whispered. “I love you. And I'm going to help you.”

“I love you.”

“I hear music.”

There were no nerves, like there had been with Patton Esperanza. He smiled wide across the table at Roman, who had frozen, a forkful of syrupy pancakes halfway to his mouth. Roman had made breakfast—Dee had woken to the smell, padded into the kitchen, smiled when he heard that gorgeous music he could now associate with his boyfriend.

“Like, right now?”

“Well, not right now,” Dee replied. Roman's music had dwindled into silence over breakfast. It was okay. Roman was different from anyone else Dee had known. His music was rare, took much more to play. “But each person has a tune that plays when they have strong feelings of joy or pleasure, or the like.”

“And you . . . hear this—this music?”

“Yes.” He didn't understand why Roman seemed so concerned. Now he had doubts—would his boyfriend truly accept him? Or was his confession just the beginning of another painful break-up?

No. He loved Roman. It wouldn't end like this. Dee pushed back his chair and walked purposefully into the living room. The keyboard wasn't nearly as dusty as he'd expected, he noticed as he sat before it. The scrapes of a chair pushing back and soft footfalls on carpet alerted him to Roman's presence behind him.

He hadn't heard Patton Esperanza's song in years, but it was still the first thing that came to mind. He let it flow out, a cheery, plunking tune that sounded flat, somehow. It didn't hurt to play, as he had suspected it would. It felt . . . boring, like a movie he'd seen one too many times. He cut it off early, looked up at Roman, saw his jaw still hanging open. Probably shocked at just how crazy he was. He cringed inwardly, but looked away.

Silence.

Then Roman spoke, his voice subdued.

“I don't have one.” It wasn't a question. It was a sad statement.

Dee hadn't heard much of his boyfriend's song, but what he knew he'd been learning, recording pieces of it on a piano app and humming along.

He didn't close his eyes. He didn't try to relax. He fumbled through the complex tune, some patches rougher than others, but he heard it come through, and in his head he knew where the trumpets fell, where the flute came in. He stopped as he ran out of material, not sure where the notes were to continue.

“Everyone has a song—except me,” he confessed, feeling a pang of sadness. Every time he thought he was over not having music, it hit him afresh. “Yours is so interwoven and beautiful and loud and you. I tried, but I can't do it justice.”

Again, silence. Dee hadn't turned around, and he was afraid Roman had left during the rough song. Then, soft hands on his shoulders gently urged him to a standing position, then pulled him around the chair. Fourteen freckles met his gaze, then grey-brown eyes flecked with gold and filling with tears. For a moment that wasn't near long enough, their lips touched. Dee blinked, not expecting the display of affection, and before he could comprehend what was happening, music was coming from the keyboard.

Roman had sat. The tune his fingers picked out was mysterious, light, curious. Then the tone suddenly changed—still mysterious, still curious, but any light-heartedness had disappeared, replaced with a dark, intricate, compelling quality. Dee found himself lost in the music, the song he'd never heard before, yet was inexplicably familiar. Then it stopped; Dee found himself blinking back tears as he was forcibly jerked to the present.

Roman's eyes sparkled as he looked up at Dee. “I hear music, too,” he whispered. “And that was yours.”

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