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dystopicjumpsuit · 2 years ago

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Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 10

Do I Know You?

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: fluff; suggestive dialogue; angst; Star Wars politics; Bad Batch Season 2 spoilers

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Maree was profoundly grateful for her high neckline the next morning. Kix had been thorough in his attentions, with the result that her chest, shoulders, and thighs were covered with small marks and bruises. In fairness, Maree had given as good as she’d gotten, and Kix’s torso was similarly adorned. Luckily, all evidence of their rough night was hidden from the disapproving eyes of the Neimoidian administrator who checked them into the Imperial Military Records Archive.

“We don’t often receive visitors from the general population,” he said. “This is highly irregular.”

“Uncommon, perhaps, but hardly irregular,” Maree replied. “You’ll find that the paperwork is all in order. My assistant is extremely conscientious.”

“Hmmph,” said the Neimoidian, shooting a suspicious glare at Kix. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I doubt it,” Kix said mildly.

Whatever darkness had plagued him the night before seemed to have receded for the moment, and Kix was in notably better spirits today. This was possibly due to the three more times they’d had sex after reaching her hotel room. Maree, on the other hand, was feeling the effects of the lack of sleep, and her patience was dangling by its final thread.

“Is there a problem with our credentials?” Maree asked. “I’m sure the NRGL Archive would be happy to corroborate my identity.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the administrator sniffed. “You are quite well-known to us, Dr. Finnall. It’s your guest whose credentials are in question.”

Maree suppressed her irritation. “I understood that he had already passed the mandatory background check when we received approval for his visit. Is there some further requirement that we were not informed of?”

“No,” the Neimoidian said begrudgingly. “But you will need to sign this waiver accepting full responsibility for any damage or wrongdoing he may perpetrate in the IMRA.”

Maree signed the document without hesitation, and at last, the administrator waved them through. Next, they were scanned for weapons and other contraband, and finally, they passed through a row of New Republic Defense Force peacekeepers.

“Heavy security for a bunch of dusty old relics,” Kix commented.

Maree nodded cordially at the guards. “There’s more in the IMRA than just personnel files. This archive contains weapons schematics, documentation on banned research, and other sensitive information that is in high demand on the black market. I have security clearance for my work, but even I can’t access some of the classified records.”

They passed through the entrance into a vast chamber with towering ceilings. Data terminals lined the walls, and numerous researchers milled about. This section of the IMRA was accessible to researchers and students without security clearance, but in order to access the restricted records, Maree had reserved a private office for their work, and she led Kix quickly through the echoing hall.

“Why do you need security clearance?” Kix asked curiously.

“I am a senior research faculty member, so the scope of my responsibilities is quite extensive. While I am available to assist individual citizens like you, I spend a significant amount of my time supporting the New Republic Judiciary in their efforts to prosecute Imperial war criminals.”

Kix looked surprised. “I had no idea. Are there many war criminals left from the early Empire?”

“Not so many. Most of them have died of old age, if they haven’t already been apprehended. But it’s often helpful to have a team of researchers whose specialties span the full history of the Empire. It provides important context, and given the Empire’s penchant for nepotism, it can help us trace connections between early Imperials and those who came later.”

“That sounds like important work,” Kix said thoughtfully.

“It is,” Maree said. “Though I sometimes am frustrated to see all of our effort go to waste when the New Republic offers an Imperial amnesty in exchange for giving up a few secrets.”

Kix drew a breath to respond, but before he could, a voice called, “Dr. Finnall!”

She turned to see an unfamiliar young Mirialan man hurrying towards them.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“It is you!” he puffed. “I recognized you from your keynote address at the Galactic Military History conference last cycle. My name is Orys Brenko. I’m a graduate student at the University of Coruscant.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brenko,” Maree replied mechanically. Could the man not see that she was occupied?

“The honor is mine, Dr. Finnall,” he said. “Your book on the battle of Scipio inspired me to study military history. The description of Commander Thorn’s last stand was so vivid. Before I read it, I never knew how compelling history could be. I was reading it on the hovertrain, and I was so caught up that I actually missed my stop!”

Kix merely stood and observed in impassive silence, his gaze flicking between Maree and Brenko.

“That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Brenko,” Maree said with a geniality she was far from feeling. She itched to get started on Kix’s project, but she couldn’t bring herself to snub the enthusiastic young man. “Are you studying the Clone Wars?”

“Er, no,” Brenko said, abashed. “My focus is the High Republic era.”

Of course. She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near miss.

“A fascinating period,” she said diplomatically. “I would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. Good luck in your studies.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Brenko stammered. “B-but, before you go, would you mind signing my datapad? I have it loaded with all of your publications, and it would mean so much to me.”

Maree blinked. This was a first. She’d never been asked for an autograph before. In spite of the gaucheness of Brenko’s request, Maree was impressed with the young man’s dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. When she’d been a graduate student, she hadn’t had the bandwidth to read anything other than her assigned coursework. She was surprised Brenko had made time in between his studies to read her extensive body of work, especially since their areas of study had very little overlap.

“I don’t have a stylus, sorry,” she said. “Out of curiosity, why did you choose to concentrate on the High Republic era when you are so obviously interested in the Clone Wars? We could use more passionate researchers who focus on that era.”

The young man’s face flushed a dark green under his tattoos. “My parents would only agree to pay for my schooling if I chose a marketable course of study. As you know, the Clone Wars are…”

“Not exactly marketable,” Maree finished. “A pity. Well, if you ever happen to be on Hosnian Prime, please feel free to stop by my office at the Archive, and I’ll sign your datapad. But be warned, I’ll probably try to poach you for my own research team.”

Brenko’s mouth dropped open and his datapad clattered to the floor. “Th-thank you, Dr. Finnall! I will!”

Maree excused herself as Brenko stooped to retrieve the pad, and she and Kix resumed their walk. Brenko stood back and watched them with an awestruck expression.

“I had no idea I was sleeping with a celebrity,” Kix murmured under his breath.

“Shove it,” she whispered. “It was much more awkward for me than it was for you.”

“Do you have an official fan club I can join?” he asked with a perfectly straight face.

“Maybe you should talk to Brenko about setting one up. You’d have two whole members,” she retorted.

They reached the office and closed the door behind them. Kix immediately crowded Maree up against the desk, burying his face against her neck and trailing kisses toward her ear.

“Dr. Finnall, would you sign my ass? I was so inspired by the way you wrapped your legs around it while I was pounding into you last night,” he teased.

“Dick,” she laughed, swatting the back of his head.

“You’d rather sign my dick? That’s fine, too.”

“Mmm, there’s certainly enough room,” she said, stroking him through his trousers with a languid sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small blinking red dot. “Dank farrik, Kix, there are security holocams in here. Behave yourself.”

“Sorry, Doc, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You’re just so inspiring.”

She laughed again, pressed her lips against his and dipped her tongue into his mouth, then pushed him firmly away. They had work to do, and she had a sinking feeling that Kix’s cheerful mood wouldn’t last long once they got started.

“Stop distracting me,” she said as she powered up the holoprojector.

Kix frowned. “Wait, I thought these records are classified. What about the security holocams? Do the guards have clearance?”

“The system has an override built in. If a classified record is being displayed, the holocam feeds are turned off automatically.”

“Good to know,” Kix said with a smirk. “Just in case I’m feeling inspired later.”

“Incorrigible,” Maree muttered.

She spent some time searching the archive inventory for the troopers on Kix’s list. It took longer than she expected, but at last she crowed in victory as she located the records for the Republic Star Destroyer Tribunal. As they waited for an IMRA droid to retrieve and deliver the data chips Maree requested, Kix’s stomach rumbled. Maree checked the chronometer on the wall and realized it was already mid-afternoon.

“Should I order lunch to be delivered from the cafeteria?” she offered. “Or if you’d prefer, we can walk over. It’s inside the Archive, so we won’t have to go through security again.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being mobbed by your legions of adoring fans?” he asked.

“I think you mean ‘fan,’ singular,” she said. “But that is a fair point. We’ll get delivery.”

She pulled up the menu on the holoprojector, and they made their selections. When Maree apologized that she couldn’t offer him anything better than cafeteria food, Kix merely shrugged.

“I’m used to it. It’s probably better than what I’m used to, actually.”

He shifted and put his feet up on the chair across from him. The office was austere, and it lacked any of the comforts with which she had filled her own workspace. The hard plastech chairs were making Maree’s legs fall asleep, so she stood up to stretch and walk around the joyless room. Kix watched from his own seat.

“So,” he said conversationally, “come here often?”

She snorted. “More often than I’d like.”

“Not a fan of Coruscant?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I went to university here. That was long enough for a lifetime.”

“So not your vacation destination of choice, then.”

She shook her head. “Work. Always work. It seems like that’s all I ever do lately.”

“Doesn’t the New Republic offer vacation leave?” Kix asked.

“Who has the time for that?”

“Too busy saving the galaxy from war criminals?”

“Ah yes, the glamorous, exciting life of a professional nerd,” she said. “How could anything else compare?”

“You could always run away and become a pirate,” Kix joked.

Maree laughed. “My mother would kill me.”

“The Ranger?” he asked.

“She retired last year,” Maree said. “Spends all her time tormenting Eema. Honestly, Baba might enjoy the challenge of hunting down my hypothetical pirate crew. I think she misses the action.”

The door chimed, and a service droid entered with their food delivery. They divvied up the food and started to eat.

“It must be hard to transition to civilian life after she spent so many years fighting,” Kix said.

“Was the transition hard for you?” Maree asked.

“I suppose you could say that,” Kix said quietly.

“I bet you’d get along well with Baba,” Maree said. Kix looked startled, and Maree cursed her clumsiness. “If you ever met, I mean. Which you probably wouldn’t. Because she and Eema live on Adelphi, and I’m guessing you don’t get out that way much. But if you did, I bet they’d like you.”

Ugh. Stop talking, you idiot!

Kix blinked, and a slow smile crept across his face. “You want me to meet your moms?”

“No!” Maree said, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. “Not unless you wanted to.”

He poked around in his food, probably hoping to find a bite with flavor. “I never had a mother,” he mused. “It must have been nice to have two.”

His voice was stark with longing, and Maree’s heart twisted.

“It was,” Maree said softly. “It is. They’re pretty amazing.”

“They sound pretty amazing. No surprise they raised an amazing daughter,” Kix said. “I hope I do get to meet them someday. If I ever make it to Adelphi.”

Oh. This man is dangerous, Maree realized.

The data chips were delivered just after Kix and Maree finished eating lunch, and they got to work immediately. Maree loaded the chips into the holoprojector and began sorting through them, organizing the information in some way that made the most sense to her. Kix took a moment to admire her focus, even as he braced himself to uncover the final few pieces of the puzzle they’d been constructing over the past weeks. She was supremely competent, and he felt a stab of guilt that he’d monopolized so much of her time when she was accustomed to doing far more valuable work for the New Republic. She hadn’t said a word of complaint; in fact, he suspected she never would have mentioned her service to the Judiciary if he hadn’t asked.

Once she had the information laid out to her satisfaction, she began reviewing the files with him. They worked through several individual troopers and units—Kix’s closest brothers; members of the 501st, the 212th, the 104th. Many of them survived into the Imperial era. A surprising number went AWOL after Order 66. Kix was horrified to learn that one of his close friends had had a mental breakdown and executed his entire squad within days of the order. After that, he requested a short break, ostensibly to stretch his legs.

He went into the refresher and splashed his face with cold water, then dried himself carefully, making sure no telltale droplets remained in his hair or beard. When he looked in the mirror, every one of his brothers stared back at him. Kix could feel the tide of panic rising in his chest. He closed his eyes and stood silently for a few moments, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth until his heart rate stabilized.

When he returned to the office, Maree was waiting with two bottles of water she’d procured from some unknown source. He smiled, remembering the other times she had offered him water when he was clinging to the ragged edges of his control. She seemed to sense his distress even when he thought he was hiding it well, and he felt a small pang in his chest as he realized that her first instinct was always to take care of him. It was an unfamiliar experience, and it made him want to curl up in her lap and bask in the attention like a pampered tooka. She watched to make sure he drank some of the water, and then she rubbed her hand between his shoulders comfortingly. He leaned into the contact with a sigh.

“I’m ready to keep going, if you are,” he said.

“I’m not in a hurry,” she said. “We can take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, but I can handle it,” he replied.

“All right." She patted his back one last time and returned to her seat at the desk. "In that case, the next entry on the list is the experimental unit you requested, Clone Force 99. It looks as though four of the members defected immediately after Order 66.” She paused, and her eyebrows snapped together in surprise. “That’s unusual. Most of the mass clone defections didn’t happen for some time after the Empire took power. Scholars have theorized that the inhibitor chips were either designed to have a limited duration, or that the energy required to control the clones’ actions simply fried the chips over time.”

“Why do you suppose these clones defected so early?” Kix asked.

“It’s difficult to say. They were experimental, so it’s possible that their physiology was different enough from regular clones that the chips were incompatible with them. Though at least one of the squad members seems to have been affected. CT-9904, Crosshair, did not defect with the rest of his squad.”

“Is there any record of them afterward?”

Maree frowned. “Yes. The four squad members who defected were taken into custody on Kamino several months later. They were reported to have been killed when Tipoca City was destroyed.”

Kix’s mouth went dry. What the kriff? When did that happen? How had he not known about Tipoca City?

Maree was still speaking. “... unconfirmed accounts that the team was still active for some time after. At least one member was claimed to have been killed on Eriadu, which certainly throws doubt on the validity of the original report.”

Licking his lips, he tried to keep his voice steady as he asked, “What—what about Crosshair?”

Maree scrolled further. “Ah, here it is. Crosshair was promoted to the rank of Commander and continued to serve the Empire until—oh.”

Kix leaned forward. “What is it?”

“He killed his commanding officer on a mission,” she said. “He was arrested and sent to a military prison compound. That’s the end of his file, I’m afraid.”

Kix nodded absently, his eyes unfocused. Truth be told, he hadn’t much cared for the churlish sniper, but Kix knew what a military prison compound meant for clones, and he would not wish such a fate on any of his brothers. Something she’d said nagged at him.

“Did you say four squad members defected?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo fled Kamino after kidnapping a young child. My gods, this squad is incredible! How have I never heard of them before now?”

So Echo stayed with the Bad Batch even after the war. Kix was glad to know the ARC trooper had found a place to belong after everything he’d been through. It was a strange detail about the child, though.

“What child?” he asked.

“It doesn’t say,” Maree said. “But at least I know what thread my research is going to follow for the next few months.”

Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity and excitement, and for a moment, Kix simply watched her work. She tapped a few quick notes into her datapad before returning her attention to the holorecord and scrolling a little further. Her nose scrunched up slightly as she read.

“Fascinating,” she whispered.

Exactly the word I was searching for, he thought. Fascinating. Enchanting. Bewitching. Enticing. Adorable. Irresistible.

She noticed him staring and abruptly stopped scrolling with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get lost in the zone.”

“Not at all,” he said. “You really care about all this, don’t you?”

“I do,” she replied simply.

Kix glanced at the security holocam and noted that the red light was no longer blinking. Impulsively, he stood and strode around the desk. Maree automatically rose out of her chair as he approached, and he reached for her, drawing her close to him as his lips crashed down on hers. He kissed her deeply, holding her face in his hands. He never wanted this moment to end. At last, their lips parted, and he rested his forehead against hers as she took a deep, stuttering inhale. She looked at him with dazed eyes.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“I felt inspired,” he said, hiding the truth behind a cocky grin.

Her eyes crinkled as she laughed quietly. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know anything else. He didn’t want to be in this stuffy, miserable hole of an office learning about tragedies that unfolded half a century before. He just wanted to take Maree back to her hotel room and spend the rest of his artificially shortened life making love to her. She smelled like tea and honey and spiced biscuits and home, and he wanted to sink into her and disappear forever.

“Only one more data chip to go,” she said. “Shall we finish up and head back to the hotel?”

Kix buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

He pressed one more kiss onto the top of her head, then returned to his seat as Maree pulled up the contents of the remaining data chip. Unfortunately, Maree had unknowingly saved the worst for the last: the final report of the 332nd Division.

“The 332nd never completed their mission to deliver Maul to Coruscant after the siege of Mandalore,” Maree said.

Kix gritted his teeth, and his fingernails bit painfully into his palms. “What happened?”

“Several years after the end of the war, Imperial forces located the wreckage of the Star Destroyer Tribunal on a remote moon,” Maree said. “Most on board were killed; however, military records indicate that there must have been some survivors, as the clones had been given proper burials. As we know from our earlier research, Commander Rex survived, and it seems likely that he was the one who buried the fallen. We also know from later history that Maul survived. Given his track record, it is probable that he was responsible for the crash.”

“Is there a list of those who were killed?” he asked.

“Due to the amount of time that had passed by the time the crash was discovered, and the impossibility of genetic testing to tell the clones apart, all aboard were listed as killed in action.”

He felt sick. He nodded his acknowledgement, unable to speak. Jesse really was gone. He’d known it was true, of course. Jesse would have died decades earlier, even if he’d survived the war. The clones’ accelerated aging would have seen to that. But somehow, knowing exactly how his brother had died made it so much worse, so much more real. Once again, the crushing weight of helplessness and grief smothered him. He was only dimly aware of Maree loading the data chips into a secure case to be returned to the archive.

Soon, he felt the pressure of her hand on his as she guided him out of the building and into the half-light of a Coruscant dusk. Maree hailed an air taxi and nudged him into it, sliding in beside him. She murmured directions to the driver—Kix didn’t hear what she said. The lights of Coruscant rushed by in dizzying streaks as they flew toward their destination. Maree was silent next to him, but she slipped her hand into his and interlaced their fingers comfortingly. Kix tightened his grip on her, clinging desperately to the steady contact that felt like the only solid thing in the chaotic galaxy around him.

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Chapter 11

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

#clone medic kix #sw tcw fanfic #bad batch spoilers #kix x oc #post stasis kix #dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings

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trifectum · 10 months ago

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“LIAVOSSO’S GALACTIC JOURNAL! - entry 2: the Lybadora”

Entry two - still very rudimentary- but maybe she’ll get there in the end. Passion takes work!

“So - second entry! I’ve been working on my technique- got some tips from a ProtoDemon on Earth (I had the notes he gave me over tea tagged onto the end of the latest pages)

I’m ready for round two! Turns out, I can specify whether or not I want text highlighted - and they won’t directly write what I wrote! Check it out! PLANTS ARE JUST EXTREMELY LAZY ANIMALS! I can do other stuff too, like this, this, and this - but I’ll save those for a rainy day. For now - let’s get on with it!

The Lybadora

These big, red, handsy people are my second choice for this journal for good reason - they're easy to get undressed, and easy to make a quick sketch of. After such a miserable experience with the Mantisi, I needed a simple set of subjects to actually have a conversation with and enjoy the company of. That and a bonus of having all the most difficult to talk formally about out of the way for the rest of the entries.

Biology

While Lybadora are actually pretty genetically similar to humans, what with their generally humanoid silhouette and organs, there are a few differences. Obviously, four arms, no external nose, three fingers, and spiky hair are some, but the height difference also tends to be a little wide. I’ve heard of humans and Lybadora being attracted to and marrying each other before, so I guess the hormonal similarities are quite distinct. That or the Lybadora’ll spend a night with anything that works, and so will the majority of humans. Either way, they are prone to their ‘emotions’.

Speaking of which - I did have to ‘human proof’ them a little. For example, the male sitting in a chair is my problem solving for that ‘bag’ situation. As you may have guessed - human and Lybadora sex organs are similar too. To all us non-humans that’s fine (who cares, right?), but most of humanity tends to be outwardly prudish, and really enjoys censoring anything that even implies a recognisable sex organ. So I’m just gonna respect that for the sake of staying off the watchlist of the Curator.

History

I don’t think I elaborated this enough the first time - but this is for my evaluation of encounters I’ve had with the allotted species. I guess I can also mention a bit of general history here and there - but I’m not a trained historian, so fair warning. Generally me and Lybadora are rather well separated. In terms of aggressive situations, nothing much is exchanged that wouldn’t have been if it were any other species. At most, their natural tendency to challenge worthy opponents is a tad bit informal. No one really knows why they’ve learned to challenge people to combat - just that it had to be some kind of adapted ritual from an era where such a thing had more weight. They are traditionally a hedonistic society, which does sort of fuel some opinions they tend to have of beings like me: being almost entirely unique is a ‘pull’ to most of the more adventurous ones. But that’s almost atypical really, Lybadora are famously forward.

Opinion

The Lybadora are decent people. It’s not too difficult to talk to one, and their personal ideals aren’t typically malicious. I guess they can be very off putting to an idle human observer - but an active conversation is always a little off from the sidelines. They… did sort of make me wonder about my advertising though; couldn’t exactly pay them with money if they were extremely hopeful of a ‘different equity’. Eh - we’re all consenting adults - it’s just a matter of specifying that I pay in Qwarts alone next time. OH and of course Kria is off with the Blade on the safest section of the allotted planet during my figure-sketching sessions.

Summary

If you like the kinds of party loving, fight loving, loving loving people you rarely see being themselves out in the wild - you like Lybadora. They’re a cuddly alternative to trying to befriend a wallkeeper in the docks of the Hell Facility, and can sniff out a good time from a mile away. Just keep an eye on them if you suspect anything more.

Hey! That’s it - much better this time, aye? Make sure to ask your questions wherever the questions are asked! Until next time!”

#art #illustration #drawing #alien oc #journal #worldbuilding #speculative evolution

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empirearchives · 2 years ago

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I’ve gotta see what you said to them that caused them to ban you 😂😂😂

In all seriousness, why are they so obsessed with hating on Napoleon? Criticizing is fair, I think, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion. You can love or hate whoever you want, but these PHD’s guys spent decades studying and making a career on someone they hate. Why do that to yourself?

They also don’t strike me as individuals who are genuinely trying to do something noble to like studying the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century, and warning people about oppression. That would be more valid.

Some of these guys simply reek of spite for no apparent reason. It almost seems personal, which is kind of odd.

I’ve personally interacted with one British dude who commented on my post (I’m pretty sure he was a historian, or at least, he had a large following), and he wouldn’t stop repeating that Napoleon was a “brutal dictator” over and over again. Like I get it already. You don’t like him lol. By the way, he couldn’t provide any evidence to prove that he was a “brutal, corrupt dictator.”

It’s funny because I just made this account for fun, but for them, it’s a career. Like I’m not making any money off my opinions on this topic. Plus, I’m still learning and am always open to changing my mind.

I think the most harmful thing about this whole thing is that because they have degrees, they are more able to push their propagandistic views to wider audiences than non-accredited accounts can.

Please ignore me. I just need to vent my frustration.

So, there’s this Brit-centered Napoleon forum, right? Somebody there talked me into checking out a certain study. A study, conducted by a group of American military psychologists, that had found how Napoleon’s behaviour matched several, if not all clinical criteria for narcissistic personality disorder.

I’ve seen somebody wiser than me, a long time ago, had already dismissed the study as “psycho-babble”. And I wish I had been just as wise.

So, this scientific study was done with the following main sources:

Bourrienne: Memoirs

Gourgaud: Talks with Napoleon

Las Cases: Memorial

Caulaincourt: With Napoleon in Russia

The existence of Napoleon’s correspondence was readily acknowledged but …hey, that’s a lot to read. And all so unexiting, boring, business stuff … let’s get back to Gourgaud.

There are more sources in fact, all through English translations of course (meaning that everything that was not available in English had been discarded right away).

I was already mad when I saw this list of sources. But when I started to actually check the examples given, I found that not only had they been taken completely out of context (for example, twice, when Napoleon seems to talk about his own greatness and about how much the French owe him and how they love him, he is actually defending himself against accusations), but occasionally even mistranslated.

Now I’m feeling furious. The people responsible for this BS all have some kind of degree. I used to have high, HIGH respect for everybody who managed to get through university, and I really want to keep it. This is not helping.

#Napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #propaganda #history #rant #ramble #text post #opinion #opinions #Napoleonic #napoleonic era #19th century #1800s #first French empire

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that-sleepless-bard · 3 years ago

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What makes Eda the most powerful witch and why Raine is such a perfect representation of a bard

Obligatory Spoiler Warning

Yep. Fair warning, this is gonna be a long post.

Edalyn Clawthorne. My favorite character in The Owl House and the level of chaos I would probably put into the world if I didn’t have as much self control as I do.

In season one, she repeatedly claims herself to be the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, though she no longer believes this after losing her powers. I still think she is the most powerful witch, magic or no.

Why? Her skills go much deeper than the ability to do magic. Eda has an extensive understanding of how magic works on a natural level, including things like knowing how to connect with nature to the point where the aisles reveals the secrets of magic.

This is a skill only a wild witch can possess or even begin to understand. Coven witches master only one magic type unless they’re in the Emperor’s Coven, in which case they pay more attention to what magic does over what it is. The majority of witches on the Isles see magic as a powerful tool, where wild witches tend to adopt the philosophy that it’s like an extension of oneself that must be studied properly to be used properly.

A fact people don’t pay enough attention to is that Eda is incredibly intelligent and adaptable. She most likely figured all of this out for herself and is finding ways to translate her own learning into a way that Luz understands. Meaning she learns equally as well as she teaches, which is an ability that’s dangerous to the Emperor’s way of ruling. If Eda is capable of teaching her way of magic to larger groups, it means less following for the covens, and that’s a slippery slope.

Even without magic, Eda’s level of wisdom and knowledge still poses a threat. She’s still trying to learn, is still finding ways around her curse, and is still trying to stop Belos. The phrase “knowledge is power” is incredibly cliché, but it’s true. In the case of the coven systems, knowledge is one of the greatest weapons that can be used against it because one of the greatest flaws in it is ignorance. Belos maintains power by keeping the people of the BI in the dark about the Day of Unity and everything going on behind the scenes. If Eda were to try and share what she knew, and people started believing her, Belos’ plans might crumble around him.

So by all means, Eda is still the most powerful witch. Maybe her magic is weak, but she has so much more that allows her to hold that position. I hope she keeps utilizing her strengths to fight the Emperor.

This might be obvious, but IDK. I just think it’s cool. Sorry if the tone is kind of harsh or if I’m wrong on something.

Moving on!

Raine Whispers is my second favorite character, and a character I relate to on an unhealthy level and I feel called out every time they make an appearance.

Anyway, let’s talk about bards.

Bards are generally defined as being oral historians, lord keepers, storytellers, musicians, general entertainers, ect. A lot of people also consider them jacks of all trades.

In a lot of games, movies, shows, books, and all that, there’s a few key facts that are common amongst all bards:

- They’re highly charismatic.

-They’re good at one of the following: Music, history, or acting.

- Often portrayed as skilled with magic.

- Has a wide variety of abilities.

- They’re frequently underestimated.

Raine pretty much embodies this general description. They’re like a bard that decided to take extra classes in “how to hide a body and be home in time for dinner”

Aside from simply having the skills of a bard, they have the smarts to use those skills to their full advantage. Case in point:

- Before they started using their violin, they weaponized their ability to whistle, as they have an understanding that bards need to just make noise to be effective with their magic.

- They’re an incredible actor, to the point where they can convince their ex best friend/girlfriend that they’re brainwashed without her suspecting otherwise, and they can fool the person who is assigned to watch them.

- They know how to make their abilities work in pretty much any situation.

In the game Dungeons & Dragons, I mainly play a bard. When I said we get underestimated, I mean we get underestimated.

Like, everyone gets surprised when I use a powerful spell even though it’s in the job description underestimated.

“They’re just a bard, they can’t handle this easy enemy” underestimated.

It’s obnoxious, but I love seeing the shock whenever an anti-bard player watches me do something cool.

It doesn’t surprise me that bards in The Owl House are underestimated and under-appreciated as well. But Raine uses that by letting people assume they’re weaker than they are, then taking the advantage of surprise.

With or without stage fright, Raine is a genuinely good example of a bard’s abilities being used to their fullest.

Again, probably obvious, but I just wanted to talk about it.

Sorry to make this so long, and thanks for reading. I could talk about these two characters for hours.

#toh #the owl house #toh eda #eda #raine whispers #edalyn clawthorne #toh raine #raine #random #random thoughts #ideas #toh spoilers #bard #magic #toh magic #analysis

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

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

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

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

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits, but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly.

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines

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emma-frxst · 2 years ago

Text

Smooth Criminal ch 12

Pairing: colossus x reader

Summary: Piotr falls in love with you, an art historian. He doesn’t know that you have a secret double life as an ex-spy turned art thief selling your stolen art to Sebastian Shaw. What happens when your two worlds collide?

Warnings: alcohol mention, bar setting, violence, language, mentions of k!lling

A/n- I apologize for weird format I’m on mobile! I’ve got a few (maybe 3-4) more chapters for this fic! I’ve loved writing it. Thanks for your support! Happy reading!

The strap of your duffel bag dug into your shoulder as you walked along the dimly lit sidewalk. You shifted it to the other shoulder, relief washed over you for a moment.

It was still winter in New York. Plowed snow was piled high on the edges of the sidewalk, Christmas decor still hung from the light poles. You and Piotr had spent a wonderful holiday together. Recent memories began to flood your mind. Most of your time was spent enjoying his delicious cooking. And you couldn’t forget winning the ugly sweater contest with the x-force, whom you’d grown quite fond of. Your happy thoughts of Christmas time with Piotr were interrupted by the stench of the bar filling your nostrils.

You were meeting Victor to drop off the vase you had stolen on your most recent assignment. As you entered the bar, more and more knots formed in your stomach. The contents of your duffel bag were not the vase, but rather the blueprints, security records- the things they had given you to do the job in the first place. You blamed it on Piotr’s inherent goodness rubbing off on you…you just couldn’t do the job.

You found victor with his usual drink choice of whiskey. Of all the years you’d been working for Sebastian Shaw and with Victor Creed, you’d never seen him drink anything else.

“Out of the 10 years I’ve known you, you’ve only ever drank whiskey.” You said, sitting across from victor.

A sly smile crossed his features at your comment.

“You know that they say, y/n, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He replied bluntly.

“Fair enough.” You stated, sliding the duffel bag across the table.

Creed picked up the bag and immediately noticed something was wrong.

Your heart began racing, your palms grew sweaty. you watched his every move- your eyes wide.

He unzipped the bag, looking at the contents.

Your eyes darted between him and the bag.

He let out a chuckle which then turned into full on laughter.

He looked at you, the disappointment on his face unmistakable.

“Don’t tell me that metal man is making you soft, y/n..”

Your face turned sour and you crossed your arms.

“Ohh it is, isn’t it?” An evil grin appeared on his face, his fangs looking extra sharp

“Then when I’m done killing you-“ his face dropped into a scowl. “Me and Shaw will pay him a little visit.”

“No!” You exclaimed, slamming your hands on the table. “Touch him and I will kill you so hard your healing factor won’t come back.”

Victor leaned back in his seat, letting out a chuckle, then a full on laugh. He thought this was funny, what a bastard.

“And a x-force member too, oh this will be good.” Victor continued his sick laughter.

‘This isn’t going to end well’ your instincts told you.

You had been doing this for a long time, even longer if you count your days as a SHIELD special operations spy. You’d seen many situations akin to this.

You reached for your knife in your coat pocket, keeping your upper body still so victor wouldn’t notice. Lucky for you Victor chose a booth to sit in, so your actions would be veiled.

You held your knife level with victor’s kneecap.

After calming back down from his laughter again, Victor spoke. “You know y/n I never thought you’d quit the-“

His words were drowned out by your pulse pounding in your ears. With your adrenaline pumping, you took your chance.

You plunged your knife right into Victor’s knee, hitting the the soft cartilage space between his kneecap and tibia. You never missed.

Victor yelled out in pain and grabbed his knee.

You ran.

As fast as your legs would carry you, but you still felt like that wasn’t fast enough.

You finally got to the door pushing it open so hard you nearly knocked it off its hinges.

“You bitch!” You heard Victor tell from inside.

You didn’t have a lot of time before Victor caught up with you. You knew when he ran on all fours he was inhumanly fast and unforgiving. You, for one, did not want your fate to be a brutal knock- down-drag-out with sabertooth.

You stopped a few yards from the bar’s entrance. You had to think and think fast. You knew couldn’t outrun him, but you could outsmart him.

You climbed on top of the trash cans and then the awning, and finally parkour-ed your way onto the roof. You hoped the buzzing of the neon sign and the smell of the garbage would trick his superhuman senses enough to keep him off your trail.

Sabertooth bursted through the bar’s front doors on all fours, scowling. He looked around, searching for any sign of you. Luckily there was no fresh snow to leave footprints in. He sniffed the air, trying to find your scent.

You heart was pounding, your whole body shaking, but you had to be quiet. you tried to take deep, quiet breaths but the bitter cold pierced your lungs with such ferocity, it made breathing difficult.

“You can’t hide from me y/n, from Shaw! I’ll get my chance at you soon enough! He yelled at nothing in particular, still searching his surroundings for you.

After a minute, he angrily walked back inside and reappeared a moment later with your duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You figured he wasn’t in the mood to really hunt you, or he would’ve.

A car soon pulled up to retrieve him.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the car drove away, pieces of ice from the road crunching under its tires. Your plan worked.

Once you felt like you were in the clear, you wandered to the street to call a cab.

One pulled up and you immediately got in.

You gave the driver your address and off you went. Back home, back to safety, back to Piotr.

You looked behind you once more, just to be sure.

Nothing.

No Victor, no angry mob chasing you.

Just as you started to catch your breath, your phone began vibrate.

Piotr was calling you.

Shit

You took some deep breaths in attempt to slow your racing heart and steady your shaky voice.

“Hi sweetie.” You answered as calmly as possible.

“Hello, дорогой (darling), is everything alright? I have just arrived at your apartment and you are not here.” Colossus said, his accent seemed a little extra thick tonight. You loved it.

“Yeah, everything’s peachy.” You said, lying through your fucking teeth. “I just um…wanted some good hot chocolate from the place on Main Street, you want some?” You explained, hoping he wouldn’t hear the worry in your voice.

“Oh, da. That sounds wonderful.” He replied.

“Ok great, I will be back soon with hot chocolate. I love you.”

“благодарю вас, дорогой (thank you,darling) I love you too.” Colossus hung up.

You let out a sigh of relief, but that relief didn’t last long as your entire body filled with anxiety. The last thing you wanted was Piotr finding out about you.

You intended to keep your word to Victor, you’d kill him, anybody, or anything when it came to protecting Piotr. Not to say that he couldn’t handle himself physically, of course he could. His skin was quite literally made of steel, but his heart? Not so much.

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

#colossus x reader #colossus fanfiction #piotr rasputin x reader #peter rasputin x reader #colossus/reader #kacceywrites #mcu Deadpool fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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clouds-rambles · 4 years ago

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Is it alright if i req hcs of kaeya, diluc, zhongli finding out they have a vampire s/o and they have all these cool vampire abilities and can be a bat and etc? Thanks 😊

Vampires go brr is all I say

Requests are back open! I’m planning that nth-hundred special thing soon but for the time being I’ll take more requests <3

Pairings; (Seperate) Kaeya, Diluc, and Zhonglii x reader

Warning(s); no explicity nsfw just mentions

Keep reading under the cut!

Kaeya

Man if he wasn’t already whipped for you the added fact of you’re a vampire is so cool to him. If it’s not a secret he’s definitely like “check out my s/o everyone rn, okay, do the bat thing”

Hickeys are interesting and Kaeya is far too down bad for it. He loves the feeling of your fangs literally anywhere on his body

He also loves the feeling of your fangs brushing up against his lips

If you turn into other animals Kaeya is just there like ‘holy shid my s/o right now’

Yelling ‘down bad’ at Kaeya is just apart of your common lingo at this point

Thanks to your aversion to sunlight midnight exhibitions and explorations are the best thing to Kaeya

He wants to know everything you can do and will likely test your limits

If you’re the floaty kind of vampire Kaeya loves being held in the air

If you’re the kind of vampire that can turn into mist please prank him when he goes into a hug, it’ll be funny to watch him eat shit

Give him a kiss after though. It doesn’t matter how funny it is just remind the man you love him

If you’re particularly older than him expect him to ask what certain aspects of the past really are true and what’s just made up to keep the calm

Do you still pray to the god of your homeland, be it Barbatos or any other. If not why?

How were you turned? Were you born a vampire? Were you born in Teyvat or Khaenri'ah? If you’re from Khaenri'ah was it before or after the gods betrayed the people?

If you’re as secretive as Kaeya it’s interesting to see how much you can reveal while he continues to keep his cards to his chest

Diluc

He has to be sure you’re not a threat to Mondstat before he even thinks about forming a platonic relationship with you, let alone a romantic one

Diluc isn’t sure what attracts you to him, probably the thrill of danger. The act of placing his life into a person who could snap him like a twig

Every brush or your fangs or scratch of your nails is a reminder of his fragility compared to your superior strength.

He’s into it way more than he’d like to admit and you know it.

Your days are often spent sleeping, and usually Diluc will sleep the mornings with you sleeping, afternoons and evenings are strictly business time to him

If you help out with his Darknight Hero rounds he’s more than happy to have you about. And he loves seeing your raw power tear through Abyss Mages forcefields quicker than he can with his vision

It’s funny watching Diluc skirt about questions about your past, especially once you’re in a relationship. Though unlike other vampires, you’re more open to sharing your secrets with Diluc than others.

Diluc being a secretive person himself doesn’t speak of your own vampiric abilities

Diluc is the original hypeman in the shadows. Anything you do is immediately met with praise, especially when it comes to your vampiric abilities;

Turn into a bat or other animal mid battle to move the battle to your advantage after he’ll just tell you how cool the move was

Turn into mist to fuck with the abyss mages like they do everyone else? Hell yeah payback bitch

Teleport into an abyss mages forcefield to take em down? Number 1 hype man right here

Diluc will compliment you on all the cool things you did on the walk back to the winery and man seeing his face light up his the best thing

You can guess this is what he was like before his fathers death, this cheery smiley man. It’s a shame you don’t get to see it more

Zhongli

Zhongli knew there was something different about you, something not human and once he finds out about your vampiric status everything kind of melds together. The reason why you are never seen on lovely bright days

Though the fact you’re seen at all during the day is something to behold actually and the first question to leave Zhongli’s mouth is ‘why can you go outside during the day?’

You explain that you’re a particularly old and strong vampire, rivalling some of the youngest gods in age. You had once had a coven but many of it’s members but your kind had been hunted to near extinction by archon loyalists who saw you all as blasphemous

Sitting at the table with other historians is always so much fun for both of you, especially with your contradicting opinions on the geo archon. Though your opinions aren’t necessarily bad but it’s more like you see them in a different light considering your age and knowledge of the world

Zhongli enjoys talking to you about divinity. So much so that you think that Zhongli is constantly dropping hints that he is the Geo Archon himself

You don’t question him but instead drop hints back at him that you know, small things that makes him question internally about it.

Its not often you or Zhongli go about fighting, the two of you much prefer to sit, drink tea and have a good chatter

Though the centuries of battling shows when the both of you are thrown into battle, you often bounce off of each other with ease. And with the added flare of your shapeshifting abilities your enemies will always perish

Around Liyue Harbour both you and Zhongli are friendly with the kids, often treating them to popsicles or games of tag and hide and seek. Despite the fact that the two of you don’t look a day over 30 many of the children give you sweet nicknames with any kind of relation to grandparents

The other vampires you have left you will visit often, usually when Zhongli is visiting his adepti. Seeing your children thrive in all corners of Teyvat without the security of a nest of vampires is admirable. Its no wonder they have survived this long

While you’re not as lively as the younger vampires both you and Zhongli cause your fair bit of trouble and have the most fun you can possibly can have

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #zhongli #kaeya #diluc

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xanthippe74 · 3 years ago

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HD Career Fair fic claim

Title: Safe as Houses

Author: xanthippe74

Rating: Teen and up

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Words: 24,553

Content/Warnings: EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Getting Together, Harry’s POV, Magical Theory, Pining, Ward Builder Harry, Magical Historian Draco, protective Harry, Pets, Magical Creatures, Epistolary (a lil’ bit), Happy Ending, English Weather, So. Much. Tea., past verbal/emotional abuse (not between Draco and Harry), past Draco/OMC

Summary: After five years abroad, Harry’s thrilled to be home and working at the most prestigious ward-building firm in Britain. But everything gets turned upside down when he's assigned to work for Draco Malfoy—who somehow grew up to be just the sort of sexy bastard Harry goes for. As if that isn’t enough, Malfoy seems strangely on edge, his wards are a mess, and Harry keeps feeling like he’s being watched in the garden. It’s going to take all of Harry’s ward-crafting skills—and self-restraint—to help Malfoy feel safe in his own home again.

Notes: For the loveliest @onbeinganangel, whose prompt provided the seed for this story. I hope you enjoy what grew from it.

An excellent beta will make any fic better, and mine was no exception. Thank you, dear @evaeleanor, for helping me smooth out the rough spots and untangle my convoluted sentences, and for lending me your particular expertise on a few things in the story. I’m very grateful for your friendship and support.

And finally, three cheers for the wonderful @hd-fan-fair mods who put on a smashing fest, year after year.

Link to AO3: Safe as Houses

#HD Career Fair #drarry fic #my writing

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givemearmstopraywith · 3 years ago

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The aesthetics of the cards and the color and everything doesn’t look very different from high as hope and Gucci etc. I’m exited however i know the vision will be good and I care most if sonically it’s different from where we were in 2018

content warning- mentions of sexual assault and torture

the cards are a lot more baroque and maximalist than the high as hope era, which was a lot more hand drawn and delicate- the pastels and translucence, the black and white aesthetic of the sky full of song video, were very much indicative of a cooling off period. how big how blue how beautiful was thematically dante's descent into hell and ascent into heaven. at the end of the odyssey florence is led out of the darkness with her hand on rob ackroyd's shoulder- the music is her beatrice. high as hope was heaven. it opens with angels. its a sorrowful heaven, but it is heaven. family is there. its the recovery space from addiction, trauma, and self-injury: it's a place to contemplate what has taken place and weep.

bear in mind that florence's mother, evelyn welch, is a renaissance art historian. yes, there's heavy gucci influence- its inevitable, as they style her now- but i'm also getting a lot of heavy renaissance imagery. like the full version of the king tarot card:

which, while obviously pulling from flo's pre-raphaelite aesthetic, heavily resembles artemisia gentileschi's mary magdalene:

except for the face, which looks more like gentileschi's self portrait as catherine of alexandria- the facial features, the direct gaze, the lighting on the planes of her features, even down the turban- this is the face not of a martyr, which is what much of the styling from high as hope gave us with the francesca woodman. this is the face of a survivor.

as a young woman gentileschi was sexually assualted and successfully sued her rapist in court: lesser known is that she was tortured with thumbscrews to verify her testimony. she has painted herself here as catherine of alexandria, a famous martyr who, on trial for being a christian, was placed on a breaking wheel to be tortured and killed. the legend of her history goes that the wheel broke: it is the broken wheel that is visible in this image. but i also want to draw attention to the second promo image:

this is also renaissance, but its more elizabethan: the ruff and the hair, the backdrop of dark royal blue, the gold- it's highly indicative of royalty, very much so of elizabeth i, the virgin queen, who had no king. which i highlight because of the subject matter, apparently, of the first song. the healing period is done now. the softness of high as hope seems very absent to me. there are thorns in the background of the second promo image and blackberries in her hair- thorned fruit, forbidden fruit. its about biting back. it's about power.

i never found high as hope to be particularly witchy- white witchy, maybe, crystalline new age ritualistic perhaps. but this? this is witchy. the renaissance is also the era of witches, which i think makes it more appropriate. and in fairness gucci presents flo as ethereal, boho chic- not quite human. but there's something very grounded about the styling so far for this album. much darker and heavier. and the sound of the trailer, so far, brief as it is, has those driving sounds from hbhbhb, the harp of ceremonials, the drums from lungs. even the snippet in the video reminds me a lot of the video for drumming song and no light no light. its, again, a very grounded, much darker sound. so i'm honestly incredibly excited to see what happens.

#replies #flo #florence welch #florence + the machine #florence and the machine

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justsomeectoplasm · 3 years ago

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HERE YE HERE YE ALL FANTASY LOVERS AND SKY LOVERS

Hey ;-) I'm feeling chaotic.

My interest in ori children kicked up again so I'm opening up an event for those interested and to relieve some boredom.

Ori children ask event!

What is this event?

In this event, send your skykids oc and I will write headcannons of them and how they will fair in the fantasy world.

The event is simple:

There are 6 kingdoms (and 4 hidden areas) that have appeared, each one having different environments and opinions about skykids. You can pick one of these kingdoms and venture into them and I will write headcannons about your journey.

You can choose between selecting a kingdom or randomly choosing one.

How can I enter?

Send me info about your skykid in my ask box such as:

Their name and pronouns

What their personality is

A screenshot of them

(The next are optional)

A bit of their backstory

What kingdom they would like to go to (be warned that I will randomly choose a kingdom, including a hidden kingdom)

A scenario you have in mind.

Rules of this event

You must give me info about your skykid. Asks that leave out any of the important info as stated above will be deleted.

I will only give headcannons. No short stories.

You may use art instead of a screenshot. If you have a refrence sheet or you can link me to a post where you have posted art or screenshot of your skykid, that'll do too!

You may add your own addition and headcannons in a reblog.

Entries close after Wednesday. All entries after that will be deleted. Entries open up after I've finished requests.

Lore and important info to get you started (or ignore this and just go wild):

What are ori children?

The kingdoms and fantasy world

Winged lights

Treasure hunters (And why skykids don't appear much in populated places)

Other important stuff

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky: children of the light #that sky game #the ori children au

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otrtbs · 3 years ago

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omg ive been wanting to watch romeo and juliet for a while i think this is my sign

YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD ITS PHENOMENAL!!!!!

(fair warning: as an art historian I am the type of person who watches movies for the visual aesthetics FIRST, soundtrack second, and script last. so the script could be horrible but as long as the cinematography is good then I’ll give the move 5/5 stars hahaha. much to the annoyance of my friend who is in school for creative writing. she watches movies for the script first so our movie tastes differ VASTLY (and she hates this movie which is why I’m telling this story omg but I love it so 😌))

I mean

ITS A GORGEOUS FILM!!!!!!!!!!! ITS SO BEAUTIFUL TO LOOK ATTTTTTT!!!!!!!

#asks

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

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Amoreena | Chapter two

Chapter Two

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 6k

a/n: this is set May 2021 in my brain just in case anyone was wondering while reading it !! here is the pinterest board and the spotify playlist for the fic too!

from the beginning <3

They were sitting on the steps of the Smithsonian when he arrived. Y/N was a vision in a yellow blouse and blue jeans, basking in the sun's rays when she looked more like sunshine herself, throwing seed at the birds with Amoreena.

He took a deep breath and smiled, waving to get their attention.

“Spencer!” Amoreena cheered, running down the steps and into his arms. Almost knocking her hat off as she leapt into his arms.

“Oof,” is all he can say as he makes sure to catch her, surprised to get this sort of reaction from someone.

She fixes her hat and leans back in his arms, “do you like my outfit? I’m the old man from Tarzan and mom is Jane!”

He sets her down then, watching her stick a foot out so he can get a good look at her olive-coloured jean shorts, button-up shirt and blue bowtie and brown boots. She went all out for her adventure today, making his heart burst.

“I looked into that Milo guy,” he says, showing off his own outfit. Pushing his glasses up and adjusting his red bowtie.

“You look just like him!!!” She was beyond excited, turning to Y/N who was all smiles on the steps.

She stood as they walked towards her, “mom look, he’s Milo!”

“You look great,” she complimented him, that twinkle in her eyes back as she blushed.

“Thank you, so do you,” he said softly. “Both of you are dressed for the right adventure today.”

“What do you have in store Mr. tour guide?” Y/N teased, taking Amoreena’s hand and walking into the museum.

“Dr. Tour guide,” he corrects her softly, making her smile and shove him lightly.

“Sorry,” she teased him, “Doctor tour guide, what is your plan for today?”

“I bought 3 tickets ahead of time,” Spencer admits, taking three lanyards out of his jacket pocket and handing them each one. “We have special access today, just show the guards these and we can go almost anywhere.”

“Are you sure you don’t work here? Not even undercover?” Amoreena interrogated him, narrowing her eyes as she watched his response.

He laughed, “I promise, I helped them on a case once, and my old boss knows the curator, they owed me a favour.”

“Old boss?” Y/N catches it.

He nods lightly, “he quit a while ago to have a family.”

“Smart man.”

“I sent in my letter of resignation last night,” he adds, “if you’re still looking for a literary historian?”

She beamed at him, reaching out an arm to tuck under his and pull him in close. Following him through the doors with Amoreena’s hand still in hers. “I’ll arrange an interview this week.”

The rotunda was one of the coolest parts of the Smithsonian Museum of National History. A beautiful African Bush Elephant greets them in the centre, tusks extending out towards them as Amoreena gasps.

“Wow,” her small voice whispers.

“Cool, huh?” Spencer leans to look at her expression, she’s absolutely gobsmacked.

It makes him smile, that beautiful glimmer of amazement spreading across her face as her small brain tries to understand what exists in the world outside of her mind's grasp. It was priceless, he loved every moment.

“So, I was thinking you could look around and whenever you’re ready, we have access to the Student Centre. You’re going to get to look at some special bones and fossils, and even dig some up!” He was so excited to share the plans with her.

She let go of her mom's hand to flap her arms wildly, excitement coursing through her veins as she shook, grinding her teeth together as she smiled, it was how he remembered feeling as a child when something good happened. Pure joy, excitement level 1000.

“Sound good?”

“Spencer,” Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, taking over for the speechless child, “that sounds perfect, thank you.”

“The Dino’s are this way,” he leads them down the corridor, through a set of doors towards a large swirling sign,

“Journey through deep time!” Y/N read the sign, smiling at Amoreena as she ran towards it, touching the swirl as she read all the words to herself.

“It’s so sad they died,” Amoreena says so matter of factly that it makes him bite back a smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small laugh. Y/N's shaking her head with a sigh of pure love. “What kind of dinosaur is your favourite?”

“The Jurassic era,” she responds, standing closer to the sign and reading all the words. “Did you know the earth used to be mostly desert? There was a massive heatwave, that’s why they believe dinosaurs were most likely scaled but thanks to the melting ice caps as we recover from the ice age and move back towards being tropical, we’re discovering dinosaurs frozen in ice with feathers and fur!”

It takes his breath away, seeing someone so much like him with a mother who loves every single word that leaves her mouth. Pride on her face as she looks at her little genius and back towards Spencer, waiting for his response.

“So you’ve been a paleontologist this whole time and you never told me?”

She laughs and swats the air, “no, I just read a lot of books.”

“She can read really fast, like Matilda,” Y/N bragged.

“I do too,” Spencer knelled down in front of her. “It’s a very wonderful thing to have a brain as big and magical as ours, never let anyone tell you otherwise okay?”

“Never, I’m the smartest in the kingdom,” Amoreena smiled.

“Yes, she is,” Y/N smiled again, placing her hand on Spencer's back as they continued to walk around the exhibits.

He felt like he had a family, like one of those couples who would go to Ikea and pretend they lived in the sets. This was the most perfect make-believe day of his life, leading a child just like him through a world of things she loved.

Y/N was quiet most of the day, watching them interact with a soft smile and sad eyes. Spencer noticed it but let it slide, he’d ask her about it later when she could be honest with him. He didn’t want to profile her, it wasn’t fair to judge her before he knew her, nor taint the fantastical thoughts he already had about her.

They had lunch in the butterfly exhibit, sitting at the seat by the fountain, Amoreena asking nicely if Spencer could sit in the middle so they could both talk to him. It was adorable, Amoreena was so intrigued by his mind she couldn’t stop asking him questions.

Y/N made him a sandwich and brought him a water bottle, as well as bringing some apple slices and grapes, goldfish and juice boxes for when Amoreena got hungry on the way home. Like a true mom, her purse was full of napkins and hair ties, random books and toys. Rocks, pine cones, everything a young mind would find exciting.

She was like Marry Poppins, pulling everything and then some out of her purse as she searched for something specific. “I brought you something, I’ve had it sitting around the house just moving it to different spots over the years, and thought you’d like it.”

It made him giddy to know she was thinking about him, he couldn’t sit still as he anticipated what it was. She pulled a small metal pin out of her bag then, taking the backing off and clipping it to his pocket.

“Best tour guide ever,” she whispered, reading the words to him with a smile.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” he shrugged, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach as they were swarmed by the beautiful creatures.

“It’s like animal crossing in here,” Amoreena said to herself as she looked around, kicking her feet as she sat on the bench, tilting her head back and forth absentmindedly as she took it all in.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped doing that; when he started to mask his true self so much that he no longer felt free in public, taking a moment to copy her movements and just enjoy the moment. Making her smile as she noticed him copy her with adoration, not to tease her in any way whatsoever.

“Can we talk when she’s looking at the fossils?” He asks Y/N softly, knowing that she’ll be the most open when Amoreena’s tiny ears wouldn’t be there to remember everything she says.

“Yeah,” she nods with a small smile. “How about I throw out our garbage and we head to that surprise?”

Amoreena jumped off the bench, tugging Spencer towards the door as Y/N cleaned up, following them eventually.

—

They had the classroom all to themselves and Amoreena was still for the first time all day. Standing in the middle of the room as the lights adjusted, changing the glow from blue to amber as they warmed.

The walls were filled with posters and informative signs, there were glass cases showcasing all the finest fossils and bones known to man. And a sand table in the middle of the room, smocks and brushes for archaeology all set up and waiting for her.

“Once you get all suited up, and we’ll get you a little mask so you don’t breathe in any of the dirt and dust, you can dig up whatever is hidden in there!” Spencer announced.

Y/N helped her into a smock, handing her the brushes and asking her to be extra careful with the plastic chisel and hammer. She was beaming from ear to ear the most toothy smile he’s ever seen.

Y/N stopped to take a photo of her then, holding her instruments in front of the sand table, “get in, we’ll tell everyone that Milo took us on a special tour today.”

Spencer kneeled close to Amoreena, she leaned in and wrapped an arm around him to get him in closer, always being the one to choose how much contact she made with Spencer. He would never want to overstep with someone else’s child.

“Beautiful!” Y/N cheered, locking her phone and slipping it back into her jeans as Amoreena turned to the table of sand, dirt and clay.

She got right to work, not skipping a beat as she leaned in and started to dig. Spencer stepped back with Y/N, knowing Amoreena was going to be in her own little world for as long as they left her alone.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great, I’m just a little surprised,” her voice is soft, low enough that it stays with him. “You’re really good with her for a fed.”

He laughed, nodding his head as he registered her joke. “Ex fed, and I have a 12-year-old godson, Henry.”

“Ahh, so no kids of your own?” Her voice was small, she took a look at his hand to avoid eye contact and he understood.

“None, no wife, no love children hiding out there in the world that I know of, it’s just me, I promise,” he tried his best to ease her anxiety about introducing a new man into her child’s life.

She nods slightly, “you seem too good to be true sometimes.”

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his lips together as he looked at her, “pretty sure I’ve been dreaming since I saw you.”

She shoved him as she laughed, “would you like to come back to our place for dinner? I know it’s a little weird, believe me, I know, but we live on my parent's land and my mom’s making enough shepherds pie to feed an army.”

“Yeah I’d love to, I’ll get a cab home after,” he felt a swirling in his stomach, nervous and excited all at once.

“Okay,” she whispered, “or we can get to know each other, and then you could sleep on the couch and I’ll bring you back into DC in the morning? I have to drive in any way.”

He licked his lips and nodded his head, wondering what other kind of invitation this could be. If it was pure hospitality, wanting him to be safe for the night instead of inside some stranger's car, or was she wanting alone time with him.

The thoughts turned around in his head over and over making him dizzy, “okay, yeah I’d love to,” he managed to slip the words out without falling over them.

She smiled, tight-lipped and small. Looking up at him with a new look he hasn’t seen on her yet, one he’s only seen in a few faces in his time, and yet he believed her’s the most.

She was smitten with him as much as he was with her.

He sighed, smiling back at her just as soft. She reached her hand out to hold his, walking towards the table with him in tow. Leaning over Amoreena’s shoulder as she unearthed her new most prized possessions.

—

Amoreena was the funniest kid to drive with, He sat in the passenger seat of Y/N’s car with her in a car seat directly behind him. She was singing, cheering, pointing out the window to show him all her favourite things on the way to her house.

Telling him stories about the make-believe people she created to live in the houses, the trolls under bridges and the names of every cow in the field along the long driveway of her grandparent's farm.

“Bob and Linda are an interesting pair,” she warned him as they pulled in closer and closer. Dirt flying up behind the wheels as she drove fast, knowing every bump and turn from memory.

“They will be asking you every question in the book and if you’re going to be looking at the animals they will insist on putting you in flannel and a cowboy hat, it’s a tradition for visitors,” she explained it in a way where he knew she wanted him to think she hated it, but actually she looked excited to do it to him.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled.

“Amoreena has already told them all about you at dinner last night, so they are expecting her to drag you here tonight,” she pushed the blame onto Amoreena, downplaying her affection for him in a self-conscious way he could feel.

He didn’t want to profile her, but it wouldn’t turn off. He was desperate to know her more, to know if she felt the weird tugging in her heart that made him think soulmates might be real. A pain so intense that if he had to explain it to a doctor, it was like his heart was a negative charge and he was being drawn to her much more positive one.

“We have 16 cats, 46 cows, 13 chickens, 4 ducks, 50 sheep and 1 horse, her name is buttercup,” Amoreena informed him, stealing the attention once again.

“Wow, who’s your favourite?” Spencer turned to her, watching her kick her feet as she looked out the windows.

“Probably Alfonzo our fluffy show cow, or Rufus, our dog,” she said softly. “Sometimes nanny lets him sleep at our house.”

“That’s so cool, I’ve never had a pet.”

“What?!” Amoreena stopped, pressing her lips together as her eyes shot wide open, thinking it was the most absurd thing anyone has ever said.

“My mom was sick when I was growing up so I spent my time taking care of her, I didn’t have time for a dog,” he said softly, saying it in a way that wouldn’t scare her.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said softly, reaching her hand out to pat his knee as she kept her eyes on the road.

Then she was pulling in past a big house, around the bend behind it, past the garden and the trail to the barn towards another house. It was big and white, probably big enough to have 4 bedrooms. Many levels, with multiple build-ons from years ago ageing to match eventually.

It was covered in vines, ivy and flowers. It was just like miss honeys. He felt something unspeakable, opening his mouth softly to breathe as his eyes trailed up the siding to the shingles.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Home sweet home,” her wonderful voice brought him back to reality. Saying the word that matched the feeling in his chest.

“Wow,” he whispered. His mouth moved to say words, not a single one slipped through the cracks, his lips touching with fake syllables as he stared at it.

“It was my grandma’s, it’s the house she raised my dad in,” Y/N explained as she put the car in park.

“Mommy had me as a gift for GG,” Amoreena added from the back.

“Her great-grandma,” Y/N nodded with a soft smile, biting the inside of her lip as she fought her feelings. That was a touchy subject that he was going to pry into, later on, wanting to know every single thing about the most exceptional women in the world.

There was a cat sitting on their front step, introduced to him as toothpick because he was the smallest in the last litter. And then the name of every single cat on the way back up to the main house.

Simon and Gar-funk-field twin orange brothers, Alaska the all-white one, strawberry shortcake had a red heart on her butt, oven-mitt for comedic effect obviously as if they others weren’t funny enough, as well as shovel and Catrina… all 16 of them had a name and Spencer was not going to forget a single one.

“Welcome! You must be Doctor Reid,” her father was a very large man, it shocked Spencer slightly.

He was like Santa Clause, it was more than a bit of a shock. Thick grey beard, bald head, red flannel and dirty work jeans, probably in his late 60’s. He was what you imagined Santa to look like outside of Christmas, on holiday with his wife.

He looked like a man who lived a long and happy life, he had a wife who cooked good meals for him, he probably didn’t mind sitting back with a beer most nights. There was definitely going to be sports memorabilia inside and a million photos of Y/N and Amoreena, and the purest energy known to man. Family love.

He hated how fast he profiled it all in his mind, trying to drop that aspect of his inner monologue moving forward.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sir,” he said softly, nodding lightly as he placed his hands in his pockets. Letting it be known he didn’t touch people, and weirdly being respected.

“Please, it’s Bob or Poppy Clause,” he laughed, shifting his attention to Amoreena as she climbed the stairs towards the porch.

“How is my lovey?” Bob asked her softly, “may I have a welcome home hug?”

“Ah,” he smiled and nodded to himself. He was used to it, asking permission for her sensory issues. Spencer was impressed, and a bit emotional at the fact someone his age was respecting a way of life many didn’t care to understand.

Amoreena gave him a hug, throwing herself into his arms, “no beard tickles,” she instructed, holding onto his shoulders as he kept his face away from her.

Y/N placed her hand on Spencers back, “I told you they were a lot, my mom is worse.”

“I feel very comfortable here, don’t worry,” he assured her.

“I should worry,” she laughed, “you’re one of them, oh god.”

“One of who?”

She tilted her head at him, shaking her head, “eccentric, full of life, bursting with weirdness that would probably be a strange purple goo if I could see it.”

He pressed his lips together as he thought about it, nodding softly in agreement. “There is nothing wrong with that, it just means I’m having fun and living my best life from now on.”

“Welcome to the family,” Bob added, a simple saying that invoked a feeling of pride he long yearned for.

—

Dinner was lovely, he’s never had shepherd’s pie before. Learning it was ground beef, beans and potato casserole, and somehow there was also corn in there… he wasn’t sure why it was so delicious but he enjoyed it a lot.

It might have simply been the ambiance that made it so good.

Her mother was the sweetest woman, she made everything from scratch. Including bread that he was obsessed with and a pie for dessert, she was overjoyed to have an expected yet unexpected guest.

Knowing there was a possibility he’d come, but not setting a place for him at the table unless he showed. She wrapped him up in a big hug when he arrived as well as after dinner when he helped her move the plates to the sink.

Her dad offered him a beer after dinner, taking him to the front porch to talk while the ladies cleaned up for the night. Amoreena had a strict bedtime routine to stick to, and it wasn’t his place to witness nor get in the way.

“So,” her dad started the interrogation easily. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be here if Y/N didn’t trust you. And she doesn’t trust many people.”

“I can promise you I’ll never hurt either of them,” he said with the utmost confidence. “It’s been two days and they’ve brought me more joy than I can explain, and I’m never going to take that for granted.”

“Good answer,” he smiled. “Now, farmhouse rules are as follows; you can roam where ever you please, just ask permission before using any equipment, we’re more of a petting zoo than a farm now so the animals are overly friendly, try and keep them inside the gates.”

He was a bit flustered, computing the fact that he just trusted him like that. Maybe he was Santa Clause, making a list and checking it twice, and Spencer happened to cross off every box to land him on the nice one.

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Believe me, sonny, I know what it’s like to want to impress the old man, but it’s all about Amoreena,” Bob warned him. “If she loves you then so will Y/N, and she falls fast.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m the same way.”

“That’s what Y/N was saying, I think it’ll be good for Amoreena to know someone like her, we try our best to get her out there and making friends, she’s smart enough to move up some grades but she’s a kid, y’know?” Her father basically describing his own childhood back to him.

“I graduated high school at 13,” he presses his lips together, hoping it doesn’t come off as a brag. Taking a sip of his beer to take the edge off how awkward he felt.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he smiled at Bob, who was smiling right back, “it led me here.”

Bob hummed in response, taking a sip as well as he sat back in his rocking chair, watching over the cows in the field as the sun began to set. It was picture perfect, unbelievable.

Wet feet on the hardwood floor caught his attention then, Amoreena was in her PJ’s as she ran towards the door. Putting on her rubber boots and swinging open the screen door.

Her hair was wet, falling into her eyes as she pushed it out of the way, “are you joining the parade and dance party?”

He acted like he knew what that meant, “sure?”

“Yes!” She cheered, “hurry up mom!!”

Y/N walked down the steps slowly, shaking her head as she laughed. “You are so impatient, the animals aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, but Spencer will!”

It made his heartache, the thought of leaving.

“Come on,” she slipped back into her shoes and joined them on the porch. “Off we go, see you later dad.”

“Be good, make wise choices,” he teased her.

“Okay old fart, sleep well,” they had a friendship that was admirable.

Spencer followed with glee as Amoreena said goodnight to all the animals, parading down the path towards their house as she made sure to talk to everything on the way there.

“Every night we pick 2 songs to dance to, it gets all the sillies out and rewards us for a day well spent so we can bless our bodies with a good sleep,” Y/N explains as she unlocks the front door.

A cottage full of books in the middle of the woods, that dream he always had, coming true as she ushered him inside. The smell of coffee drifting towards him as he noticed the brown candle on the mantle surrounded by photos of Y/N and her family.

She placed her keys beside it, kicking off her shoes and making sure Amoreena did the same. In the living room, she connected her phone to a set of speakers, letting the little one pick out 2 songs, queueing them up to play as she bounced with anticipation.

“Tonight’s selection is today was a fairytale by miss Swift, and Anne Hathaway’s cover of somebody to love, form the cinematic masterpiece that is Ella Enchanted,” Y/N announced like she was hosting the grammies, pretending her phone was the mic before hitting play.

He knew somebody to love, the Elton John version, it was a song that Penelope and Emily sang at karaoke when they reached 11 shots each, so not very often. But enough to have him remember the words, singing along with them as they danced.

It was a better workout than Derek had ever put him through, they held hands and jumped around, he twirled Amoreena around, pretending to do the tango with Y/N. Waving their arms in the air, it was the most carefree he has been in ages.

The songs fit the situation more perfectly than any of them seem to realize, he’s falling head over heels in love with this family that he met yesterday. Something in him saying that he needs to stay, that this is where he was supposed to be.

Getting Amoreena into bed was more difficult than Y/N imagined, she didn’t want to stop talking to Spencer. Only finally agreeing to sleep when she learned he would still be there for breakfast in the morning.

“Can you read me a book from your brain?” Her sleep-deprived eyes blinked as she asked him softly.

He looked at Y/N from the doorway, she nodded, patting the bed for Spencer to sit on the edge.

“Any book?”

“Any book.”

“Bedtime for baby star,” he says softly. Remembering all the late night’s he’s heard JJ whisper it on the back of the plane, in the corner of a police precinct in the middle of nowhere, in a twin bed beside his as they shared a hotel room.

“Once there was a baby star, she lived up by the sun. And every night at bedtime, that baby star wanted to have some fun,” he recited the words in an exciting tone, just low enough to soothe her into sleep. “She would sine and sine and fall and shoot and twinkle, oh so bright, and she said ‘Mommy! I’ll run away if you make me say goodnight.’”

Y/N looked at her with a fake stern look, leaning in enough to rub their noses together. “And then her mommy kissed her sparkly nose and said, no matter where you go,”

Y/N kissed her on the nose, “no matter where you go,” she repeated.

“No matter where you are, no matter how big you grow and even if you stray far,” to which Y/N repeated. “I’ll love you forever because you’ll always be my baby star.”

“Goodnight my sweet Amoreena,” Y/N kissed her head softly and stood, Spencer, joined her by the door.

“Can I have a hug?” She asked him softly, he looked at Y/N for approval once again.

She placed a hand on his back as she nodded, watching him lean in and hold Amoreena softly, “goodnight, I had a fun day today.”

“See you tomorrow,” she smiled, closing her eyes for the night.

Y/N replaced her lamp light with a night light, closing the door on the way out of her room as she blew a kiss towards her baby, “love you.”

“Love you more,” Amoreena whispered back.

Spencer was nothing but smiles in the hall as she looked at him, “I’m going to pour myself some wine and sit in the garden, are you interested?”

“Ecstatic actually,” he replied, following her towards the kitchen and letting her pour him a glass.

Behind her house, she had an overgrown garden, every area of her life had a reference to a book somewhere, a story someone else told that she’s now claimed as her own. Living in the world she always wanted, inviting Spencer to stay a while.

She let out a deep sigh as she sat down on the outdoor couch beside him, dropping her head on his shoulder softly, it was more contact than he was expecting. She had barely touched him.

“You should know that I like you a lot,” Spencer spoke softly. “I don’t want you to think I’m just some creep trying to get close to you and your kid, I genuinely think you’re wonderful and Amoreena is magnificent.”

“I trust you, I googled you and everything, don’t worry,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t invite you to the museum and let you give my kid a hug without doing research.”

“Not everything is on there you know.”

“I think you are very wonderful as well,” she said softly, “but I know it’s just the fact that you’re so darn cute that’s making me feel like I should drop everything and invite you into our life.”

“I understand,” he replied. Waiting for her to tell him that this was the last time she’d see him, it was inevitable at this point in his life. Nothing good lasted for long.

“So I need you to know all about me and I need to know all about you before you decide you want to stay because I can’t handle bringing you into Amoreena’s life for you to just leave her,” another deflection.

“You might want to hear mine first before you decide if you want me to stay around her,” it sounded scarier than he planned.

“Alright then, you go first,” she insisted with a small smile, eyes darting past him towards the cows in the field. Not ready to be vulnerable with him.

“I worked with the FBI for 15 years, I’ve helped catch some of the worst people in America, and some of them have vendetta’s against me. As far fetched and insane as that sounds,” he pre-warned her, watching her face drop as she understood the weight of his words.

“I have been framed and sent to prison for three months, I was kidnaped, tortured, drugged, and assaulted, not to mention shot a few times. I have more trauma than you can imagine. So that’s something you have to consider in a future with me,” he whispered so she wouldn’t hear how ashamed he was of himself.

“And the fact know that I can’t always keep myself or you safe, no matter how far disconnected I am from the FBI. It doesn’t matter if I change my name and hide here for the rest of my life off the grid. There are some fucked up minds out there that don’t want to let me experience true happiness. But in all honesty,” he finally stops his long-winded rant. He bites his bottom lip as if he is holding back someone worse than all the things he just said.

“I’m willing to die tomorrow if it means my last day on earth was this fucking perfect.” Tears welled in his eyes, “I am so tired.”

“It’s okay to cry, I would be too,” she says softly, a frog in her throat as she nodded. Tears welling in her eyes as her face scrunched.

He blinked and a tear escaped, slipping down his cheek and being swiped off by her thumb in an instant. She kept her hand on his cheek softly, he leaned into it.

“I’ve been running for so long,” he whispers because then the words don’t really exist. They’re secrets only for her to hear and then they’re gone. “I was basically groomed for the FBI, I was their personal computer and they didn’t give a single shit about the wear and tear on me.”

He started to sob. She cradled his head against her chest in one swift motion, holding him close and rubbing his back. Shushing him softly as he cried into her shoulder.

“You know that Katy Perry song?” she changed the subject as he calmed down, understanding his pain and accepting his warnings, but continuing down the path anyway.

“Summer after high school when we first met,” she sang like an angel. “It was like that, I thought I met the love of my life after I graduated, we got engaged a year later, then he died in a car crash and I was single for a very long time.”

“Then my grandma got sick and she made a bucket list. Number one was to become a great grandma,” her words became whispers as she tried to stop the tears, following Spencer’s tactic even though it failed so miserably.

“I said fuck it. I’m going to have a baby and make my own family, one person I can truly care for and never lose. She’s my world, she was the light of my grandma’s life until it burnt out, she has changed my world in ways I can’t even explain.”

It fell silent as they absorbed each other’s explanations of their issues. The root of their problems, the core of their soul were the most hurt was kept locked away, opening the doors and swapping scrapbook snapshots of terrible memories.

“I think,” she says, finally, like music to his ears. “I think that I’m okay, I’m positive actually that I want you in my life like this. All of you is fine with me, you’re not that scary, and I’m tired of waiting for the right moments because it means losing the people over time missed. I want to live my life fully, I’m at peace with the unknown and with you.”

Peace.

“Not to quote Taylor Swift at you or anything, but she does have a point in that song,” she laughed lightly and he felt her chest jump. Life bursting through her as she made light of an incredibly touchy subject.

“I don’t know the song,” he whispers.

She gasps, “oh that’s the line, I finally found it. Our first fight can be whether or not you like Taylor Swift, don’t even think about how upset Amoreena will be if you’re not, I’ll kick you out.”

He can't stop laughing then, digging his face into her neck as he holds her closer to his chest. Breathing her in as she finishes his laugh in a giggle, rubbing her hands down his back as she presses her cheek to his head.

“I haven’t had the time to listen to her this year I know she’s been busy releasing music,” he admits, “but I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She shifts awkwardly on the couch to take her phone out of her pocket, opening her music and playing the song she was speaking of.

He simply rests his head on her chest, both of them laying back onto the cushions together, finding a comforting spot for their arms as they listened to the words, silently.

He absorbed it all, every word she said bringing forth a feeling he’s never felt before. True understanding, like someone, gets him. Gasping audibly when she says ‘robbers to the east clowns to the west, give you my sunshine, give you my best.’

He wasn’t alone.

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