#it sounds like a dream i'd have after not taking my medication for 3 days and wake up in a cold sweat 14 hours later

[symptomsoflettinggo]

a lot of questions about this. none of which are positive

[enbee-ai]

@its-your-mind this is for you

here are my notes on malevolent's season one, episodes one through eight

considering my history with eye-related imagery podcasts, it was only obvious that one day i'd get around to malevolent as well. so here it is:

the two things i knew going in are as follow:

one of them is named john, while the other's name is arthur. i have no clue who is which

lots of the aforementioned eye imagery. i think at least one of them might be coded yellow, although as far as i know they are... sharing a body, perhaps. one of them is not human. and he's EVIL

i didn't jot down many notes while listening to the first bunch of episodes, but i have some general thoughts.

the setup is really smart. it's a really good idea to have arthur suddenly go blind and having john describe his surroundings, the people they come across and the actions arthur himself is going to take, but it also almost feels like a dnd campaign as far as descriptions and the dialogue goes (good, i'm very passionate about taz), especially when john gives arthur a description and arthur asks him questions, or when john lays out the possible courses of action they could take and leaves the choice to arthur. also why are there dice sounds sometimes when john notices some detail or other? what's up with that

part 1 "the dark world", part 2 "the missing girl", part 3 "the mansion", all in rapid fire:

(at this point i was convinced this was all taking place in england. podcast protagonists love being named john, and british)

i love stories that start in medias res, but this isn't even that. this is directly after the res. intriguing

peter... a private detective's partner in investigating... mmh nureyev i am constantly reminded of you come back home

the mystery seems straightforward enough, at least as much as a mystery can be, but arthur's detective skills really shine through here. he seems quite level headed.

it's really funny that he tells the voice (this is what i was calling john until episode five) to shut up and calm the fuck down he's so right for that, you go you funky little detective! 

i wonder when he's going to break down

DRIVING? WHILE BLIND???

creepy rotting abandoned mansions and mystery babies, love it, nothing to complain about

part 4 "the voices"

is the guy (kellin) the one who can actually hear the voice? is the severed head just a lifeless thing? does he think ! he can't hear the voice while his sister's head can, because he's unstable? is this what's happening? how would this guy (kellin again, i had no idea how to spell his name before looking it up i apologize) even be able to talk to the severed head in the lake?

oh this is GOOD horror

part 5 "the gift"

what? how did that happen? what? (i'm apparently referring to how arthur got in a hospital, according to the time stamp i left next to this note!)

is that the dream world the book guy was talking about in his notes?

did they actually have this kind of medical technology back in the 1930's?

oooh john

OO FRIEND

thank you for the recap of the previous five episodes i have just listened to

I KNEW SHE WAS DEAD!! CONSEQUENCES (of being asleep for a month)  (i'm talking about amanda / sarah here)

part 6 "the hill"

john seems to really like saying arthur's name

"arthur" "what?" "it's closed." hah

alright yes i s'pose i could yeh

how come john keeps asking arthur to play the piano? is there a reason beyond the obvious?

oh oh his reaction!! it's so lovely!!

gingerly walking into a gun shop and buying a gun like the real americans do. yeehaw

"you know how to [pick a lock]?" "many times, friend" "friend"

!!! john is so surprised to be called arthur's friend!! he didn't even notice it when they were in the hospital but arthur's been calling him that for a while now, back before the coma :)))

"more than telling (turn right) more than telling—"

part 7 "the island"

abandoned houses, severed heads, creepy lighthouses in the middle of a foggy lake, hitchhiking with the wrong guy. cults

all of my favorite things

we fucked up, you fucked up

who's john????????? what 

what do you mean who's john. what's happening to him, why doesn't he remember his own name that he picked out for himself kind of

part 8 "the caves"

"once more in the abyss, john" "once more, friend"

first time john's called arthur his friend! it's even more meaningful knowing how much he likes calling him arthur

john hates rhetorical questions, i see. although i'm pretty sure they're an integral part of being a PI and reasoning stuff out

the coffins were removed... and the widow wasn't alone... this is the thing that fucks me up the most 

more dice sounds

"if they are a cult, who or what are they worshipping", i see john's the one asking the rhetorical questions now

a woman? the widow? why has she gone feral

counting? what? the coffins? time? (about the signs they find on the cave's walls)

ah

john 😳 i need you with me on this 😳

the black goat, the king in yellow (arthur and john? is that why they're coded yellow? is john the king in yellow? could that be?)

is john hiding something? why is the fact that he left the severed head behind continually brought up? is it going to be relevant, was the head actually... supernatural?

does john know something he isn't telling arthur?

antoine's final plan and henry's sacrifice ?

"the one who wore, yellow?" "yes the king in yellow"

the one who tried to kill arthur in episode one? (i think this might be referring to the one who killed sarah, or the one who was following her)

"FUCK YOU JOHN" "FUCK ME? FUCK YOUR EYES"

well john is obviously worried that arthur's lack of empathy for the creatures they've come across up to this point will translate in a... rejection of some sort (fear, disgust, or anger) towards him if and when they find out where john came from and what he is

he's also aware that the time he spent in the dark world must have greatly influenced him, both in his actions and his mind. i think this is why he is showing so much empathy for the widow (was she really?) getting sucked into the cult, he knows how much the environment you're in and the company you are with can influence a mind

i mean, this is just speculating. i hope whatever malevolent veteran is reading this is having a laugh

this also makes me think that john might be having quite the influence on arthur's mind, to an extent, one that arthur is not aware of, at all

well, shit

[wytfut]

A whiners report, POV.....

Greetings all..... at this very moment in time.... I'm recooping from again another back surgery. To no ones fault, even my own suppose. Time take its toll.

This time has been a journey, more involved than I ever thought would happen to me ever again. I feel at times that my medical incidents seem a bit slanted towards me at times as in picking on me. But thats just my POV. I'm sure it is not.

I won't mention my surgeons name, as I like the guy and I think everything that has happened most likely was out of his hands, and he is very good at his craft. But other than Being very hands on with every patient, he doesn't have a lot of control over what happens to his patient. And so it is....

My medical issues have spanned mostly from 2000 to now. 4 hip surgeries, 2 carpal tunnel, a blood clot incident, a heart attack, and previous back procedures.

My father couldn't handle any morphine products and accordingly, we'd tell hospital personnel, who pretty much ignore us. He'd become outrageous, and out of control, living his nightmares. I've even went so far to tell them that if they insist he have morphine of any kind that they had my permission to tie him in his bed. This always brought a strange look from the person I'd be talking too. But anyone who had lived Delmars nightmares with him cannot describe what they saw. The most common was for him to leap out of bed ripping out his IV's, stitches, etc. .... even dislocating his brand new hip, falling over the rails he couldn't get down.

With my latest, I'm noticing I maybe affected also my morphine, same as my Father. I've had nothing but tons of vivid dreams and at time discerning, what is reality, and what is dreaming. Even when currently I'm only taking 1 hydracodone at bed time.... I get a bit blurry during the day. I've also noticed that I can't really read right now.... maybe a little bit. But my eyes keep jumping around (old EMT days.... "ping pong ball eyes")

When I came out of surgery, I remember nothing of any conversations. .... I seemed to come around to reality about 2 days later, ...... no matter what I said or did.

So Dec. 6 after surgery, a lot of things I was told was said, which I have no recollection. Barely holding my head up.... And a nurse put an ice pack on my new wound, and I went to sleep the next 2 hours.

When I woke the ice pack was warm and sweaty. ... Apparently I frost bit my new wound. So much so that it felt as if my back was on fire.... I was very surprised and got a reply to my questioning "we told you no more than 15 minutes....." absolutely do not remember this.

I got home, Patti wasn't happy that I wouldn't even try the ice pack, but I just couldn't stand it. Between the burning and itching.... no way was I going to do it.

Other conversation after surgery from what I understand was how to wear my back brace. I remember a foggy moment of some sort of conversation. I remember a part where someone (PA?) said I wasn't wearing it correctly. In my pile of papers once I was home, no mention of the back brace, but I remembered somethings. No bending, no twisting, no lifting, ..... pretty much the norm, that I bite my cheek with when hearing. I've had this conversation with my surgeon in the past, and he too chuckles at my point of view.

All of those requests, are impossible, unless you have someone assigned/attached to your hip. I know they sound reasonable, but its really not. Maybe I'm just hard headed, which I can admit to easily.

But I did indeed piss myself 3 times the first night waiting for help off the nurses call button.

Here are my favorite ones where the rules are exempt:

How do you use the toilet? How do you wipe? both of these require bending over and a bit of twisting..... but they do say sitting up is okay... but you are bending over to get there.

Getting in bed.... you are again bending over, and twisting too. Even if done the proper way prescribed....

I'm an old guy. I get up at least 4 times every nite. The toilet is not 10 from my bed. I'm not going to put on that brace, for less than 10 feet 4 times a night.... its just not practical, and I think maybe a bit over board for moving about to get that brace back on and off.

Did I mention that you don't need to wear the brace in bed. I'm good with that, as my wound was screaming by the time I got home. But there was no instruction that I remember on sleeping position. One of my past PA's had very specific instructions on sleep position.

Apparently twisting in bed is ok, bending ok, etc. .... I have no idea.

I even remember someone saying that when sitting if you wanted to take off the brace for a few minutes is was allowed. Condition of my wound..... it was a lot of a "few minutes"...... I even called my surgeons office trying to get this all straight in my head..... couldn't do it.... too much drugs.

I know... its all petty, and I'm just venting from this longer than expected process.

3 nights ago, I woke up with a new chest pain. My pulse was fine. The tempo felt good.... but I couldn't take a full breath without shooting pain. All of this upper right chest, front to rear.

I monitored it until around noon and had Patti haul my butt in. I noticed walking across the kitchen I was struggling to keep my breath.

I had a blood clot. I'm very familiar with blood clots (5 in 2000, and a monster in Xmas 2019) over the past 20+ years. But everyone has been different. Each medical team has treated it with its own interpretation of "how its supposed to be done".

For those that don't know..... like a lot of medical issues, blood clots in the wrong place (all of mine have been in the heart lungs area) can kill you.

I spent 24 hours in the hospital. Got home completely wasted. With what felt was at least a couple days lost recooping from the original surgery.

Feeling pretty good right now. Still not a lot of appetite. I'm currently not on any meds for this procedure. except I'll be taking my last Hydracodone at bed time. We'll see how it goes tonight, I'd like to be off of them, .... but if issues arise, I'll ask for another script.

Not very many folks will read this.... and that's ok. But for those that want to know how I'm doing.... here ya go...

As for my back issues? ..... I'm excited. it appears they are all gone. It doesn't mean something else may not show up down the road, but this time, I'm really excited.

[viskafrer]

Writeblr Pick A Card

I have recently been asked if I'd bring these back; last time I did one was at least 2 years ago so have a quick explanation:

You'll see three things in the picture below

decide which one you feel more drawn to and go with it

Check for the text below the picture but make sure it is your group's text. Each text will provide a mix of things, take what helps your story or made you have an idea and leave whatever doesn't fit

I will make this a 15-posts series, following the Save The Cat Beat Sheet. Each post, you get to pick one group and use the information given to write a story. It's a fun little excercise I like to do while writing on my projects but you can also use this to generate plot ideas or character development ideas for your existing stories. Tweak away, you can take and leave whatever you need. So if that sounds like something you'll have fun doing, have a try! If not, don't worry, sorry to have crowded your dash 🙂

Posts likely will be posted every Saturday or Sunday.

Writeblr Pick A Card 1/15 - a “before” snapshot of the protagonist

Group 1

Your character has just returned home from their hero's journey, their life is different now, their values and goals changed, dreams have been forgotten and others have been found. However, they return to their little house where everything is just the way they left it. Unopened mail scatters around the mailbox, the inside stuffed full with even more mail. Newspapers of days far in the past, articles with faces they once knew. The telephone on the counter by the door blinks, indicating that there are messages waiting to be listened to. Pressing the button, they wander around, picking up things, leafing through mail, sorting out stuff but it gets them itchy in a way they can not describe at first. They feel out of place and restless, the voices on the answering machine echo; some even have no distinct face to them anymore. However, something catches their attention.

Group 2

Your character went out of their way to get here. It's a calm place, they have to admit. One full of gentle nature, entertaining opportunities, and cozy architecture. Fishermen sail every river and lake, it's almost impossible to find a speck of water without one. Standing at the edge of a small wooden dock that reaches so far into the lake that they can barely see the shore behind them, they hold up a small painting and compare it to the lush greens and the rippling water around them. After a bit of thinking and comparing, they are confident in their opinion: this is it, the place they have been seeing in their dreams whenever they got off their medication. A flock of birds scatter as a handful of boats draw closer, waving at them, greeting in a matter that lures a smile on their face. Folding the paper with the painting and putting it back into their hidden chest pocket, they wave back, ready to dive right in. They'd find out. And no one would know, right? They had taken measures after all to throw them all of their trace. They would have never believed them when they'd told them where they were going, what they were trying to find. But they'd done it, and now they would learn the truth. Barely having said that, the first boat anchors by the little dock, reaching for their hand.

Group 3

Hurrying through the narrow street, your character hastily closes their worn bag. Lanterns flicker on, and some turn right off as your character races past. From other streets, quickly approaching steps echo across the plaster. It's not one pair of feet, but a dozen that hurries along the very same street. Dressed in black; all carrying the same worn out bag that they try to hasitly close as they run as if the devil himself is after them. Your character crosses a bridge and sprints down several winding roads until they finally seek shelter underneath a wooden bus station stall. The light flickers once, twice, thrice even, and then there is no more noise. Cars and busses drive past, all minding their own businesses, but in the midst of them, a black carriage approaches. And again, everyone minds their own business. No one stops, no one even looks at it; almost as if it isn't there. And when it stops by the bus station and the door opens, a hand reaches out, ready to take the bag. However, your character hesitates. They clutch the bag tightly against their body but the hand grows impatient, motioning for them to hurry up. In the end, your character hands over the bag. The door closes and the carriage drives away. Soon, the noise is back. There are no more cars and busses now, no more hurrying feet, no more shoes clicking on plaster. Your character glances up with a heavy mind and an even heavier heart, looking for comfort in a sky full of thick smoke but there is none anymore. The sky is clear and as beautiful as they remember it. "Good for you", a voice croaks behind them and when they turn, something hard hits them over their head and everything turns dark.

[part 2 here] [part 3a] [part 3b]

[theydoctor]

Thank your for the tag @thirteenmyspacegirl <3

1. Were you named after anyone?

Well, I named myself after 13 in a fanfic by @fuxdeiflswued haha And also Leslie's character in The Scarlet Pimpernel <3

2. When was the last time you cried?

Saturday lmao I'm very emotionally stable :,)

3. Do you use sarcasm?

Yeah, quite a lot, I think. It depends on the person I'm with, though.

4. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Uhm. I'm really bad at noticing anything about people tbh. So I guess their personality? I rarely really look at people, it's uncomfortable.

5. What's your eye colour?

Some sort of greyish-blue

6. Scary movie or happy ending?

Happy ending, please! I'm not a fan of scary movies at all.

7. Any special talents?

Hm. Maybe my ability to quickly absorb anything related to history? Not sure if it's a special talent, but I like it :)

8. Any pets?

Yes!! My dear dog, Watson, a red irish setter, who is my favourite dog in the whole wide world and the best emotional support I could wish for. And my beloved grumpy cat, Lilli, who dislikes being pet by most people, but once she likes you she's really quite the sweetheart and will never hurt you <3

9. What sports do you play/ have played?

I don't play any sports at the moment due to medical issues, but I really want to start running? It sound fun and like a great way to relief some stress. But before I used to do karate and play tennis and soccer, though I never thought of myself as good in any of those haha It was a lot of fun, though, and I do want to take up karate and tennis again at some point. Hopefully I'll be able to in the future. :)

10. How tall are you?

1,76m I think?

11. What was your favourite subject in school?

*chanting* HISTORY HISTORY HISTORY !!!! There's nothing better and I may have a sweet spot for my history teacher, too haha I also like german, but it can be a bit boring at times...

12. Dream job?

Definitely something with history! Maybe professor at a university or archivist. In an ideal world I'd just sit in a library all day long, studying wwi and infodumping to anyone willing to listen.

No pressure tags: @sunny-lie-melody @walkingcontradiction42 @mcrmadness @beartrust42 @phoenix-is-still-here

[sailorshadzter]

just a little something.

ive been super down in the dumps- between a death in my family & scary medical news for someone i love so very much (not to mention, hello black friday is THIS WEEK) it's just been... a lot. it was nice to step back & write something sweet & soft for my faves. <3

When he dreams, its of a garden overflowing with lush greenery.

It's of the golden summer sunlight glinting off of auburn hair, it's of the soft, almost lyrical laughter that chases along the sweet smelling breeze. Jon... The voice calls out to him and he smiles, for just that voice alone brings him happiness. Brings him peace. In these gardens, which so certainly belong to Winterfell, he cannot recall feeling such a happiness as he does in these dreams, but he wants to hold onto it. He never wants to let it go. And he never will.

This day when he wakes, he's not alone as he once might have been.

Rolling onto his side, Jon can't help but to take in the sight of his sleeping partner, with her hand tucked beneath her cheek. For all these years he's chased after dreams of her, between battles with dragons and lions and even the undead. Between taking back what was always theirs and reclaiming the family they had thought was gone for good... Somewhere amidst all of that, they'd fallen in love. Wrong, some might say, but for them it was the best thing they ever could have asked for.

Leaning over, he presses a kiss against her temple, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair; she stirs, somewhat, body twisting beneath the sheets, reminding him of the long night they'd spent together. Chuckling, he slips from the bed himself to dress, the fire already burning in the hearth offering him both the light and warmth to do so. Though winter was finally coming to a close, the mornings were especially cold, as were the nights, with a break of warm winter sunlight throughout the afternoon. It would not be long now, though, before spring would come and then certainly the summer he dreams of would follow behind.

Just as he's stuffing his feet into his boots, he hears the sound of her coming back to the waking world. "Good morning, sweetheart," he greets as he sinks down onto her side of the bed, unable to help himself from reaching out and brushing a lock of hair from her face. She lets out a sleepy sounding sigh before she pushes herself up into a sitting position, red hair falling about her shoulders. Once again he's reminded of the night before, of when her hair had spread across her pillow as he stared down at her from above; the memory sends chills down his spine. "Sleep well?"

She scoffs, but she's smiling as she slides her legs out from beneath the furs so she might rise up from the bed. "What little sleep I got, yes, I suppose so," she says as she tugs on her fur lined robe, dancing away from his reaching hands. "I had a dream," she goes on to say, turning back around to face him, a smile curving on her lips.

"Oh?" He asks, holding out his hands, to which she comes willingly now. She settles into place on his lap, legs straddling his hips, her arms draping over his shoulders. "Tell me," he says softly, only after he's leaned in and kissed her.

"It was summer... It was so warm..." She speaks slowly, as if she can't quite remember it all. "I thought I'd forgotten what summer felt like, but..." The warmth of the dream permeates to the waking world and even now, she swears she can feel the warmth of the sun on her back. "You were there, in the gardens I think..." It was Jon's voice she can recall calling out to her; Sansa... Sansa... The sweetest of sounds. "What?" She asks then, realizing now that Jon is staring at her as if she's grown a second head. "What have I said?"

Jon can only laugh, leaning in so he can tip his forehead against hers. "It would seem we have the same dreams, my sweet," he says, one hand sliding into place in her mess of auburn waves. Her kiss comes next and something about it tells him they will be missing that morning's meal.

And sure enough, a few hours later when they finally emerge from their rooms, she's donned a gown the color of the summer sky, a reminder of the dreams they share, and the future that's still to come.

[paper-cloud]

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side. 

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?" 

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between. 

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

[satrangee-ray]

The Snack of a Lifetime

Book: Open Heart 3 and beyond.

Pairing(s): Ethan × NB!MC {Dr Inara Hepburn (she/they)}.

Rating: Teen+

Summary: Inara barges into the DT room with some obnoxious snacks to force Ethan into taking a break. But is that all they have in mind, or will their brilliant plan saved for later take him by pleasant surprise?

Category: Fluff, banter, life decisions and celebrations 🎉😁✌.

Trope: Weddings and Proposals.

Warning(s): one or two swear words, mention of a sex act.

Writer's note: By the time this starts, Ethan and MC have already said their 'I love you's, are in a committed relationship, and more or less everyone knows about it. In my original HC for Inara and Ethan they don't get married this early, so this is kind of an AU cause I really wanted to write a proposal fic. Also the whole lawsuit drama didn't happen, cause I said so, and most sane people would agree.

Ethan wasn't used to receiving.

It was apparent in the way he interacted with the world, immediately getting suspicious of anyone who would remotely extend some sort of courtesy towards him. 

He knew if he ever wanted to have something for himself, no one but he would have to take initiative to go get it. And for two-way processes like relationships, he had no belief whatsoever on the legitimacy of such things.

That was until Inara waltzed into his life, and amazed him with the possibility that he could be on the receiving end of good things without having to worry about any strings attached. Be it love, or a blowjob, or "care", as he previously liked to call it– the best things life ever had to offer were simply falling into his lap, and he couldn't find himself complaining.

Inara cared, in the truest sense of the word.

She cared enough to take off his glasses and cover him up in warm blankets, whenever he would fall asleep with an open medical journal in his hands. She cared enough to know just how he liked his coffee, or to school his scotch habits whenever they would get a little out of hand. And presently, she cared enough to let him work overtime, by agreeing to grab lunch with Tobias instead.

Ethan couldn't afford to take breaks. These days, he had to work even in between shifts, to finish editing his second medical book decently before it's approaching release date.

.

.

(One month before Inara's board exams)

.

The diagnostics office sat deserted, except for one doctor. A wooden desk, with papers sprawled all around. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, as he kept his glasses aside.

Suddenly the office door swung open, and three figures strolled in. Two practically tumbled, giggling overenthusiastically. The third one was Harper, who calmly walked in holding a tray, and shook her head with an amused expression.

Ethan looked up, and saw Tobias and Inara, each triumphantly holding up all their 10 fingers at him.

"Ring Chips!" Inara squealed, running towards Ethan. "Si baked these last night, and brought them as extra snacks for her fourteen hour shift today, but of course, we managed to hog some. So dig in!"

Ethan cautiously eyed the bright yellow crisps looped through Inara's fingers, and said, "you're not expecting me to eat those atrocities, are you?"

"Did you just call Sienna's baked goods an atrocity? That's wrong on so many levels E, lemme just get her on the phone..."

"NO", Ethan replied on high alert.

"That's what I thought. Cause bold words for someone who struggles even with a pancake."

Tobias and Harper chuckled, struggling in vain to stifle it.

"Fine, give me one here", Ethan said, extending his hand towards Harper's tray which contained the particular baked snacks.

"Nope, that's not the way", Inara stopped him, slapping his hand. "If you're doing this, you gotta do it right."

A loud exhale escaped Ethan. "What now, Rookie?"

"E, you can't just pick one chip and eat it, okay? You gotta slip it through your finger, and try to grab it with your mouth, the childhood nostalgia way. Like this."

Inara brought their hand to their mouth, and swallowed one whole finger, sucking on it until the chip looped through it flew backwards into their mouth. They proceeded to chew on it, staring straight into Ethan's eyes. 

He was so screwed. 

Turning away from Inara's gaze with tremendous effort, he wordlessly picked up a chip loop from the tray and tried to slip it into his finger.

"Too small", Tobias remarked, and handed him another. "Try a bigger one."

This time the ring effortlessly slipped through his finger, sitting perfectly at it's base. Ethan stared at it, perplexed, for a few moments.

"Yes! Now consume it with your mouth", Inara's excited cheers continued.

Harper couldn't hold in a scoff, while the youngest doctor in the room remained blissfully unaware of the implications of their phrase.

Ethan's mouth opened in protest, but he realized it's futility immediately and decided to close it. Scrunching up his entire face, in disbelief that he was actually doing this, he lowered his head, and slowly raised his hand to his face.

When his finger holding the chip was well within his reach, he opened his mouth once again to grab it. But just when he was about to take the bite, Inara acted quickly and slipped the chip out of his finger, causing Ethan to bite into his own skin instead. 

"Aahh, Nars what the hell! Are you nuts?"

The three other doctors in the room unabashedly cracked up now, not bothering to hide their glee in Ethan being tortured like that.

Inara began stroking his beard softly, before leaving a quick kiss on his cheek.

Shades of light pink took over it in response.

"You should have acted faster, honey", Inara said, taking his hands into theirs. Another gentle peck landed on his lips.

"Now I'm already running late, there's this patient I have to check on, gotta yeet. But you better finish the rest of those snacks, along with the real food we brought you for lunch, and for God's sake, please look up from those damn papers for five minutes, and take a freakin' chill pill!" 

The last words were shouted as they rushed out the door.

Ethan and Tobias sighed.

"They're the best thing that has ever happened to you"

"Indeed", Ethan said in earnest. "I'll be very inclined to agree."

.

.

(Four months after Inara's board exams)

.

The gorgeous venue sparkled with chandeliers and boujee people in expensive suits. Small round tables, aesthetic chairs, congratulations in order everywhere. No, it wasn't the medical industry's 'it' couple getting married, it was the 'it' doctor, and the chief of medicine's second book getting launched instead. 

Ethan had walked into the Edenbrook atrium that morning like it was a war zone. His expression still spelt terror, as he uneasily shifted his glance between some of his guests, shooting small, forced smiles their way.

"Why do we always have to do this?", he had asked Naveen. "Why couldn't we just release the damn book in stores? Why host a useless social gathering with forty thousand rich snobs who are only any good at showing off and draining your energy?"

Naveen had shook his head and hit him with an assertive "it's necessary."

So currently, Ethan stood awkward to his bones, in the middle of this necessary evil. Until, a certain presence near the door cued him to look up.

It was them.

Pantsuit in a sinful vermillion, the colour glowing bright against their skin. Red bottom wedges, that only aided their boss status. Brunette locks framing their face, so impeccably contrasting the emerald eyes looking affectionately back at him. Those, which never failed to take his breath away.

Inara Hepburn.

His giver, his lover, his Rookie.

And Ethan couldn't be more mesmerized, or reassured.

"Need some help picking your jaw off the floor, Ramsey?" Inara quipped, as they strode towards Ethan, torturously slow.

"I– well…", he stammered, before clearing his throat. "Is that look the reason why you chose to arrive 'fashionably late', and drive separately to my book launch from our own apartment?"

"Yeah, definitely the look, but I daresay some other things as well", they said, placing a playful hand on Ethan's chest. "You'll soon find out."

He smiled warmly at them. "Is that a challenge?"

"Have you ever backed down from one?"

A reckless mistake of letting his eyes slip to their lips, and Ethan couldn't wait any longer. He wrapped his arms around their waist, kissing them hard and deep. Drinking in their mouth, their warmth, their sensations. Aching to draw as much energy as he could to power through this event, from his greatest source of confidence, his only constant supporter. 

"I love you so much, Rookie", he panted, after the kiss broke off.

"Some brand new information there", teased Inara, bumping their nose into his. "You know I love you too, E. Now tell me what's bothering you."

Ethan pulled back swiftly at that, and stared at them in astonishment.

"What?"

"What 'what'? It was all over your face when I entered, and you still don't look quite alright. What's wrong, love? I don't recall you being afraid of public speaking!"

"I'd address an audience in my dreams! I just don't understand what's up with these people who come up individually to congratulate me, and purposefully try to expand those two lines into a whole one-on-one conversation. Scandalous!"

Inara nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Such a mood, b*tch, such a mood."

Peels of laughter were shared again, at their effortless mutual understanding, and at the usage of Inara's all time favourite nickname.

"All the best", they wished, shaking him by the lapels of his coat. "Get out there, and kill it!"

.

.

.

About an hour later, applause sounded from every corner of the atrium. Ethan beamed, as he finished reading the last line of a snippet about his latest research from his book.

Clapping proudly from the crowds was Inara, a lover on a mission.

"Thank you everyone, for joining me here today", Ethan said, amongst cheers and buzzing words of encouragement from fellow doctors and other esteemed medical personalities. "I hope I will be able to add value to patient-care through my efforts behind this book. There are some people I would like to specifically thank for being of immense help on my journey till here, so let's begin. Dad, thank you so much for coming to support me. Means a lot. Maybe because of my personal outlook, I could never comprehend your brand of unconditional love, which you so freely offer without actively needing me to work for it. I know now how valuable and rare that is, and how it has helped me grow into the man I am today. For that I will always be grateful. Naveen, thank you so much. You know if I start listing 'what for', I won't finish."

A lighthearted chuckle spread among the crowd.

"You always keep saying my success is my own, but I firmly believe there was no way I would have been the doctor I am without your help and guidance. Thank you for being the excellent mentor and leader by example that you are, you still motivate me to become better everyday. And, last but not the least… Inara."

All eyes in the audience shifted towards one young attending, who was clutching her glass out of giddiness.

"I really want to say thank you, but those two words will never be able to express the amount of gratitude I hold towards you. Before you, my life was only ever about blacks and whites. Giving my everything into medicine, working late nights and coming back to an empty apartment with scotch in my hand, I thought I was doing it all right. But when I met you, got to know you, I… you left me in utter awe of who you are, both as a professional and as a person. I couldn't stop myself from falling in love, and in respect, with your brain, your mind, and your soul. I am so glad you were patient with me while I was busy trying to deny it. You continued to show that patience even until recently, when I was all cranky with writer's block. Now I know the great Dr. Inara Hepburn is also a published novel writer, so of course that bit might have come out of empathy, but nonetheless, I'm thankful for it. Today, I'm about to release a book I put my all into, the information in which might hopefully change the face of what I'm most passionate about – public healthcare, for the better. And I'd rather not share this moment with anyone else. So Inara, would you please honour me by coming up on stage to receive the first ever copy of 'Prognosis and Evaluation'?"

Inara couldn't speak, stunned into silence for a bit. They had no idea Ethan would be the one for emotional public speeches, and here they were, utterly moved, in for another surprise. So would he be, soon, they reasoned in their head, and gathered themselves. Keeping their drink aside on a table, they strode towards the stage, eyes shining with pride, love, and determination.

Determination to get this right.

Ethan took their hand as soon as they stepped on the first stair, and led them upstage. 

A copy of the book, new and shining, was lying, all theirs to hold.

'Prognosis and Evaluation: A comprehensive study.'

Their heart swelled at the words written on the first page of the book.

Typical Ethan's handwriting, somehow neat and gibberish at the same time.

'My love, my north star, I promise to never let you down' - Dr Ramsey Ethan <3.

Tears. Instantly, a whole lot of them rolled down their cheeks. They clutched the book hard and hugged it to their chest, holding on tight. Ethan held them in turn, locking their shaking frame in his embrace, as the crowd broke into a unanimous applause.

"E, I don't know what to say", Inara began, on being handed over the mic. "Si would have cried so much if she were present here, Naveen's already crying."

Their grandmentor smiled back at them through his tears.

"The thing is, I love success. I love standing in the spotlight, having my own life, and earning my own achievements. Despite that, there is always a deeper warmth in standing next to someone you love, when they accomplish great things, and shouting "my person!" Today, you've given me that opportunity, and I'm so grateful to you for it. I'm proud of you for believing in yourself, and speaking your voice not as a "mechanism of coping with the means of this corrupt world", but as a means to bring genuine change because you believe you can. I've always seen you try so hard to never let your loved ones down, and that effort is what I'm so here for. People like you are rare, and I'm glad I got one to myself, to constantly cheerlead for, now and as long as you'll have me. I'll never leave your side, Ethan. I'd love us to forever be each other's hype person. Not just in practice, but also… officially."

Three distinct gasps were heard in the room.

Alan, Naveen and Tobias let their pinkies lock into each other.

Ethan's eyes widened, as he took in the meaning behind their words, starting to sense what might be coming.

Doubt. Disbelief. Shock. Anticipation.

In the next moment, they were down on one knee.

"Ethan Jonah freaking Ramsey, will you marry me?"

Dead silence in the entire room, everyone taking in what just happened.

Ethan's hands flew to his mouth.

Minutes passed.

One… two… and five...

No one said a word.

Eventually, the entire audience burst into cheers and jubilation. Even in such a formal event as that, quite a few wayward whistles were heard.

And then there was the man of the hour, standing centre stage, shell shocked. Still trying to process everything.

"Inara... Rookie, I–"

He couldn't. Form words or coherent sentences. His entire focus was on the person and the tiny blue box in front of him.

"There's a ring in there for real?"

'Shit', he cursed internally. What a ridiculous question.

Of course this was real. Their love was real, they were real. He was to get married. What? Wow. Really?

Of course there would be a ring for real.

"Depends", Inara said with a wink. "On whether or not you say yes."

"Come on Ethan!" 

Encouragements burst from his acquaintances in the crowd, imploring him to say yes. His three musketeers, however, were heard the loudest.

'Yes', Ethan thought to himself. 'Yes.'

He had to say it.

"Yes", he tried whispering under his breath.

A first time, then a second.

"Yes. YES OF COURSE I’LL MARRY YOU!"

He exclaimed those words in ecstacy before dropping down on his knees as well, and pulled his lover in against him. He engulfed her in his arms, holding her so tight, it could knock the breath out of his chest. 

"Yes Inara, it would mean the world to me if I could marry you", he whispered again into her ear.

"Good thing I asked then, E", Inara whispered back, before squeezing him one last time and pulling away. 

"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!", the crowd chanted.

The widest smile ever was shot their way, as Inara once again took hold of the navy box. She waited for both of them to steady themselves, and Ethan found himself holding his breath. 

At last, the cover of the ring case slowly lifted, to reveal… 

A bright yellow ring chip sitting right into the slit of the fabric in the case. 

Confused noises of varying degrees filled the room. Only Naveen, Tobias and Alan watched the whole scene unfold with a twinkle in their eye.

Meanwhile, Ethan's expression progressed from utter cluelessness to gradual realization.

Oh! That ring.

"Wait, how did– how come that snack didn't rot in all these days?"

"Of course it did, love. Our original measuring tape probably decomposed long ago in some trash bin outside a gold shop, after having done its job. This is merely a replica, but you can call it a token."

"Nars… what do you mean?"

"I mean…", Inara said, inserting her hand into her suit pocket, to pull out a sparkling golden band, complete with five little diamonds on top. "May I have your hand?"

"Readily, Rookie… you already have my heart. Always, for as long as you'll have me."

Ethan placed his shivering palm on Inara's steady hand, and she took the opportunity to slip the golden band through his ring finger.

A perfect fit. 

With tears in his eyes, Ethan agreed.

"I'm getting married to you."

"I'm getting married to you!"

Inara squealed at the prospect, and Ethan decided on sealing their joyous sentiment by crashing his lips onto hers in a searing kiss.

The audience went wild, but they were all forgotten in the minds of the lovebirds.

"I can't believe I get to call you fiancé", Ethan wondered in amazement.

"Me neither", said Inara, joining their foreheads together. 

"Say what, we should ask Sienna to bake our wedding cake. Three tier, with a big old fondant ring chip on top."

"What? Ethan Ramsey wants a huge a** fondant snack on the top of his wedding cake! Are you sure he's okay?"

"Yes, he is, and he would do anything for his fiancé!"

With moist eyes and full hearts, they buried themselves again in each other's holds.

This time, with a mutual promise of a forever.

F I N.

Oukay so this happened. I kinda posted it. Shh, I need to breathe.

Thank you so much for reading, if you've made it this far. I hope I haven't damaged too many of your braincells.

Thank you @gaeipsstuff for naming Ethan's book. I would have never, seriously! Thanks for proofreading and giving a detailed analysis, it came extremely handy during the my edit sessions. Thank you @adiehardfan, @jeetushmannfeelz, you know if it wasn't for the both of you, this wouldn't be up on my Tumblr.

This is my first proper OH fic, with an actual story and shenanigans, so I've been super apprehensive about this. Hence, it would mean a real lot to me if you could tell me how you found it. Stay safe, do what you love, stan pixelated characters, and take hugs. Peace✌.

Tagging: @adiehardfan @irisofpurple @barbean

Others kindly let me know if you wanna be tagged!

[blushingreid]

First Date

Spencer x Fem!Reader

Part 1: Meet Cute

A/N: as requested by many of you beautiful ppl, I am blessing y’all with a part 2. I never planned to make a follow-up, so ya girl pulled this whole plot out her ass LMAO. I hope you all enjoy :) Pls give me feedback <3

The sun shined bright as Y/n’s shorter legs casually tried to keep up with Spencer as they walked towards the ice cream parlor. During the short walk, both would occasionally sneak glances at one another, admiring each other’s features glowing in the sunlight. Y/n stealing most of the glances, as Spencer was too nervous that he would get caught. She admired the way the curls on his hair bounced ever so slightly with each step he took. Y/n imagined his hair felt fluffier than a cloud and found herself yearning to run her fingers through it. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized they had stopped walking. Spencer giving her a small smile as he held the door open and they entered the ice cream parlor. 

“Welcome to Rocky Roaders! What can I get you both?” 

“I’ll have a single scoop of uh Cocoa Monster Crunch,” Spencer said with a nervous chuckle before looking at y/n for her order. 

“Hmmm, I’ll have a single scoop of Swooperman. Interesting flavor names they got here,” y/n said with a giggle. 

“Cup or cone?” the server asked. 

“Cup,” both Spencer and y/n answered at the same time. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up seeing the server looking at them both with a smirk, before handing them their ice cream. 

“That’ll be $9.32,” the server said as Spencer dug into his messenger bag for his wallet. 

Before he could pull his wallet out, y/n had already paid the server. Seeing Spencer’s tiny frown, y/n patted his shoulder and smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it, you can repay the favor on our next date,” she promised as they headed outside to sit at one of the ice cream shop’s outdoor tables. Spencer smiled at y/n excited that there would be another date.  

“So Spencer, what else do you like to do besides walking and reading in the park?” 

“I like attending film festivals, conventions, and scientific lectures whenever I have time, though I usually don’t, given my profession.”

Spencer worried that he sounded boring. He realized that he didn’t really have much free time to have many hobbies. To his surprise, he saw y/n perk up when he mentioned film festivals. “I’ve never been to a film festival, but I’ve always wanted to go. Maybe you can take me to one sometime. I can imagine working at the hospital takes up most of your time though,” she replied, leaning closer.

“Oh I’m not that type of doctor, I just have 3 PhDs.”

Y/n found herself growing more curious about Spencer the more he spoke. She found herself lost in his hazel eyes as they twinkled while he explained that he has an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. Spencer was definitely attractive to y/n, hell she’d definitely be dreaming about him, but knowing that he wasn’t just a pretty face really sealed the deal for her. 

“So Dr. Genius, if you aren’t a medical doctor, what do you do?”

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” Spencer replied before scooping the last of his ice cream into his mouth. Y/n watched in awe as he sucked on his spoon to savor the last of his treat. What she would give to be able to kiss him right then and there. Spencer had watched her jaw drop after hearing his job and was intrigued by another one of her many facial expressions.

“An FBI agent, huh. Never been on a date with anyone that cool before. Wait actually, there was a time I was on a blind date with a guy claiming to be in the CIA. He even told me about a ‘mission’ he went on. Turns out he’s a high school gym teacher and the so called ‘mission’ was the plot to Rush Hour,” y/n recalled as she scooped up the last of her now melted ice cream. It was now Spencer’s turn to gaze at y/n’s lips. “This might be a weird question but can I see your badge? I’ve always wanted to see what an FBI badge looks like in real life,” y/n said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

Spencer made a mental note to ask Penelope about that movie, the next time he sees her, as he reached into his pocket to pull out his badge. “Usually the only time people ask to see my badge is when I’m in the field,” Spencer joked as he handed her his badge, mentally cursing himself for not updating his ID picture.

Spencer Reid, y/n read on the badge. She said his name a couple times in her head like she was burning his name into her brain. His name just flowed so well.  “Aw you look so young and cute in your picture, but also kind of like you’re getting your mugshot taken,” y/n joked as she inspected his badge. Spencer blushed at hearing himself be called cute. Trying to cover his blush, he looked down at his empty ice cream cup and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah that picture was taken 4 years, 3 months, and 12 days ago. I would like to think my appearance has changed for the better since then.”

Y/n reached into her wallet, pulled out her license, and slid it across the table to Spencer. “If it makes you feel better, I can’t take a good ID picture to save my life either.”

Spencer mentally called bullshit as he grabbed y/n’s license, he didn’t believe that she could ever look horrible. Y/n Y/l/n.  Once he looked as her license picture, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laugh. He could tell it was taken a couple years ago and whoever had taken her photo clearly didn’t center the camera well, adjust the lighting, or bother to tell y/n that she had a piece of hair sticking up. “I t-think you still look beautiful, it was the photographers fault for not being able to capture your beauty well,” Spencer said as he gazed into y/n’s eyes.

Y/n felt herself blush, she’d been complimented before but hearing it from Spencer made her stomach fill with butterflies. She felt like she was back in high school on her very first date. As both of them grew more comfortable with each other’s company, the conversation continued to flow. They had talked about everything from why the sky was blue to what they wanted to be when they were younger. Things were going so well that neither of them had realized it was already starting to get dark outside.

“Aw it’s getting late. As much as I’m enjoying your company, I should probably get back to my apartment,” y/n said standing up, a hint of sadness laced in her voice.

“Let me walk you back to your apartment.”

“No worries. I drove since I live a little ways away,” y/n said as they left the ice cream parlor.

Spencer couldn’t contain the slight frown from appearing on his face as he realized he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with her. Y/n, not wanting this date to end, laced her fingers with Spencer’s.

“You can however, walk me to my car.”

And so they did, continuing their random conversations hand-in-hand until they finally reached y/n’s car.

Spencer turned to face y/n, his nervousness building up. Y/n found herself stepping closer to Spencer, almost like he had a magnetic pull on her. With the street light’s glow illuminating them, Spencer was captured by her beauty once again, and found himself mentally burning an image of her in his mind.

“I-I um uh had a really nice time and I would like to see you um again sometime,...if you would like.”

Y/n moved closer to Spencer, leaving barely any space between them. Gazing into his eyes, she replied, “Nothing would make me happier than to see you again.”

Time seemed to stop as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. Neither wanting to end their blissful date together. Spencer’s eyes flickered down to y/n’s lips, he knew it was now or never. Looking into her eyes, he saw a twinkle of affection in them and that was all the assurance he needed. With this new sudden surge in confidence, Spencer gently placed one of his hands on y/n’s cheek before leaning down and softly capturing her lips with his own. He was hesitating, not wanting to go too far with their first kiss. Sensing his hesitation, y/n wrapped her arms around Spencer’s neck and deepened the kiss. Spencer unconsciously wrapped his other arm around her waist, wanting her to be even closer.

When they finally broke apart for air, Spencer’s arms didn’t leave her. As he gazed at her, he couldn’t wait for their next encounter.

“See, I told you I'd kiss you after the first date.”

[mimzy-writing-online]

I'm incredibly sorry for this ask , but I'd like the opinion of different writers. I have this story I have finished. It's has been re-read, edited, polished. It's technically done. The story is consistent, the pacing is okay. But what I don't like is how the characters are portrayed. They lack life, and I think it may be because during the years I improved my writing, and now I'm sure I'd be able to do better. What would you do? Would you rewrite the story from scratch? Thanks in advance.

First, no worries about asking for advice. That’s legit what I’m here for. And having been in the same position you are now, (twice) I know how impossible it feels.

Off the bat, advice I would recommend: 

Beta Reading: Get some fresh eyes to look at it, ideally someone who 1) reads books in that genre and that age range, and 2) has no obligation to worry about your feelings.

Thoroughly consider why you want to rewrite it: make an actual pros and cons list. It sounds silly, but it helps because you realize what decision you’re arguing for, what your instinct says.

Give yourself a shot at attempting a rewrite. Give yourself a set time limit to try it out. Your current book isn’t going anywhere and publishing takes forever anyway, so what’s another month or another three months?

At the end of this trial run you can ask yourself: Did a rewrite make it better? Do the characters and their world feel more alive? Even if it looks like a mess, given more time to finish and edit, would it look better than the original?

If you find you like the characters better, if you feel like you know them better, then you can consider going through the book and highlighting where they feel out of character compared to your new understanding of the characters

Watch Whispers of the Heart. I mean it! It’s a Studio Ghibli movie, and I swear to god it will inspire you and make this decision a little easier. The whole movie is about developing your creative craft. Its overall analogy is that of a geode. Your craft looks rough and sloppy on the outside, but with time, practice, and love you’ll find the beauty hidden underneath and make it shine. Amazing movie, it will change how you think about writing.

Now, finally, ask yourself: Is this the story I want to debut with? Is this the story I want to begin my writing career with?

This will be when you make your decision.

That’s the most objective advice I can give you. Since you’re asking a lot of writers for their stance, you’ll probably have a few different opinions, but I think running through this troubleshoot method will give you a chance to see for yourself.

My biased opinion?

It comes from my own experience with A Witch’s Memory. 

This is about to be a very long story, fair warning, but it’s my entire thought process over 7-8 years of working on and off with the same project. A big part of the reason why I’m going in depth about the experience is because I keep going back to what you said:

“I think it may be because during the years I improved my writing, and now I'm sure I'd be able to do better. What would you do?”

The same thing happened to be. I started the series when I was much younger, but in the 7.5 years since then I’ve changed a lot as both a person (not adult/not teenager) and as a writer (who’s had several projects since then). I’m gonna walk you through 7.5 years of personal development and how it affected the project.

I joke that A Witch’s Memory has three universes, and those universes are all different rewrites. I first started the series I was seventeen. I finished the rough drafts of three books in the series and got down to full on editing the first book after I graduated high school. Within a year I had a finished novel that wasn’t necessarily polished (not by my standards today) but at the time I was ready to move forward and publish. I sent query letters out to lit agents but didn’t get any bites back. I didn’t get to work at it for long due to health issues, my whole body kind of just crashed so for six months I was too sick to do much of anything, let alone stress myself out over query letters. I started community college the next semester and got more involved in school than in writing.

17 when I started, 18 when I started editing, 19 when I queried and got sick, almost turning 20 when I started college.

I put the book on hold for another year and focused on school. During that time I had a lot of personal development as a person. I got more experience being myself, being an adult who can make decisions for themself.

And I realized that at age 19 I’d developed a lot of insecurities about my book.

In my case, it was the world building. I love my characters, and at their heart they’re still the same, albeit a bit more realistic. I re-examined what about the world building I didn’t like.

It felt too much like Twilight to start, with the way vampires and werewolves were supposed to hate each other, and witches and fairies hated each other, because that just made sense to a 17 year old who had never read paranormal before Twilight changed the direction of the genre.

I didn’t like magic being a secret that no human could know about, so I changed that. I didn’t like my character’s backstories too much, so I tweaked that too. For the best.

At age 20/21 (it was right around my birthday) I rewrote the entire first book. After finishing the rough draft I looked at editing it, looked at starting the rough draft of the second book, and I realized I didn’t like this version either.

So I put it on hold for anther two years. I worked on two different projects, experimented with writing style, got to know myself as a person better.

At 23 I reexamined what I didn’t like about “Universe 2″ and I realized-

I wasn’t comfortable with the way the book was written now. Too many main characters meant to many pov changes and too many personal plot lines to plan. I could see from the beginning how much I favored Anna and Ulric and Felix over my other main characters, so I cut my cast of six main characters down to three, focusing on my favorites. I also saw that the setting wasn’t working for me and it would be a lot less stress for me to chance the setting to somewhere I was more familiar with, setting it mostly in America instead of the U.K.

And I decided to stop worrying about what my past beta readers would think if the book didn’t look the same in “Universe 3″ and to just run with my heart.

(For any wondering, the beta reader in question is my mum, who has been the biggest supporter of my writing since I was 14 and believed I would be published even when I was ready to give up writing and work at a different career. She’s very attached to “Universe 1″ but it’s not where I want to go, and I know she’ll love this new direction when she reads it)

I started the rough draft for Universe 3 in January of 2019 (almost a year ago to the day I’m writing this). I did it on a whim. I had a dream of Anna and Ulric flying to safety from a villain on a broomstick and I asked myself why witches never had broomsticks in my old world, and I was like “why not, let’s add it”

And I just messed with world building. I aimed it for a more whimsical feel than my older angsty versions. I’m gonna blame all the Studio Ghibli movies I saw that year. Some of my local theatres have been doing special weekends where they show the movies, and I’ve gone to see four in the last year or so. I saw Kiki’s Delivery Service a few months earlier with my best friend (A) and then a month after starting the new draft I saw Howls Moving Castle and Spirited Away (same week, I think, all in theatre) and then as I was finishing the rough draft I saw Whispers of the Heart for the first time.

(this was the moment I realized that specific movie would help A LOT on this decision making process, so I included it above)

Anyway, I just gave myself permission to go in a completely different direction with my book.

I should note, that at 23 I had been visually impaired/blind for some 3 years, although it wasn’t medically official until I was 22. I’d also fallen in love for the first time and broken my own heart. I’d also spent the last two years struggling with gender and sexual identity and really starting to understand that part of myself. 

So in general, the whole experience with those last two years of my life really changed the direction I took the book. 

I focused more on internal struggle as well as the outside “main bad guy” I’d always been planning to work with. It 

I kept the heart of my characters the same. Anna is still the kindest person you’ll ever meet, as well as sarcastic and brilliant and studious. Ulric is an anxious mess who is crazy loyal to his friends and who wants to gain his own independence. Felix is still a brat, but a loving one with the dryest sarcasm and a penchant for mischief.

Anna’s more cautious than her original incarnation. Ulric wasn’t disabled in previous versions (but at 23 I was disabled and I wanted to write a blind character, but I didn’t want blindness to be their only trait, so I took my most developed character and made him blind). Some of the characters are POC instead of white, I let myself have multiple LGBTQ characters (because 17 year old me thought the token queer was the norm because I only had one queer friend before that and we weren’t that close) and I changed some origin stories. It’s much better for that.

Growing up taught me how to put more life in my books, how to write more realistically less melodramatically, and what it feels like to have friends. Seventeen year old me didn’t have many friends in life, but 24 year old me has some wonderful friends.

Summary in Short?? (can I even do that?)

This advice post is getting long and I’m feeling bad, so okay, here I am: I’m almost 25 (in March). 17 and 23 year old me were very different people with different priorities and different levels of experience. And if I had to choose which book I would go with? 

I’d stay with Universe 3 (and Universe 1 will just be a thing my mum and I know and keep to ourselves, mostly)

I’m nearly done with the 1st edit. I still have days of self doubt, but they’re nothing like what I had years ago. I’m closer to publishing than I was before, mostly because I have a solid plan now and I’ll be self-publishing, allowing me to publish on my own.

In my case, rewriting was the best decision I could have made. I’m not everyone else though, nor am I you. You know yourself and your story better than anyone, and I know you are the most qualified person to make that decision. I have confidence in your ability.

[devaigh]

The Winner

Chapter 3

Much ❤❤ to my wonderful beta @sassenachbydesign for all her help, and for talking things through with me. This story would not be possible without her.

“There's my girl.”  Claire smiled wide as her daughter descended the last few steps. “I was starting to wonder where you had gone”

“Oh, no where. I was just... showing some of the guests to their rooms.” Brianna motioned absently behind her.

“I see. It seems like almost everyone has arrived, yes?”

“I think so.”

Claire linked arms with her daughter, leading them outside towards the wide terrace. “Well since the guest are mostly settled, I thought you could help me with something.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly would that be?”

“I have a surprise for Roger. I assumed you would like to help me with it.” Claire grinned. “I have it hidden away for now. I happened to come across something that he would find interesting. But it looks like I will have to show you later.” She inclined her head. “I think someone is looking for you.”

Brianna followed her gaze, her own blue eyes lighting up when she saw  Roger. Her mother was right, as soon as Roger caught her eye, he hurried over, greeting Brianna with a soft kiss.

“Hello again, Dr. Randall.”

“Roger, please I've told you to call me Claire”

Roger blushed. “Aye, I'm sorry Claire.”

“Forgiven.” Claire smiled looking between her daughter and future son-in-law. “How about I leave you two, and I'll see you both this evening at dinner? You should both take some time for yourselves before things get too crazy around here. Just don't be late.”

“We won't Mama.” Brianna leaned over giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. “We'll see you later.”

“Aye, tonight.” Roger grinned, pulling Brianna close to his side. She fit neatly under his arm. “Right now, if you'll excuse us, I would verra much like to have Bree to myself a bit.”

“I suppose it's alright.” Claire teased. “Just behave both of you. We have a lot of guests, so make sure you're both back in time. We don't want to keep them waiting.”

Claire waved them off as she turned to go back to the beach house. She took a deep breath, enjoying the warm, salty air. It had been awhile since she had had a proper vacation.

For the last several years, it seemed as if she hardly left the hospital at all. Now she had two glorious weeks on a private beach in the south of France.

Claire fully intended on enjoying herself, even if she did have a wedding to see through.

A sudden movement from one of the balconies caught her eye. Twisting, she held one hand up, trying to see; the early afternoon sun was in her eyes. She could only make out what appeared to be a huge, hulking shadow, as it crossed her face. Blinking the sun from her eyes, she turned back towards the wide breezy porch and disappeared once more inside.

**********

Jamie stood frozen on the balcony of his room, his eyes locked on the point where Claire had just vanished. He could feel the rough, weathered wood of the railing give slightly under his hand as his fingers wrapped tightly around it.

Seeing her, moving so gracefully around the the edges of the beach with her lovely nest of curls floating around her face, simply stole his breath.

She looked just as lovely as the last time he saw her, when he kissed her goodbye. Jamie could feel the bitter sting of tears pricking at his eyes. With a huff, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

Did he truly had any claim on her after all these years?

What he could even say to her?

No, he reminded himself. He was here for one reason only. To see his newly found daughter wed. It was the least he could do for the lass. He would stay, for Brianna, and then take his leave.

It was probably what was best for everyone.

***************

“This place is beautiful LJ. How did you ladies ever decide to stay here?”

Clare laughed, “Well honestly, I've always loved this part of France. I used to come here with my Uncle when I was a little girl.  We would always stay in villas like these for a few weeks each summer. It was one tradition we always kept.” she shrugged. “I myself haven't actually been here in years. When Brianna suggested it, I guess I just went along.”

“So Bree made the suggestion.”

“She did. I don't quite know where she got the idea, but I have to say, I think it was a great change.”

“You deserve a vacation LJ. You work too hard.” Joe said, his eyes serious. “You never take time for yourself. I know Bree is your whole world outside the hospital, but she's grown now. She's about to be married. You should start thinking about you again. Maybe find you a man...”

“Joe..” Claire slumped in her chair. “Please, I have no reason to think of anything like that.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven't been with anyone since Frank, and that's the last thing I want to consider!”

It was true.

Claire's relationship with the older Professor was one that still left her sore. A quick whirlwind of a romance that still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew that her hasty marriage had only been the painful product of her shattered heart and discovery of her pregnancy. Yet she still had agreed. Had it not been for Brianna... Well, Claire still wasn't sure what she would have done.  Moving to Boston had been her way of putting her past behind her. It was a way to start over, and discover what she truly wanted.

That's how she had met Joe.

Three years after moving across the pond, Claire had started medical school. It had long been a dream, something she had wanted for as long as she could remember.  At first, it had been somewhat easy with Frank around, despite his annoyance at her studies. Frank had wanted Claire to remain at home, which had caused a lot of their fights.  

When they had finally split, Claire  felt only a sense of relief.

She could finally pursue what she wanted, and while her daughter went to school, Claire would be in classes as well, usually until it was time to pick Bree up. Then, once she would drop her off with the sitter, Claire would work nights as a nurse at the local hospital.

It was a long, exhausting few years. When she met Joe, she had found a friend she could rely on. When sitters were difficult to find, Joe's wife Gail would take Brianna, sleeping from Claire's arms, refusing to take any sort of payment as Claire was ushered to class or work. Between the two, Claire had kept herself and her daughter fed, and safe. She had no idea how she had made it through school without them.

By the time she had graduated, Brianna was almost in the double digits. Then her routine was mostly worked around her daughter. As a single parent, Claire was forced to work odd hours, until Brianna was old enough to stay home alone.

“I'm doing just fine, on my own Joe.”  Claire said, brushing away her thoughts.

“I never said you weren't LJ. I only said you need to do something for you. You have a lot to offer anyone.”  Joe stood then, patting Claire on the shoulder. “I hate to run, but I need to go see where Gail went.”

“Of course. You both should get some rest. It's a long way from Boston.”

“See you at dinner?”

Claire smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks Joe.”

“My pleasure LJ.”

**************

Claire stood on the edge of the terrace, her long dress billowing around her. Her eyes were closed,  her face tipped up to catch the fading sunlight. She could taste the salt in the air around her, feel the weight as it tangled in her curls. A deep rich aroma floated towards her from somewhere along the beach, it reminded her of dinner.

Soon she thought, soon she would turn back inside and change for the large dinner planned for all the wedding guests.

Despite the exitement surrounding the festivities, Claire found herself longing for more of the quiet moments. She looked forward to when the wedding was over, everyone was gone, and she could spend a few days to herself before she went back to her life.

Claire yanked off the wide straw hat she wore, seeking the warmth of the fading light. Her shoulders had gone slightly pink since she arrived, but she found she didn't care. Her normally creamy skin had started to freckle just so. She rubbed her arm lightly, amused how the lightest touch of her fingers left a brief imprint. She would need to remember her sunscreen.

“Careful there. I'd no like to see ye burned.”

Claire froze. The sound of the voice behind her thrumming through her. Her eyes shot open, wide and alarmed. As if in slow motion, she turned, her brow eyes automaticity looking up, locking her gaze on the man she never thought she'd see again.

“It's nice to see ye, Sassenach.”

[diaryofsecrecy]

It has been the most exhausting year of my entire life and I will be surprised if I ever top it...

Brent was having a hard time adjusting to the altitude when we 1st came out here, (July 8th 2020) But as time went on he got better as expected. Then suddenly he got worse and worse, Eventually he lost the job that he got because he was calling out so often throwing up and experiencing extreme nausea.  Because of covid, the doctors were booked for weeks (new patient) so it was just kind of a waiting game until we finally decided to just go to the ER.  They did a full blood panel and decided that he needs to see a GI doctor because everything else is normal. So, That was booked 2 weeks out and he was sent home with nausea medication for one week...

Of course we were going to try to buy or rent so I was freaking out about money and working as much as I possibly could... But then I too had to go to the emergency Room because I had extreme abdominal pain resulting in an emergency appendectomy😖

The day after my surgery, I am home, when my dad comes in with my older sister.

To my knowledge, my older sister was diagnosed paranoid schizofrantic. She has been Homeless for the last 11 years,  And on drugs.  She recently was beaten so badly that she was left with several brain injuries on top of it all, And while she was healing at the hospital somehow they didn't notice her walk out.  We were just about to get her placed somewhere safe...And they lost her.

Anyhow dad walks in with my sister who I guess called him from a coffee shop when they told her that she couldn't sleep there anymore (after a month of being missing again) Dad had to go back to work so then it was me & her for the next 2 days, As you can imagine, not the rest I needed post surgery... then, I had to go back into the hospital because something wasn't right. I was there for 3 more days, 2 days alone because ben was so sick that it was worse with him being there than me sitting by myself in pain and nausea of my own.

Fast forward a few more months, tragic accidents led to 2 separate deaths of my parents dogs. Both events I happen to be present, so get blamed & am no longer welcome at mom & dads.

(Still healing from sugury, brent still very sick)

We get an apartment, and I start working as a nanny for my aunt twice a week while working at Massage Envy the other 5 days.

At this point, I am tired. I am horney, and lonely, and Absolutely. Fucking. Miserable.

I am begging ben to keep up with drs. but he has lost hope of getting better, and I have no way of helping him when I am already worn too thin.

After 9, Long, long months, he eventually, with my consistent pushing, nagging, most likely not always kind remarks, he finds out his hormones are completely off, which I knew would be the case, his dick hadnt worked for the last 3 years properly..

Anyway. He blames his addiction medication rather than continuing dr. Appointments... he gets on testosterone with an outside company(pay out of pocket kind of subscription company...rather than checking insurance, or figuring out what causes low testosterone and fixing that first). I was working and had no influence in any of those choices that effect us both as they have for at least 2 years. He hasnt touched me for so, so, long.

Month 3 of his medication that seems to be working (only reason I know is there was a ton of porn in my google history, he had declined all advances, except the rare, 3 times he allowed a blowjob then left immediately after for the gym or literally anything else rather than make it romantic at all.)

Month 4, he forgets to make a payment at all, so now we owe $250 rather than the normal $100. His meds get sent, then FedEx loses the package all together so, he is sick and I am house sitting in a dream home, alone for 2 weeks straight that originally was going to be our getaway to focus on Us.

At this point, brent and I havnt slept in the same bed for 2 months. At first cause he says I'm mean and he wants to not be near me, but now its cause hes "more comfortable out in the living room..."

A month ago when we last had a conversation about our relationship he said he wants space and a break from me all together. I'm too much.

I am the problem..?

When trying to understand what he means, he shuts down the connvo, saying he cant talk about it anymore. It's been 30 days since we have made any verbal progress. Our fighting has stopped though, and I'll tell you why...

Rewind 1 week before house sitting;

1 week after brent and I had an awful fight where he told me we should take a break, I stay at my parents & My mom offers for me to join them at a graduation party of a kid I used to babysit.

We were sitting in the back of the dining room, out of the way, when I saw someone i slightly recognized in the hallway. Not sure from where, but he was the kind of guy that you couldnt stop looking at. He was clearly into fitness, his shirt couldnt hide the muscular features he had been perfecting either, despite him dressing nothing out of the ordinary. He had beautiful ink crawling up his leg, an artform that would only mean something to someone who is more spiritually awake. But more noticable about anything was that smile.

God that smile. His face was scruffy, as if he had been away, but regardless, the smile he had influenced his entire ora. His eyes smiled, his walk... smiled. He had some kind of thing about him that was a physical draw I had never known for myself before. Dont get me wrong, i have been woo'd by many men so far in my life, from all stages in life, but This one was just, different. He was making his way around the room, & I could hear his voice over my mom who's talking beside me. I had literally been blocked out by my ever wondering thoughts of this random stranger whom felt familiar.

Then, he was there, at our table?

He was so easy to talk to, not even sure how we started now, but all I know is I was not nervous despite my very physical attraction to him.

He spoke of traveling, and adventures hes been on. This guy had a whole other life in the military at one point and now was traveling, working for a company that sends him around the US.

This guy had Hope's and dreams and somehow we got to talking about that kind of thing at a graduation party?

When I left that day, I thought about him. Not just him specifically, but men like him. Had I chosen Brent wrongfully? Does brent even like who I am anymore, what does he want going forward in his own life? How do I even fit into that? He understands my need for adventure but his actions say that he doesnt want to come along. My mind was loopy after that because for the first real time I questioned, what if there was someone who wanted to see the world,  Who liked my sad music, and my emotions being in everything I do? What if there was a women more interested in the simple home life, having a couple dogs and living a small, comfortable life? Are we doing one another a disservice by occupying oneanother's lives? How could I ever bring that up with Brent at all without making him feel so inadiquite after a year of terrible sickness and defeat?

Well, when I went to that big, gorgeous dream home the following week to house sit for 2 weeks... begging him to come see me, I grew weak from overthinking. I cried, I cried so much the first 3 days.

I cried from a place of such sadness, anger, bitterness, defeat, they were so strong. My mind was cloudy, drunk, stoned, tired.... I found myself writing a suicide letter.

My plan was to disappear, I knew I'd find a firearm in the home & allow someone to find my remains eventually in the hills where I'd walk far enough.

I prepared by cleaning the litterbox, laying out several bowls of water for the dog and cat, and watered all the plants heavily. I transfered brent all the money in my bank accounts, and as I waited for the sheets to come out of the dryer I balled my eyes out, reading the last conversations I had had with my family members. I thought to myself how the kids would take it, what different life choices they would make having been close with someone before their passing. At this point, I needed something, but I needed it from someone who doesnt know me in my life right now, but the me that was worth saving. The me I still recognized.

I called an old friend from 2nd grade. Hadnt talked to her in years and years, didnt known her life, her schedual, her name(which had been changed). But she talked me down. She saved my fucking life. It took a person who knew my soul years ago, to remind me I am not alone.

I dont blame my parents, or who I thought would be my future husband. I had talked with my aunt earlier that day and she couldnt see it either. I had become this fake shell of a person and it took considering an actual murder of myself to make me see that if I continued this path, I would die eventually and nobody in my life would ever see me preparing for it.

That night, I invited a complete stranger over and we fucked like rabbits. 4 times. He got to do things he'd never done before, and I begged him to. Sounds cold, sounds unapologetically disgusting that I'd do something like that, but quite frankly, I FUCKING needed it. I needed someone to see me, even if he didnt see my current life nor care about me as a person... he saw, touched, kissed, sucked and ate me up. For the first time in at least 2 years, i felt satisfaction when I walked him to the door and watched his car drive away.

It was like a sigh of relief, an inch I could not reach for the longest time, gone. Finally.

The following days, brent began putting in more effort. It has been 3 weeks and I'd say he has been kinder to me than he had in a while (probably the lack of testosterone) but also, I havnt seen much of him in general. From his point of view, it is all fine. Hes getting the space he needed, I'm being nicer since I quit massage Envy, and things are looking up....

But that is because he doesnt See Me.

My suisidal thoughts subsided after my long conversation with Scout. & that night I called my cousin as well, and learned he too had been in my shoes before. He said something that stuck with me.

If everyone has an expiration date on their life already, and we don't know when it is, you're to the point that you're life is so invaluable that youd kill yourself than flee your life and make one you want. Dont care about the people youd hurt, because suicide is just as careless as abandoning them all indefinitely.

He was so right, it put things into perspective, gave me a freedom I felt I was waiting to gain permission for.

Five days later, I noticed He had written me 5 before, on the day I had truly planned to end my current life..

He had written me at 12am, what would someone like him, a gorgeous, beefed out, big thinker, high energy, go getter be doing messaging me, a tired women who was 300lbs a year ago, (still working on getting to a normal size) and completely at a crossroads with existance.

I entertained the connvo a tad, and honestly forgot about it for a few days as I figured no way he could be serious.

He triple messaged me, and asked for my personal contact info to have real conversation?

Hesitantly, and wildly excited to even just flirt for a moment with someone who is literally everything I fantasize when I'm alone everynight....

Our conversation immediately took off. In directions I hadnt expected at all what so ever. He told me he had to admit he felt drawn to me, like he had known me in another life. That he doesnt expect me to get it, but I did. We talked about things that only my sister and I can relate to on a spirituality standard and it changed me in that instant. Suddenly i realize, I wasn't broken, I was just misunderstood. & that there are people in this world that See Me even when I am not trying. Not many, and it takes a specific Kind of person, but they do exist and when you meet them, you cant ignore it. It is as if they stain you with remembrance.

As the sexually hungry humans we are, not only did we find that morality, values, future goals coexist, but also our importance of intimacy. Not just lust and sex, well, yes that too, uff did those conversations get so, fucking, hot, but the interactions of intimacy and how they make a person whole.

I opened up to him about Brent, and where I am at in life, asking he please oversee my unfaithfulness, but that I am loyal at heart. He says with such pain in his voice how he too in a parallel position simultaneously, however, he married her 7 years ago.

Ugh.

So now I get to choose. Do I chose mortality, say no, brent and the other women deserve to understand the severity of sex, love and passion, and if they chose not to then we will leave before we act on our mutual attraction....? Or, do we say hell with it and give in to serendipity moments that our hearts crave so badly, take on the consequences and move forward. Sigh. If only there was a guideline for complicated.

Last night, as the 5 nights before, we talked for hours on the phone. His voice makes me smile every, damn, time. Perhaps because it's new and exciting, or maybe I just love to hear him go on his tangents of loving yourself despite the bad in life. I Want him. I want him when I wake, &when I go to sleep. I do not want a life without him& it saddens me to know our timing is incorrect. He asked her for a divorce a year ago, but has sat comfortably as I have despite the horror because weve both been too busy, too tired, too... afraid that life will always be lonely. Last night, he said to me, Elise, I love you. I avoided it several times but when he said it two more times, I couldnt keep it any longer to myself, Jackson, I really do Love you as well. It's scary, and faster than I'd ever say it to anyone. But I know it to be true because I Feel it. I want his love so badly. I want him to live life along side of me because with a person like him, I'd be a better me.

I am absolutely terrified. My life, my home, my family, dogs, my 5 year relationship, the unborn children brent and I have named, and the houses we'd have... all gone?

Running away with a man who says hes going to leave his wife is absolutely stupid. I'd be an idiot to think I am enough to get him through that fear of change, yet he gives me strength to want to try, so maybe I do, Him?

Ugh my brain being pulled in many ways. My heart having been in pieces so many times now doesnt know who to go to or why. I know for certain I love Brent, is this a self gratifying moment To push me back to him? Is this the devil bringing two lost people together to ruin four people at once?or is this Fate. Fate that has seen both of us individually loosing ourselves in a life we didnt want and has brought us together to lean on one another, temporarily not?

Suppose time will tell.

Last two days he has been working a ton, and told me that tomorrow he has something he needs to talk to me about.

I assume it isnt good. I assume it is the first put off of many, because, I know I want to do the same. Part of me says I should block him right now, because lust, and attraction, both mentally and physically like that couldnt make a women addicted and that's a no good addiction when he has a women in his house with his last name. 😔

[ranger-of-estel]

Okay but could you write about how Len comes back and gets all of his memories back? And his growing relationship with Sara? I'd appreciate it ☺️

Alright dear Anon, I apologize this took so long. This will be a multi-chapter story, so keep watching.

**Canon Divergent**~ Legion Len was brainwashed, not from the past~ Mick and the crew have a good relationship

               Most ofthe crew has returned to their quarters or to do maintenance, allowing Mick andSara a moment alone with their unconscious friend. “I can’t believe he wasthere all along…and we missed it.” Sara’s hand moves to lay over whereLeonard’s rests on the bed.

               Micknods, “But we got him back, and broke whatever brain games those LegionBastards were playing with him.” After another moment he motions toward thehall. “I’m going for a drink, you want somethin’?”

               Sheshakes her head, “I’m good, thanks.” Once he leaves she sinks onto the stool nextto the medical chair. Reaching out to clasp his hand between hers, head dippingso her lips brush against warm knuckles. “Come on Crook, you can beat this.” Shehuffs, “Or so help me I will come back in there and drag you out.”

               Herhead jerks up at gentle squeeze around the hand at his palm, eyes darting up asthe familiar drawl reaches her ears. “Nice pep talk Assassin.”

                “Len!” she almost laughs in relief as icy eyesblink open to meet hers.

               “Easy,”he winces, hand rising to shield his eyes. “You failed to mention the headacheI would have when it was over.”

               “Gideon–” before she says more the ship dims the lights, his eyes relaxing from theirsquint.

               “Alright,so –” Mick cuts off as he enters the room, nodding toward his reclining friend.“Good to have you back Boss.” He sets one of the three beers and a couple pillson the side table. “Will help your head.” Leonard nods gratefully, tossing thepills into his mouth and washing them down. Mick offers Sara a bottle, whichshe accepts with a small smile. “Figured you’d want to celebrate when he cameto.” He shrugs.

               Thethree drink in a mostly comfortable silence, Len’s eyes closed but the way heshifts letting the other two know he is very much awake and aware of theirmovements. Finally Sara rises with a sigh. “I should let the others know youare awake.” His eyes crack open and she smiles at him, “It’s good to have youback.” She adds, then turns to the door before he can respond.

               Mick settlesonto the now empty seat; Leonard looking over with a frown as he pressesslender fingers against his temples “So, how long until the drums stop?”

               Thelarger man shrugs, “Don’t know. Always had minor adjustments done, never majorrewrite.”

               “Whydidn’t you say they’d scrambled your thoughts?” he inquires, adjusting the seatso he’s sitting up.

               “Didn’trealize what had been changed at first,” he shrugs, “By the time it wore off,there was no reason to say much.” He sighs, “And I was angry; at you, the team.Doubted brainwashing would warrant forgiveness for the things I did to you.”

               “Iwas…” He pauses, searching for a word. “Surprised. that you would threatenLisa.”

               Mickscoffs, “And me that you would partner with the Legion.” He smirks, “Even?”

               Leonardnods, smirk tugging at his own lips. But before he can speak the door opens;Raymond bounding in. “You’re awake! We were worried and –“

               “Haircut!”Mick snaps, quieting the younger man long enough for him to see Len’s grimaceat the volume.

               “Right,sorry.” He whispers, face still split in a grin. “We’re glad your back!”

               Ripwalks in next, looking between the other three. “Might I have a moment withMister Snart?” He looks at Mick, “Privately?”

               After aquick glance to Leonard, who nods, Mick rises and grabs Ray by the shoulder.“Come on, I could use another beer.”

               Oncethe door shuts Len crosses his arms across his chest, keen eyes settling on theother man. “Come to lecture me about my choices Captain?”

               Ripsighs, moving to rest his hip against the counter. “No, and I’m not longercaptain. That mantel has moved to Sara.” Leonard raises a brow but the otherman continues. “I wanted to talk to you about recovery.” He motions betweenthem. “I was waking up in that chair not long ago.”

               “Alright,”Leonard watches him, “I’m listening.”

               “Theheadache will likely be gone by morning other physical discomfort dissipatingin a day or so. But,” He frowns, “Whatever you saw in there will remain, and itwill be a while before you can separate team members from their darkercounterparts.”

               “Iassumed as much,” Leonard nods.

               And youwill dream.” Rip frowns, “The memories of what you did with the Legion willcome back to you; sometimes triggered during the day, but mine returnedprimarily at night.”

               “Noted,”Leonard carefully swings his legs around, reaching over to unhook the monitorfrom around his wrist.

               “Andone last thing.” Rip glances back at the door. “Not everyone will accept whathas happened, and they will consider you responsible for your actions thesepast months.”

               Henods, “Understandable,” he brushes shoulders with Rip as he walks toward thedoor. “But right now, I just want food and a hot shower.” The first is easyenough, and after a light meal he made his way back to his quarters.

               Whenthe door opens he is greeted by a room different than what he remembers; thereis a book open on the bed, and framed pictures on his desk. But it’s the kniveshanging on the wall that tip him off to the change of resident. As if on cueSara’s familiar voice comes from the hall to his right, “There you are.” Shestops beside him, guilt flashing across her features ass he steps into the roomafter him. “When Amaya joined the team we were a room short. So I offered myquarters,” she shifts uneasily, motioning around. “But all your stuff is stillhere,”

               “I canmove my things to Mick’s room.” He shrugs.

               “No,”she waves her hand before her, “I assure you it will be much easier for me tobunk with Amaya. Less stolen trinkets to move.” She smiles, “Plus, I’ll be inthe study most of the night anyway. We’ve been chasing this group of timepirates and I need to pick up the trail.”

               Hefrowns, “If you are sure.”

               Shenods, “Positive.” She grabs a small bag from next to the door on her way out.“Goodnight Leonard.”

               “Happyhunting,” he replies easily. Once she is gone he moves further into the room.True to her word he finds his clothes folded neatly on one side of the dresser,hers occupying the other. As he enters the bathroom he finds his shampoo sitsbeside hers in the shower, even his toothbrush has a place on the sink.

               It’sstrange, but comforting, he thinks. Echoes of ‘me and you’ resurfacing fromwhat feels like a lifetime ago. He pushes the thought away, focusing on thewarm water as it eases the tension in his muscles, washes away the film of dirtand deceit that still clings to him. By the time he returns to the room hewants nothing more than to sleep. Unconsciousness taking him the moment hishead hits Sara’s pillow.

~

               “And if I refuse to help?” Leonard asks,looking at the men before him.

               The dark headed one tosses him aphoto, which he catches with ease. Lisa’s face stares back at him, bright andsmiling as she talks to someone outside the shot. “She’s a pretty girl.”

               “It would be a shame if she waspart of an unfortunate accident.” The light haired one adds, some unspokendarkness coming through his bright eyes.

               “Don’t you touch her,” Lensnarls,

               Leonardjerks awake, forcing his breathing to slow and his voice to remain even.“Gideon.”

               “YesMister Snart?” the AI replies.

               “SearchLisa Snart, 2017.” He instructs.

               “Thereare no results for that name, but,” The front page of Central City’s newspaperappears on his display, headline reading ‘GoldenGlider strikes again’ above a photo of several masked men, golden from theknees down. “I believe this may be of interest?”

               “Thanks,”he half answers, eyes skimming the article. He notes that it is a piece writtenby Iris West, which explains the title. There are details about a series ofnarcotic dealers being found in allies, feet locked to the ground and theirscore encased in a gold like substance. “That’s my girl.” He almost smiles,pride coloring his voice as he waves the image away. Lisa is safe, thrivingeven, Darhk’s threat fading with his defeat. “What time is it?”

               “Accordingto the crew’s preferred timezone, it is 3:45 AM.” Gideon replies.

               Hedoubts anyone will be up for several hours, but he also knows there is not theoption of returning to sleep for him. So getting up he changes into a clean setof clothes, making his way almost silently to the galley. With a mug of cocoain hand he begins the walk back at a leisurely pace. Taking in the nearlyunchanged ship. He hears Sara laugh, and thoughtlessly follows the sound towardthe library. He stops short when he notices Rip seated across from her. Thepair talking over the paper clippings on the desktop, mugs in hand. There’s apang in his chest; he pushes it away, turning on his heal and returning to thehalls.

               Eventuallyhe ends up back in his (Or is it Sara’s?) room. He notices the worn box ofcards laying on her desk, and soon has a game of solitaire laid before him onthe bed. He’s not sure how much time passes before his attention is drawn by aknock at the door. “Come in.”

               Sara issmiling at him when it opens, and she looks at him curiously as she steps in.“Sleep okay?”

               Henods, “Fine?”

               He seesher eyes drop to the cards, an emotion he can’t quite read flashing across herfeatures, gone in the space of a breath. She begins moving toward the dresseronce more, “Just came for a fresh set of clothes.” She lifts a shirt foremphasis. “I’ll try and move my stuff to Amaya’s room later.” She adds.

               Hewants to tell her not to worry about it, that he likes her things in the room.An anchor of sorts, reminding him that this is real and that maybe he hasanother chance. But instead he just shrugs, “It’s fine, not like the room iscrowded.”

               Shenods, pausing at the door. “Oh, also wanted to let you know that everyone is inthe galley for breakfast.” She grins, “Ray is making pancakes!” He’s not surewhy that is so exciting; and it’s more curiosity than hunger that leads himthrough the halls after putting away the cards and grabbing his empty mug.

               Raymondis standing in front of a griddle in an apron, a stack of pancakes on a plateto his right. Jax and the new guy are seated on the opposite side of the littleisland talking with him as he cooks. The rest of the team are sitting aroundone of the far tables in what appear to be mixed discussions.

               “MorningBoss,” Mick nods toward him, Sara turning in her seat to motion him over to thetable.

               “Snart!”Ray grins, stepping around the island to offer a plate of the fluffy breakfastfood. “Hungry?”

               Hethinks about passing, but the scientist is looking at him with such excitementhe caves and accepts the plate. He walks over, taking the seat next to Mick andacross from Sara. She is talking to the other new member, Amaya, but pushes awarm cup of coffee across the table to him.

               “MissJiwe,” Stein’s voice comes from the other side of Mick, “would you be so kindas to pass the strawberry syrup?”

               “Ofcourse,” she smiles, grabbing the jar from where it rests by Sara and passingit to the other man. Leonard watches the team interacting around him, talkingand bantering in place of the bickering he remembers.

               “SoBlondie,” Mick looks at Sara, “You figure out where our musician friend hasbeen?”

               Shechuckles, “Maestro laid low when the Legion was active. But Rip and I thinkwe’ve located his next mark.”

               “Whennow?” Nate calls from his place at the counter.

               “90’s”She looks over her shoulder to him. “Museum in Egypt.”

               “Museum?”Leonard’s attention shifts from the surprisingly good meal to fully lockingonto the Captain.

               Herattention moves to him, “Yeah, a new exhibit is opening. A couple pieces lookoddly like future tech.”

               “Targetis a former Time Master, calls himself The Maestro.” Mick notes, accenting thename with a movement of his hand.

               “Wethink he’s stealing tech to bend events according to his will, and possiblythat of other surviving Time Masters, now that the wellspring is gone.” Raymondfollows up, then grins, “So we’ve been taking them first.”

               Micknods his agreement, and Sara tilts her head shifting so her body leans towardhim. “What do you say Leonard, wanna help plan a heist?”

               Hesmirks, mirroring her position across the table. “When do we start?”

               “Assoon as you and Mick finish breakfast.” She pushes back from the table,glancing between them. “See you in the library.”

               Leonardand Mick follow soon after, the larger man pausing long enough to give Raymonda slap on the back and place dishes in the sink. “Thanks for the meal Haircut.”Ray just beams in response, then moves to help Nate with washing and drying thedishes.

               Whenthey reach the library Sara has several chairs pulled around the desk. Ahologram of the schematic projecting up from the screen. As they come closerthey see Sara typing up notes on one of the smaller data pads. “So,” She looksup at the pair, “The amulet we are looking for will be displayed here.” Shemotions to a section on the second floor.

               “Security?”Len asks, looking over the blueprint.

               “Mixed,”She replies, handing him the tablet with her notes, as well as diagrams of thesystems and shifts.

               “Howlong do we have?” He looks back up to her.

               “Aslong as you need,” she frowns. “But the sooner the better.” She glances betweenthe two, “You think you’ve got this covered?”

               “Younot helpin’?” Mick’s brow furrows.

               Sheshakes her head, “I’ll be back later, but I figure this is a good time to movemy stuff into Amaya’s room.” She makes her way toward the door, speaking overher shoulder. “Call if you need me.”

               Aftershe’s left Leonard begins to flip through the information that’s been gathered,sitting in one of the vacant chairs. “This is well researched.”

               “She’sa natural, works well on the field too.” Mick replies easily, “Think she likesthe thrill almost as much as you do.” He adds.

               “Ialways suspected as much,” he returns his attention to the building layout.“Her training makes her well suited for it.” He glances over to his partner,“So who makes up the team?”

               “Me,Sara and Haircut usually.” Mick replies.

               “Raymond,really?” Leonard looks over skeptically.

               Mickshrugs, “Fits in small spaces, surprisingly good with locks.”

               Soonthe two have fallen back into old habits, working comfortably and in relativesilence. Leonard feels like himself again, some level of familiarity settlingin around him. “So? How do we look?” Sara’s voice draws him from the work. Shetosses Mick a beer, then slides one across the desk to him, setting a plate ofsmall sandwiches in the middle. “Courtesy of Amaya,” she adds, sitting in thechair across from him.

               “Well,”Len drawls, sliding an outline to her as Mick reaches for food. “Going by whatMick has said, this is the best route.” He taps at a back exit, “I can walk youthrough overriding the alarm from here, and Raymond should be able to knock outthe cameras.”

               Shefrowns, “Walk me through? Why aren’t you with us?”

               “I willbe of more use to you here.” He points to a winding section of halls on thescreen. “I can’t guide you through this on the ground.” He motions to the otherman, “And Mick will pick up on any unseen threats.”

               “It’sno use,” the larger man shrugs, “I already tried talking him out of it.”

               Shehuffs, “Fine, walk me through the plan.” She listens attentively, waiting untilthe end to make some minor adjustments and offering a more detailed timeestimate for parts concerning herself and Ray. When they finally lock in thedetails she smiles at him. “I’ll do a briefing with the others later.” She putsthe bottles atop the empty plate. “We’ll make our move tomorrow.” She offersLen one last look as she rises to her feet. “Still room for you on the team ifyou change your mind.”

               Heoffers a half smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

               Thebriefing is short, each team member nodding, the occasional question answeredor detail made clearer. Len watches with some surprise; what was once a rag-tagteam now showing unification. Once his portion is done, he ducks out. Going fora quick meal while the galley is still empty, and then retiring to his quartersfor the night.

               Itfeels colder somehow; emptier with the extra space in the closet, gaps in thebookshelf, empty walls. Sara has spread his clothes to fill the dresserdrawers, though he’s pretty sure at least one sweater is missing. He shakes hishead, changing into night clothes and settling onto the bed. For a time hismind continues to work, analyzing details of the plan, formulating countermoves should something go wrong, until eventually sleep pulls him under oncemore.

Chap 2 (x)