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sinon36 · 6 months

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Echoes of Salvation: Negotiations (Part II). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader

Part I

Warnings: none, really, just some casual fluff and domestic stuff, maybe some grammar error and misspellings.

Enjoy!

The story starts after the dash.

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.

Once you get back inside you notice the little girl fast asleep on the couch a peaceful look on her face. Bellamy keeps closely to your side not letting you move without following. The masked brute stands a few paces away at the other end of the sofa, his eyes carefully scanning over his sleeping daughter. Once satisfied that she is comfortable he turns to you and gestures towards the kitchen and for you to follow him. You wait a few seconds and keep a healthy distance once you start following him. Once inside he points at the door and you shut it. You look around searching for a safe place for you to sit now that you’re trapped in here with him. You decide to sit on one of the chairs the one with your back to the wall. Bellamy lays at your feet eyes glued to him.

He leans against the wall opposite from you, arms crossed over his chest. He watches you, studies your face for a while. You try to appear nonchalant at his cold fixating glare, but your hair stands up, goose bumps forming on your skin. He clears his throat ‘I have a few more questions for you’ he says voice just as gruffy as before. ‘Like wise’ you quip from your seated position.

'Have you had run-ins with the infected?'

‘I haven't seen any for the past few months. and even before that they are rare and far in between. And to my knowledge there isn't any other person alive around this area.’ You answer as truthfully as you can.

'You're pretty isolated out here. No neighbours within a decent radius?'

‘Only the Johnsons, Neil and Margaret, they used to live about a half a mile down the lake bank. They were a retired couple.’ You reply a little sad.

'Used to?' he asks intrigued.

'Yeah. They died soon after the infection started spreading' you shudder, the image of Neil coming back to you in full force.

'How did they die?' his head lens to the side as if to take a better look at you.

‘I found Margaret dead in their garage throat ripped out. I'm guessing that Neil got infected when he went to the market in the nearby town. When he got home, he must have turned and killed his wife.’ You fumble with your hands picking at your nails and avoiding his sharp gaze.

'What about the husband? What happened to him?'

You dreaded this question. You take a deep breath to steady your quick heart and face downward in shame. 'I Killed him...' you say after some consideration. 'He attacked me and Bellamy and.... I had to...' you mumble your words not wanting to remember anymore of that terrible day.

He watches you intently, there's no sign of surprise on his face. 'You did what you had to do. There's no need to look shameful.' He seems understanding, but something about his look causes a chill to run down your spine. 'How did you do it?' He adds softly.

'The hatchet. I was out cutting wood for the stove.' you keep mumbling, a distant look on your face as you focus your eyes on spot on the table cloth.

'I see.' He says without any kind of judgment in his tone. You find it hard to look at him at this moment. 'You didn't hesitate.' He adds.

'I did. I acted out in fear more than anything.' you say lowly rubbing the back of your neck trying to rid yourself from the cold sweat taking over you.

He continues to observe you calmly, as if trying to understand you on a more fundamental level.

His expression changes slightly, becoming softer, less intimidating. 'Was it hard? Taking a life?'

'Yes.' You say looking straight into his eyes tone genuine. 'But I'll do it again if I have to.' you admit to him hinting that you are not as weak as he thinks you to be. You did manage to survive all this time alone and it wasn't all luck. You worked hard to build and improve the defence around your house and make it sustainable for a long period.

He notices your determination, and for a brief moment, he seems to respect it. 'I believe that you would, I’m counting on it' he says, voice still low. 'How did you survive on your own for so long?' he changes the subject having made his opinion of you on that matter.

'I learned how to farm. When I first move here six and a half years ago, I bought books on how grow vegetables and some medicinal herbs. Margaret was kind enough to show me how to grow chickens, I have a few in a coup behind the house' you motion with your head in that direction. 'In the back, there is a small plot of land with an orchard. Apples and cherries. I also invested in solar panels. I still have electricity and running water. Though on cloudy days the batteries half charge. I have to keep an eye on consumption.

He nods slowly, taking in the information you have shared with him. He seems to be taking mental notes of your capabilities as a homesteader. He speaks again, ’What did do before shit hit the fan?'

‘I am a licensed architect so it was easy to design everything around here, the doing was the harder part' you say proud of what you managed to achieve.

'An architect', he repeats in a low, amused voice, 'and you chose to live in the middle of nowhere?'

He pauses. 'What made you come this far out?'

'I wanted peace and a quiet place surrounded by nature. Cities were to crowded for my liking. I never felt at home there. But here' you look around you, 'here is perfect.'

You hear him let out a breath, seemingly agreeing with your statement and your choice of location.

He studies you for a few seconds, then says, 'You don’t have anyone else? Family? Parents?'

'No.' the answer is short and a far away look takes over you. that is a story from another time. 'Where did you come from?' you turn the attention on him rather than giving anymore information about yourself.

He hesitates for a moment as if deciding whether or not he should share anything about himself.

'I'm ex-military.' comes the final answer, spoken in his usual blunt manner.

'That much I figured' you nod towards his uniform. 'Is she your daughter?'

He nods without saying anything further. There's a strange tension coming from his body language. He seems to be on high alert. He clears his throat as if he needs a change of subject. 'You said you are an architect?' you raise an eyebrow at that 'Yes, why?'

'Are you any good?' He presses, not beating around the bush and being direct with his question.

'Um... as good as they come, I guess!?' you tell him not trying to appear humble.

'So, what is your specialty? Residential? Commercial? Industrial?' he asks very specific.

'Residencial, but I do have some knowledge of the rest. Why do you ask? You try to understand were the sudden interest in your carrier choices come from.

'Just curious.' He says casually, but something in his eyes suggests that he's interested in finding out more. 'And that cottage you're living in.' he points at your house. 'You designed it?'

'Yes' you say eying him suspiciously. His questions were awfully precise. But once again he changes the direction of your conversation wanting to know more about your house. He asks you about the house, the structure and the layout, how you keep warm, where do you get wood for the fireplace.

'You're pretty self-sufficient.’ He concludes. ‘How often do you have to go out for supplies?' his question catches you by surprise. Ever since you saw the news about the outbreak you haven’t ventured anywhere close to civilization, afraid that you’d encounter infected and be ripped apart.

'I haven't really left the property in the past year. The further I go is the lake for fishing. Most of what I own comes from the time when things were delivered to your door or post office. I used to buy items in bulk.' you shrug, it made more sense to you that way. ‘There was no reason for me to leave. Plus, there is a lot of work to do around here, animals to feed. Which reminds me of something…’ you say fixing him with a hard stare mirroring his own. He waits for you to continue.

'You'll have to pull your weight around here. Food and accommodation are not for free.' You set clear boundaries. You may be kind enough to let them stay, considering the threats he’d flung your way earlier, but you won’t be taking advantage of.

He sighs almost offended by what you said, ' I don't plan on freeloading.' He assures you. 'Good' you intend to hold him to his words. He grunts in acknowledgement before going on to speak, 'I hunt regularly, and I know my way around a gun. I'm capable of offering protection.' He says in a serious tone, almost like a pledge. His military training is showing.

'There is not much fighting to do around here, but I'll keep in mind.' you say with a chuckle. It'll be fun seeing him do household chores. You wonder if he'll keep the mask on while feeding the chickens or picking apples.

'I do have one last question.' He says, suddenly sounding more unsure of how to phrase it. You nod at him to go one whipping the smirk on your face and

'If our partnership is to work…’ he pauses seriousness taking over him like a heavy veil, ‘you will have to abide to my one rule.' You sit up a little straighter, your attention fully on him.

'My girl comes first. In a survival situation, every decision I make will rely on her safety. No negotiation.'

You nod your head in agreement. 'Got it. I'll try my best not to get in your way.' You promise tone filled with sincerity.

'Good.' That seems to conclude the interrogation. He seems to relax a bit, and his demeanour is less hostile than before. He rises to his feet and turns to walk to where his daughter lies on the sofa. You watch as he drops his gun and knife on the table and sits on the armchair guarding the sleeping girl.

You let them settle in while you busy yourself with chores. you go out to feed the livestock you keep, collect any fresh eggs, and tend to your garden. The sky begins to darken, wind picks up. you can faintly hear thunder cracks in the distance. It's going to rain tonight, you muse to yourself. You quickly finish your work outside making your way inside. Once in your living room you notice the absence of masked stranger. He is nowhere in the house. You put down the basket you filled with fresh vegetables on the kitchen table and approach the sofa. The little girl stirs awake and looks curiously at you.

'How are you feeling, darling?' you ask in a warm tone smiling gently at her. The little girl rubs her eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep in them. She then looks up at you once again with her adorable big eyes. ‘A bit tired’ she says before yawning.

'It's understandable, you went through a lot out there. What happened to you?' you ask pointing at her bandaged arm The little girl looks at you for a moment as if thinking what to tell you. 'I got hurt by a bad guy's dog...It bit me.' She tries to sound brave but you hear the quiver in her voice.

'Oh... that's awful. Would you let me take a look at it?' you say softly siting down on the couch next to her. ‘Yeah…’ she nods. She holds out her arm for you to take a look at.

On her arm, you can see the puncture marks. They don't look like a human bite mark and that makes you sigh in relief. They were telling the truth. But what worries you is the yellowish liquid oozing out of it. That and the fever indicate that the wound got infected. 'How long ago did that dog bite you?'

‘About three days ago...’ She says quietly. ‘...It hurts now more than before.’ her soft, innocent eyes are filled with concern, fear and worry. ‘...I feel hot...’ she added. 'Let's clean it and rebandage it, okay?'

'Okay' she says with a small, relieved smile. You fetch a med-kit and some disinfectant and begin to clean the wound. It's a bit irritated from the infection. She seems to be in good spirits despite the pain.

You try to comfort her by keeping her mind occupied with conversation while treating her wound.

'How old are you?' you ask her as you wipe her arm with some alcohol blowing a little over it to ease the burn. 'Nine!' she answers earnestly with a toothy smile as she looks up at you, still enduring the sting of the disinfectant. 'What's your name?' you ask remembering that you haven’t been properly introduced so far. 'Olivia' she says with a soft, cute smile. 'What's your name?'

You tell her. 'I haven't met anyone else with that name before' she says pensively. 'Well, we don't really meet many people anyway. Just infected.' she says with a sad sigh. 'Yeah, me either.'

You finish treating her wound and re-bandage it. A shiver runs through her little body causing her to tremble. ‘Are you cold?’ you ask, reaching your palm to her forehead. She is indeed a little feverish. ‘...A bit.’ She mumbles with a small shiver.

You stand up making your way toward a small closet where you keep some blankets. You pick a fluffy one and hand it to Olivia. 'Here you go, sweety'. She smiles brightly as she accepts the extra layer and buries herself in it. 'I'll go grab some firewood to get a fire started.' You announce heading for the door. Just as you reach for the door handle, the door opens and there stands the tall dark figure of the man, his hands full of firewood. 'Oh...' you say in surprise as you step aside making way for him to enter. Outside rain is pouring. He puts the wood in the fireplace and starts working on the fire. You close the door and watch in silence as he works. In no time a well-built fire heats the small house casting a warm glow from the fireplace. The shadows flicker on his face, the white mask adding a level of horror to the otherwise cozy scene.

‘Thanks,’ The little girl says softly to him, to which he only grunts in acknowledgement.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Bellamy lays on the kitchen floor quietly supervising the two strangers in your house through the open door. The dinner you had in mind this morning included fish but you were rudely interrupted, so you'll have to settle on chicken with a side of veggies. You work quietly and efficiently, casting a glance once every few minutes in the living room. You see Olivia tiredly saying something to the masked man and him leaning back, the chair reclined, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching you prepare dinner. Soon, everything is ready, and three plates of steaming food lay neatly on the kitchen table. You walk into the living room to invite your involuntary guests to dinner.

The tall man is sitting on the comfortable armchair, the little girl lays on the sofa next to him, propped up by the pillows. As you enter, they quiet down and stare at you. He slowly stands up, holding out a hand to the girl, but she swats at it and raises by herself with a huff. He says nothing and he follows you two the kitchen. For how big he is he his movements are fluid, calm and quiet. You can barely hear his footfalls.

The little girl sits next to her father and digs into her plate burning herself in the process. 'Take it easy, kid.' he gently admonishes her. It's a weird scene seeing him at the other end of your small table, still in full gear watching the two of you eat in silence. Earlier he was threatening to kill you, now he sits in your kitchen hands rested on his knees watching like a hawk and frozen like a statue. You cast a few glances at him wondering if he'll take the mask of to eat but he remains unmoving. Perhaps later when I’m not around you think to yourself.

You try subtly glancing at the masked man, now that you sit in awkward silence. The little girl eats hungrily, she seems to love the food. Her blue eyes are focused on her plate, but you notice that she also seems to sneak in a few glances at her father while she chews. They look at each other as if communicating solely with their eyes. Perhaps they could, after spending so much time together in situations that require keeping quiet and nonverbal communication. You’ve notice so far that he prefers gestures instead of words. Once she’s finished eating the girl turns to look at you 'Is there any dessert?' her question is followed by a small burp and a quiet laugh. Her father pumps his knee audibly into hers under the table and throws her a pointed look. ‘What?’ she feigns innocence. You chuckle at their antics watching them bicker.

'I have some cherry jam if you're interested.' you offer with a smile.

'A bit, please.' she replies. Olivia’s eyes are sparkling while her father looks as unimpressed as ever, while you prepare a few slices of homemade bread and spread jam on it. She sits closer to him whispering something in his ear. He bands down and you watch as he whispers back.

She seems to be a very attached child, and you wonder if that is a consequence of all the trauma she has gone through. His manners on the other hand seem a bit less harsh, slightly more relaxed, although his dark gaze still lingers on you as if his prepared for you to rush him or something.

After you finish eating you collect yours and Olivia's plates and dump them in the sink to wash them later. You then turn towards Olivia 'How about we get you out of those dirty clothes and give you a warm shower? you ask motioning upstairs were your bedroom and personal bathroom are. She looks at her father with a look of silent plea.

'Go on.' he says quietly with a nod. She gets up, excited to get a warm shower, the prospect of getting cleaned and changing clothes is too much for her to resist. Olivia runs up the stairs followed quickly by you, leaving the man alone to eat.

A few moments after you are out of sight, Simon takes off his balaclava and puts it on the chair where his daughter sat. he grabs the cutlery and just as he’s a bout to start cutting into the chicken he stops, feeling eyes on him. He casts his eyes at the door where your dog watches him curiously head tilted to the side and years pointed up. ‘What?’ he grunts in annoyance, and the dog gets up and leaves the room. With a sigh Simon starts eating, he can’t remember his last proper meal that didn’t involve expired cans of beans.

Once in the bathroom, you turn on the shower and set the necessary water temperature before stepping out to wait for her. You go inside your bedroom searching for some clothes that will fit her better than what she has. Her soiled clothes go straight to the bin. They’ll need a proper wash for sure. You wait by the door for her to finish. You can hear her saying something to you through the cracked door.

'I don't remember the last time we had warm water' she says from behind the shower curtain. 'Were you on the road for a long time?' you inquire curious to know more about them, and now taking your chances with Olivia who is chattier than her father.

'Yeah...We've been on the move and camping for a while now in abandoned houses.' she replies as she turns off the shower and steps out. She is wrapped in the towel, her wet hair sticking to her forehead and with a shy, bashful look on her face to which you can't help but smile at.

'Come' you motion for her to go inside your bedroom 'let's get you dry.' She happily obliges and you both step into the bedroom.

You help her dry her hair and then you give her some privacy for her to change into the new clothes. By the time you are done, she is completely dry and wrapped in a cozy sweater and shorts. She looks really pretty now that she’s clean, her pixie cut framing her round face perfectly.

She smiles at you and then starts looking around the room. Your bed is made, covered in cream linen bedsheets, your bedside table is nicely decorated with some flowers from your garden, and your desk is neatly organized.

A few books and magazines laying at the corner of the desk that catch her attention. She walks closer looking at the covers curiously. You notice her looking at a particular magazine cover, it shows a woman holding some gardening tools and a child playing nearby.

'Do you like gardening?' you ask her.

She shrugs. 'I don't know', she answers sincerely. Right, if they were moving from place to place, they didn't have time for that. Probably didn’t have time for many other things. The realization dawns on you. Growing on the run in a world full of monsters must’ve been rough on her, not really being able to be a child, always on high alert.

'Maybe you can help me tomorrow in the garden if you feel better.' you offer kindly. 'That would be nice.' she replies earnestly, her warm smile lighting up her adorable face, making her look like a normal kid.

'Okay, for now, let's get you settled in the bedroom downstairs.'

'Alright… but can I ask you something?'' she looks up at you scuffling her feet, the wool socks you gave her sliding and pooling at her ankles. 'Sure thing.' You turn towards her and wait for her to voice her question. There's a brief pause in which she mulls over, seemingly struggling to form the right words.

Finally, she speaks, 'Why did you accept us in your house? She takes you by surprise. You pause, looking around, giving yourself time to think before you answer. 'It was the right thing to do. You needed help.' You say conviction in your tone.

She nods a little bit, still unsure. 'But you don't know us...you could have just closed the door on our faces. It happened before. People keep their things for themselves out there.' She arguments.

Your heart falls a little, your hopes in humanity crumbling. You knew people could be selfish at times, but now they really turned borderline savage and hysteric. 'People can be like that when they feel threatened.' you admit.

'But you aren't?' she follows up your statement with a question. You hesitate a bit, her eyes are focused solely on you, their innocence and naïveté are so endearing it somehow breaks your heart.

'I try not to be.' Your answer seems to have raised even more questions. She is curious to know more. 'Why? Why do you try not to be like the others?' she tilts her head as if trying to solve you like one does a riddle. 'I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to me. I think people should be kind or at the very least not violent with one another.' Your philosophical reply is met with more confusion. '..So why did you let us in?' she asks earnestly. She doesn't understand why someone like you would extend a warm generosity to perfect strangers who have nothing to offer when the same kindness is so scarce.

'Well, your father did threaten me with a gun.' you give her a more appropriate answer, something she understands better: violence. She sighs. Her adorable little face drops as she realizes that her father's actions might have put you in danger. 'Oh.' She remembers your earlier encounter, her father's less-than-friendly approach to strangers seems nothing new to her. ‘Right…. He's protective, he has to be.' she promptly excuses his actions, her expression a little troubled but at the same time, she seems to understand. 'But he's not a bad person' she quickly adds.

'I didn't say he was.' you remind her. She nods her head a little, still thinking about it all.

She is very smart, it is evident that she is much more aware of her surroundings than the average kid her age, you wonder what she would grow up to be, and what kind of adult she would turn out to be in such a harsh world. You imagine she will be a spitting image of her father, cold and ruthless.

You gently lead her down the stairs and to the guest bedroom ending your conversation. Once you reach downstairs you notice that her father is missing yet again. 'He's probably outside smoking. He never does it when I'm around though. He says it's bad for the lungs. But I don't understand why he keeps doing it' she confesses. She sounds more like an adult than a child. She has probably matured fast due to the circumstances, but that doesn't change the fact that she is still so young.

She still needs guidance, she still needs help figuring things out. Even as she speaks of his flaws, she is quick to excuse him and defend him, she loves him and looks up to him so much. It's almost like she sees him as two different people, one good and one not-so-good. You wonder if that is just her way of trying to cope with his actions.

'It's a bad habit people tend to have when they are stressed' you tell her. You remember your college years going to bars with colleagues and smoking a few cigarettes from your friends. But you never bought a packet.

'Do you get stressed?' she asks you, seemingly trying to see if you are the same as her father.

You take a few seconds to think it over, but her innocent, naïve gaze is hard to lie to.

'I do.' you confess, '…Sometimes. But I do other things to relieve the stress.'

She looks at you curiously, you can tell that she is looking to you for advice on how to deal with stress or she’s just looking for options for her father. 'What kind of things?' she asks, her voice filled with childlike wonder and curiosity.

'Well, gardening is a good way. Bellamy likes to help.' at the mention of her name, your companion leaves her guarding post by the fireplace and approaches the two of you. Olivia hides a little behind you at the sight of the dog. 'Don't worry, she won't bite you, I promise. She's really friendly with people. Look...' You crouch next to her and stretch your palm towards her nose. Bellamy starts wagging her tail eager to be petted.

Olivia watches you cautiously, but then sees how Bellamy loves to be petted and she can't help herself from being curious. She cautiously puts her soft little hand forward, hesitantly touching Bellamy on the cheek. The dog allows it, and soon Olivia warms up to her and starts petting her.

She smiles at you as she does that, then she speaks. '...Does she like me?' she whispers loudly as if the dog might understand her. 'I think she does' you playfully match her tone.

Olivia smiles even more, petting Bellamy even more enthusiastically. 'What kind is she?' she asks, showing a bit more enthusiasm in her voice. 'She's a Border Collie. She is a dog meant to herd sheep and keep guard from other animals.' '…She must be very smart.' Olivia says as she continues petting her, her voice is full of curiosity and admiration as she says that. 'She is' you say with a tone of love for your sole companion. ‘Dad told me that the dog that bite me was German Hepard. A guard dog.’ She informs you the way children do to prove they are just as knowledgeable as adults. ‘Shepherd. German Shepherd.’ You correct her with a small laugh. ‘That’s what I said.’ She counters with an incredulous look on her face at you for not taking her seriously.

Olivia slowly yawns her eyes hooded with exhaustion. 'Let's get you in bed' You guide her towards the bed pulling the covers and allowing her to get in. Once she settles comfortably you put the back of your hand on her forehead checking for any signs of increased temperature. to your relief, her fever went down a little. It means that the pills still have an effect even after all these years. 'Good night' you whisper to her as her eyes flutter closed. She nods, tired from the day's events, and slowly closes her eyes as the sleep starts to take over her. '..Good night..' she whispers to you with a sleepy voice before she falls asleep.

You quietly sneak out of the room, closing her door softly behind you. You can still hear her soft snoring coming from inside the room, and a little smile forms on your face. You know she feels safe with you, and that warms your heart a little. You then head towards the kitchen, Bellamy in tow, only to discover that there are freshly washed dishes on the drying rack. You hum to yourself in appreciation. He may be a hulking terrifying military man but he has manners. You chuckle at the thought, despite the cold and aloof vibe he gives off, he still manages to surprise you with small gestures like these. It's clear that no matter how rough he seems, he does have a softer side to him.

Bellamy follows you next, and the two of you make your way outside. The rain has stopped, but there is still no sign of the man. He seems to like to disappear like a ghost. you scan the area around your garden, which is now damp with the fresh rain. Further outside, from the fence to the outside world, the darkness envelops everything. The light from your house is not strong enough to penetrate outside your garden. You take a deep breath the air humid and refreshing. The clouds hide the stars, you wish the sky was clear so you could map out the constellations with your finger, a favourite pastime of yours during the summer nights when the air is too stuffy for you to fall asleep.

After a while, the gate opens, and the masked man walks in, rifle slung on his shoulder, strap gripped tightly in his hand. The white skull on his face is the only thing that reflects enough light for you to make it out. A shiver runs down your back at his frightening attire. No wonder other people turned them down. He looks more like a serial killer from a horror movie than a human being. As he comes towards you, you can't help but wonder out loud 'Why the mask?' you watch him as he approaches you.

He doesn't respond to your question. Instead, he looks you up and down, studying you for a moment before he speaks with a firm voice. '..To hide my face.' He states in an obvious manner.

You stare at him dumbfounded the look on your face most likely betraying your confusion at his answer. He walks past you a small chuckle audible enough for you to catch it. He goes inside without another word. He's such a hardass... you think to yourself but you follow after him locking the door behind you. He looks around, most likely looking for his daughter. 'Olivia is asleep in the guestroom.' you point your thumb over your shoulder at the door. He stares at you silently which makes you really uncomfortable. 'You can make yourself comfortable here. My bedroom is upstairs...' you inform him awkwardly.

He stands there, not uttering a word, not even moving an inch, just looking at you, his eyes searching your skin and face, analysing your body and appearance with a prodding, cold, and distant gaze.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally utters a few words in response to you. '..That'll do..' he dismisses you with his usual monotonous and stern voice.

You nod and go up the stairs. once inside the room, you lock the door and sit on your bed. You stay like that for a while trying to comprehend today's events. You're unsure how things will play out between you and the masked man downstairs. You only hope that it won't interfere with the peaceful life you've built for yourself here. After what feels like hours have passed, you rise and start digging in your closet for pyjamas and a towel. You'll take a shower, hoping it will wash away the unease that seems to overtake you.

As you strip away your clothes and step into the shower, the warmth of the water fills your body as it washes away the cold. You let the hot water run over you for a while, allowing yourself to relax and forget the tension still lingering around you. After a few minutes, you step out and dry off by sliding your towel along your wet skin. Feeling refreshed and cleaner, you pull on a comfy set of pyjamas before returning to bed.

Once under the sheets, you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. Unlike Bellamy who snores peacefully on the rug next to your bed, you don't have such luck. You stare at the wooden ceiling above you. The house is dead quiet and you try to focus your hearing in hopes you'll catch something from outside your room. A few minutes pass when you can distinctly hear the faucet of the downstairs bathroom sink. You keep listening trying to imagine what he's doing. He's probably washing up, you think. The house creeks as the wind outside starts to blow. Soon after the rain starts once again, the sound of raindrops hitting your window finally lulls you to sleep.

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emicat1159 · 5 months

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Part 2 of my au story :)

(I don't really know what to say here so yeah, hope it's good and do tell me what you all think :3)

Agata's sixth sense has never failed her yet, a gift passed down through the generations of her family as her mother always told her, Agata had always been in the right place at the right time, to either narrowly avoid disasters, or to witness wonders. It is no wonder then, that on that day, her senses told her to leave the cities. Agata was not to die alongside humanity.

As of today, her time is spent trekking into the remains of a once bustling city, its inhabitants long lost to their fates. Before the events that led up to the capital looking the way it now does, the citizens would've enjoyed a life of relative peace, society making use of electronics, while some could make use of technology through the powers of their spirits. Each person had a force inside of them, a spirit, a soul. That, with some practice could be channeled towards an object in order to manipulate it. The efficiency of this depending on the strength of their soul, and the stronger your soul, the more you could achieve. Those powerful enough could power full buildings with their souls.

Agata never had an issue with using these abilities herself, her bloodline throughout history proving itself to have abilities rarely seen among humanity.

They, of course, kept that to themselves.

She walks through the long abandoned city, buildings collapsed from a lack of maintenance. its inhabitants long gone- believing themselves to be too close to the impact zone of the blasts that littered the country's capital. She assumes, correctly, those people met their ends when they found themselves with no place better to go, succumbing to hunger or dehydration. The other towns and cities fell to a similar fate, perhaps more to the explosive side of things rather than the destructive energies that were released alongside the calamity that brought the major cities to rubble.

Agata looks up. The sky is grey with thick clouds, the sun barred from reaching the ground down beneath them. Silhouettes of dead trees and skyscrapers black against the backdrop behind them. No birds grace the sky with their songs..

'I wonder if I'll ever get to see the sun again..' she thinks to herself solemnly. She walks on.

Remnants of old offices, bakeries, and a library pass her by as the target building comes into view. An old store.

Today Agata is scavenging for supplies; food, medicines, undamaged batteries, bottled water, cables and maybe even clothes.

She enters the building through a collapsed wall towards the back, careful to avoid broken glass and loose tiles as to not fall. Using her powers she switches on her flashlight to illuminate the dark corridor, energy tingling at her fingertips a soft, warm feeling. Old advertisements litter the ground and cling desperately to the walls, blurred letters momentarily lightened up by the flickering glow of her light.

Agata wanders the aisles of this old store, old packages of what she thinks could've been food are littered across the floor.

'Smells rancid, ew..'

Her first stop is the canned food section, their contents can last for years as long as the containers are not damaged, oh how she misses the taste of fresh food- her mother's cooking...

Never mind that now.

Unfortunately, the shelves are empty, she sighs to herself, 'looks like someone already went through this whole place a long while ago'

Standing up from her crouched position, she swipes her long, unkempt light-brown hair out of her face, her blue eyes scanning the almost empty shelves of the store, anything left behind most likely far past edible.

'I don't feel like taking any chances...'

Agata finds the other items on her list relatively quickly after that, a small amount still left behind.

She coughs as her feet kick up dust into the air as she retreats back to where she entered the building from, careful as to not run into any shattered glass while making her way through the front doors. The skies outside were dark, the sun blocked out by thick layers of dust-filled clouds, a light breeze met her face. Its cold.

She walks through the exit. And sees three winged figures.

I ended up changing a lot of what the plot was gonna be, so I tried to explain how her world works 'n stuff.. soooooooooo

#lil lucifer au #into ashes au #fanfic #art #my art #michael #gabriel #raphael #agata #phoenix

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communistkenobi · 11 months

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Hi, you tend to have well-thought-out political opinions (I don't always agree with you, but your reading liveblog were the kick in the ass to make me read Orientalism, and you have managed to change my mind more than once), maybe might have a better answer here than me.

Is there an ideological reason that American (b/c it typically is, god help me) left-of-center types love electoralism so much online (and offline too, tbh. College continues to deal new and fun kinds of psychic damage), but only in the context of the general national elections? I so often receive various extensive breakdowns of reasons that I MUST vote for Biden in 2024, but less about the benefits of, like, getting really invested in my city council elections or the school board.

We have so many freaking elections for goddamn everything because the US/Canada are fuck-off huge that it's super easy to argue for the importance of participating in electoralism and instead I (especially recently) see so many people picking the worst hill to die on, that I really struggle to. Well. Understand why.

I’ll speak mostly to Canada since that’s where most of my formal knowledge comes from and also because I live here lol. Also a lot of what I’m talking about is coming from books I’ve read - Still Renovating by Greg Suttor for example is a pretty in depth history of social policy (primarily housing) in Canada, it’s very dry but is useful for this conversation. This is off the dome and not meant as a PSA or anything, it’s my own perspective, if people want sources for what I’m discussing I can go dig those up, but I’m just putting this disclaimer at the top in case this post leaves my circle.

To answer your question, my instinct is that it’s because north american democracy is increasingly necrotic and disconnected from the general public (with the usual list of caveats about how much liberal capitalist democracies have ever been “for the people”). Reading up on social policy in Canada directly post-WWII is pretty bleak when comparing it to today - social housing used to be a robust part of the housing market, people were paid far better and had far more economic security, our healthcare was freshly socialised and invigorated, the promises of the Keynesian welfare state were generally being met (for a predominantly white middle class electorate, of course), and so on. Even conservatives were basically on board with these things in the 60s, at least in Canada, although that obviously did not last long. And over the decades we have become entrenched in neoliberal cutbacks, the gutting of public institutions, the sale of public space and utilities, the downloading of responsibility for social welfare onto provincial and then municipal governments who have smaller budgets and more limited institutional power, the massive expansion in public-private partnerships, the militarisation of the police - these things really kicked off in the 80s/90s in Canada and have showed little signs of stopping or even really slowing down since (something that also obviously happened in the US). People make the joke that if libraries were suggested as a policy goal today it would be called a communist plot, but it’s true - all of the shit the government offered us forty years ago is unthinkable to even suggest now. Life in general has gotten more difficult as private wealth and deregulation has taken a progressively stronger hold on domestic affairs. This happened slowly over the course of decades, and as political horizons shrunk in terms of what you could expect/demand of your government, there was a real air of this being inevitable, not a result of conscious political decisions but just some organic outcome that no one had control over (“the invisible hand of the market”). Democratic civic responsibility demands we vote as citizens of our country, but for all the reasons outlined above plus a bunch of others I’m sure I’m forgetting, the liberal conception of democratic participation shrunk to the ballot box alone.

And while we all joke about everyone having the historical memory of a goldfish, I think the pandemic made this a deeply dissonant position to hold onto - we saw the government seemingly awake from a long slumber to exercise its might. It placed eviction bans on landlords, enforced mass quarantines and social distancing measures, provided economic relief to people who lost their jobs, stationed itself inside every building and public space to enforce mask mandates, rolled-out universal vaccination programs that were mandatory if you wanted to keep your job - we saw the government flex its power in labour, in housing, in healthcare, in civic life, and at the border in a way previously unheard of, particularly for people who were not alive to experience the welfare state of the 50s and 60s and even 70s. The state revealed itself as the life-structuring force it always had been before receding again, telling everyone to go back to normal as if nothing had happened, as if millions of people had not died in a global plague, as if it had not just demonstrated to everyone in the country that the state can at the drop of a hat order your landlord to stop evicting you and your boss to give you paid time off. This of course didn’t really happen in the US, or at least not nearly to this degree, which resulted in the deaths of over a million people.

So now when politicians perform this same incapacity to do anything, when they trot out hyper-specific policies that might benefit a couple thousand people at most, when they make stupid non-promises and shrink away from even mild forms of social democracy (eg Sanders-style campaign promises), I don’t know how much people buy it. I’m not particularly optimistic about the pandemic radicalising large amounts of people, but I think even if it doesn’t, we saw what happened! And we’ve all seen a million fucking articles about how people don’t want to go to work anymore, about labour shortages, we’ve seen essentially every sector of labour go on some kind of strike in the past two or three years - there is popular organised political participation happening far away from the ballot box, and is only growing in power by the day. Socialism is now a word that exists in the national consciousness, something that was unthinkable even a decade ago. Currently right now we are seeing an international conversation about (and global popular support for) indigenous sovereignty, we are seeing a full-throated articulation of what a LandBack policy would look like, and this comes on the heels of the national Canadian conversation of residential schools and missing and murdered indigenous women. Decolonisation is now a household term. In the case of the US, we are seeing people make the very obvious point that America can conjure billions of dollars to bomb hospitals and civilians, but any social policy to help its own citizens is too expensive, pie in the sky fantasy nonsense.

And by the same token, there is organised right-wing and fascist violence happening in the streets, massive increases in hate crimes, insane political stunts and demonstrations like the Freedom Convoy and 1 Million March 4 Children (inspired by the Capitol Hill storming in the US), Qanon plots to kidnap and execute elected officials - things that right wing parties are actively encouraging, particularly the PPC and CPC. More and more we see that electoral politics is the domain of the far-right, whose culture war issues have the best chance of being realised through the sacred portal of the ballot box. Democrats can’t even offer people legalised abortion now!

I think this is why liberals are in a state of hysteria. A healthy liberal democracy does not require constant, unrelenting reminders to “vote your ass off.” Liberals are very much aware, even unconsciously, that voting does less and less of what they want every single day - you see this openly admitted to by American liberals, who are now doing Hitler % meter calculations about which fascist to vote for come the next federal election. Voting itself is what matters, even as they openly, frantically admit it will do nothing but slightly delay the inevitable.

So to like directly answer your question: I think it has less to do with federal elections as a specific political strategy and more just an expression of anxiety about the fact that voting does not do what you want it to do, or what it once did - perhaps encouraging larger questions if voting does anything at all. If national federal elections don’t do anything, if you voting for the most powerful position on the planet doesn’t really change very much regardless of who’s in power, what is the point of voting at all? So I don’t think they are articulating an actual political strategy or way of doing politics, because by their own admission it’s not going to do much of anything (while at the same time being an existential crisis). I’m in a similar boat to you, I vote in smaller elections where I feel they will do some measure of good (in part because municipalities are responsible for so much more of civic life than they were a few decades ago), I have engaged with the Ontario NDP for several years (although that has come to an end now because of their position on Palestine). Electoralism is a compromise, it is an avenue for potential good, but not always, or even most of the time.

Thankfully there are other avenues for politics - labour organising, protesting, mutual aid support networks, getting involved with community work, even something like local neighbourhood councils. Those are places of political potential, and a single person’s presence in them can make a legitimate noticeable difference (speaking from several years of heavy involvement in community orgs). I have never really felt like I was making a change while voting, but I have felt that way helping community members not get evicted, or offering them free daycare a few times a week, or running programs from lgbtq kids who don’t want to go home after school. Those things legit save peoples’ lives, a lot of them are low stakes relative to their benefit, and they help stave off the alienation and loneliness I know everyone feels. Obviously you run into the same structural problems you would everywhere else, it’s not a paradise by any stretch of the imagination, but they are so many avenues outside of voting that do actually help people around you.

And I think if liberals admit that these actions are more powerful, more effective than voting, they are admitting to themselves that their core beliefs are wrong, that the communists and anarchists are correct and have been correct long before their dumbass was born. They can no longer point to any institution that gives a fuck about them as a defense against left-wing critiques of liberal electoralism. I think that is part of what animates their hysteria, their temper tantrums, their screaming about the only thing to do is do nothing at all. It is a full-throated defense of self-defeat. They are wailing as everything they believe in dies. I’d be pretty upset too if that were me! Luckily I grew out of that when I was like 19

#asks #and thank u!!! super happy you’re reading orientalism it rules

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scarlettriot · 1 year

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✨ THE BONDS THAT BIND US • PART ONE ✨

• Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader (in time)

• Warnings: Talks of Murder and Assassination, Assault, Persecution. Smut will occur later so if you’re under the age of 18 or a blank/ageless blog DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES! If I missed anything, please let me know!

• Contents: Fantasy Setting, Dragon Kirishima, Chubby Librarian Reader. All characters are aged up to late 20s-early 30s. Part One is told mostly from Bakugo’s POV, Reader is the Librarian he meets.

• A/N: Made myself finish this chapter as a bday gift to myself. I know I have a lot of other chapter fics I really need to wrap up but this has been the only thing living in my head right now. I’ve drawn some inspiration from Yuzuya’s Fantasy series as well but this story is entirely different. If you haven’t checked out their audio series, seriously please do! I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of this adventure ♥︎

• Word Count: 3,200ish

The city of Spirefall stood tall on the horizon. To most people it was the shining gem of the entire country. But, to Katsuki, the place filled him to dread and anger as it loomed before them. He really didn’t want to get any closer, that was why he insisted on camping a few miles out, where they still had the forest for cover.

“I still don’t like this,” The Dragon Kin Prince grumbled his opinion for the umpteenth time since they woke up less than an hour ago. Most of his breakfast was still sizzling on his plate, untouched since he had no desire to take even a single bite.

“Yeah, but, we don’t have a better plan either.” Izuku brought up, “The library is at the city center. I’m certain they’ll have some useful information for us there.”

“Your stupid library didn’t…” Katsuki quipped right back.

Izuku just narrowed his eyes at one of his oldest friends. “My very small and woefully short supplied library doesn’t hold records and journals from ages past.” He had to remind the heir yet again.

From the time he was able to read, Izuku adored going to the small little library that was established just on the outskirts of his town. He’d go with his mother and come back with piles and piles of books and then go back the next day to do it all over again. As soon as he was old enough to seek an apprenticeship there, he had, and now he’d worked up to being a senior librarian, one of the highest titles someone could achieve.

“But, why couldn’t we have just put in a request to have the books sent to us like we have before!”

“Haven’t we been over this like 10 times since last night!”

The group looked over towards the irritable metallic dragon, lounging while he finished his second helping of food. The remark caused him to be whacked by a faded black to crimson wing belonging to the dragon he called brother.

“What Ei! You know I’m right!”

Eijiro shook his head and explained to the Prince, “You know how long it took us to walk here. It would’ve taken them twice that time to get the texts to us, and even then, we can only request so many at a time. We’ve been looking for the Opals for so damn long now. Just go into the city, hope to the Ancients they have some knowledge we don’t, and then get out.”

Even with all of the logic they placed in front of him, Prince Katsuki still hated going to the city that was responsible for slaughtering so many dragons, so many dragonkin too. He was just supposed to walk into their immaculate city and act like they weren’t a lot of murderers?

It’ll be fine, Katsuki.

Eijiro sent the words through their bond just for him to hear. It’d been a trick they could do ever since they took the oath and had their skin marked at the ages of 18. Beautiful swirls and designs in ink marked the journey they’ve taken together so far. It linked them to each other, a sworn promise to always protect and stand beside the other.

Mental communication wasn’t the only benefit to the marks though. They could also sense the other’s emotions, feel what they were feeling even when they were miles apart. And if they were miles apart, lost on their own, the bond always would lead them back to each other. So long as the other lived, they’d be tied together.

“Fine. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

He cast his plate of food aside and pretended not to notice when Tetsu’s silver claws snatched it right up. Izuku shoveled the last of his breakfast into his mouth while gathering up his pack because Katsuki was already heading out of the glen, and Izuku would be left behind if he didn’t get a move on.

“What kind of city doesn’t allow weapons?” Katsuki grumbled as they walked past the checkpoint. He felt naked without his swords at his side. Luckily, if they really needed it, he could still use hand to hand or magic but that really wasn’t allowed here either.

“I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but the center of Spire has always been this way.” Izuku couldn’t go on too long of a history lesson because he knew the Prince would merely tune him out. “Out in the residential areas, people are allowed to use them with restrictions to protect their property but within the center, the city guards are expected to protect the market and the people here.”

“You mean those guards?”

Izuku looked off in the direction of the blonde’s scowl. Two guards were at the mouth of an alley, playing a dice game on a stack of crates, not paying a single bit of attention to what was going on around them.

All Izuku could do was shake his head and nudge Katsuki in the right direction. “Let’s just go, the library is this way.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the city itself wasn’t bad. There were people selling food out of small stalls and he knew the dragon’s would be losing their minds if they were here, visiting each and every one of them. But, there were plenty of other shops around too, ones for reagents and gear, metal working, some jewelers, and so many clothing stores that he lost count!

Still, that bead of hate in his chest remained… a city that took so much from his people thrived this much and that made him feel ill.

Before he knew it though, they were walking up a massive set of marble stairs and through grand doors with golden swirled inlays. “So, where the hell do we start?”

“Well, the books written about the Opals themselves would probably be just in your generic information sections–”

“Yeah, but, we don’t need the generic shit. We got plenty of that information already.”

Izuku just rolled his eyes and went on. “Which is why I believe we should start in the lower levels where the personal records are stored.” He tapped his own notebook where he’d been gathering information about travelers and researchers who might have spotted them. “We’ve got a couple names, with any luck, a few of their journals might’ve found their way here.”

“Great, let's hurry it up.”

Together the two of them headed straight for the stairs only to be stopped before they could actually reach them. “Excuse me,” A woman grabbed their attention, “I’m sorry but you’re not able to go into the archives without an appointment and prior authorization from a senior librarian. Do you have an appointment?”

Katsuki went to open his mouth but Izuku spoke first. “We don’t but I do have this.” He pulled out his own credentials and hoped they’d do the trick.

“Oh, you’re from a sister branch! And not a close one either.”

He chuckled softly. “No, not close at all. I wasn’t aware you needed to make appointments at the main branch.”

“It’s just because we tend to get busy and sometimes we don’t have enough staff to escort people.” She looked around, “But, since it’s a slow day, I’m happy to help a fellow senior!” She led the way, beckoning them both to follow her down.

“So, what exactly are the two of you looking for? I assume it’s something specific since you’ve traveled such a long way.”

“We’re looking for information on some dragons.” Izuku answered bluntly.

There were quite a few different ways this stranger could’ve reacted but, considering the city they were in, neither Izuku or Katsuki expected her to spin around with narrowed brows and question, “Why?”

“None of your damn business.” Katsuki retorted. “We need information on the Opal Clan. Do you got it or not?”

Her arms folded in front of her and Izuku almost took a step back. “I asked, ‘why’. Tell me and I’ll let you know what, if any, information I possess.”

Katsuki could feel his blood beginning to boil and he started pushing up his sleeves before he thought better of it. He had another remark ready to go, right on the tip of his tongue, when the woman turned back around with a curt, “fine,” and led the pair further into the belly of the library.

Both men quickly realized they wouldn’t have gotten far at all with this woman’s help anyway. This library had far more security measures than Izuku’s. Magic in place around every corner.

It was quiet as she used a wand to dispel charms and wards to get them where they needed to go but finally, they reached a room that only bathed itself in light upon entering it. “Hopefully we can find what you need in here.”

The Prince’s eyes were bleary from looking at so many journals and scrolls. He swore the dark ink on well worn pages was blurring together even though the librarian and Izuku seemed to be having no trouble at all keeping on.

“Your glasses are in my bag.” Izuku gently reminded him after noticing the way he pushed the heel of his palm further into his eye socket. But, he merely grumbled something about not needing them and held up yet another journal.

He didn’t get very far though before the scratching of quill to paper had his eyes glancing up at the librarian. She’d been busy like this since they’d told her exactly what they were looking for. He still couldn’t figure out what made her change her mind but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when she’d laid out a handful of nesting locations they could check as well as drew them maps detailing how to get to each of them.

“How do you know all about this stuff?” He asked after watching her outline a mountain range.

“I read.” Her answers had been short ever since he’d snapped at her and if he was being honest, he was getting more than a little sick of it.

“Were the dragon’s your area of study to get your senior title?” She nodded her head when Izuku asked. “I see. Mine covered the various sources of magic.”

“So, I’m assuming you did a fair amount of draconic research too.”

“I did.” Izuku smiled broadly. “Obviously not as detailed as you. I just know where a few clans can typically be found but the magic they possess I’m pretty well versed in.”

The two went back and forth. Sharing little bits of information they’d gathered over their years of study. Katsuki sat back and observed. Learned what personal details she let slip about herself.

She’s never left the city of Spirefall, she was raised in the library, everything she’s learned has been from the books and people who drop them off. Woman must’ve been like a damn sponge to retain this much information… even more so than Izuku himself.

He let Izuku do damn near all the talking with her but, eventually, he couldn’t keep the singular question in any longer. “Why?” He breathed.

“Pardon?”

“Why?” This time it had a little more acid to it. “Spirefall… this place you call home, is responsible for so much murder and destruction of dragon kind. So, why study them? Why do you care? Are you feeding information to the hunters? Because we’re not them! We’re not gonna take this information and–”

“Kacchan!” Izuku finally cut him off, “I’m so sorry–”

The librarian just held up a hand. “If I thought you were going to do anything to harm the dragons, I wouldn’t have allowed you down here in the first place.”

“So, you’re just that trusting then, huh?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head up then glanced at his arm that was still covered. “I saw what you’re hiding under that sleeve. I’ve never seen one in person but I’ve seen plenty of drawings to know what a life bond looks like when I see one. Your intent must be pure or you wouldn’t have it in the first place.” Her eyes met his then, “you were also smart enough not to bring them into the city with you. That alone shows me how much you care and it is why you’re here rather than thrown out on your ass.”

Izuku’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing trying to figure out something he could say to calm what he was sure would be an irate Katsuki but the blonde was just as stupefied. His friends were the only people able to get away with speaking to him so candidly and even then they usually got an earful but right now, Katsuki was stunned silent.

“I suppose just because you are friends with a librarian doesn’t mean you understand what it means to actually be one, so, allow me to explain it clearly for you: We uphold history and truth, we are protectors of knowledge, and always seek to learn more and expand what we already know.” Her voice dropped to a whisper even though there was no one else in the room to hear her words. “We keep history that certain Emperors would see destroyed if it ever saw the light of day. We are few though, our voices are silenced if we ever try sharing what we know. So, we keep history safe, until there is a day when the truth will actually be heard and believed rather than dismissed by small minded men filled with generations of hate.”

Katsuki didn’t know what to say. Words were trapped in his throat.

“Does that mean proof of the rogue dragon faction really does exist?” Izuku asked just as quietly. “If it does, dragon kind could be exonerated of all these horrible accusations. The Obsidians would no longer be blamed for the slaughter of the original royal–”

“It wouldn’t matter.” Katsuki said quietly when he found his voice again.

“What?! It would prove their innocence. They could fly without fear!”

“Keep your damn voice down.” He hissed and smacked the back of his friend's head. “You know as well as I do the dragon’s tried clearing themselves ages ago when the assassination first happened and plenty of people and places believed them. There are cities and nations where they’re safe. Just not within the lands the Flame Emperor rules… He built his empire on rage and it runs on revenge. It’s rooted so deep that he’d rather destroy proof of innocence than admit he was wrong.”

The librarian nodded her head and Katsuki understood then that she too knew what it was like to live with a truth that no one wanted to hear let alone believe.

“It’s safe here though, yes? Whatever this proof is?” He asked her.

For the first time, she gave him a small smile, “I never said it was here but, yes, it’s safe.”

Katsuki thought a lot about that librarian even after they’d left the city with Izuku’s bag now teeming with new information.

He was quiet the whole way back to camp wondering how many people have tried getting information about the dragons and how many of them she kicked out on their asses, as she so kindly put it. He still didn’t really trust her and he hated Spirefall and the Emperor who called it home. But, it was refreshing to know there was at least someone they could turn to in the city if needed.

She welcomed them back any time, so long as their dragon comrades never stepped foot in the city, and he assured her that would never happen. And, technically, it hadn’t.

When he’d returned to the city later that night in hopes of gaining more information regarding some other clans Katsuki never expected he’d find you cornered by a group of hunters. Just outside the library, belongings scattered on the floor while they pulled and tore at your clothing, not a guard in sight, big surprise.

Having his sword would’ve been ideal but he’d been in a brawl or two, and he had no trouble showing these useless skin sacks what sparring with dragons on a regular basis taught him.

He had one by the hood of his cloak, yanking him backwards hard and fast, tripping him to the ground and elbowing his brow before he could stand back up. One of his comrades turned but Katsuki ducked low and simply flipped them over his shoulder and stomped on their chest for good measure, grabbing your arm before the third fully realized what the hell was going on. Of course, when they did, they only screamed for the guards who suddenly came running.

“Why the hells are they chasing us! You were the one getting attacked!”

“Hunters are basically honorary guards here. They’re well respected. It’ll be my word against theirs and mine will lose!” She explained while running alongside him, “You need to leave before you’re captured.”

He felt her try and pull away but his grip was too strong as he pulled her along. “What will happen to you?”

“Don’t worry about that!”

That answer wasn’t good enough for Katsuki though.

The fire was still going but everyone else at camp was calming down for the night, Eijiro included. He’d been laying out his bed roll when the baby hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt a wave of panic throughout his whole body.

“It’s Kacchan, isn’t it?” Izuku noticed the redhead go deathly still.

“He’s in trouble… everyone needs to get in the forest, now, I’m going after him!” He was already yanking his shirt over his head.

“Eijiro! Let one of us go!”

“You won’t get there fast enough!” And neither would he unless he transformed.

Any plan would’ve been smarter than him transforming and flying to the city that would have him killed on sight. Even Tet or Mina would’ve stood a better chance but they wouldn’t be able to locate Katsuki like he could. He couldn’t risk it.

He let his wings unfurl and shook the trees around him as he took off, sailing low for the time being and trusting Katsuki would find a way to get to his location. The water was calm and he was thankful no one was on it. He waited silently until he heard explosions and yelling from the city above and then he shot himself upward just as Katsuki flung himself over the cliffside with someone he didn’t know. He felt them both land and then took off faster than he’d ever flown as projectiles were hurled at them.

Katsuki let his own magic fly along with colorful swears and he felt the other body clinging to his spines for dear life. But less than a minute later, they were well out of range. Out of sight too. Safe for now.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed part one! If you want to be tagged in future updates comment below. You must have your age in your profile to be added to the tag list! Thank you ♥��♥︎♥︎

#the one where Kiri’s a dragon #mha #bnha #mha fic #mha fantasy au #Kirishima #Bakugou #Midoriya #kirishima x reader #dragon kirishima #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #best red rock shark ♥️🦈#boomboomboi 💥#scar's writing again 📕

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emma23 · 1 year

Text

The library:

Steven Grant x reader

Y/n stand on a bus, feeling a bit squished since it was pretty crowded today. Suddenly, you feel someone lay their head down on your back. You glance to them, and you see its a guy...Steven. He jolts up with tired eyes, and then looks at you.

"Cheers." He says, holding up his cup of coffee.

« Cheers » Y/n smiles a little shy « do-do we know each other ? »

He thinks about it for a moment, and then shrugs. "Nope, not that I know of, anyway »

« You look tired do you want me to ask for a sit for you ? »

He shrugs. He definitely looks tired. "Nah, I think I'll manage. How 'bout you? You look like you could use it..." He pats a seat. »

« Only if you sit with me » so he sit with me.

He smiles slightly, and then looks around the busy bus. People chattering, listening to music, reading, etc. But, he doesn't seem disturbed by any of it, as he sips his coffee again.

« What’s your name ? » Y/n realize she didn’t ask

"Just..just call me Steven, if you'd like. But um...my...full name is Steven Grant." *He rubs the back of his head awkwardly, and then chuckles quietly.

« Ok just Steven » Y/n smiles and give him her hand.

« I m just Y/n too but my full name is Y/n L/n »

He shakes her hand. "Y/n L/n ? That's a really lovely name." He smiles.

"What are you doing today, Y/n ? Going home, to work, hangin' with friends?" He asks, taking a swig of his coffee.

« I see i new library as open so I m gonna check that and you ? »

His eyes light up. "Oh, wow. A new library, huh? I was just going to hang in the museum for a bit...but I think I'm going to come check that library with you." He takes another swig of his coffee, looking more animated since he mentioned the library.

« Ok cool i Will love some compagnie »

"A'ight! Lets go, then! This coffee's been sittin' a bit, anyway." He gets up, and grabs his things and coffee. He motions over to Y/n to follow him.

Y/n follow him « you from here ? »

He nods. "Just grew up here. London's a pretty chill place, if you don't count all the bloody, violent crime and street gangs...but yeah. It's nice. How 'bout you »

« No i m from (country) »

"(Country)?! Really?! That's awesome.." He smiles excitedly. "What part of (country)? I'm sure it's really beautiful."

« (city) i don t know if know it »

"(City)" He repeats the city. "Yeah, I know it. It's near the edge of southeastern (country) or somethin' like that right? I think I heard of it in...7th grade." He chuckles quietly. He's a big geography nerd.

« Oh WoW every time I say I from (country) everybody think that I m from (famous city from the country) » laugh

"That is SO irritating, isn't it? Like (country) is a big country, not just a city." He chuckles a bit. "People think just because I'm in London, I'm from Liverpool or Birmingham." He sighs.

« Yeah yeah but YOU got that cute accent » smile shyly

He is suddenly flustered, and he fumbles, almost spilling his coffee. "M-my w-what?!" He stutters out. His face is beet red in shyness.

« Your accent is really cute » Y/n chuckle

"Y-you...you think so?" He asks, his voice soft and quiet. He's still blushing.

« Yeah nobody ever told you that » seems choke

He shakes his head. "No...no one...ever." He swallows and then drinks his coffee. His face is still very red.

« Ok so i m gonna say it again I really like your cute accent »

He's suddenly speechless. He's blushing too much to reply. After a second, he just gives a shy thumbs up.

« Your blushing » Y/n smile

He buries his face in his hands. He's embarrassed. "I'm just...being a big dork!" He mutters.

Y/n push his shoulder with her friendly « hey don't be »

He looks up. "Hrmph! Fine! It's your fault for making me blush, anyway." He crosses his arms.

« Your cute your cute what can I say. Anyway we’re here » take is hand and go out of the bus

He doesn't seem to mind her grabbing his hand since he keeps his hand on hers. "Yeah, that's very true." He sighs. He seems to be enjoying holding onto her hand.

when they out of the bus, they walk hand by hand during a little time. Than she realizes she still hold Steven hand. So she stop

Steven doesn't seem to notice right away, as he looks around. "Hm? What is it?" He glances down at their intertwined hands, and his cheeks go pink yet again.

« Sorry I forgot » smile shyly « your hand is just so confortable »

He chuckles. "Oh...it's alright! And I...um...actually like holding your hand." He's blushing more.

« Oh. We-we can still hold her hand if you want. Only if you want of course »

He laughs and nods. "Y-yeah, we can. If you want to, of course." He smiles. He's starting to sound more and more comfortable around her.

She gives him his hand and wait for him to take it

He takes her hand back, blushing still. Their hands feel like they fit, in a way, as if it was meant to be.

She smile to Steven and walk to the new library

He continues walking with her, hand in hand, and the rest of the walk is silent. They walk towards the library, and it appears like it's a few blocks down.

She shows him the library and say exacted « wow that’s really beautiful. Did you know that before it was a bakery ? »

"Really? A bakery? That's some transformation! I mean, it does look really cool now with it...being a library..." He looks at the outside of the building, admiring it. "So, this is the new library?"

« Yeah, we go inside ? » say still exited

He nods and gestures towards the library. "Of course! I'm excited to see how this place looks." He smiles, and he pushes the doors open for her, allowing her to walk in.

Steven looks at the books on display with her. "Wow, this place looks gorgeous! Is there anything you plan on reading?" He chuckles, looking at her with curiosity.

« No no just looking and you ? »

"I think I'm just gonna look for any Egyptian-related books they have. Or really anything that catches my eye, I suppose." He smiles.

Steven browses the library...until he finds a section about Egyptian history. Then, he gets really into it, reading all the books and flipping through the pages. While doing this, he starts to not realize his hand is interlocked with Y/n.*

In the other side Y/n look at is own in her other hand she have one too. And here two hands or still together

He suddenly becomes aware of their hands intertwined again. "Oh..um..." He rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm just...um, holding your hand...I'll stop if that bothers you at all..."

in silence still in the book in her hand and she takes back Steven s hand

Steven looks slightly shocked, but then smiles. This time, he squeezes her hand a bit, hoping she'll do the same.

She do the same look up to Steven eyes smile than go back to her book

Steven looks back at her, blushing slightly. He squeezes her hand again, gently. He seems happier and more...flirty.

Steven checks the time of his phone. "Whew...time sure flies, doesn't it?" He smiles, thinking back to their time in the library.

« What time is it ? »

"It's about to be 4..." He looks at Y/n, smiling and glancing at their hands.

« Oh I-I should go home… »

"Oh...ah...that's alright. But...you could take my number or something? If you wanted..." He looks like he's overthinking, now. She probably doesn't even care about him, Steven thinks.

exited and a little reassure « I will love your number Steven » she squeeze is hand

Steven looks surprised at first, but then smiles again. He takes out his phone, and opens up his contacts. "Just put your name in...um...here? And I'll put my name in there, too." He explains, and hands over his phone. As she does this, she can see that he has her name in his phone already, with hearts drawn into the contact name

She smile and put her number

Steven blushes and puts her number into his phone as well. He looks up at her, smiling and still gently holding her hand. "Well...thanks, Y/n. I...you really made my day..." He smiles more as he looks at her.

« You know I don t really talk to stranger or hold hand but with you it was a great idea »

He blushes. He also seems to still be overthinking this whole thing, as he's still clutching onto her hand with shyness and hope. "Y-you really think so? Y-you were...nice, talking to you as well." He smiles even more.

« do-do you think we could…you know see each other again ? I really like pass time with you »

He's suddenly completely flustered, but still nods. "I-uh....Y-yes! That'd be...fun...maybe...yeah? Of course, yes!" He chuckles nervously.

Once everyone returns home Steven texts Y/n "Hey, it's me! Had a really great day today. Can't wait to see you again." He grins and blushes, and then sends the text to her.

When she receive she can t stop smile and can’t wait to see him again.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #steven grand #moon knight #jake lockely x reader

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sarcasticbambi · 1 year

Text

Found Souls Chapter III

<Prev

*Flashback Time*

It’s been a week since Marinette and her parents moved to Gotham with the help of Jagged Stone.

He was born and raised in the city of crime and expanded out of the US with the growth of his popularity, settling in France after meeting Anarka.

Her parents have been going back and forth with all the paperwork they have to deal with. Thankfully, they had already taken care of most of it while still in France. However, it seems that the US loves paper because even though they’ve mostly settled in their apartment in one of the more excellent areas of Gotham - courtesy of one Jagged “I won’t allow my favourite niece and her parents to live anywhere but in the best part of Gotham” Stone (Lord bless Penny for having intervened and convinced him to get somewhere else that was not the heart of Gotham) - they still have a couple more things to take care of before they can officially open a french bakery.

They moved in hopes of getting better and more experienced doctors in the wings field to see if anyone could find whatever was wrong with her and the development of her wings.

So far, the only thing she accomplished was getting pitied by the majority of the student body at GA - which is quite the feat since those rich brats couldn’t care less about anyone but themselves.

Her class was very understanding and assisted with whatever was necessary, sometimes even going out of their way to help her.

The only thing that bothered her was when they tried to help her with things she was already used to doing without her wings. It’s not that she’s not grateful, but she wishes they’d stop treating her like glass or like she could not do anything by herself. It’s not like she hadn’t been wingless her entire life.

HOWEVER, one person didn’t treat her like that, which was Damian Wayne. But, at that point, she was pretty sure that that was just his personality, not his rudeness. There’s been a couple of instances where he aided her and even called out her classmates for doing unnecessary things for her at the beginning - like carrying her backpack or opening the door and clearing the hallway for her to walk through (both of which she does not require wings to do).

That didn’t mean he didn’t help her when needed. He was just more subtle than her classmates. For example, when she’s put on class duties, he assists with things she can’t reach, not just because of her short stature but because they were placed at a height made for people who sported wings. Or their occasional meetings in the library where he’d see her struggle, sit at her table, and help her catch up to the few materials she had missed in her transfer period.

Regardless, she was enjoying her stay at Gotham Academy and had to admit she had high expectations for the future. Be it in the research for her wingless state or for the new experiences a new country, new life, in general, would bring her.

However, she never expected her future to dance around the Ice Prince of GA as much as it did.

What had first started as them sitting together, per the teacher's commands, so he could help her locate herself academically and, thus, catch up to her peers, became every teacher’s dream, resulting in them being paired up for most projects. And if it was a group project, it usually was the two of them and what seemed like a lottery to pick the other member(s). And even when it was a free choice of who your partner would be, they ended up with each other.

At that point, they had resigned to being paired up and got so used to the other being on the same level that on the ONE occasion, a substitute teacher paired them with different people, and they found it to be a massive headache. Most of the work fell on them, and they vowed never to complain about being paired up again.

This “truce,” if you will, didn’t come easy for them because even if they were even in classroom projects and assignments, they still seemed to be competing for first place in the GA end-of-month evaluation podium.

Apparently, at the end of each month, they’d be evaluated for behaviour, accomplishments, and other specifics, plus their fixed grades. And they’d either be first or tie up with each other.

At first, Damian took it as a competition to prove himself worthy of first place and better than the foreign transfer student could ever hope to be. But then, he saw her skills. For the first time, he saw someone who could keep up with him on almost all levels - and that was when he accepted her as an equal, even if he’d never admit it to anyone else.

Eventually, they had dropped all facades of an academic rivalry, only to have everyone still placing bets against their backs on who’d win the EoM Evaluation. So, they gave everyone the show they wanted, keeping the ruse of rivalry and making the other win “against the bets” just because they could.

Their few friends would consider them little menaces to society, and Damian’s brothers, for once, wouldn’t be able to help but agree with the rich gremlins of GA.

*End of Flashback*

<Prev

Notes:

#maribat #dam #da #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #soulmates #wings au #wingless marinette

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saunne · 7 months

Note

You said if anyone has any library related questions to drop it in your inbox

So what qualifications do you need to be a

Libraren ?

Hi ! Thanks for the ask, I'm glad you came to me and I'll do my best to provide a useful answer.

More than qualifications, I'd say it mostly depends on skills. I'm not sure how it works in other countries, but in France where I am, librarian is a fairly popular "career change" job. Many librarians now have worked in other professions before, which means that we can have many different life experiences and areas of knowledge (it's what makes it fun !).

If I had to reduce "librarian" to core skills, it would look like this :

Communication : Communication skills, the ability to adapt one's speech to one's audience, capacity for argumentation and explanation and capacity for synthesis... are essentials. Librarian is a job where you are in contact with people most of the time, whether patrons with different ages, backgrounds, needs and ability to communicate (and as in any "customer service job" can be very frustrating/impolite at times), colleagues with whom you'll have to exchange on a daily basis, management to respond to... Librarian is a very social/networking/connected profession. Also, it is possible that you will one day find yourself in a management position. Here, depending on the size of the library you're in, even a "low grade" librarian can find themselves at the head of a group of volunteers... and therefore manager !

Creativity / Adaptability : For a library to live, it must be brought to life and this involves cultural events (art exhibitions, conversation workshops, reading groups...), highlighting specific/thematic book selections or others activities to carry out... You have to be creative about what you do and how you do it, because you have to adapt to the means available as well as to the audience you have. There is no point in doing a video game animation if half of the patrons are seniors who mainly come to read the daily newspaper ! Also, the library "world" is a world in constant change, especially with the rise of new technologies and librarians are more than interested in trying new things to meet the needs of their patrons.

Organization : People often underestimate the amount of work that goes into being a librarian. Reception of the public (the front) is only the visible part of the iceberg because all the office work (the back) is in fact what is most demanding ! Managing collections involves knowing what you have, where it is, how many copies, what is borrowed, what is not borrowed, why, what is coming out as new, what is nominated for awards, what is popular at the moment, what is controversial at the moment... And once you know that ? Well, what is your budget, how is it distributed inside the library itself or within the city's library network, what is a priority, what can be postponed until later, who do you get your supplies from, how many orders, how many documents do you order, how many librarians are available. And then comes what we call "equipment", which is a branch in its own right between physical and digital : protecting the book, putting the rating label for storage, putting barcode/chip and activating them, referencing the book in the catalog and finally put it in the correct status to allow it to be borrowed. Depending on your status, you may find yourself accomplishing/managing a whole bunch of tasks, with a lot of paperwork/codes/vocabulary/specifics so being organized (at least at this level) is necessary unless you want to drown in invoices and coding errors real fast.

For everything related to qualifications as in "studies" to do in order to become a librarian, I could do a whole post about my own formation and how I ended up where I am, but I don't think that's what you are after.

In terms of studies to become a librarian, we actually have a branch of studies dedicated named "library and information science/study". In France, it's something you can access starting from undergraduate cycle (bachelor or specific post high-school courses), but I believe in other part of the world, it's mostly graduate studies, master degree to straight up PhD !

In these training courses, you will be taught everything related to how to manage a collection, information science and literacy + information systems and technology, everything related to cataloging documents and libraries' specific softwares that you'll need to use, classification and preservation of the documents, general staff management and customer service skills and a lot of new technologies related stuff, like database management.

For further information, don't hesitate to drop other asks with more specific questions or to go check the links below, as they offer some great resources !

American Library Association - Explore your Education

American Library Association - Library Careers

Online Computer Library Center (OCLC)

Association for Library and Information Science Education (ALISE)

I hope it was helpful ! Have a great day/evening/whatever timezone moment you're in ! 😊

#librarian #library #libraries #librarianship #unne's library stuff #unneism #unnanswer #anarchy-andkisses

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astriiformes · 2 years

Note

So can you talk some about the Twin Cities and some of their pros and cons? Do you know of / can you speak on any other queer bubbles in the state?

Yeah, definitely -- sorry for the wait on this one, life has been a whole thing for me lately. But I do want to make good on my offer!

The first thing that I feel like is interesting to explain to people is that when people refer to the Twin Cities, they really mean the "twin" part. I think people (myself included, before I moved here!) tend to imagine them as two larger cities that are just fairly close to each other, but Minneapolis and Saint Paul are really more fused together than anything -- the Mississippi River sort of serves as a dividing line, with most of Saint Paul on one side and most of Minneapolis on the other, but it's not a foolproof rule. They kind of both spill over the banks and into each other. So both cities share a transit system and you can literally walk from one into the other, and while Minneapolis has a population of like 425,000 and Saint Paul has a population of about 300,000, in practice it's kind of more like living in a city of 750,000. I used to live in Minneapolis, but moved to Saint Paul about a year and a half ago..... because it was going to be easier for me to get to my university (in Minneapolis) from a Saint Paul neighborhood on the shared light rail line than the Minneapolis neighborhood I used to live in!

For general pros and cons in the area -- in general Minnesota definitely has a more reasonable cost of living than many areas that are thought of as particularly queer-friendly. I can't speak to how every single expense stacks up, but I know rent is a lot better here than the last place I lived (Denver, CO) and that's obviously one of the big ones. Minnesota's benefits for people on state services are also generally easier to get on (....comparatively) and better than many places in the country. I've essentially had free healthcare since I moved here (yeah, I know, pretty unheard of in the US) due to the quality of the state health insurance for lower income people -- including dental benefits and transition-related care -- and the state is even letting me stay on their insurance while I'm in school, since they don't consider the university an "employer."

I also know another things my friends and I really love about the Twin Cities is that for a major urban area, there's a remarkable amount of nature and quality natural spaces. There's really great urban parks system and hiking trails and lakes people go fishing and skating on and even an incredible waterfall all within the city limits, and I know multiple people here who have said they usually don't like cities at all but find the Twin Cities a lot nicer than most as a result.

I also find there's a lot of fun, weird stuff going on here, which is definitely true of many places, but you know, still nice to hear about a place, I imagine. There's a pretty decent queer scene in the Twin Cities (can't speak to like, bars and things personally, but I haven't had a hard time making queer friends here, even before I went back to school, and there are some neat places like a queer library in the area; I also go to a very queer synagogue, and my college's queer student organization is one of the oldest in the country), I swear I'm always hearing about one neat event or another, one of my favorite conventions (CONvergence) in the country, lots of really excellent museums.... as someone who'd never had anywhere in the Midwest on my radar before moving here (I moved to be closer to a good friend/my now-qpp) it's been really nice to learn just how fun and interesting an area it is.

That said I mostly do know the Twin Cities area. There isn't really another particularly deep blue area elsewhere in the state -- pockets here and there, for sure, but our two big cities are sort of slammed into each other, as opposed to in some states where they're further apart. The flip side of this is that the insulating sprawl of the Minneapolis-Saint Paul suburbs reaches pretty far. Even if you don't live directly in one of the two cities, I've got queer friends living happily in places like Bloomington, Saint Louis Park, and Roseville, too.

As for the downsides -- if you're not a fan of winter, you may struggle here. I know people who still pull through alright because they like the rest of the year enough (we get a real spring and especially fall, which is nice) and other things about the area, but Minnesota is far enough north that the days get really short in the winter, and we do get a LOT of snow and ice, along with cold enough temperatures that at a certain point, the snow just stays until spring. It's also difficult to explain if you've lived somewhere where winter gets cold but not Cold, but temperature below 0°F truly do feel different on a very weird level, and we get plenty of them. (That said, if you're somebody like me who likes cooler weather and/or the idea of living somewhere a bit more climate change-resilient, all this may actually be a selling point...)

The other thing I'd be remiss not to mention is that I know my white friends and my friends of color tend to have some differing opinions on the area. Some of this is for reasons that would likely be true most places in the United States, but Minnesota as a whole is definitely a pretty white state (especially outside the Twin Cities -- that's another area where Minneapolis-Saint Paul form a bubble, probably even more starkly), and there are places where it really shows, even on balance with the strong immigrant communities here. I'm unfortunately not the best person to ask how much of a deal-breaker that is, just since it's not my own lived experience and I'd be worried about too heavily weighting the positives I have experienced over the negatives I haven't, but if it's a concern for you, it's something to keep in mind, and maybe to find some better testimonials on.

I feel like I'm probably missing some things for both categories, and there's other things I feel are truly neutral compared to other places I've lived (like public transit -- our light rail trains are great, but we definitely don't have enough routes) but I've been sitting on this long enough, and if you have any specific follow-up questions or things I didn't touch on feel free to reach out again. I hope some of this is helpful to you.

#also i'm sitting on another ask in this vein that i hope to get to this week #so folks that have been waiting on me thanks for your patience #land of eldritch lakes #(that's just my minnesota tag. it's fine and normal)

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corner-stories · 2 months

Note

jk 14

July Prompts 🌴

14. Childhood posted on my ao3 as well!

Victoria is a long way from Montreal. Gone are the towering buildings, the St. Lawrence River, and the Kirschtein's apartment in Pointe-aux-Trembles. Nowadays he’s living at his Uncle Stephane’s house in Esquimalt, a building that’s bigger than the one he used to live in, yet the actual space he’s been allotted is small. The cot placed in his Cousin Geoffrey’s bed leaves him barely any wiggle room, and he may only be nine but he feels like he's getting bigger every day. His mother promises that this will only be temporary, that the cramped feeling of his Uncle’s home is a necessity they both must bear until they truly get settled.

In the meantime there are more important things to tackle regarding their cross-country move, so on a day in late summer his mother takes him to a library. She says it’s to both escape the heat and have him pick up more books to practice his English, something she's been gently encouraging him to do before school starts. Deep down Jean wonders if it's to spare him from being teased and tormented by Cousin Geoff for an afternoon — and if that ends up being the case, then he is quite thankful.

The branch they are visiting is in a part of Victoria that Jean hasn’t seen before, near James Bay where all the tourist pictures are taken. His mother promises that once the temperature goes down they’ll take a walk near the water and visit one of the parks, maybe even get some ice cream to cap off the day. But for now Arielle Kirschtein sits at a computer, where she browses postings for apartments and other resources that newcomers to the city can take advantage of.

Jean is left to his own devices. Unsurprisingly he soon finds himself in the kids section, the part of the building that’s decorated with large posters of local insects, coniferous trees, and rocky mountains, little details that paint a picture of the Pacific Northwest. As tempting as it is to browse the French-language section, since this particular branch has every single Adventures of Tintin volume, the little Quebecer follows his mother’s request and finds something in English.

Jean settles into a beanbag chair near a window, his bottom sinking into the material as he balances an open Geronimo Stilton book on his knee. Surrounding him are other library patrons — parents reading illustrated tales to their toddlers, other kids sprawled on the floor with collections of comic books, and older tweens chatting a little too loudly before getting politely scolded by the elderly librarian.

The ambiance helps Jean relax as he slowly takes in the adventures of an anthropomorphic mouse reporter. His English is getting better, though reading it proves to be slightly harder than speaking it. As he flips through the pages he wonders how he’ll fare once school starts, even if his mother did find a French-immersion program for him to attend.

He goes between taking in the text and glancing aside, where he is always greeted to the sight of the new city and the various citizens moving about — most are walking, but many are cycling both on the streets and sidewalks. Despite that, he can't help but note that the city feels slower than the one he was onced raised in. Montreal always felt like a place where people had somewhere to be and only a few moments to get there — in contrast, everyone in Victoria goes at a more leisurely pace, like the goal is not the destination but the journey. Jean's unsure if prefers this way of living or not.

Once Jean has read through a third of the tale, he finds himself slipping a bookmark between the pages and standing up to stretch his legs. With the novel tucked under his arm, he wanders through the kid area of the library again, moving away from the storybooks and to the array of tomes with fewer pictures. He eventually finds himself walking through the French-language section again, wondering just how many Adventures of Tintin volumes his mother will let him haul on the bus ride back home. The space between the shelves is empty, even more so than the rest of the library. He wonders if it’s because there really aren’t many Francophones on this side of the country or because most people in the building are more keen on escaping the heat or using the workspaces.

As Jean takes The Secret of the Unicorn and Destination Moon into his arms, he hears footsteps against the carpeted floor. He glances up and sees no one in his aisle, but through the gaps in the bookshelves he spots a person on the other side.

It’s a girl just about his age with a pair of dark eyes and a head of dark hair, something that is tied back with a red ribbon. She dons a floral patterned dress and a wide-brimmed sun hat, a very summery get up for the mere act of browsing the French section.

For a reason Jean doesn’t entirely know, his heart begins to beat just a little bit faster. Suddenly the books in his arms slip out of his grasp. When they hit the floor the sound snaps him out of his trance. Heat rushes to his face as he hastily kneels down to clean up his mess, praying that the Girl in the Shelves hadn’t noticed his fumble. When he stands up straight again he’s slightly relieved to see that by the grace of god, she didn’t notice his fumble, as her eyes are still affixed to the spines of the books.

Jean’s breathing is uneasy, but as he gets a better grip on his things he sees the Girl grabbing one of the bigger books in the section. The tome looks heavy in her arms, weighing her down as she rests it against her frame. The once neutral expression on her face morphs into one of the sweetest smiles that Jean has ever seen, then before he knows it she’s leaving the aisle.

Once she’s gone Jean takes a second to recollect himself before exiting the French section as well. After stepping into the main space of the library with extra books under his arm, he can’t stop his eyes from looking around to find the Girl again. He soon spots her walking up to an older woman who shares both her dark hair and taste in fancy sun hats, one who is currently taking in a mystery novel while sitting on an armchair.

Jean sucks in a breath and begins to walk. He passes the two by and finds a new spot for himself on a couch near a shelf of DVDs. As he settles in with his new books he can’t stop himself from overhearing the conversation that transpires between the Girl and the Lady.

“Auntie! I found it!” says the Girl, the smile on her face remaining bright as she holds up a leatherbound collection of fairy tales.

When Jean looks up he sees both the Lady — or rather, the Auntie — and the Girl smiling at each other, but once Auntie gets a look at the text on the book’s cover, her expression falters.

“Mikasa, Dear… this is in French. You don’t speak French. And neither do I, for the matter.”

The beaming grin on the now-named Mikasa’s face turns into something less joyful. “Oh… right.”

Jean places his new book on his lap and opens it, yet can’t take his attention off the conversation.

“Can you find it in English?” asks Auntie.

Mikasa shakes her head. “No, I asked the librarian and that one’s checked out. This is the only one.”

The look on Auntie’s face is very kind as she places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “How about you put this one back and find something else? Then we can read it together, I promise.”

Mikasa looks defeated, as clearly her heart had been set on this book in particular. As she hugs the tome against her chest like it’s something precious, she simply nods her head.

“Okay.”

Jean watches as Mikasa walks away from her Auntie, looking absolutely dejected with every step.

Suddenly the feeling that Jean had experienced in the shelves returns, the tightness in his chest and rushing of his beating heart. But instead of making him drop his books like a fool, the feeling motivates him to scoot off the couch and across the library’s carpet.

With a sense of confidence he hadn’t felt ever since the move, Jean approaches Mikasa and says —

“Hi!”

Mikasa stops where she is and turns around. She is still holding the book of fairytales close to her, like it’s a shield between her and this sudden stranger.

“Uh… I’m Jean… I speak French,” he manages to say despite the heat returning to his cheeks. He huffs awkwardly and looks down to the carpet. “I can read that with you. Or to you.”

When he glances up again he sees a little glimmer of hope reappear in her pretty eyes. “Oh… you can!?”

Jean nods along. “Yes.” He points to the couch where he had stashed his own collection of books. “I’m sitting there, let’s go!”

Mikasa breaks into that sweet smile Jean had seen a second ago as the two make their way to his spot. Before he knows it he’s carefully moving his books aside to make room for her and she's taking off her sun hat so it doesn't get in the way of her reading.

“I’m Mikasa,” she tells him as she sits on the cushions. He nods his head as her name graces her ears again, noting that it’s one he doesn’t hear often in the city he grew up in — but then again, perhaps the name “Jean” isn’t one she hears a lot in this city either.

The two sit on the cushions, balancing the complete works of Charles Perrault on both their knees, though mostly on Jean's. When he opens it he is greeted by the sight of a gorgeous illustration depicting a woman with golden hair asleep on a bed in the woods. Mikasa flips the page and is quick to bring him to the first story and presumably the tale she was very keen on reading despite her lack of language proficiency.

“La Belle au bois dormant,” Jean reads aloud. He looks aside to gauge her reaction. “Or Sleeping Beauty.”

Mikasa smiles again and Jean can’t help but notice how sweeter it seems up close. He looks back to the page and begins to read the book as promised.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #mama kirschtein #kiyomi azumabito #modern au #snk #still taking these prompts so you can send some more!

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jackredfieldwasmyjacob · 11 months

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Mapping Madrid: Week 8

I KNOW it's been a while and i'm so so sorry. but look. Carabanchel! peace and love on planet earth <3. so... i had to get a book from carabanchel's public library and i was like... hey let's do a mapping madrid while we're at it! coincidentally the roulette has now twice in a row landed on carabanchel so. i had no other option. as you can see, however, the station featured in this post is Carabanchel Alto ('High Carabanchel'), which was the result of me walking around not really knowing where i was going and realising i was 50 mins away from Carabanchel and only 30 from Carabanchel Alto once i wanted to go back home. the bad thing is... Carabanchel is in my beloved line 5, whereas carabanchel alto is in the dreaded line 11. let me talk about line 11 for a minute, cause it made my trip back home twice as long (it almost took me 2 hours lol) and it's now my archnemesis. it is the shortest metro line in the city (with the exception of Ramal i guess. also they're now expanding it i think but still) and it only has one entry point through line 6, so it's basically a bottleneck. i hate it so much. en fin. Carabanchel is one of the 21 districts of Madrid, and it used to be an independent town back in the day before being annexed by Madrid. In fact, it was two towns, Carabanchel and Carabanchel Alto, that's why there's that distinction. It is a very working class area of the city, with lots of immigrants and diversity, and for me Carabanchel is the beating heart of Madrid, as here is where the biggest festivities and traditions take place, and the people here are the proudest and the bestest honestly <3 As I said previously, I mainly wandered around after going to the library (which didn't have the book I wanted rip) listening to a new podcast I just found (I really recommend it, it's called 'No hay negros en el Tíbet') and sitting for a bit to read some Catullus (<3). Most of the time I was in this kinda new-ish area, it reminded me a lot of Loranca, part of Fuenlabrada which is one of the big southern cities (here's a post about Madrid's peripheria I made a few years ago in case you wanna know more about that), where my cousin and uncles live. Only at the end I got to the traditional 'old town', but by then my phone was dying so i didn't take many pictures unfortunately. Also I am pretty sure I passed by possibly the most important place in Carabanchel, the old Carabanchel Prison, which was established during the Francoist era and was the largest and harshest prison in the country, torturing thousands political prisoners (NEVERMIND I JUST READ ON WIKIPEDIA THAT IT WAS DEMOLISHED IN 2008. NO IDEA WHAT I SAW THEN).

#mappingmadrid #viva carabanchel <3 #it only took me 9 months to continue this series. you should be proud

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babybluebanshee · 1 year

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Stuff I've had to deal with as a city librarian - Halloween Spooktacular

Hello again boils, ghouls, and nonbinary werewolves! Your old buddy Blue has a backlog of whack-ass stories from her travels as a humble library clerk, so here's a big post fulla laughs, drama, and maybe a few bodily fluids tossed in for flair.

Seriously though, tw for bodily fluids, bugs, and PTSD

*A woman came up to the front desk and asked if we had a quiet area where she could make a zoom call and not disturb anyone. No prob, have people asking that all the time. The study rooms were all full, so she was pointed in the direction of the cafe. A few minutes go by, and suddenly everyone at the desk and the page in the shelves beyond it hears loud ass shouting coming from the cafe. Julie heads down to inspect, hoping it's not a fight she has to break up. Nope, as it turns out, the lady on the zoom call is leading an exercise class. She has a mat and everything, and was leading her class in aerobics when Julie got down there. We quickly moved her to a more out-of-the-way conference room.

*A children's board book was return to us with a bite taken out of it. The area was still wet. We do not know if it was child or beast that took the bite. We had to throw it away regardless.

*We had to bake almost all our DVD cases because we found two with bed bug eggs in them.

*A woman printed out some color pictures and asked if I could check to make sure they came out. I picked up the stack and the first one on top was of an angry-looking woman with her tits out. My surprise must have been pretty evident because the woman I was helping immediately turned red and told me they were for a court case.

*Like everywhere else in this god-forsaken country, homeschooling has been on the rise in these parts. As such, we get parents all the time coming in with printed copies of the curriculum they chose and asking if we have the books recommended by them. Whatever we don't have, we can usually get through inter library loan, but the catch with that is you can only have five going at a time. One day, we had a mother come in with a list of three hundred books her curriculum recommended, and she had us check out catalogue for all of them. Branson started helping her, but her shift ended in the middle of it, so I had to do the rest. It took forever, and we ended up only having about fifty of them because I guess this homeschooling curriculum hasn't been updated since the mid-2000s. To her credit, the mother was very exasperated with homeschooling in general and knows that her daughter doesn't want to do it anymore. Her husband is adamant that their kid not go to public school, however. I fought every urge to say that was fine for him to say when he clearly wasn't doing a goddamn thing to help her.

*There's a patron that comes in whom we know nothing about except that he's had multiple heart attacks and has massive anxiety about potentially having another. We know this because he tells us every time the library gets too loud for him, because he believes the noise will somehow "trigger" another heart attack. Normally, we would have no problem with that; heart attacks are scary, he has every right to be anxious about it and request quiet spots to hang out. However, the problem is that he takes it upon himself to police other patrons in the library who he thinks are being too loud near him. Some children were nearby, working on a puzzle and started getting a little rambunctious, and the dude yelled at the top of his voice for them to shut up and get away from him. We had to speak louder for a patron who was hard of hearing, and the death glare he gave us was chilling. He snaps at anyone who forgets to shut the sound off on their phone. The director finally had to tell him he can't harass patrons and to tell us if he has a problem with someone's volume. He's been better behaved since then, but any time we see him, we're instantly worried he's gonna flip out again.

*A little boy in a wheelchair came in with his family, and my god, that kid could zip around fast. His mom mentioned that she forgot to grab a book for his sister, so he rolled into the kid's area to grab it for her. He was back faster than a patron who could just walk in. And you could tell he was very proud of that fact.

*Shae gave me a Sylveon card about a year ago, and I wear it laminated on my lanyard (because I was originally gonna hang it from my rearview mirror but forgot). It's always a big hit with kids. One little girl, however, liked it so much she asked if she could have it. I chuckled and told her sorry, it was a gift from a friend. She merely replied, "no, I want it" and started making a grab for it. Luckily, she was on the other side of the counter and couldn't reach it, but it was still weird. Especially because her mother was right there and made no move to stop or reprimand her.

*My coworker Branson had to clean...something off the bathroom floor one night. She's adamant it wasn't poop, but also said it was so dried out she had to use a putty knife to scrape it off. Our best guess is vomit.

*I was working on a display at the desk and a little black girl came up to watch me work. We chatted for a little, her asking me all the usual little kid questions. Eventually, she asked me if I had kids. I said no, I liked being an auntie better. Plus, I wasn't married, so I couldn't have kids. She thought for a moment, then said "why don't you just buy one?" Branson was nearby and I heard her choke on a laugh. I was pretty close to losing it myself, and said, "I don't think it's very nice to buy a person." Luckily, her dad came up and they left shortly after, so Branson and I could finally laugh about it.

*A patron and his family got taken to court for not returning almost $200 worth of books and DVDS, after ignoring the four warnings we give people before we actually take that step (because at that point you're actively stealing city property). The patron was ordered by a judge to either bring the items to court or pay to replace them, so he brought them to the courthouse. The clerk was going to take them and the whole thing would have been over and done...except he wouldn't give them to her without a library employee present. He never gave a real reason except he was concerned the clerk would "do something" with the items. So without contacting the library or judge the clerk told him he could bring the books directly to the library. When the judge found out what she'd done, he called the library and told us what was happening, and to hopefully expect the guy in there that night. Predictably, we haven't seen him. This was almost a month ago.

*Branson got a phone call from the county jail, which is actually pretty common for libraries. Patrons get arrested and want to make sure their accounts are clear so they don't potentially get into further trouble with outstanding items. Branson goes through all the hold music and questions to finally get the patron on the line...and he'd dialed the wrong number. Branson felt so bad for him.

*A guy came in to use the computers. Donna was getting him set up, sitting at the desk, so she can only see him from about his torso up. He ended up needing help printing something, so I help him, and finally see the sidearm he's got in a holster on his belt. I tell him the library doesn't allow firearms of any kind, no, I do not care that he has a conceal carry, he can't have a weapon in a municipal building. He's kinda testy about it, asking why we don't have a sign. I tell him we do. He had to walk by it to get in the building. In fact, we have one at all three entrances. He smugly asks me to show him, because he didn't see them. Me, petty bitch that I am, make this fucker walk to all three entrances and show him each sign, then tell him as politely as I can to get rid of the gun before he comes back in. He huffily complies.

*I came into work one day and the director immediately called me to the back. He informed me that a couple was having a loud, angry argument on the patio outside the kid's area, and they called the cops for a wellness check because the woman sounded to be in legit distress. Like, rocking back and forth and screaming swears distress. Cop comes and presumably sends them on their way. We don't know for sure because he came, went out to talk to them, and just...left.

*A guy came in to pick up an inter library loan, and when Branson asked for his card, he said he didn't have one. Like, he wasn't a patron. Never mind how the hell he managed to get a fulfilled ILL without one. Branson informs him he has to get a card before he can check out the book, but it's going to cost him $15 since he lives outside city limits. He tries to pay with a check made out to him from someone else. We tell him that won't work. He leaves to get cash, but then immediately turns around and asks if he can just buy the book. I tell him no, since a) it's not our book to sell and b) we're not in the habit of selling books in the collection anyway. I ask if he'd like me to find it on Amazon for him, and he says no. He leaves and doesn't come back. Bonnie sent the ILL back, and we haven't seen him since.

*A lot of our patrons have conspiracy theory brain rot, so you can only imagine the fanciful tales we heard about the emergency test signal. There were theories it would "activate the nanites" in the covid vaccine and either kill everyone who got one or turn them into liberal zombies. My director had someone 100% seriously call it "the Satan signal". It would have been funny if it weren't so stupid.

#woe to the librarian #daily life with blue

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