#yesterday i walked to the museum and the entire way i was so aware of everything

[steampoweredskeleton]

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Ignore

[theninjasanctuary]

It's a bit sad how little I've managed to post in May and June, considering I've mostly been having a good time, and it would be good to recap that so I can remember later.

Threw myself a late birthday garden party towards the end of May, when the apple trees were still in bloom, the weather was lovely, as were my friends and fam who showed up, and we had nice food and a good time. This also served as summer garden party season prep, finding all the gear, dusting it off, etc. And so it was pretty easy to set up the solstice celebration garden party yesterday - pretty low-key, but sweet, with lovely weather and lots of blooming peonies. The ones I planted last August are not blooming yet this year, just gaining strength and hopefully growing strong roots in all the good soil, perhaps I can hope for a few blossoms next summer?

Thought to myself that the current year seems to be pretty good to me, all things considered. I'm making decent amounts of money, work is going okay-ish, and I'm not super-stressed about my prospects at the moment, Mom's doing okay, keeping busy, taking care of her place and enjoying life, and can cat-sit when we travel. I'm aware all of this might not last, I'm obviously in line to be the primary caretaker should Mom's health decline, and I cannot be too certain about my career outlook. And, well, apparently my big brother's marriage is in crisis and the drama might spill over even though they live in a different country, so who knows, might not have the peaceful second half of the year I hoped for.

The work trip to NYC and New Haven went kind of well. I didn't get sick, which alone is a massive upgrade compared to the last time I went to the US. The flight experience was so-so; picking a seat yourself is now ridiculously expensive (40+ €, do fuck off with that, Finnair), so I went with randomly assigned seat each direction, and of course they were in the middle 4-seat section of the cabin. On the flight over, had the middle row 4 seats all to myself, which wasn't too bad, but on the way back, the plane was pretty full, and I'd been placed into the extra legroom row in one of the middle seats, and after boarding was completed, a random dude made a beeline for the empty middle seat next to me because of the extra legroom, so then I was sandwiched between him and a hefty lady for the entirety of the flight; I was fuming internally, but also exhausted, and somehow managed to sleep for most of the nearly 9 hours. Another grumble about Finnair, they've cut the meal service so you get one meal for the transatlantic flight, and then a round of coffee or tea with an option of buying snacks - and the selection is really unappealing. On the way over, I had packed a couple of snacks, which helped. The leg back home left 11ish in the evening, and the served a warm meal at midnight NYC time or early morning destination time, and loads of people actually refused that, probably without realizing this would be the only meal on offer, because transatlantic overnight flights always used to serve breakfast before. I woke up enough to eat, although the food was less than impressive. It's a good thing we'd had a decent dinner at a Thai restaurant before leaving for the airport.

I had a work friend on the same flights, staying at the same hotel, which was even better than I expected, since it turns out he's a bit of an alpha dog when it comes to travelling, does his homework, knows exactly where to go, etc. Usually I have to do all of that, so having someone else lead the way was an interesting change. And he's chill, and a foodie, so it was nice to have someone to go to dinner with. We didn't hang out the entire time though. I shopped a little bit and very blandly (this is highly on brand), but mostly spent time diligently visiting art museums. Spent an entire day at the Met, but I think even so I only saw about 70% of their display, and that's with just walking through a lot of the rooms. Overall, more relaxed and less anxious than previous trips to the US have made me. The last time I'd been to NYC was 10 years ago, and it was stressful, with a work friend who I've since confirmed dislikes me, so it felt good to get a do-over with far less worries.

Stayed in three hotels; the NYC one was the smallest and most expensive, but clean, neat and fine, and very conveniently located, I'd gladly go back. At New Haven, the first two nights were at a four-star hotel, and they gave me an upgrade (I'm assuming they were overbooked for standard rooms and had to bump some people up; I'm cute, well spoken and take the trouble to sign up to memberships, which presumably helps). So I had a plush corner room with two walls of windows and a giant bed all to myself, it was bigger than the first apartment the boyf and I rented together. And I ordered room service one night, too, fish tacos with finger limes, I think it was the best thing I ate all trip and my mouth waters just thinking about it. Had to move hotels for the final night to a three-star one, and that was a standard room, but also rather nice. My body was trying to sabotage the entire thing by rescheduling my period, and I actually managed to leak through a tampon & Uniqlo period panties whilst sleeping there - not much, and it was on the sheets, not mattress or duvet, so I had to do some very-early-morning, half-asleep emergency washing in the sink, but hey, an anxious overpacker like me had brought a tiny bottle of stain remover that's very effective against blood stains (it's been in my travel bathroom kit just in case for a while). So that was another example of a dreaded thing actually happening to me, and managing to deal with it and move on.

All three hotels had flattering bathroom mirrors. And then I came home and weighed myself and set a new record. OTL

And it would be nice to get the expenses paid on location refunded to me ASAP (submitting all the paperwork was a hassle, but I hope everything is acceptable).

[elizainjapan]

June 19th- Nara Day Trip

Today was so fun, I felt like a lil forest fairy! Yet again I missed breakfast, but it was ok because I had a sweet treat on the way. On the train ride to Nara, Sam commandeered my phone to EMAIL herself the photos from yesterday. Average Android user. I think I ended up nodding off at some point, but once we got to Nara, I was wide awake. I like deer, but my mom LOVES deer. I wish she could’ve seen how funny the deer were, and she would’ve loved to bow to them. I got her a couple gizmos (ps: mom if youre reading these pls act surprised when I give them to you). I had so much fun running away from the deer when I would try to feed one and then a bunch more would come. I was not aware of how much poop there would be, but oh well they are animals. I could’ve stayed in the first area for a while, but I’m glad we got moving because Todaiji was absolutely beautiful. The temple was one of the coolest ones I had ever seen, and I was so impressed with the size of the Buddha. I successfully climbed through Buddha’s hypothetical nostril, and I feel as fresh as a newborn baby. By this time, I don’t think I had drank any water the whole day, so I started feeling super dizzy and seeing spots. As the rest of the class went to the museum, I ran to find the nearest vending machine (which was a struggle) to get water. Once I was hydrated, the day was great again. As group, we made our way to another temple with a bunch of lanterns in it. I really loved walking through the dark hallway with a hundred lanterns in it, and I know that when I come back to Japan, it will have to be when the lantern festival is. I was craving a sweet treat, so me, Chelsea, Aulora, Julie, Sam, and Casey went to find a cafe. We went to the absolute cutest cheesecake little shop where I got a sundae shaped as a cat. I also got some hand-woven yarn for myself, and I’ll probably make a headband out of it when I get home and sad. I think I got one more thing, but I forgot. We were all so tired by the end of the day, and I took another quick nap on the way home. When I got home, I called Austin which I desperately needed. Good day. I like deer.

Academic Reflection-

My previous knowledge was limited to what I had learned in AP world History. The main thing that I remembered was that Theravada Buddhism is with the skinny Buddha, and Mahayana was with the fat one. These readings taught me that this was pretty much entirely false. They were very dense, and I’m not even sure what I remember from them. I thought that it was cool that there were different levels of enlightenment that you have to go through before being a full-on Buddha. By the end of the reading, the ninth-level Buddha would have his own universe to manifest other Buddhas into. One of the craziest things was that it takes 3,000-13,000 eons of life cycles to become a Buddha. When I asked Professor Smith about how long an eon was, he described it as if there was a mountain made of the densest stone, and once a year a bird comes and brushes against the top. The time it takes for the bird to brush away the entire mountain is one eon.

A lot of Buddhism confuses me. I understand that Dainichi has created projections of himself into different universes, but I’m not too sure why. Many people believe that we are currently in a stage of chaos and are currently await the new Buddha to come and teach us peace. The last time that we had an era of peacefulness (according to the Japanese) was the 12th century. I’m very excited to see what this new Buddha will be up to.

[msmatx]

10.06-10.09.22 — Btw Yom Kippur & Sukkot

During the days between Yom Kippur and Sukkot we took the time to settle into our neighborhood, as well as a second apartment (across the street from our first). With no school in sight—still waiting on the school transfer and the holidays to rap up—and stores, museums and restaurants open, we had lots of time to explore.

Hero found a cafe around the corner from our apartment that makes pancakes, his favorite breakfast item. We’ve also been to no less than a dozen grocery stores and only seen one box of pancake mix to make at home. I had no idea that pancake mix would be such a contraband that I should have considered bringing it from Austin. And of course, my food-curious child, Atlas, is always lurking to steal my coffee or matcha beverage before I’ve had a sip.

The kids have become very adept at riding the bus. Even though it requires diligent attention to follow the English instructions, they manage to always be aware of the number of stops left.

After breakfast we went to the university to the Steinhardt Museum of Nature. I’m generally minimally impressed with nature museums, as they tend to be repositories of large dusty taxidermy collections that haven’t been updated in decades. But this museum was so beautifully designed and modernized with a strong focus on climate change and environmental awareness. We spent 2.5 hours enjoying it. Here the kids get to commit to one new habit in the interest of bettering the environment and take a pencil as a reminder of their commitment.

After the museum we made our way back to our neighborhood and had Frishman Falafel, our go-to quick meal.

On another day we made a field trip to Carmel Market [aka Tel Aviv Shuk]. We bought fresh ground beef for the first time, a learning experience.

And of course, beach time every evening.

And on Saturday we spend most of the entire afternoon at the beach.

The lifeguards were yelling at swimmers for hours yesterday to not swim in this dangerous section and to move to the area in front of the guard station. Literally every 15 minutes the message went out in Arabic, Hebrew, and English. The waves have been real choppy (full moon). Typical Israelis….ignored the warnings. Then I was standing by the playscape area where Hero was playing and he stops and says “‘mommy why is that man with the gun walking at the beach?” (As Americans we are much more alarmed by seeing people walking around openly carrying machine guns walking around. The officer with the machine gun stands by the beach until the water clears where the lifeguards had been telling people to leave. And life goes on.

[nickydestati]

duolingo tog prompts #13

prompt: Now he is just a normal citizen (Adesso è solo un cittadino normale)

i am aware this is a superhero au for what technically is a superhero movie already but oh well, i hope you enjoy it anyway!

*

In general, Yusuf likes being Joe. On some days, though, he feels like screaming. Only yesterday night he was chasing down some stalker scum to teach them a lesson and make sure they would never even think of harassing anyone ever again, and now he is just a normal citizen. Just a face in the endless, dreary morning commute. 

He wants to grab someone by the shoulders and yell his secret in their faces. Just so someone knows he’s doing it all for them.

But he buries his hands in his pockets and walks on.

A bell rings when he enters the antique shop. The Old Guard, it is called. And of course, it’s just a facade, but to his surprise, Joe genuinely likes working there. He likes being surrounded by ancient and not so ancient objects, he loves walking around in the chaotic assortment of precious art pieces and absolute junk. He often wonders how Andy has gotten hold of all these things, but however sneakily he tries to coax it out of her, she always sees right through his schemes and just shrugs.

He puts everything ready and turns the sign of the door around so the ‘open’ side is facing the street. He glances at the numerous grandfather clocks lining one of the walls. Booker is late. Maybe on a job Joe forgot about, so he guesses he’s on his own for today.

He’s staring at some lists with a lot of numbers he doesn’t understand much about because 1) this is usually Booker’s job and 2) he’s running on three hours of sleep and caffeine, when the phone rings. He picks up immediately, grateful for something else to do.

“The Old Guard Antiques, with Joe, how can I help you?”

“I’ve got a job for you.” Andy.

“Hello to you, too,” Joe says, glancing about for customers, though the bell hasn’t made a sound yet all morning. He lowers his voice just to be sure. “And a job? So soon? I just finished the last one this night.”

He can barely hide his excitement, he quickly checks his free hand, making sure he doesn’t start glowing by accident.

“It’s urgent. We’ve got word that someone is after Lykon’s bracers.”

“Lykon’s bracers?” Joe’s happy mood sobers. Lykon was one of their team once. But the life of a superhero is never without danger. Things went terribly wrong on a mission a long time ago, and Lykon had sacrificed himself so the rest could get out with the people they were saving. They went back later, but despite his healing powers, he hadn’t been able to use them on himself in time. 

His bracers still hold fragments of his powers, though, just like Joe’s rings will when he dies. Every hero has such a token, and there are rumors it might grant the powers to someone else if used right. But so far, no one has tried yet. All superheroes agree that it’s simply too morbid and intruding.

“Yes.” Andy sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have given it to the museum. It would’ve been safer with us after all.”

“Hey, boss, don’t beat yourself up. It was the best option back then. So, who’s after it?”

“Some rich megalomaniac called Merrick. You know, the usual. The theft is planned for this Friday. Booker is at the museum now to find a way to get you inside and get a layout from the building. He’ll be on it for the rest of the week so you’re on shop duty alone for a while.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll send you some more details you can look through. How did it go last night?

“It went well,” Joe answers, but it’s a tad too late and of course Andy notices.

“But?”

Joe sighs. “But the Shadow showed up and I had just gotten them right where I wanted them, but when I rounded the corner, he’d taken care of them already.”

“The guy’s good,” Andy says and the appraisel in her voice makes a spike of jealousy flash through his chest.

“Maybe you should ask him to join us, then,” he says and he hates how annoyed he sounds.

Andy chuckles on the other end. “Have to figure out who he is first.”

Just some pretentious bastard thinking he’s too good to talk with other superheroes. But Joe is tired talking about him.

“So how are you and Nile? Have you found her yet?”

“No, no sign yet.” All mirth has left Andy’s voice and Joe’s heart clenches.

“It’s only a matter of time. We’ll find her. Or she’ll find us again, she wouldn’t leave us like that.” She wouldn’t leave you.

“Let’s hope so,” Andy says with a heavy sigh. “Gotta go, I’ll send you the information. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss. Say hi to Nile from me.”

He’s breaking his head over the lists again when the bell makes him startle. 

His throat runs dry when he looks up because the most beautiful man in all the universe has just entered the shop. Joe really shouldn’t be so dumbfounded by the man, because objectively speaking he is rather plain-looking with that simple hair cut and those pants that are really doing nothing for him, but still. Even like that, he has something incredibly mesmerising to Joe.

He pretends to look back at the lists for a while, but glances at the customer every now and again from the corner of his eye.

When the man has been wandering around for a while and has been staring at those small angel statuettes for five minutes already, Joe slips from behind the counter and goes to him. 

“Good morning, sir, can I be of some assistance?”

The man turns around and a small smile appears around his mouth when he sees Joe, melting Joe’s heart into a puddle.

“Maybe. I’m looking for a birthday gift for my nonna, but I don’t know which archangel she would like more.”

And to Joe’s surprise, the man goes on to explain the different meanings behind them which is incredibly fascinating - and not only because his hand gestures are so elegant and his eyes are alight with a passionate glow that Joe would describe as moonlight in one of his poems. And Joe is all too happy to chip in with his own knowledge of art and iconology. 

They get so caught up in their conversation that Joe jumps when the grandfather clocks start their various announcements of the fact that it is twelve o’clock. The man startles too by the cacophony and glances at his watch. 

“Oh, I should get going. I’ll take this one.” And he picks out Joe’s favorite. 

He follows Joe to the cash register and pays. 

“I am Joe, by the way,” Joe says when he’s wrapping the statue in bubble plastic to protect it.

“Nicky, nice to meet you,” Nicky says and Joe can’t keep the wide smile from his face.

“We should do that again some time,” he says, gathering all his courage. “Talk, I mean, not necessarily buying or selling angel statuettes.”

Nicky laughs, and the little snort makes Joe’s heart jump to his throat. “Let’s grab some dinner then, when are you available?”

“Only Friday wouldn’t work for me,” Joe says.

“I can’t make it on Friday either, so let’s say Saturday? Here, let me get your number,” Nicky says and picks his phone from his pocket.

They exchange numbers and say their goodbyes, Nicky flashing a last smile at him from the door before leaving Joe helplessly lost behind his cash register. 

*

Focus, Yusuf! Yusuf chastizes himself when his mind has wandered off to what he’s going to wear for his date tomorrow for what must be the millionth time. You’re supposed to be watching out for a thief, focus!

Yusuf takes a deep breath and scans the room again. He’s hidden in a very uncomfortable position against the ceiling, holding on to a pillar that grants him a view of the entire exhibition room. If he didn’t have his powers, there was no way he could have endured this position for so long, and while it would have been even easier if the sun was out, he manages. 

The minutes are ticking by, no sign of a thief yet. The bracers are still safely in their display case beneath him.

Then there’s a movement, ever so slightly, by the windows. Yusuf’s eyes latch onto it, but it’s gone so soon that he almost thinks it’s a trick of his mind. 

Always trust your instincts, Andy told them over and over again. Our minds don’t play tricks on us.

Sure enough, there’s another flutter in the shadows. No, not in the shadows. Of the shadows.

One of them is moving.

Joe curses inwardly, of course Merrick has hired the Shadow.

He waits for the Shadow to reach the display case. Then, when he reaches over the glass, Yusuf slides down right behind him. He reaches for him, letting out a sound of victory when his hands guess correctly and circle around the Shadow’s neck. He lets his hands glow, unleashing the heat he’s always containing. 

Surprised by the sudden attack, the Shadow turns visible and Yusuf stumbles back out of pure shock.

He’s all clad in black, with a balck version of a mask not unlike Yusuf’s own, but Yusuf would recognise the eyes peeking through it anywhere. Those eyes that are unmistakably glowing with moonlight now.

“Nicky?” Yusuf exclaims.

“Joe?” 

Nicky seems just as confused as Yusuf who’s still looking him up and down as if he might change into someone else after all - and oh man, these tight pants are definitely doing things for him. Nicky recovers faster from the shock, though. 

“Sorry, but I really gotta take these,” he says and before Yusuf can make his muscles move again, Nicky already has the bracers in his hands and is dashing for the windows.

“Wait no!” Yusuf sprints after him, but Nicky whisps away into shadow-form again and slips through a slightly opened window. 

“Nicky!” Yusuf screams after him. He opens the window wider - not alarming the guards be damned - and looks out over the city. But there’s no trace of Nicky.

His heart is pounding. Nicky, the beautiful man he is already head over heels with, is the Shadow. Not only is he the Shadow, but he has also stolen Lykon’s bracers for some capitalist asshole.

Shit.

“Is our date still on tomorrow?” Yusuf calls weakly into the night.

[crimson-ace]

The Shark and the Surfer Chapter 2: The Aft-ermath

Archive of Our Own link

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the Chlolix tags on AO3...

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Alix noticed it was getting dark, so she swam home as fast as she could and made it to her family’s undersea cave, where her father, Alim, was waiting for her.

“Alix, are you alright? Do you have any parasites on you?” Alim said as he swam around his daughter. He was part pilot fish, so he had a habit of worrying about his shark daughter (who took more after her great white birth mother) and making sure there weren’t any remoras mooching off her.

Alix groaned and pushed her father aside. “Daaaaaaad! I’m not a pup anymore!” She said a little more whiny than she intended. “I just ran into some traffic on my way home, that’s all. Can we eat now?”

Alim nodded and swam over to the dining room with Alix, where his other son, Jalil, was waiting at the table with the prepared food. Well, except for Alix’s plate. Alix took her squid raw.

So while Alix started digging into her squid, she talked about her day with her family, leaving out who she helped today. It was pretty standard stuff, like how Alim mentioned his archeology team at the museum had found evidence of a possible missing link between mermaids and their selkie ancestors or how Jalil had found some more human treasures like a stretchy torture device made of six rings one of his turtle friends gave him.

As Alix washed her squid down with the ink of another, she realized that her brother had some knowledge about humans. “Hey, Jalil? Dad? What exactly do you guys know about humans?” She asked, causing both of them to freeze in place.

“Wh-Why are you asking that? What happened?” Alim asked, worried his daughter’s curiosity (or appetite) would get the better of her.

“Nothing happened! I-I-I-I just wanted to… learn more about them, that’s all. What’s wrong with that?” Alix worried she had said too much.

Alim put a hand on Alix’s shoulder. “Alix, humans are too dangerous. We know nothing about them except that they come from beyond the sea.”

“Well, that, and they can’t live underwater, so they create huge masses of land just to invade our territory and steal our belongings. Thankfully, we got some of their own treasures they just threw away, like this magic box with some humans trapped inside” Jalil chimed in as he took out a blue rectangular object with the label “Canon” on the side.

“Maybe we just need to learn more about humans.” Alix suggested, earning a glare from her father.

“The surface world is inhospitable to our kind, and you could die if you went up there.” Alix flinched in response to Alim’s statement, as she remembered how hard it was for her to simply go a few feet on the surface away from the water. It made Alix wonder how she could ever learn more about the human she saved if she couldn’t get farther than the beach.

“Can I just… Can I go to my room? I want to be alone right now.” Alix mumbled.

“You may, just no thinking about humans.” Alim said as he watched Alix swim away to her room in the cave.

Alix laid down on her bed and thought about the day’s events. She didn’t really get to know the human, but she was still curious about her. Maybe she could try and see if the human was exploring the ocean tomorrow and possibly see her again. But what if that was too much? What if it was a trap? Alix really needed to talk to someone about this the next day.

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Chloe walked back to her place, still thinking about her broken surfboard and what could have saved her. She was really worried about how she would explain what happened to her family. They were already nervous about her hobby as a surfing influencer on social media, so finding out their daughter hit a rock and almost bled out at sea and then came back with a bite taken out of her surfboard would cause them to freak out and make sure she couldn’t even go for a dip in the kiddie pool at the resort they owned. Granted, Chloe’s parents always seemed to be busy with something these days, with her mother designing clothes in Paris like a bikini with glitter and her father running one of the most expensive beach resorts in Saint-Tropez, but Chloe was sure at least one of them would show concern for her safety.

Chloe snuck back into her room where her sister Zoe was hanging out. “Hey, you’re back late. What happened?” She asked, making Chloe sigh.

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad, but I kind of had a little wipeout.” Chloe showed Zoe the seaweed wrapping around her wetsuit.

Zoe gasped in horror. “Oh my God, are you okay?” She pressed her hand against the seaweed-covered area, causing Chloe to wince a little.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. It was only a little bleeding, and it’s mostly stopped.” Chloe replied while unwrapping the seaweed, exposing a minor laceration against her side that thankfully wasn’t too deep and could easily be treated at home. She grumbled a little at seeing a tear in one of her favorite wetsuits.

“You need to let me treat that.” Zoe helped Chloe out of her wetsuit, ignoring her sister’s protests. There were times where it seemed like Zoe was more of a parent to Chloe despite them both being around the same age. She took Chloe to the private bathroom in their room and sat her down on the toilet before taking out a first aid kit.

Zoe got out a washcloth and ran it under some cold water. “So how did it happen this time?” She asked while Chloe let her sister clean the area around the wound.

“It’s hard to say. I remember scratching myself on a rock and bleeding a little bit, but then...”

“Then what?” Zoe asked, taking out some antiseptic cream to apply to the cut.

Chloe was at a loss for words for describing what happened next. “You’d think it’s weird.”

“Says the girl whose wound I’m currently cleaning while she sits on the toilet wearing nothing but a bikini.” Zoe retorted with an argument that Chloe didn’t really have a rebuttal towards.

Chloe figured she should just come out and say it, no matter how weird it sounded. “I think I was saved by a mermaid.” She blurted out.

Zoe stared at Chloe like she had a colony of bees in her hair. “A mermaid? Seriously?"

“That's what I saw!” Chloe protested. “I think she helped me get back to the shore and then I saw her jumping back into the water.”

Zoe scoffed in response as she took out the gauze and some bandages. “Oh, okay then. What kind of mermaid was it? Are we talking Ariel mermaid, Ponyo mermaid, or H2O: Just Add Water mermaid?” She asked sarcastically.

“Actually, I think she was a shark mermaid or something like that.” Chloe said, recalling the features of her mysterious savior.

“You were saved… by a shark mermaid?” Zoe asked incredulously.

“I don’t know! I want to learn more about her!” Chloe raised her arms for Zoe to apply the gauze to her wound and bandage it up. “Come on, don’t you want to at least see if this is real and not something I hallucinated?”

Zoe sighed. “Chloe, maybe take a day or two to rest before going back into the ocean again.” She started to put away the first aid kid. “Either that, or ask someone about mermaids or something like that.”

Chloe got up and changed into something comfortable for the night, thinking about maybe talking to a friend of hers tomorrow

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“YOU SAW A HUMAN?!”

“Shh! I don’t want the entire ocean to know!” Alix hissed to shut up Alya.

“Then why are you telling us in the first place? This is huge!” Alya couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“And you saved her just like a prince saving a princess. It’s so romantic!” Rose chimed in with the same cheery view of everything she heard about.

“I didn’t mean it like that! She needed help, so I helped her.” Alix retorted. “I mean yeah, I guess she was kinda pretty, but that’s not the point here! I want some advice on how to approach this.”

“I mean, if you want to see her again, why not just drag her underwater?” Juleka asked bluntly.

“Juleka, she can’t breathe underwater!” Alix snapped.

“Why don’t you ask Master Fu? Maybe he knows.” Mylene suggested. “What does he know about humans, Marinette?” She asked her friend who was currently working as a healing apprentice for Master Fu.

“Uh, he hasn’t really told me much.” Marinette replied, making Alix sigh.

“And my family isn’t much help either.” She said as she ran her hands through her head in frustration. “I really don’t know what to do here! I really want to learn more about this human. I want to know more about the human world in general and their awful-tasting fish.” The others looked at Alix in confusion after they heard that last bit.

“Okay, here’s an idea: Swim up to the shore and then see if the human comes back or not. If she actually saw you, she’ll obviously want to investigate like you do.” Marinette suggested.

Alix thought about what Marinette said for a moment. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe she’s looking for me right now!” And with that, Alix dashed off, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake as her friends tried to get her to stop.

Alix remembered where she went to the surface yesterday and swam to a small rock formation where she surfaced and looked up to see if the same human saw her, making sure to conceal her shark half just in case.

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“You saw a mermaid?”

“Yeah, I get it’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Can you just hear me out?” Chloe asked Sabrina, fully aware of how weird her question was.

“You know when I signed up to be a lifeguard, I wasn’t trained to look for mermaids.” Sabrina said as she got out of her lifeguard’s chair and switched out with another lifeguard so she could talk to Chloe more while the two walked down the beach.

“Well what about sharks? I think the mermaid was part shark.”

Sabrina sighed. “You of all people should know shark sightings are rare here, and even then, they rarely attack humans unless they’re confused.”

“Well I think this shark is different.” Chloe said, fully aware of how weird her statement was.

“I guess I’ll tell the other lifeguards to watch out for any shark people.” Sabrina said before leaving.

Chloe sighed. She knew this was a ridiculous story nobody would believe. She was going to walk back, but then she saw a flash of pink hair by the rocks. Chloe carefully walked across some of the rocks that weren’t submerged in the water until she was face to face with the pink haired girl, who was looking nervously at her.

“Uh… hi. Do you remember me?” The girl asked nervously, giving a toothy grin with her sharp teeth.

“I… I think I do. This is kind of a strange question, but are you a...” Chloe was going to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her and looked over the rocks and saw a shark fin on the girl’s back. “Nevermind.”

Chloe was now 100% sure she was saved by a mermaid yesterday, and was now face to face with the same mermaid again.

[pengychan]

[Batman: TAS] Clockwork, Pt. 1

Summary: To say the Clock King was pleased to see Hamilton Hill lose his bid for re-election would be an understatement - but suddenly nothing in Gotham is on time anymore, and he has to choose the lesser evil. Characters: Temple Fugate, Hamilton Hill  Rating: K    

A/N: Happy birthday, @vampirenaomi​! If you wondered about my radio silence these days, this was why. I was hoping to get the entire thing done by today, but I couldn’t make it. Will do my best to get the second and final part done by Christmas! (Also, little heads-up for everyone: the plot bunny for this thing actually hit me a long time ago and I promise the election fraud plotline in it has nothing to do with the insanity currently going on in the States.)

***

“Freeze!”

The order comes a quarter of a second after the first cop reaches the roof, predictable as the stroke of midday that will follow in precisely twenty-five seconds. The Clock King estimates it will take him exactly another fifteen seconds to reach the ledge, at which point he will have ten more to turn and throw in a mocking comment before his ride arrives. 

Excellent. His plan has been running as smoothly as sand in an hourglass.

“I said freeze!”

Temple Fugate entirely ignores the order and keeps walking to the ledge, pocketing his watch and twirling his cane in his free hand. It is an unspoken rule in Gotham, it seems, to do anything but freeze whenever you’re told to. It only occasionally works - not in a pattern he’s been able to reliably discern, to his annoyance - when it’s Batman to give the order. Or, well, Mr. Freeze, for reasons that should be quite obvious.

An interesting fellow, that one. Intellectually gifted - he wouldn’t mind conversing with, provided that he leaves his freezing gun at the door. Fugate generally pays little mind to his colleagues, even less after having to endure the indignity of being referred to as the White Rabbit by Mr. Tetch - a comparison that he found nothing short of insulting, because he is never late. Not anymore.

Not since the one time he was late and lost everything. But he’s getting it back, one timepiece at a time. The one he just took back from the museum is a priceless one, which he acquired by sheer luck only months before he was forced to sell every single piece he ever collected to pay--

“Stay where you are!”

The Clock King reaches the ledge, turns, and gives the three cops walking towards him with their guns drawn a tip of his hat. He might have thrown an explosive watch or two at them, of course he came prepared, but they are still far away enough he knows he needs not bother. Even if they decided to sprint now, they would never get to him on time. 

“Apologies, gentlemen, but I must decline your invite to stay. I have a lot of lost time to make up for,” he declares, and lets himself fall back exactly at the strike of midday. He straightens himself in mid-air, knees bent to prepare for landing on the roof of the eleven-fifty-eight train downtown going through the elevated tracks right no--

Except that there is no train beneath him. Fugate falls past the exact point where a train should be and is thrown entirely off balance. By the time he does connect with something, it’s with his left shoulder first.

“Aagh!”

He cries out, more in outrage than actual pain - though there is pain, train tracks are extremely unpleasant to pull upon from a height - and sits up, dazed, trying to make sense of that nonsense. He looks around, ascertain that there is, indeed, no train in sight. What… what just happened? The eleven-fifty-eight train is always, always precisely two minutes late. 

Where is it now? It can’t have been on time, he would have heard it rushing past. Is it even more late than usual? Has it broken down? Has the schedule changed? This is an outrage - is nothing in this world reliable anymore?

“Hey! Are you all right, uh… sir?”

Fugate looks up, and sees the three cops looking down at him from the roof of the museum. “It’s Clock King to you,” he snaps, though without much venom. That is… a rather civil enquiry, and he sees no reason not to be equally civil. “I have had softer landings, but I’ll live,” he mutters, standing up and rubbing his battered shoulder. The one talking, the big one, looks relieved. 

“Good! Listen, uh, Mr…”

“Clock King! It’s not that complicated!”

“Right, right. Mr. Clock King, don’t go anywhere - we’ll get you help.”

Of course, on account of not having been born yesterday - his birth took place fifty-seven years, ninety-two days and approximately seven hours ago - Fugate has no intention to wait there until they get help. “Ah, I believe I have to decline your offer, unfortunately, and be on my wa--”

“No, look - things are never so bad. Don’t do this. You’re in a dark place, but it won’t last.”

He pauses, taken aback. Their tactics to get fugitives to surrender certainly seemed to have changed since last time. “... Come again?”

“Get off the tracks, there is no reason to do anything drastic. I am sure we can help - professionals can help.”

The cop standing right next to him - the third is surely coming down the building heading his way - nods in agreement. “It’s going to get better, okay? It will be all right.”

… Wait. Wait a moment. 

Fugate sputters a moment, face ablaze as incredulity and outrage threaten to choke him. “Is this-- are you-- is this some kind of suicide prevention talk?” he yells, pointing up accusingly with his cane. “What in the world makes you think it is the appropriate response now?”

The two of them blink a moment, then exchange a glance before looking back down at him. “... You just jumped off a roof on the train tracks.”

“I am aware! But the eleven fifty-eight train is always exactly two minutes late! Is should have been--”

His words are covered by a warning cry from one of the cops first, then vibrations on the tracks, and finally by a dreadful, loud horn. 

Ah. There it is.

Right after turning to see the eleven fifty-eight train rushing towards him, Temple Fugate has enough time to make two calculations: the first is that it’s five minutes late, which is entirely unacceptable. The second is that he has approximately nine seconds to get off the tracks before he’s turned into something resembling strawberry jam, which is highly concerning.

He doesn’t quite manage to estimate precisely by how many seconds he manages to avoid that fate, but later on he decides that is probably for the best. 

***

Hamilton Hill, former Mayor of Gotham City, is rather enjoying his retirement. 

Well. Perhaps losing re-election for Mayor and spending most of his time in his mansion to lick his wounds is not precisely what most people would consider a vacation, but saying he is ‘taking some time to spend with his family’ got most attention off his back for now. 

There is the fact he’s been divorced fifteen years and Jordan is off to college, so the house is empty aside for himself and some domestic staff, but that isn’t something the general public needs to know. He needs some time, is all, to recover from a loss that was unexpected as it was painful, and then to figure out where he’s going from here. 

Back to practicing law, probably. He enjoyed that. Maybe returning to the courtroom having to worry only about the fate of the person he represente and not the entire city will do him good. Gotham is far from an easy city to serve as Mayor, so much so that some of his closest friends delicately suggested he belonged in Arkham for just wanting the job. And maybe they were not too far off, Hill muses. Maybe losing the election was a blessing in disguise. 

… Maybe he needs another glass of port.

He is pouring himself said glass when the glass door leading to the balcony opens, letting in a gust of cold wind. That could mean a number of things in Gotham: that the latch of the window was not closed properly, that a criminal is breaking in, that Batman is breaking in. 

All three things have happened remarkably often in the past decade or so, and Hill simply got used to visits from a masked vigilante, or the occasional kidnapping scheme that would later be foiled by said masked vigilante, so he’s not overly worried. But perhaps, as he no longer is the Mayor, this is simply a matter of closing the glass door properly and--

“Hill,” a voice proclaims. 

Well. It was not the latch.

Hamilton Hill makes the decision to gulp down half the glass before he turns. “Mr. Fugate,” he greets politely, before his eyes even rest on the figure standing rigidly on the balcony. He recognized his voice quite well, of course. When someone tries to squish you between the hands of a giant clock, you do tend to remember what they sound like. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Temple Fugate lets out a noise of mild disgust. “I highly doubt you’re any more pleased to see me than I am to see you,” he informs him, stepping inside. “But as the situation in Gotham City is most dire--”

Hill downs the rest of the glass. Fugate trails off, then reaches into his pocket to pull out - of course - a watch. He stares at it for a moment before he looks back up at Hill, at the glass in his hand, at the liquor cabinet he’s standing at. “It’s eleven thirty-two in the morning,” he finally informs him.

“So it is.”

“Not even noon yet.”

“And…?”

“Don’t and me, Hill! Isn’t it-- far too early to be drinking whatever it is you’re drinking?”

Ah, Gotham truly was like no other city, was it? The only place where a man who kidnapped and tried to kill you can later show up to lecture over socially acceptable times for alcohol consumption, without any self-awareness whatsoever. Hill supposes Fugate truly is a man born in the wrong time: he would have been right at home during prohibition. He considers voicing that thought, but in the end he shrugs. 

“I’m only having a glass. I’m not drinking myself into a stupor.”

“Your demeanour suggests otherwise.” Fugate frowns, or at least it looks like he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell, with those glasses, but he seems mildly offended. “A reasonable reaction upon seeing me would be fear,” he adds, pointing towards him with that curious cane of his, part sword and part clock hand. “Possibly a scream, if not too drawn out or grating, followed by an attempt at running for your life.”

Ah, here comes the lecture in proper hostage etiquette. “Let me reassure you, it is not down to alcohol,” Hill informs him, putting down the empty glass. Honest to God, he would be more worried if he found himself facing a run-of-the-mill goon with a gun; people like that are more likely to simply shoot you dead. But those like the Clock King, or the Joker or whoever was out in the streets that week? They would come up with an elaborate scheme that gave Batman plenty of time to intervene.

Maybe the best course of action would be to stall for more time, until Batman does intervene. 

“Don’t take it personally, Fugate, but I have been Mayor of Gotham for too long not to get used to some things,” Hill adds. “No Tuesday is complete without at least an attempt at kidnapping me.”

The frown turns into something closer to disgust. “It’s Monday, Hill. have you truly lost all sense of time?”

“Happens when you’re on holiday, I suppose. I am no longer Mayor of Gotham City.”

“I am aware. About that--”

“I am a private citizen with a lot of time on my hands.”

“Not for long!” Fugate snaps, stepping forward with the cane pointed at Hill’s chest. Ah, yes, there come the death threats and-- “You must return into office!”

… Wait. What? Hill blinks, and moves the cane aside with one arm to look at the Clock King’s face more closely. “... Come again?”

“Are you deaf? I am here to make sure you take back your office.”

Who are you, Hill thinks, and what have you done to Fugate?

“Are you well?” he finds himself asking instead, and Fugate groans, throwing up his arms. The cane very nearly knocks a very expensive lamp right off the nearest table. 

“Of course I’m not! Two months with a new Mayor, and this entire city is in shambles, Hill!”

That’s not exactly what Hill expected to hear. He has been told that his replacement made a few… questionable choices, appointing questionable people in delicate roles, and there have been some complaints - but no account he’s heard so far made the situation sound quite that dire. Not that he doesn’t get some vindication over being told that the man who ousted him is making a dreadful mess of things. 

“Is it now?”

“Of course it is!” Temple Fugate paces back and forth, features twisted in what’s nothing short of anguish. “Nothing - and I do mean, nothing - is on time anymore! The trains, the buses, everything is all over the place!”

“Yes, I did hear that the public transport office had an overhaul--”

“Not that your administration was ever able to make things run on time,” Fugate cuts him off, clearly not inclined to hear a single word from him at the moment. “But most things were reliably late. There was a schedule, there was a pattern! Now there’s nothing but chaos! How am I meant to carry on in such a world?”

Hill opens his mouth to suggest he loosens up, remembers what happened last time he advised him as much, and chooses not to. “Surely, it is not quite that bad--”

“Yesterday there was the inauguration of a new mall. It was meant to be at midday - the ribbon was cut almost sixteen minutes late, Hill! What sort of administration is sixteen minutes late?”

"Yes, that is, er. Absolutely unacceptable,” Hill says. He knows better than dismissing it as something minor, considering that it’s distressing Fugate enough to make him turn to the man he probably despises the most in the entire world. “However, there isn’t much I can do--”

“Once you’re the Mayor again, you can put things in order,” Template declares, pointing at his chest with his cane again. “And everything will be just as it was before. Until I exact my revenge on you, that is. Which will be--” he pauses, and a look of discomfort crosses his features at the realization he doesn’t have a set time for that. “... Soon,” he finishes, not very threateningly. 

Hill frowns, pushing the razor-sharp tip of the cane away from his rather expensive shirt and, rather more importantly, the general vicinity of vital organs. “Fugate, as much as I’d like to help you - possibly with better results than last time I attempted to - there is nothing I can do. I lost my bid for re-election. I cannot just waltz in my old office and declare--”

“You can,” Fugate cuts him off once more.

“Yes, I suppose I could, only to be arrested before--”

“This election was rigged.”

Hill trails off, his brain grinding to a halt. “... Come again?” he hears himself muttering, searching Fugate’s face for any sign that he may be joking despite his strong suspicion that Fugate is simply incapable of uttering a joke. All he gets is an annoyed hum.

“Get your hearing checked,” the Clock King mutters irritably. “Surely you must have suspected it.”

He didn’t, not really. The race was rather close from the start, his opponent a new face who made plenty of promises Hill already knew he would be unable to keep but which, apparently, many couldn’t resist; alluring lies often hold more sway than less glamorous truths. He’d thought he would win, sure enough, but that it would be narrow. So his defeat by a rather small margin had been… a surprise, sure enough, but not something he’d thought beyond the realms of possibility.

“I… not really.”

“Hmph.” Fugate scoffs, and sits on the nearest armchair. He may very well be sitting on a stool, because he doesn’t lean back: he remains upright, back rigid, both hands on the handle of his cane. “Unexpectedly gullible for someone sly enough to engineer my demise.”

Oh, for God’s sake. “I engineered nothing. I only suggested you took your coffee break fifteen minutes later than usual because you were so tense--”

“The plaintiffs were represented by your law firm! Am I supposed that your advice making me late for the court date was a coincidence, Hill?”

“Yes, because it was! I had nothing to do with that case, I knew nothing about it - it was only some advice in a conversation you started in the first place.”

The last statement seems to hit a nerve, and there is something on Fugate’s face, a twitch that passes immediately but doesn’t go unnoticed. After all, Hamilton Hill built his career on being able to take note of every telling twitch and expression shown by witnesses and defendants. “... You have thought of that, haven’t you? That it was yourself to start talking that morning, not myself. There was no plan nor conspiracy. You were not targeted. It was a terrible coincidence-”

Fugate’s hands clench on the handle of his cane, so tight the knuckles go white. His jaw clenches before he speaks, words cold and clipped. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“It all happened by chance. Out of your control. Accidents happen whether or not we believe--”

“Silence!” Fugate snaps, tapping his cane on the hardwood floor and likely leaving a hole in it. ���I will get you back for it, mark my words, but this is not the reason why I’m here. And you have already wasted--” a pause to check his pocket watch. “Fifteen minutes of my time. Now, do you want to hear what I know, or not?”

Hill sighs, and sits on the armchair across him. “How do you know the election was rigged?”

“I crunched the numbers. Something is not adding up.”

“My entire campaign team crunched the numbers--”

“People who were not me,” Fugate cuts him off, a sharp edge to his voice. “And who forgot to keep an eye on the time.”

Ah, of course. Of course it was going to boil down to time.

Hamilton Hill can feel the beginning of a violent headache starting to build up behind his eyes.  “All right, I’ll hear you out.”

“You’d better.”

The headache immediately spikes a notch. Hill glances back at the liquor cabinet, thinking he could use another glass of port. “Can I offer--”

“I do not drink. Certainly not before noon.” Fugate’s voice sure is full of judgment for someone who goes around with glasses looking like the face of a clock, stealing timepieces from auction houses and museums and throwing around explosive pocket watches.

“... Right. Coffee?”

“I have my coffee at three in the afternoon. On the dot,” is the stiff reply. “As you very well know.”

Hill almost considers asking why not three-fifteen, then his gaze falls on the razor-sharp tip of the Clock King’s cane and he decides against it. 

“... Very well,” he finally says, leaning back on his armchair. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

*** 

The key, as it’s the case with most things in life, was in the timing.

It was something easily overlooked by most people who poured over the election result, exit polls and whatnot, but Fugate found the answer by painstakingly looking through the transcript of all votes registered by the brand new voting machines, which allowed one to give their vote at the press of a button. There were no names, nor details to match individual voters to any vote, but he found something better.

On each of them, he found timestamps.

One of the tenets of Temple Fugate’s existence is that everything has a chronological order. Everything has a discernible pattern. And where order and pattern are disrupted, it can only mean one thing: human intervention. Bumbling, chaotic, life-ruining human intervention, like sand in the cogs or a too-jovial councillor suggesting a break fifteen minutes later. Fugate has seen human intervention at work more times than he’d have liked.

But until he began looking into this, he had never seen anything quite like it.

“So something is wrong with the… timestamps?”

Unsurprisingly, former Mayor Hamilton Hill is having trouble keeping up with his explanation. “Yes. In the districts of Gotham where you were expected to perform better, the pattern was disrupted.” Fugate pulls out his notes from the breast pocket of his jacket and hands them to Hill, who opens the folded pieces of paper to take a long look. “Your team poured over nonsense like age, or gender, or race and class--”

“It isn’t nonsense, it helps predict--”

“But none of them,” Fugate speaks a little louder, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to spew, “looked at the time in which each vote was cast. One after another, polling stations in each of those districts had precisely a two-hour window during which not one vote was cast in your favor.”

Hill blinks down at his notes, adjusting his glasses as though to see better. “What? Not one?”

“Not a single one, you can check the timestamps yourself. Just read - the pattern is clear.”

He sees it, Fugate can tell from the way his eyes widen. He may be dense, but not so dense that he couldn’t see the pattern now that it had been pointed out to him. He stands and begins pacing back and forth, eyes glued to Fugate’s notes. 

“I think, these polling places-- I would need to look at a map to be certain, but--”

Well, he has picked that up on his own. If not stubbornly determined not to be impressed by anything this man does or say ever, Fugate could say he is impressed.

“No need. I already did, and saw what you are seeing now. This happened in polling stations close to each other. There was the first one downtown, then another a short distance away, then another a short distance away from that one… and so forth.  It, whatever it was, moved across the city with brief pauses consistent with the time it would take to drive from one polling station to the next. This kept up for the entire two days the polls were open,” Fugate adds with no small amount of disapproval. 

He sees no reason why the citizens of Gotham would need more than one day to pick their Mayor, but apparently the change was brought forward upon suggestion of Bruce Wayne, along with the decision to hold the vote over a weekend. Something about allowing more time to vote to people working long hours. How typical, catering to people who cannot be on time by giving them more time.

Unaware of his musings, Hill is still staring at the notes, then at him, then back at the notes. “I… how can it be?”

“Is it possible someone was able to sabotage the voting machines?”

Hill frowns, ceasing his pacing, and finally shakes his head. “I don’t believe so. Those machines were inspected before and after, and are not connected to any other device. They store all votes within their own memory and at the end of the day, the data is saved on an external device. There are witnesses for all candidates each time, to ensure everything is transparent.”

“Yes, that is what I suspected.” Fugate frowns, rubbing his chin. “I have looked for a link between your Mayor Sanderson and the company that manufactured the machines, but found none. Well then. This only leaves one option.”

Hill blinks, trying to think what he may mean and drawing a blank. “What option?”

“If the devices and therefore the votes were not manipulated, then the voters were. At least to a more extreme degree than they usually are during your campaigns.”

Hill gives him a look that somehow manages to be insulted, stunned, and confused at the same time. “I beg your pardon?”

“You may not have my pardon, Hill, but I will repeat myself,” is the dry reply. “You must agree this very clear pattern must have been the result of an external intervention. If the machines could not be compromised, then the people in the voting booths were.”

Hill stares. Opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. Stares some more. 

“... Not that I don’t appreciate you keeping silent for once, but as I cannot read your mind--”

“Is this-- what are you exactly suggesting, Fugate? Some sort of mass bribery?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Word could have got out immediately if such an attempt had taken place. I said the voters were manipulated, not bribed - were you not listening?”

A scoff. “Manipulated with what? Hypnosis?”

“You say that like no such thing occurred in Gotham before.”

For the second time in less than a minute - Fugate probably knows exactly how many seconds - Hill finds himself opening his mouth to speak and then closing it without uttering a single word. He is right, something remarkably similar did happen from time to time in Gotham, usually the work of… of…

“Now, I cannot imagine Mr. Tetch has any stake in this, but the man is not above selling his machinery for money. It is a possibility worth exploring, don’t you think?” Fugate says.

Tetch isn’t above giving people wildly unfitting and unrequired nicknames either - White Rabbit, the notorious latecomer, what an insult that has been - but that is beside the point at the moment, and Fugate doesn’t bring up that particular grievance. 

“I… yes, I suppose it is,” Hill is muttering, looking at his notes over and over as though he thinks anything has changed while he wasn’t looking. “I should call the police, perhaps Commissioner Gordon--”

“Forget the police, they’re busy giving misguided anti-suicide speeches these days. Perhaps once you’re the Mayor again, you can see they are hired in Arkham.” Fugate stands, adjusting his tie. “I know exactly where to go to gain some intel.”

“... Right. I’ll get my coat.”

Fugate blinks. “... I beg your pardon?”

“It’s cold outside. I am not sure how you manage to stroll around with only a suit on, but--”

“Whatever gave you the idea that you are coming?”

“Why else would you show you up here to tell me all this?”

“To let you know what an imbecile you are for letting someone steal an election from you. Put that coat down-- Hill!” Fugate barks, but it’s too late: the coat is on and Hill is buttoning it up, looking back at him. Good God, he misses the days Hamilton Hill feared him. 

“I am not about to leave you a choice, Fugate,” he says, much too flippantly for the Clock King’s taste. “This is personal. I am certain you of all people understand.”

“That’s not-- well--” Fugate is taken aback, fumbles for words. It is only a couple of instant, but it is enough for Hill to get coy. 

“Good to see we reached an understanding. Are we going, or are you inclined to waste more time, mmh?”

The remark makes Fugate want to smack him with his cane, or better yet skewer him with it, but that would be rather counterproductive as a dead man cannot be elected Mayor and he needs Hill alive for… a little while longer. Just enough to fix the utter mess his successor has made of things. A sixteen minute delay on an inauguration, for God’s sake. How is anyone meant to live in such chaos?

The thought of ending that particular brand of chaos is what eventually stills Fugate’s hand. He takes in a deep breath, relaxing his grip on the cane. “... Very well. But you will do exactly as I say. No speaking, no initiatives. And if you’re going to take any advice from me, put your hat on and lose the glasses,” he adds, turning back towards the window. “The place we’re heading to is both rather cold and not someplace you’d want to be recognized if you wish to avoid a potential scandal.”

“Fugate?” Hill calls out, causing him to stop walking and look at him over his shoulder. Chickening out already, is he? He almost smirks, waiting to hear excuses as to why he has just realized he really cannot come with hi--

“You do realize we can get out through the door, right?” Hill says instead, pointing at the door behind himself with his thumb. Something about his raised eyebrow makes Fugate scowl.

“Well, it is not often I get the luxury to go through main doors, since you made me a wanted fugitive,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

“I thought I made you late.”

“It is the same thing!” the Clock King snaps, and stomps out of the room, using the window out of sheer spite.

[cuthian]

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure Chapter Five

Thanks for the love, guys!

Here's the next chapter. I have no idea when more is going to be up. I'll try to be fast though!

Love

Annaelle

PS Love to the peeps on the JatP Discord server for telling me let Luke use pet names on Reggie ;) You know who you are.

FIVE

“Wherever a Beautiful Soul Has Been There Is a Trail of Beautiful Memories…”

—Ronald Raegan

ALEX

He followed Willie to the museum again, hands pushed deep into his pockets.

“You know,” he said as Willie walked straight through the closed doors and into the empty museum. “I’m really starting to think you have a thing for breaking rules, Willie.”

Willie grinned at him over his shoulder, bright and handsome and shit Alex was so gay.

“You,” Willie said teasingly, turning to poke Alex in the chest, “love it.” And Alex… Yeah, Alex couldn’t really deny that. His crush had been obvious from day one, and the only thing that had made him feel better about it was that he’d been pretty sure it was reciprocated.

Then, of course, there had been the whole mess with Caleb, and much as he wished he’d just grabbed Willie and kissed him then and there, he hadn’t and now here they were—

Still very much interested in one another, but still not quite together.

It was kind of embarrassing at this point. Even Luke and Reggie had gotten their heads out of their asses and told each other they were in love with each other.

Alex really should be able to tell Willie the same—especially considering they had all but done so already. There really wasn’t another way to interpret the long, intense gazes and the hugging and the ‘I’d do anything for you’ or the ‘I’d have followed you anyway’.

“Maybe a little,” he told Willie with a grin, and the other ghost laughed delightedly, hitting him on the shoulder lightly before jumping on his skateboard and rushing off into his usual parkour of the museum while Alex went to find the bench they always ended up on so he could watch. Willie looked free as he skated, wild and untamed and delighted, laughing as he went and watching him made Alex’s chest clench—in the best way.

“You’re looking wired again,” Willie told him when he’d jumped the bench and came to a stop in front of Alex, tossing his helmet and grinning at him.

Alex sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s—remember Reggie’s sister?” When Willie nodded, Alex explained everything that had happened on Saturday, and the fallout—Reggie barely making it back to the studio before he broke down in tears and spent the entire night crying in his and Luke’s arms, Julie’s anxiety about their future only adding to his own, Luke being so focused on trying to make Reggie smile that he complete forgot about everything else…

“Shit man,” Willie shook his head. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled wryly. “Yeah, it does.”

“Come on,” Willie said suddenly, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to Alex. “I think you need to yell again, and no better place,” he swept his arms wide in a dramatic gesture that made Alex smile despite himself, “than an empty museum.”

“Willie,” Alex sighed, but he let himself be tugged to his feet anyway.

“Come on, hot dog,” Willie coaxed, grinning widely at him. “You remember how this goes.”

Before Alex could say anything, Willie threw himself into a loud, piercing yell, just like he had the first time they’d done this, and Alex couldn’t help but smile at this beautiful weirdo before he yelled too. The first scream that he forced from his lungs was short and explosive, and Willie grinned encouragingly at him, grabbing fistfuls of Alex’s sweater before he screamed again, louder and longer and Alex couldn’t help but join, screaming his frustration about being unable to help Reggie, about the uncertainty they lived with now that Caleb had reluctantly agreed to a temporary truce and now that Maggie knew about them but hadn’t contacted them at all, about how he wished he was brave enough to just kiss Willie already—

He fell silent with a gasp, panting, and Willie smirked at him, fists still clenched in Alex’s sweater, and suddenly Alex was so tired of overthinking. He nearly lunged forward and curled his fingers around the back of Willie’s neck, tangling them in the other boy’s long hair, smashing their lips together in a messy, breathless kiss.

It lasted less than five seconds, and really, Alex barely had the chance to relish in the feel of Willie’s soft lips on his before the latter pulled away, his eyes wide and startled—and damn it.

“I thought,” Alex stammered, cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush, “I thought you wanted—”

“Yeah,” Willie nodded shakily. “Yeah, no, I do.” He swallowed thickly, and his eyes fell to Alex’s lips before he said, “Kiss me again, hot dog.” He smirked and added, “Promise I’ll kiss back this time.”

Alex grinned, feeling delighted and lightheaded and exited, and did as Willie asked.

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

LUKE

Luke sat sideways on the couch in the studio, back pressed to the armrest, Reggie curled up against him, pressed into his arms, his nose tucked against Luke’s neck, breathing soft and quiet. It’d been the first time in three days that Luke had been able to get him to sit still long enough to fall asleep, and he wasn’t going to wake him up now.

They didn’t need sleep anymore, not really, but they weren’t invulnerable to exhaustion.

Once Alex had returned to them after he’d talked to Maggie, after he’d relayed everything that had been said, Reggie had broken down into anxious, angry, frustrated, sad tears and had spent most of the night crying in Luke and Alex’s arms.

He’d spent the next two days in a morose, melancholy mood, bundled into the corner of the couch in the studio, barely responding to anyone, even to Luke, and he’d started pacing yesterday.

It’d taken Luke hours to convince Reggie to stop rambling, to stop blaming himself for everything, to let Luke take care of him for a little bit, and even longer to coax him back to the couch. Julie and Alex and even Flynn had flitted in and out of the studio, but for the most part, they’d left him and Reggie alone. Luke was pretty grateful for it—he didn’t think Reggie could stand being around anyone else right now, except maybe Alex.

He stroked his fingers through Reggie’s messy hair, relaxing back into the pillows a little.

The consequence of Reggie having been awake for this long was that Luke had been too, and he was feeling the strain of being up and aware that long too.

He rested his head back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, with its weird, floating chairs. He understood all too well why Reggie had taken Maggie walking out on them so hard—it’d been… it’d been hard enough acknowledging that they were dead to themselves. None of them had really allowed themselves to think about what being dead actually meant to the people they’d loved.

Luke had tried, with his parents, had opened himself up to that grief because he couldn’t not—

But the other boys… Reggie and his father had parted on terrible terms, and in the last six months before they’d died, Luke and Reggie had both spent every night either in the studio or with Alex. Luke had known, back then, that not being there to protect Maggie from their parents’ temper had broken Reggie’s heart, and seeing her now must’ve brought all those feelings back to the surface.

It worried him more than he could say, and he knew Alex felt that way too.

Luke knew that Julie was worried too, of course, but more in the sense that she didn’t want Maggie to ruin any career she might be able to build in the future before it’d even begun. Alex had promised them all that Maggie had mostly seemed to believe him by the time they’d finished speaking, and that she hadn’t even seemed so very angry anymore, but asking someone to believe that the ghost of their brother that had died twenty-five years previously was suddenly back was a big ask.

Luke hated how it was affecting Reggie.

When they’d been alive and Reggie had sunk into moods like these, Luke and Alex had been able to coax him out of them with their music, with laughter and jokes and group hugs that lasted far too long to be casual—which made sense now, knowing that they’d all, at some point, been involved with each other—but nothing had seemed to help this time until Luke had bodily dragged him over to the couch.

He rolled his head to the side when he heard a gentle plop and found Alex standing in the middle of the studio sporting the stupidest grin he’d ever seen on the other boy. “Well, don’t you look happy,” he said teasingly but quietly, continuing to run his fingers through Reggie’s hair soothingly.

Alex rolled his eyes before settling on the chair beside the couch. “I had a good time with Willie,” he admitted, blushing just a little. “He says hi, by the way.”

Luke grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Alex. “Sure he did. Elaborately? With ton—”

“Okay,” Alex cut him off, waving his hand impatiently, but he was still blushing and Luke had known him long enough to know he hadn’t been that far off the mark. “How’s he doing?” Alex asked then, nodding towards Reggie.

“He’s sleeping,” Luke sighed, looking down at the boy that was, by now, snoring quietly against his chest. “Which is better than the relentless pacing.”

“True,” Alex nodded, as if he wasn’t an eternal pacer himself, slumping down in his chair a little. “Has Julie heard anything from Maggie yet?”

Luke shook his head. “Not that she’s told me.”

Alex heaved a sigh and slumped further, putting his feet up on the table and flashing his drumsticks into his hand to have something to fiddle with. “He’s not gonna be able to stay away much longer,” he said quietly, glancing towards Reggie, who was drooling on Luke’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed quietly, dragging his fingers through Reggie’s hair again. “I know. I’m hoping we’ll hear something before then though. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with Ray.”

Alex winced, and yeah… that had been a bit of a mess.

The day after Julie had freed them of Caleb’s stamp, Reggie had popped into the house for his usual routine of chattering at Ray while the man made breakfast. Except, this time, when Reggie had appeared in the kitchen, Ray had dropped the bowl with pancake batter to the floor and stared straight at Reggie, looking quite like… well, like he’d seen a ghost.

It’d been how they figured out other people could see them after Julie had hugged them.

They also learned, over the course of a very long morning, where Julie called in sick to school and they spent hours explaining everything that’d happened to Ray, that it was temporary. That they needed to touch Julie again—another hug or something as fleeting as bumping shoulders—and they’d become corporeal and visible again.

Before Alex could say anything, the door to the studio pushed open and Julie came in, chewing on her lower lip nervously. “Oh, good,” she said, sounding relieved. “You’re all here.” She glanced towards Reggie, who still hadn’t moved, and said, “Shit. Okay. Luke,” she looked up at Luke and said, “You need to wake him up.”

“Jules, he was so tired,” Luke sighed. “If it’s not necessary—”

“It is,” Julie insisted, and then the door behind her opened further and Maggie walked in, holding hands with a tall, dark skinned woman, a baby strapped to Maggie’s chest. Luke’s mouth fell open, and when he glanced towards Alex, he saw the drummer was similarly stumped.

“Right,” Luke breathed. “Okay.”

“Are they in here?” Maggie asked, and her voice trembled just a little.

“Yeah,” Julie nodded. “Yes, sorry, they’re just.. Reggie’s asleep, they’re waking him up.”

Luke glanced up towards Maggie, towards her little family and smiled, a little bittersweet, before bending forward and running his fingers through Reggie’s hair a little more insistently. “Reg,” he said softly, shaking the other boy gently. “Wake up, baby.”

Reggie groaned wordlessly and pressed back into Luke’s touch, stretching lazily.

Luke smiled despite himself, pressing a kiss to the top of Reggie’s head. “You gotta wake up, baby.”

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

REGGIE

Reggie blinked the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing his cheek against Luke’s chest for a second longer before what Luke had said registered and he froze. “Did… did you call me baby?”

Luke smiled at him, that slow, sweet, intense smile that made several of Reggie’s potentially vital internal organs go all warm and mushy, and rubbed his thumb over Reggie’s cheek. “Yeah, baby,” he said, his voice low and warm and unbearably fond, the same way he sounded when he told Reggie he loved him.

Reggie’s cheeks burned and his heart felt like it was bursting—could he still die from that? Really, the only thing Caleb should’ve done to kill him was make Luke call him ‘baby’—and he needed a second to process, okay? He ducked back down and hid his burning face in the crook of Luke’s neck, exhaling shakily as he tried to deal with the onslaught of feelings.

This whole week had been a very heavy week, emotionally, and Reggie really wasn’t good at this.

Luke just huffed in amusement, curling his fingers around the back of Reggie’s neck and pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

Reggie relaxed a little, at that.

“You can’t do that in front of the others,” he muttered against Luke’s neck.

“Uh,” Luke replied hesitantly, and Reggie looked up.

Luke was biting his lip and blushing and Reggie’s stomach sank even before he noticed Alex sitting right next to them and Julie standing by the door and—

His train of thought halted abruptly.

“Maggie,” he choked, rolling right off the couch in his haste to get to his feet. Luke and Alex both started towards him, but Reggie bounced back to his feet and rushed towards Julie. “Can she see me yet? Have you touched us—is that? Did she see—”

“Oh no,” Julie chuckled, “Only Alex and I saw that.”

Reggie felt his cheeks burning, but Julie took pity on him. “It’s okay,” she grinned. “I was like that too, the first time Flynn called me ‘baby’. It’s fine.”

“Someone called Reggie ‘baby’?” Maggie piped in, eyes wide. “Is it Alex or Luke? Tell me it’s Luke.”

Alex frowned. “Should I be insulted?”

Julie rolled her eyes and turned to Maggie. “I’m gonna make them visible—it can be a little… disorienting, to just see them appear…”

“Just do it,” Maggie said, although Reggie noted that she held the baby a little closer and squeezed her wife’s hand, and he was… relieved to find he wasn’t the only one that was nervous about the conversation and the meeting and just the whole situation.

Reggie exhaled shakily when Luke and Alex joined him in front of Julie, both of them pressing close, Luke’s hand slipping into his and Alex’s hand lightly resting in the middle of his back. They held out their free hands to Julie, who smiled encouragingly and folded both her hands around theirs.

Maggie’s wife—and they really should ask her name, because it was quite bothersome to call her Maggie’s wife the entire time—gasped, and Maggie’s eyes widened, and Reggie knew they were visible.

“Oh my God,” the other woman breathed. “This is real.”

Maggie turned to her with an incredulous expression. “You said you believed me.”

“Well, yes,” her wife said. “But believing is still quite a bit different than actually seeing.” She waved her hand at the three boys vaguely. “This is…”

“A little crazy?” Alex offered wryly.

The other woman just blinked, and Reggie turned his attention back to Maggie. “Hi,” he said shakily, clutching at Luke’s hand. “I’m sorry for last time, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to explain—I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” Maggie said immediately, cutting him off. “I—I get it.” She rubbed her hand over her baby’s back gently—the baby she’d named after him—and took a deep breath. “I… Uh… I have questions. And I—” her lower lip trembled, and the only reason Reggie wasn’t already over there, hugging her, was because Luke was still holding his hand. “—I wanted to talk to you. There’s so many things I don’t remember, that I wish—”

“Yes,” Reggie nodded immediately. “Anything you wanna know.” He frowned and reconsidered. “I mean, as long as I know,” he smiled, “But if I don’t know, Luke or Alex probably do, I mean, they’ve been here all along too, so really—”

“Reg,” Luke cut him off, tugging at his hand quietly, “She gets it.”

Reggie glanced at Maggie, who was smiling faintly and looking between the three of them. “Right,” he said faintly. “Sorry.”

“Maybe we should sit down,” Julie suggested quietly, gesturing towards the couch and its mess of pillows. “I can get those of us who’re alive something to drink too.”

“Rude,” Reggie pouted, but he let Luke and Alex drag him towards the chair and watched as Alex dragged over the massive bean bag they’d relocated from Julie’s room to the studio a week ago. Maggie and her wife—he really needed to ask her name—gingerly took a seat on the couch, Alex plopped down in his chair again and Luke dragged Reggie down onto the bean bag with him.

Reggie couldn’t help but relax a bit with Luke’s arms casually slung around him. He leaned back against Luke just a little and eyed his sister nervously. “So who starts?” He asked.

Everyone chuckled a little at that, although Reggie found it a perfectly valid question.

“I guess,” Maggie said slowly, “I guess I can start. Uh,” she tugged on her wife’s hand lightly and continued, “this is T’Nia, my wife. We’ve been married for six years—”

“Seven,” T’Nia cut in. “Seven in three weeks.”

“Right,” Maggie grinned, her cheeks a little flushed. “Seven.” She then turned her attention to the baby and said, “This is Regina. Reggie.” She looked up with a tremulous smile, and with a start, Reggie realized he was about to burst into tears again.

“You named her after me,” he said hoarsely.

Alex glanced over at him with his eyebrows raised. “You already knew that.”

Reggie pouted and glared at him. “I can get emotional over it more than once, Alexander.”

Alex wrinkled his nose in disgust and Luke snorted with laughter. When Reggie dared look at his sister again, it was to find her grinning broadly, although her eyes were suspiciously shiny. “I can’t believe you guys are exactly as I remember you.”

“Well, it hasn’t—” Alex started, “It hasn’t exactly been twenty-five years for us.”

“We didn’t… appear,” Luke explained when Maggie looked puzzled, “until Julie played our demo. That was a few weeks ago. We thought it’d been a few hours, not years.”

Maggie blinked and sat back heavily. “That’s insane.”

“Yeah,” Reggie nodded. “It was.”

Baby Reggie began to fuss right then, drawing everyone’s attention, and T’Nia rested a hand on Maggie’s. “Do you want me to take her?”

“No,” Maggie blurted. “That’s my emotional support baby.”

Julie snorted an abrupt laugh, but Reggie was just really confused, and a quick look at Luke and Alex told him that he wasn’t, thankfully, the only one who didn’t get the joke.

T’Nia mostly looked unimpressed. “I’m not sure how I feel about you referring to our daughter as an emotional support tool,” she said dryly, but Maggie just smirked and rocked the baby calmly, and before long, baby Reggie was dozing again.

“I’ve a question,” Luke piped up, and Reggie craned his neck to look at his boyfriend quizzically.

Maggie raised her eyebrows, and Luke continued, “You said… at the restaurant… You said you knew. About Bobby. About what he did. Why didn’t you—”

And Reggie heard what Luke was really asking.

Why hadn’t she stopped him from stealing their songs, why hadn’t she told anyone, why—

Why had he gotten away with it?

Maggie sighed. “Luke, I was thirteen. It was his word against mine—and I didn’t have proof. He waited long enough to make sure people didn’t really… remember. And then he only used songs you hadn’t recorded or played in public. I didn’t have your notebooks—I didn’t have anything. I tried, I tried telling Luke’s parents, but they couldn’t prove anything either. I was the only one other than him who knew most of the songs and I only knew them because I spent so much time listening to you guys rehearse.”

Reggie swallowed thickly as Maggie looked down. “I tried,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” Alex said, and blinked hard because he’d spent all week crying, he was done, he didn’t want to start all over again. “For trying.”

“Yeah,” Luke rasped, and Reggie nodded jerkily, trying not to burst into tears, because that had been the worst thing about learning that Bobby had stolen their songs—no one had remembered them enough to know that they were theirs.

Knowing that Maggie, at least, had remembered them, had known—

It helped.

He sniffed a little and turned, hiding his face in Luke’s shoulder as he tried to get it together. Luke dug his fingers back into his hair and Reggie exhaled shakily before he went boneless against him. “Thanks,” he whispered against Luke’s skin, pressing a small kiss to the hinge of his jaw before he sat up again. Luke smiled fondly at him and rubbed his thumb over Reggie’s hot cheek and Reggie just kind of wanted to melt.

“So it was Luke,” Maggie said gleefully, and Reggie jumped—he’d kind of forgotten everyone else was still there too. When he looked back at his sister, she looked like all of her Christmases had come early.

“You are weirdly invested in this,” Julie remarked, and Reggie pointed to her as he nodded.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Look, I’ve been wondering what the deal was since I walked in on Alex and Reggie—” Luke made a slightly punched-out noise, and Reggie patted his leg comfortingly, and Maggie continued, “I’ve literally been waiting for twenty-five years to know, okay? I need to know.”

Reggie blinked at her.

She grinned back. “Come on, Reg. Dish. You’re with Luke, right?”

“I—yeah,” Reggie said slowly, cheeks flushing when Luke leaned in behind him to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I mean, not until after we came back though.”

“Wait, so you and Alex really were—” Maggie leaned forward eagerly, and Reggie wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

“No. Nope, I’m not talking about this with you,” he squinted at her. “Unless you want me to start asking questions about your sex life?” Maggie blanched so hard Reggie and Luke both burst into laughter and Julie giggled while T’Nia patted her wife’s arm comfortingly.

“Fine, change of subject,” Maggie conceded.

“Tell me about our parents,” Reggie said before anyone else could say anything. “I wanna know what happened after we—after—”

“After we died of extreme food poisoning,” Luke cut in, hooking his chin over Reggie’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle. Reggie winced a little, but leaned back into Luke’s embrace anyway, stretching his leg out a little so he could hook his ankle around Alex’s.

The blond startled at the touch, but shot him a grateful little smile anyway, and Reggie’s chest went all warm and tight and he wished, for a second, that they were alone so they could try that awesome group hug thing again. They hadn’t done that in far too long.

“You didn’t die of food poisoning,” Maggie cut in, sounding a little surprised, and Reggie’s head snapped back towards her so fast he felt his neck crack a little.

“What?”

“You didn’t—” Maggie shook head, looking between them with an expression that hovered between baffled and confused. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. You—” she blinked. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Reggie frowned.

“Oh, shit,” Maggie exhaled.

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

For those of you that wanted to see these adorable himbos cuddling. 

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

Start from the beginning:

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure:

(1)  (2) (3) (4) 

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Ten - Finding Solace

My doorbell rang at 6:30 sharp. Apparently the driver shared Victor’s punctuality, and for a moment I considered how effective Victor was on keeping everyone on their toes. Without answering through the intercom, I went downstairs.

The black sedan was parked on the curb in front of the building. I walked to the car and the front passenger window opened. I immediately recognized the bass voice coming from inside.

“Get in.”

I paused for a moment, startled. Didn’t he say he was going to send a car?

“What? You forgot how the door opens?” Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Sunshine.

“Good morning.” I said, getting in the car. Of course, I didn’t have a reply. He pulled the car from the curb and just drove, his eyes focused on the road.

“Your coffee is getting cold.” Victor finally spoke.

I looked down. In the cup holder, there was a paper coffee cup with my name on it.

“Thank you.” I said before taking a sip, the warmth and the caffeine making me feel a whole lot better.

“It’s nothing.”

He spoke without even glancing at me, his eyes on the road at all times. I looked closer at him, hoping he would feel my gaze and at the very least glance at me. After a moment, I realized he was lost in thought. Like the true daughter of a therapist, I studied his posture. He looked tense, his shoulders not all the way down, his grip hard on the wheel.

“You look tense.” I finally blurted out, not caring if he would like it or not.

“Don’t worry about it.”  Ok, he didn’t want to talk. Tough luck.

“How did it go yesterday?” I pressed again.

Victor sighed.

“I spent yesterday’s afternoon with a forensic team. Ted embezzled almost two million dollars from the company. The lawyers pressed charges. He will be taken for questioning today.”

“I’m sorry. I understand it must be hard, you being friends and all.”

“It’s my company. It’s my responsibility.” Victor’s expression turned sour. “I shouldn’t have let friendship affect business.”

“You speak like this is your fault.” I said, in disbelief. Was he really taking the blame for being robbed blind?

Victor was quiet for a while, focused on entering LFG’s parking lot and parking his car at his reserved spot. He killed the engine and sat back on his seat.

“It is my responsibility.” He finally said, his voice low. “The people I hire, what and how they do, all of that is my responsibility.”

“That’s honorable, but a little pretentious as well. You can’t possibly know everything about everyone, know exactly what’s on their minds, predict every crappy thing life throws at you.”

“And even though it’s painstakingly obvious that I can’t, that is exactly what’s expected from me.” His eyes were filled with a painful resolve. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they say. Victor was fully aware of how heavy the crown was.

Our ride in the elevator to the top floor was silent. Victor kept himself busy with his phone, and I spent the time counting up the floors as we rose through the tall building.

“Today will be a hard day.” Victor said, touching my arm slightly. “Dealing with the mess Ted left won’t be easy, this is more than just making payments, I need to clear the company’s name. I need to protect what took so many years to build. The partners already know you, they will trust you. I’m counting on your help.”

I smiled softly at Victor.

“I’ll do my best. Thank you for trusting my skills.”

 “I do.” His eyes were earnest. “I do trust you.”

As I walked into the office, I was startled with the piles of documents in both desks. Victor followed me in and, without another word, took his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“So, what do you want me to do?” I said, not even bothering to sit. I took one of the files and skimmed through it.

Victor leaned on the desk and explained his strategy to fix that mess. Some of the partners were trying to back away from the funding, already seeking other investors. Every file contained an alternative investment plan, one more alluring to the partners, in order to keep them with LFG. Ted held the accounts of some major companies, and losing them would be a hard blow on LFG’s reputation and profits.

Goldman joined us shortly after, his hand busy with coffee and food to fuel our morning. I spent the entire time talking to the partners, apologizing for what had happened and offering a renegotiation of the contractual terms.

We never left the office, except for bathroom breaks, having lunch while working. One by one, the files on both our desks disappeared.

By the time Goldman took the last file, it was dark out.

“Are we done?” I asked, leaning back on my chair.

Victor was already leaning on his chair, staring at nothing. He has taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons of his shirt, and he looked exhausted, faint dark circles surrounding his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled.

“Yes. We’re done for today.” Victor said, getting up. “Get your things, I’ll drive you home.”

We left the office and walked in the elevator silently, the humming of the elevator motors the only audible thing. I was startled by Victor’s voice.

“You know, we deserve a treat after all this hard work. Have dinner with me.”

“Sounds good. I mean, if you’re not too tired. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense.” Victor shook his head. “I could use the company and the distraction.”

Victor drove us to an eclectic part of town, filled with buildings of odd colors and shapes. We could see art everywhere: in the walls, the gardens, the light posts. Everything was decorated with something original and beautiful, representing some culture.

“I have been here for what? Almost six months? And I have never visited this part of town, it’s beautiful.” I said as I looked around.

“It’s southwest Loveland, the artistic part of town.” Victor explained. “If you follow the street we just passed to your left, you’ll find Loveland’s Museum. A few blocks after, the Music School and Loveland’s Theatre, where Loveland’s Orchestra performs.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been here for months and haven’t properly visited the city yet?”

“Levi keeps inviting me, but work on my thesis during the weekend, so…” I shrugged. My life had been all work, no play. I had to do something about that.

“Levi?”

“My neighbor. He’s an immigrant like me, but he’s been here for years, so he knows his way around the city.”

“That’s ridiculous. You should visit the city with someone that is actually from Loveland, someone who actually knows the place.” Victor said, frowning. “I could give you a tour one of these days.”

“You?” I was surprised. “It’s fine, you probably have better things to do.”

“You don’t need to worry about what I have or don’t have to do.” Victor replied coldly. “I know every nook and corner of this town. I will gladly show you around.”

“Ok, thank you.” I nodded. He was probably just being polite, so there was no use speaking about it anymore.

We arrived at a secluded restaurant named Solace. It was totally decorated in shades of black and white, the walls covered with photographs of what the owner seemingly perceived as comfort: hands holding, two people hugging, a sunset, someone crying with joy.

“So, what do you think?” Victor asked, as we sat at a small table at the corner.

“I love it. The art is beautiful.” I said, still admiring the photographs on the walls.

“I knew you’d like it.” Victor picked up the menu. “The food is exquisite as well. You should try the duck, it’s delicious. Do you want to pick the wine, Miss “my-father-is-an-oenologist”?” Victor handed me the wine menu.

“You overestimate my knowledge of wine. Please do the honors.” I gave the menu back to Victor. He opened it, reading it carefully.

“So we’re both having the duck… How do you feel about… Beaujolais?”

“Fruity wine. I like the way you think.” I nodded. I didn’t have to be a connoisseur as my father to know Victor understood wine perfectly. I imagined how it would be like if Victor ever visited my parents’ house. He wouldn’t leave the cellar.

Our food arrived shortly, and Victor was absolutely right, it was delicious. The kind of food you’d expect from a 3  Michelin star restaurant, but in a small venue, where you could eat and just chill, listen to the music and enjoy the art, straight from work. Really my kind of place. Simple, elegant and with good food.

“How’s your meal?” Victor asked.

“Like you said: exquisite. And the wine matches it perfectly.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Victor said, filling my empty glass with more wine. “We need to toast.” He said, raising his glass. “To a job well done.”

“Cheers!” I smiled, as I raised my glass and clinked it with Victor’s. “You have to look me in the eyes while you drink, or you will get seven years of terrible sex.”

For the life of me, I don’t know why I said that. Maybe the wine was getting to me. Luckily, Victor found my words amusing, chuckling at my moronic statement.

“You believe in such a superstition?” He asked, holding his cup in the air, without drinking it.

“No, but… It’s seven years of terrible sex. Better safe than sorry.”

“Sure, nobody wants that. Let’s drink then.” He brought the cup to his lips and drank, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Your girlfriends will deeply appreciate it.” I nodded ceremoniously.

“What girlfriends?”

“Oh, please, a guy like you? Wealthy and good looking?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“We do have a whole department for girlfriends at LFG.” He stated, his face dead serious. “They have to fill an application, stating how they can make my wildest dreams come true, and occasionally I drop by to beat them off with a stick.” He paused for my reaction, which was a laugh. “Where have you ever seen me with a woman? Even if I did have women lining up for me, they don’t interest me. I prefer quality over quantity.”

“You’re in search of the one and only? When you find her, please introduce her to me? I want to see the girl that meets your very high standards.” My heart panged. I ignored it completely.

“I don’t think I have to search much longer, actually.” He looked at me meaningfully. My heart swelled. My head immediately stumped it down. Stop reading into things, Andrea.

“Well, what are you doing here with me, then? Shouldn’t you be with her instead? Go get your piece of heaven, be happy.” I wanted to sound perky and positive, but my tone came out all wrong, my uneasiness about the subject clearly showing. Victor smiled.

“I have to be patient with her. If I come out too strong, I’ll scare her away. Besides, she’s terrible at understanding the subtle hints I give her, so I’ll have to wait for her to put all the pieces together before I can actually be blunt about it.” She has to be incredibly stupid if she’s missing the chance, I thought.

“I don’t know, if it’s this hard to begin with, if you have to use such caution, maybe it’s not worth it at all.” My words sounded more bitter than I intended.

“It’s supposed to be hard. The things that matter to you the most usually are. If you’re not willing to give it your all, put yourself on the spot and risk losing everything, it’s because that thing wasn’t as important as you thought.” Victor looked me in the eyes and rested his hand on the table. I wanted to hold it, but refrained. He quickly took his hand away, taking his glass to drink more wine. I did the same.

“Enough about me.” He stated. “What about you? Besides that Lewis guy, any love interest?”

I almost snorted the wine I was drinking.

“Ok, first: Levi is not a love interest. Not at all, not once, not ever.” I said, gesticulating furiously. “Second: I don’t have the time to visit the city, where would I find the time to date? No dates.”

“Does that mean you’re off the market, so to speak?”

“It means I don’t even have a clue where the market is. I’m still finding my ground here.”

“Good to know.” Victor smiled.

“What’s good to know? The fact that I’m pathetic? I’m glad you enjoy it, always a pleasure to serve.” I spoke ironically, pretending to be offended.

“It’s good to know that you’re working hard on finding your ground. You have all these plans, your doctorate, launching your career, I hope you see all of those through.” Victor replied earnestly.

Me too. It was so important for me to get my life back on track after so much I had been through. To find my own solace. I promised myself that when I got my diploma I would take a picture of it and give it to the owner of this restaurant.

I waited by the entrance as Victor paid the bill. I hadn’t noticed before the huge photograph near the door, hands lovingly holding a pregnant belly.

“There’s no solace like your mother’s womb.” I hear Victor speaking behind me. “Where you find nothing but warmth and love.”

I didn’t reply. I was afraid words would let out the tears I was hiding. I got out the door.

“Is everything ok?” He followed me, watching me closely.

“Oh, yeah, everything is fine.” I tried to downplay it, but he could hear in my voice how tight my throat was.

“Everything is not fine.” Victor insisted, softly putting his hand on my back. “Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine!” I laughed. “I just got emotional with the photograph and I didn’t want you to make fun of me. I admit, maybe I had too much wine.” Victor’s eyes were deep into mine, scanning my expression for any sign of deceit. “Do you mind taking me home? It’s late, and we had a rough day…”

“Sure.” Victor promptly answered, as he snapped out of focus. “You’re right, we’re both tired, we should get some rest.”

He seemed to find my excuse satisfactory, dropping the subject completely. But I suspected he didn’t really believe me, because his hand never left my back as we walked to the car.

[theshatteredrose]

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 11) - Original Fiction

AN: I have a sinus infection (again), so as you can guess I’m not feeling very good. Understatement really. But I managed to get this chapter done before the infection really set in. So, slightly early this week, but I hope you enjoy reading~!

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 11:

“Now, remember that there are vast differences between Passives and Elites, and the mana that both classes possess. Elites have what we call Active Mana. Their internal mana deposits are the highest found amongst Indigo Children, and it feeds their physical strength and agility.

The mana that Passives possess is called Supportive Mana. Passives have the ability to draw upon the supply of mana around them, as well as within their selves. However, due to this, Passives are significantly more fragile than that of Elites. It is also important that Passives maintain the internal mana deposits. If levels should become low, they will suffer from Mana Depletion. If they should become high, they are suffering from Mana Excess. Both are debilitating and it is critical to know the difference.”

Eishirou tried to concentrate on his medical class, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to other matters.

After visiting the museum, he had spent the rest of the day showing Zayne around the academy campus. He couldn’t show him around the Elite training halls and fields, though. Passives like him weren’t allowed to enter those places. The main reason they cite was that they could accidently stumble into the middle of a training match.

The other reason was that, well, they were Passives. Nothing more needed to be said.

But it wasn’t what had occurred yesterday that had him lost in his thoughts. He had a strange dream last night. About the underground chamber with the mosaic.

There was nothing disturbing about the dream. In fact, he knew it was a dream. So, he walked around. Inspecting his surroundings. Wondering why he was now dreaming about it. He didn’t note anything of worth.

Thinking back on it, the dream was actually quite boring. But it was the only dream he had last night. He had the usual vivid dreams that made no sense and he usually forgot about it in the morning. But this one stuck with him. He could remember everything.

Everything other than why he was so hung up on it.

Yeah, kinda annoying.

The chiming of a bell indicating the end of a lesson harshly pulled Eishirou from his thoughts. He sat straight in his seat and dumbly looked around at his classmates, noting that they were gathering their belongs to move on to their next class.

He winced and quickly began to pack up his belongings, too.

Crap, he had been daydreaming throughout the entire class! Hope Professor Neriah didn’t notice he was spacing.

“Eishirou, a word before you leave.”

Ah, man. Sounded like he did notice him spacing.

“Ah, sure,” Eishirou murmured as he made his way down the stairs of the auditorium and approached the desk at centre stage.

He wasn’t too worried, though. Just feeling sheepish. He usually enjoyed Neriah’s classes as he was a rather laid-back teacher with interesting antidotes to tell. He was also one of the popular teachers at the academy. Long blue hair that reached past his shoulder blades, deep orange eyes, and deep brown skin; it was easy to admit that he was quite the handsome Professor. Young, too.

With his long blue hair pulled back into a ponytail, Neriah gave him an inspecting look as Eishirou reached his desk. “I heard about what happened the other day. You went through quite the ordeal. I was honestly surprised that you came to class today.”

Eishirou rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. He couldn’t help but wonder how far word about what had happened had spread. “Ah, that. It’s fine. Nothing happened. Just got separated for a bit.”

Ah, yeah…that wasn’t very convincing, was it?

He smiled as he folded his arms behind his back and leaned forward in a playful way. “Although, I did get to use my Medic skills while out on the field. Soooo…Do I get extra credit?”

Neriah breathed heavily through his nose that was akin to a laugh and he smiled. “I'll think about it.”

“Aww, come on!”

“Hm.” Neriah hummed in thought as he picked up his tablet and flicked through his files. He, however, glanced over the top of the tablet. “You did look a little vague today. Something else on your mind?”

“Well, I was just thinking about the expedition,” Eishirou admitted. “About that runestone in particular. I’m heading over to the museum to finally piece it together later today, so I guess I’m just anxious to get to work.”

Neriah listened as he prattled before he uttered a sigh. “You honestly work harder than most professors at this academy. It’s a little concerning.”

Eishirou rubbed the back of his head in an apologetic manner. “I’ll try to be more present next time, I promise.”

“Your grades are the same so it’s not that I’m worried about,” Neriah returned. “I’m concerned with you going out in the field. It can be dangerous.”

Well, yeah. There was no denying that.

“But I need experience, right?” Eishirou reasoned. “And the only way to get experience is to get out there. Right?”

Neriah uttered a sigh of defeat and leaned back into his chair. “Well, I can’t argue with that. I guess I’m just feeling protective of my favourite student. You’re a hard worker. Don’t push yourself.”

It made Eishirou happy to hear Neriah say that about him. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

An expression of realisation flickered across his face. “Although, speaking of experience; you’ll be coming up for some work experience at the infirmary soon.”

Eishirou tilted his head to the side. “Work experience?”

“At this point, it's just a formality. But I do think working in a sterile environment of the infirmary would be good for you. But we'll talk about that later.” Neriah placed his hands on his table and pushed himself to his feet. He hooked his tablet under his arm as he reached out with his hand to poke Eishirou in the middle of the forehead. “Go on, get going. And try to look interested in class next time.”

“I will, I promise!”

Eishirou hitched his bag upon his shoulder as he hurried out of the classroom. He moved faster than usual, eager to get back to the museum and actually start working on that broken stone tablet.

The weather outside the academy was warm, as per usual, with only a slight breeze holding a hint of sea salt. As he moved down the paths that would eventually lead him to his destination, he glanced out at the horizon.

The Sanctuary city of Araluen was surrounded completely by the sea, with large sea walls encompassing the city three miles out to sea. The port gates were open, allowing for ships and tankers to reach the docks. Those gates would close during the cyclone season, which would last for approximately three months.

Storms during those months were quite vicious. Apparently far worse than the storms that occurred before the Bombardment.

“Ah, Eishirou!”

A cheery voice pulled Eishirou from his musings and he turned his head to look down the path he instinctively followed. He was greeted by the sight of another professor of the academy waving cheerfully at him as the two walked toward each other.

Professor Tyrone, an expert in debunking lies and hearsay in ancient documents.

He was a handsome guy, to be completely honest. A lot of students had slight crushes on him. Not hard to see why; golden blond hair, brown skin that was likely due to being outside a little too often, and was tall with rippling muscles. Not to mention a cheery, somewhat flirty personality, and a go-get-em attitude.

“Professor Tyrone,” Eishirou greeted formally as the two finally reached each other.

“Now, how many times do I have to tell you not to be so formal,” Professor Tyrone chided with a smile. “Just Irwin will do.”

Eishirou nodded and smiled back. “Well, Irwin, what brings you out here?”

Irwin smiled broadly. “Oh, I was just visiting the museum. I heard rumours about a certain expedition. Demanded ol’ Jacob to spill the goods. We sure are fortunate that our favourite little medic here had an Elite protecting him.”

Eishirou felt himself flush and wince at the same time. “You know about that, too?”

Irwin released a loud laugh of amusement, seemingly oblivious to his embarrassment. Or was all too aware and found amusement in it. “You made quite the discovery, yeah? An underground maze, a mosaic, ravenous ShadowDwellers. Quiet the day.”

“You’re telling me…”

“That runestone sure sounds interesting,” Irwin continued before a comically disgruntled expression appeared on his face and he began to whine. “But ol’ Jacob is such a stick in the mud. He wouldn’t go into detail about the runestone. It’s not fuel for gossip, he said. We’re still working on it, he said. Rude. I was just curious.”

“He’s right, though.”

Irwin waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics! I really am interested, though. Sounds like quiet the intriguing mystery. Hm?”

Eishirou folded his arms across his chest and purposely turned away from him. “Nope, not giving in.”

Irwin loudly clapped his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Please! You have to tell me. This is so interesting. Don’t leave a guy hanging!”

Eishirou had to laugh. Honestly, the guy looked like he would burst into tears at any second now. “Alright, alright,” he relented as he stepped around the animated professor. “If I learn anything else, I’ll be sure to share it with you.”

“Ooh, you’re just precious!” Irwin crooned as he pumped his fist in satisfaction. He then merrily continued his way toward the academy, waving his hand over his shoulder at him in an all-too cheery manner. “I look forward to gossiping with you!”

Eishirou watched until Irwin was out of sight before he shook his head. That guy. He certainly was a character.

Never mind that now. He had work he needed to do before lunch time!

Grasping onto the strap of his bag, Eishirou broke into a light jog as he continued toward the museum. He slowed to a fast walk when he entered the building and headed straight to the back, where the labs and investigation rooms were located.

“There you are,” Jacob said in a form of greeting as Eishirou entered the observation deck.

“Sorry,” Eishirou returned as he shrugged his bag from his shoulder and dropped it into an empty seat. “Ran into Irwin on the way here.”

“Still whining?”

“Yup.”

Jacob snorted. “He’s just jealous that you made an intriguing discovery. He’s always trying to outdo us.”

As Eishirou walked past him, he tilted his head to the side. “Rivals?” he teased.

“Please!” Prof scoffed loudly as he folded his arms across his chest in a purely disgruntled manner. “We’re not even in the same league!”

Eishirou sniggered to himself. Yup, they were rivals. He couldn’t outrightly say they were friendly rivals as it wasn’t uncommon for the two to come to near brawls and hurl insults at each other when things got heated. But they always went out for drinks later.

It was actually quite comical watching the two try to out-do each other in a strained civil manner.

“Anyway, let’s get to work on this runestone,” Jacob announced.

Eishirou nodded his head. He followed Jacob down the short staircase to the labs below. And in the middle of the room was a large, sturdy table that held the broken remains of the stone tablet. It had mostly been puzzled back together, so all he needed to do was to use his Passive Skill to restore it back to its original form.

Rolling back his sleeves, Eishirou walked over to the red stones and placed his hands upon it. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Warmth emanated from his hands and though he could not see it, he knew that the green mana from his hands seeped out into the cracks and began to aid in the stones etching together, restoring it to the stone’s original form.

Pictures suddenly slammed into his mind. Flashing one after the other. Flickering slowly.

A white face with a golden crown. The mosaic of the underground chamber.

A flower of vivid red petals growing from a crimson gem. The crown he had seen in previous recording.

And a figure in white before a full moon. A tall white building in the background. Light from the building. Pointing at something.

The last vision lasted longer than the previous two. It felt important.

As the pictures dissipated from his mind, he reeled his head back and shook his head. A hand soon grasped onto his shoulder and he turned his head to find Jacob looking at him with an expression of concern and curiosity.

“Another recording?”

Eishirou nodded his head once. “An image of the mosaic.”

A frown twitched onto Jacob’s lips. “I see. Then it’s safe to say that this runestone and the painting you found in that underground chamber are connected somehow. Anything else?”

Again, Eishirou gave a short nod. “Yeah. Another painting. I don’t recognise it. It…” he had to close his eyes in an attempt to pull the picture into his mind again. “…A white figure in front of something that looked like a lighthouse.”

“Hmm…another location, then?” Jacob continued to ponder.

Yeah, that would be a safe bet. The last imagine in particular felt important, though the pictures were the only thing that came through the recording. No words. No voices. Just imagine.

Jacob soon shook his head and turned his focus back to the reconstructed runestone. That prompted Eishirou to do the same.

Leaning over the tablet, it took them a minute or two to read the etchings within the stone. Thanks to Eishirou’s restorative abilities, the words were far easier to read. Though, that didn’t mean what they were able to read made much sense.

“When the time comes, awaken the illumination of the Red Lily.

Radiant light of spiritual blessings to the cosmic intelligence.

Raise vibrations to higher plains.

Fearless is that of the great spirit.”

Eishirou turned his attention to Jacob. “What do you think that means?”

Jacob had a contemplative look on his face. “It’s leading to something, obviously. Something called Red Lily. From these words, I’m going to assume that this Red Lily is some kind of relic. Or a treasure that was important for its time.”

Well, one thing was clear; if they were to learn more about this Red Lily and that mosaic located underground, they had to go back to that island. To that forest. To those tunnels.

And to those ShadowDwellers.

Convincing Jacob to let him back there might be the hardest part!

[phoenixfox56]

What Are Friends For?

Rating - Mature (For suggestive themes)

Note - I wholeheartedly believe Leo and Bertrand were good friends before Leo abdicated and Bertrand was still fun.

Prompt - Day 23 @choicesdecemberchallenge ‘Friendship'

Summary - Bertrand needs a little help with a surprise anniversary gift for Savannah. He knows the perfect person to help him ... Leo!

Word Count - 1,717

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

I was pacing my study uncharacteristically. I couldn't sit still. My thoughts were running through my mind and yet I kept hitting a brick wall.

"It must be perfect." I mumbled to myself. I paused realizing how Maxwell I must have looked. I moved over to my desk. With an exaggerated sigh I sat, placed my forearms on my desk and rested my head in my hands. I had to slow down. Take it step by step. I knew I was going to have trouble but I never thought it would be this bad. I could plan the whole day, yet for the life of me could not end the evening. Then I had a thought.

"Maybe I should get help. But who could help me with something like this? Someone who understands the situation. Someone who know me well enough. Someone who could keep it to themself. A master at the art of seduction."

That's when it hit me. I picked up my phone and dialed the number. After a couple rings he picked up.

"Hello Leo."

"Hey Bert. What's new?"

I ignore the use of a nickname.

"I could really use your assistance. Could you possibly come by Ramsford at your earliest?"

"Anything for you pal. I'll be right over."

I could almost hear the smirk on his face. I hang up and placed my phone down. I groan and drop my head again.

"I'm going to regret this." I thought ruefully.

A few hours later I greeted Leo in the driveway.

"There he is!" He proclaimed. I put my hand out to shake his but he instead wrapped me in his arms. I stiffened in his embrace. Not much of a hugger, I patted him a couple times on the back until he released me.

"So, what's going on? You seemed desperate over the phone."

"Please, let us discuss this in the study." I escort him to my study. Stepping aside to let him walk in before me, I shut the door behind myself. Before I have the door fully closed Leo already has a drink in his hand. He drops into a chair as I take my own.

"Okay. I'm in the study. Want to tell me what's going on now?"

"First I must ask that you keep this whole thing to yourself. Promise me you will not tell anyone I sought your assistance for this particular task." I ask sternly. Leo and I have known each other since we were young boys. I am very aware of the way he handles situations. I know his tells. So I study his face intently awaiting his answer.

"Of course Bert. You have my word. Cross my heart and all that." He shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. My eyes narrow at him.

"Secondly, my name is Bertrand. If you don't plan on using my proper title you can at least use my proper name."

"Aaaaaand we are off to a great start already. I don't think you asked me here to school me on your name."

"Fine. Here it is ..." I pause. An unwillingness to proceed halts my actions. I must do this. Just get it out there and get it over with.

"Savannah and I's one year anniversary is in a couple of days and I wanted it to be perfect. I have a whole romantic day planned. I want to end the day a little more... Intimately. But I seem to be falling short on that front. Hence why I have asked you here." I took a breath. He looked back at me with widened eyes for a second. Then lifted his glass for another sip. His eyes still trained on me. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. I glared at him. He was clearly trying to hide his amusement at my request. He finished his glass and took a large breath before answering.

"Alright. Alright, I understand. This is important. Why don't you break down the day first. What have you put together so far?" He sat forward looking at me earnestly. It made me relax a little.

"Maxwell and Riley have agreed to take Bartie for a couple nights. That clears the entire day for us to have together. I have breakfast set to be delivered to her in bed. Then I have scheduled a private tour of the new exhibit at the art museum. We will have a picnic in the park, take a stroll through the shopping district, and when we return I have a grand dinner planned on the back veranda. Then, this is where your help would be implemented." I was racking my brain for an idea. The perfect end to a day that means everything to me. Leo stares at me for a few seconds. Seeming to be in thought.

"Okay, next we need to figure out a theme. Or something she is interested in. Or something special to both of you. Can you think of anything like that?"

"Uh... Well. Hmm..." I felt utterly foolish. How could I not answer those questions.

"Here how about this, you want something to symbolize your wedding? Something that represents the two of you?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Your wedding was in Texas? At the Walker ranch, Where Savannah spent some time as a child?"

"Yes, and?.."

"Isn't it obvious?" I looked at him blankly, hoping he would understand my silence. He seemed to take the hint and continued.

"We are going to make you a sexy cowboy." He was smirking. I hated that smirk and he knew it. It got us into trouble many times when we were younger.

"That sounds all well and good but I wore traditional cowboy garb leading up to our wedding day."

"Oh no. You don't seem to be understanding. There wont be anything traditional about this. I doubt we will find anything on premise either. So let us go to a little shop I happen to know of and get you all suited up. I'll explain my idea on the way."

I huffed but reluctantly agreed. If anyone knew these things it would be Leo. I had to trust him. As we rode to a store I could have sworn was an abandoned building he told me the plan. After the dessert course I was to excuse myself. I would change into whatever it is Leo finds and return back to Savannah on horse. After that Leo explained how I would have to wing it depending on Savannah's reaction. It made me nervous not knowing precisely what I should do but I tried to implement some faith in myself. For now, I steeled myself for this little adventure. We walked around the small store, Leo looking more intently than I. He seemed to be on a mission, while I was just trying to hide the fact that my face was as red as a Cordonian ruby apple. There was so much lace this and see through that. Straps and ropes and chains, it was a bit much for me. Luckily Leo knew where he needed to look. He found something he thought suitable. I on the other hand was unconvinced. He picked out what appeared to be equestrian chaps, a cowboy vest and some rope. He tried getting a ridiculous cowboy hat but I luckily still have mine. We stopped at one more location for a pair of boots he seemed to believe I needed to really "Complete the look." I reminded myself that I asked for his help and to go with it.

When we returned back to the estate he gave me another rundown of what I should do and how. Quite frankly the whole thing made me nervous, but Leo was persistent and told me I would have no problems and to just go with it. Despite our differences I had to believe his words. He was one of the few people there for me most growing up. My decision to ask for his help meant something. So I nodded in agreement to his plan and walked him to his car.

"You got this buddy. I promise." He said as he grasped my hand firmly.

"Thank you old friend. Truly."

"Let me know how right I was."

"So long as this stays between us?"

"I won't tell a soul. " He smiled at me and got into the car. I watched as he drove off. A smile of my own tugging at the corner of my mouth.

The afternoon after our anniversary Maxwell and Riley arrive back with Bartie. I was in a pleasant mood as Leo's advice worked wonders. I was gathering a few refreshments in the kitchen when Riley approaches me.

"So Duke. I'm guessing yesterday went well."

"Absolutely and I can't thank you enough for watching Bartie."

"Oh it was no problem." She was looking at me with a wide grin. I eyed her suspiciously.

"Is there something on your mind?" I asked inquisitivly.

"Me? Oh no, not at all. I'm just impressed." The smiled came back as she continued.

"I mean, I heard there were horses and everything. You go Bertrand." She snapped her fingers and giggled as she returned to the others before I could say anything. When she was out of site I felt the anger rise.

"I told Leo not to tell anyone. He promised me he wouldn't. The whole court probably knew by now." I was fuming I went to get my phone just outside the room where the others were. I had to give Leo a peice of my mind for this. As I reached into my jacket and pulled out the phone I overheard Savannah talking. She was speaking in a low voice, but I made out a few words that definitely correlated with yesterdays events.

"That little minx." I thought as I calmed down at the realization.

I jumped a little as I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Maxwell staring at me.

"What are you doing standing out here?"

"I was ..." I thought quickly.

"Just grabbing my phone." With that we walked into the room and sat with the girls. I opened my phone and sent a quick text.

"You were right. Thank you again."

Leo replied almost instantly.

"Anytime ;)"

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day six

Prompt #6: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Discussion of Parental Death, Bullying

Rating: G

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker

Words: 2867

Author’s Note: part iv of a may & peter series, but works on its own. i made a terrible mistake the second i set a 2K precedent on these things, but i’m honestly really happy with how this turned out, so. enjoy. :)

>>Pros and Cons

Peter is ten years old, and whenever May watches him finish his math homework, his mind is so far beyond hers it feels like he should be the one helping her.

She knows he’s brilliant—with parents like his, how could he not be—and his teachers start suggesting they look into science magnets before he even enters middle school. She and Ben try to support his passions as much as they can, but the endowment Mary and Richard left has long since run out, and they can only afford so many expenses at once.

Which is why, when Peter comes home from school with sparkling eyes and a crinkled permission slip clutched in his hand, May feels a familiar sense of guilt creep up her spine.

“Hi May!” Peter chirps, slinging his backpack and the piece of paper down on the dining room table.

“Hi yourself,” she says, picking the bag back up and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Snack’s in the kitchen.”

Peter makes a beeline for the peanut butter sandwich in question—one of the few things Ben allows May to make, mostly because it involves zero actual kitchen appliances—and shoves half of it in his mouth. “You won’t believe what happened at school today.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” May says, picking up the note from where it had fallen.

Peter swallows down white bread and store-brand peanut butter while May flips the permission slip over and reads the summary. Apparently there’s some kind of open lab session at the Museum of Science this Friday, and anyone from Peter’s school who wants to go is allowed to count it as one of their field trips for the year. It also includes an overnight lock-in for all kids ten and over, a cut off that Peter just barely meets.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Peter gushes, his sandwich properly consumed. “Mr. Abrams said there might even be an arc reactor replica in the special exhibit section!”

“I think we agreed to avoid all forms of Stark tech after the last expo you went to.” May hears Peter pour a glass of milk as she continues reading.

“This is totally different, May! No bad guys whatsoever.” He pauses. “Unless Flash shows up.”

“Who’s—”

“Anyway we get to go for like the entire day and do our own experiments and everything, it’s going to be awesome!” Peter skids back into the dining room and sits in one of the chairs, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He stares up at her. “Soooo. I can go, right? Ned said he was going!”

May’s eyes find the dollar signs in the fine print and she winces: all expenses not paid. “I don’t know, Peter… didn’t you have another field trip just last month?”

“Yeah, but that was for the Museum of Math. Totally different.”

May frowns and rubs at her temples.

Peter, sensing her reluctance, launches himself to his feet. “I’ll get the board!”

“Peter—” May warns, but he’s scrambling off to the closet before she can stop him.

The board had been Ben’s idea: when Peter was seven, he’d bought an eleven by seventeen inch whiteboard and drawn a line in permanent ink down the middle, with “Peter” written on one side, and “The Adult” written on the other. The concept had been to help Peter learn how to balance pros and cons, and Peter had taken to it so well that he quickly learned to follow along without the visual. They still brought it out on occasion for added effect—like right now, apparently.

Peter returns from his quest and places the board on the table. He pops the cap off of the dry erase marker, and drawing a tally mark in the section labeled Peter, says, “One: it would be totally awesome. Point for me.”

He holds the marker out to May expectantly. After a moment, she sighs and takes it from him. “You’ve already gone on the required number of field trips for this semester.”

Peter frowns as May draws a line on her side. “I can qualify for extra credit if I go on more, though.”

“You’re at the top of your class, Peter, you don’t need any credit.” May draws a line on both her side and his side. “And aren’t you supposed to be saving money for the end of the year school project?”

Another line.

Peter scrunches up his face in thought, then grins. “Yeah, but I got a whole ten dollars from Mr. Delmar yesterday for helping look after his cat!”

…Line.

They continue swapping points for the next few minutes, and May has to admit that Peter does have a fair number of valid arguments. The board quickly fills up and by the time they’ve both run out of steam, there are ten careful lines drawn on both of their sides.

Peter stares miserably at the score: Parker rules state that all ties go to the adult. “…Ned will be there?”

May taps the marker against her thigh. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Peter’s eyes shoot back and forth between May and the whiteboard.

She sighs. “…Your point.”

Peter whoops in triumph as May draws the winning line in his side of the board, and she rolls her eyes and makes a mental note to ask for an extra shift tomorrow to make up for her lapse in judgement.

She doesn’t really mind, though. The electricity in Peter’s smile could generate enough energy to light up their entire apartment.

Peter talks about almost nothing but the trip for the next four days, and his enthusiasm is so infectious May finds she’s pretty excited about it, too.

Still, she has to remind him three times to pack his toothbrush and other necessities, and when he starts debating whether he should bring a change of clothes or the circuit board he’s been building out of parts fished from the dumpster, May wonders if he’s ready for an entire night on his own after all. She mentions this to Ben, who gets hung up on the fact that Peter has built an entire circuit board out of parts fished from the dumpster.

May concedes to this argument without having to get the whiteboard out.

Finally, Friday morning comes, and May bullies Ben into letting her drive so she can take Peter to school without risking being late for work herself. Peter clutches his backpack and chatters nonstop about all the things he’s hoping to build, but as they approach the parking lot his eagerness starts to dampen.

May flicks her blinker on and glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop off or walk you in?”

Peter runs his finger across the zipper on his backpack. “Walk in?”

“Sure thing, Tiger.”

May parks the car and takes Peter’s hand into hers, and together they walk up the marble steps of the school. His class is meeting outside, waiting for the Activities Bus to arrive, and May can see that several of the kids are already in the drop off area. She stops at the top of the steps and squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“Got your toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“And that circuit board?”

Peter crinkles his nose and shrugs. “…Maybe.”

May shakes her head, and then gives him a little push towards his class. Peter stumbles a bit, caught off guard—poor guy’s always been a little clumsy—and then suddenly he’s spinning around and May has a ten year old wrapped around her waist.

“Bye, May,” he says, voice muffled by her coat. A warmth that has nothing to do with body heat steals into her chest, and she hugs him back.

“Bye, Peter.” She ruffles his hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Peter nods, and then he’s scampering off, his reticence all but forgotten as he sees Ned waiting for him.

May watches a moment longer, just enjoying seeing him laugh, and then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries back to her car.

Having the apartment just to Ben and herself when she gets off work does, May will admit, have its perks—namely, having Ben to herself. She can’t help but feel a little anxious about Peter, but her cell phone never rings and there’s nothing in her inbox, so she relaxes and allows herself to enjoy a quiet evening with her husband.

That sense of peace continues until she picks Peter up the next morning, and he refuses to look at her.

She’d thought he’d be bubbling over with stories from the evening, but all of his answers are perfunctory at best and snappish at worst, so May gives up trying to prompt him and just reminds him they need to pick some things up before going home.

Peter says nothing in response, and May knows something is very, very wrong.

It’s late on a Saturday morning, which means the tourists are out in full force when May and a very sullen Peter arrive at the market. May starts weaving her way through the crowd, and when a burly man bumps into her and separates her from Peter, for a heart-stopping second she thinks she’s lost him. The crowd parts and she catches sight of his blue backpack, and she snatches up his hand before he can disappear again.

May is shocked when he jerks away.

“Peter?”

He balls his fists and looks away, and another person barges between them because it’s New York.

“Peter,” May repeats, dodging around them. “Give me your hand before you get lost.”

“I won’t get lost,” Peter says, and juts his lower lip out.

“What—? Come on, I don’t have time for this, you need to—”

“I don’t need you.”

May looks at Peter in shock. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flush and his head turns sharply away, but he doesn’t take it back. And then, so quiet May almost misses it, he whispers, “You’re not my mother.”

 May swallows dry air, and even though the crowd has forced them together, she’s never felt so far away from him.

“Fine,” she says. “You follow me, then.”

May spins on her heel and makes her way to the vegetable vender, and while she’d like to say she doesn’t look back, she does, because she’s terrified he won’t be there.

She and Peter finish the rest of the errands in a similar fashion, responses clipped and Peter avoiding any kind of contact, no matter how incidental—even when she hands him the grocery bag to carry, he goes out of his way to keep their hands from brushing. When they get home, Peter goes straight to his room without even saying hi to Ben. He looks at her in bewilderment, about to head out the door himself.

May shrugs helplessly, and texts Ned’s mom before kissing her husband goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, May’s staring at a blurry photo from yesterday of Peter hugging May on the steps, with the caption ‘MOMMA’S BOY—OH WAIT, HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE’ written on it. 

After an intense interrogation, Ned admits Flash had texted the photo to the entire class, and had tormented Peter with it until one of the teachers stepped in (conveniently just before the parents arrived). He also swears Flash didn’t get ahold of it until that morning, so Peter really did have a good time for most of the trip.

…Just not the end.

May thanks Ned for his honesty and hangs up the phone. She drops her head into her hands and her hair curtains her face.

Couldn’t Parker luck have given him a break just once?

She sits in silence and wonders how on earth she’s going to fix this. Then she stands, pulls back her hair, and puts the kettle on the stove—Ben isn’t here to stop her—and fixes two slightly scalded mugs of hot chocolate.

She taps on Peter’s door, mugs balanced precariously in one hand. There’s no response, but Peter doesn’t tell her to go away, either. She takes it as the closest to an invitation as she’s going to get.

The lights are off, and Peter’s backpack has been abandoned on the floor, and the circuit board he’d been so proud of looks a lot more warped than May remembered it being. Peter himself is curled up on his bed, facing the wall. He rolls over onto his back when May walks in, though his gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. The tear tracks on his face glisten in the light from the door.

“Ned told you?”

“He’s a good friend.” May sets the mugs down on his bedside table. “I’m going to have a long talk with your teachers about this.”

Peter lets out a long breath. “I should quit school.”

“I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Nope.” Peter rubs his arm across his face. “Actually I don’t think I can go out in public again. Ever.”

May looks at him thoughtfully, then walks out of the room. She comes back a few moments later carrying the whiteboard, and Peter groans.

“No, May, come on.”

“Too late,” May says, marking the board. “Point one: never having to face Flash again.”

Peter peeks out from under his arm and frowns. “You put that on the Adult side.”

“Correct. We’re playing Devil’s advocate today: I argue for your side, you argue for mine. Your turn.”

“This seems unfair,” Peter says, but he pulls himself into a seated position and takes one of the mugs. “I… would never graduate or get a job?”

May places two marks under Peter, and then one under Adult. “Counterpoint: lots of people work from home. You could do everything online for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to make like, friends and stuff. Or go see movies.”

May draws another two marks and Peter scowls. “I feel like it’s unfair that you’re marking down two for me and only one for you every time.”

“Stop making so many points, then,” May replies. “How about this: no friends means no one can make fun of you for having them.”

“I think not having things was the problem, actually.”

May freezes midway through drawing the line. Shit.

Peter offers her a watery smile. “Maybe put that on the other side?”

He seems sad, but sincere enough, so May wipes her finger over the unfinished line and places one on Peter’s. She sets the board down. “Peter, I—”

“I’m sorry.” Tears swim into Peter’s eyes and drop into his cocoa. “I didn’t mean it when I said—I said—” He holds the mug tighter to his chest. “…I just really miss her.”

May closes her eyes, and then sits down on the bed next to Peter and pulls him to her. “Me too, Peter. Me too.”

She runs her hand through his hair. “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of her?”

Peter looks up. “…Really?”

“Really.”

May picks up the second mug for herself, and as they drink their cocoa May tells Peter about how much she loved the sound of Mary’s laugh. The way she always tossed her hair back and how her entire body would shake, holding nothing back, and the sheer exuberance she had for life—similar to Peter’s, in many ways. About all the trouble they used to get into together, and how happy Mary’d been when Peter was born. How she thought he hung the moon, and how she wanted to give him the stars in return. How much she loved him.

“May?”

She takes a sip of cocoa and hums.

Peter plays with his thumbs. “…I really didn’t mean it.”

Chocolate coats May’s tongue before gliding down her throat, but it doesn’t feel nearly as warm as Peter’s words. “I know, buddy. I need you, too.”

Peter glows, and May takes the last sip of her drink.

“Now. Since you’ve decided hanging out with me is cool again,” May says, wiping down the board, “wanna go dumpster diving for some tech while I tell you some more stories?”

“Really?” Peter’s thousand-watt smile lights up his face.

May plucks the empty cocoa cup out of his hand. “Really. We might even hit up some of the fancier ones in Manhattan, if you’re really lucky.”

“Whoa, cool!”

Peter races off to get his jacket and shoes, and May smiles. She doesn’t have the foggiest idea what kinds of things to help Peter look for, but she’d spent a night or two playing lookout for one Mary Parker during her wilder years. She was more than willing to watch over Mary’s son, too.

She stands and puts the whiteboard back in the closet, closing the door just as Peter finishes putting on his boots.

“Ready?”

Peter nods vigorously, and May grabs her keys as they walk out, locking the door behind them. May starts to walk down the stairs, and then a small hand slips into hers.

May looks down in surprise, and Peter flushes, but doesn’t let go. May squeezes his hand and doesn’t say anything as they walk out onto the streets, because she’s not his mom, and that’s okay.

She’s still his, and he’s still hers, and that’s all they need.

[elven-ariaera]

Read the New Leaf Diaries first here!

Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway

Day 7

Kitt moved in this morning. It felt so good to have her back in my life. I did not realize how nostalgic I would get already, but no matter what, I am sticking with my plan to move forward. Citytown is behind me, and Islandtown is my future.

I got a free tee-shirt in the mail from Dodo Airlines. Audie didn’t seem to care much about it and gave me a lecture on fashion. I guess she does know what she’s talking about. Maybe I should pawn it off on some poor unsuspecting fool…

Until then, all I can do is think about my life choices while wearing this dumb dodo shirt…

That night a terrifying thing happened. A tarantula appeared and tried to get Audie! Luckily for her, I had a bug net in hand. I crept up next to the little sucker and swiped my net! …Only to miss and get bitten by the arachnid. Luckily she dragged me back to my house and all was well again. 

You know, that’s a reoccurrence that I could never quite figure out. Whenever I am bitten by a spider or stung by bees to the point of passing out, I always wind up back in my home. Who is taking me there? Is that you, Antonio? 

Day 8

I caught a Whale Shark! I thought about doing a little more fishing after my excellent finds two nights ago and my word I’ve done it again! Sure it was the most ridiculously heavy thing I’ve ever had to reel in — I’m surprised the line didn’t snap — but I did it!

I brought it to Blathers to give it a nice new home in the museum. Let me tell you, finding a plastic baggie big enough to bring it in was its own challenge. He told me some interesting tidbits about the gentle giant. Learning can be fun sometimes!

Is that an actual option?

I had also been working on a garden for a while now and I must say it is really coming along! I’m so pleased… That’s it. There’s no punchline. Not everything in life is a joke! Can’t I just have a moment of serenity for once in my life?

Oh, I had nearly forgotten! Stitches finally moved in! I’m not sure why he was the last one to move in when I asked him first, but I guess he had a lot of things to unpack. I visited him to welcome him to the neighborhood as he unpacked and he was very persistent about cleaning the back left corner of his home… Even though the entire floor was coated in dirt.

In other news, Audie and I have continued to bond and I’ve learned some things about her. She might not be as innocent as I initially thought…

I didn’t realize you played Smash Bros too!

But then we got to chatting about movies and it turns out she’s writing one. A rock-opera to be exact. While I was genuinely interested, its plot was a little hard to follow…

Really, all the neighbors and I have been getting along rather well. I jumped in on a conversation between Bud and Kitt, though, and it seems they have rather opposite tastes. Literally.

All these wacky shenanigans that go on in this town, I swear, it’d make for some kind of sitcom. I actually just received a cartoonist set from Kitt earlier, perhaps I’ll try my hand at it sometime. For now, these journals will have to suffice.

Day 9

I had gotten a new room expansion for my house the other day and it seems that word spread quickly! Audie has been dying to come over and see the place since the first day, but now she has sort of been inviting herself over. 

It’s not that I don’t want her over, she’s easily become my best friend of all the island’s residents that live here. I simply want to gussy up the place before she comes. Still, she remains persistent… Is this what Antonio felt like about my persistence? 

…Man, what a great feeling to be loved and admired so much.

I headed over to check in on Stitches today seeing as he was still new to island life. He seems to be progressing rather quickly and is already doing stuff.

On another note, he keeps insisting that he has bug friends who live inside the floor and whisper things to him while he sleeps. Should I be concerned? 

Mabel dropped by today to set up shop in the town plaza. I always enjoy her selection of clothing to pick from. She’s also quite the trooper — It rained practically all day today, and still, she stood outside waiting for potential customers. I do think I was the only one though…

She just stands there… Menacingly!

Later that night Audie insisted on coming over again. I did explain to her that I was waiting for the renovations on my new room aka extension walk-in closet to be finished before anyone saw, and she seemed to understand, so we went back to her place to chat for a while. I found it a little ironic that she didn’t want me to snoop around her house yet she kept trying to persuade me to invite her over to my house… Does she have a secret shrine of me? 

…That would be so sweet! She’s the best friend I ever had!

We later went on a late-night stroll and things got real. I told her about my previous fishing escapades and she kept freaking out. It seems she has a severe case of ichthyophobia. 

Day 10

The resident’s hall was under construction and they have now finished and revealed the new and improved plaza. It looks magnificent! Nook had even gotten new help from off-island. He hired Isabelle, my assistant from back home. I guess Citytown isn’t doing so hot without me… 

Now I have no quarrel with Isabelle under normal circumstances, but I can’t help but feel that Nook is trying to replace me. I am your island representative, not her! Don’t you dare get any ideas…

Ugh, Isabelle, you make it so hard to hate you when you act so precious!

Anyway, it’s clear that I’m still the favorite of the residents. Stitches came by and gave me a house-warming gift even though he was the one who just moved in… Still, it was much appreciated.

I dropped by the town hall today to carry on business as usual, but of course, Tom Nook just had to rave about what a great help Isabelle would be. I mean, sure, she did let me change the flag because of my magnificent artistic potential, but that doesn’t change anything! I’ve got my eye on you, Isabelle…

Btw, the flag looks fabulous. 

Other business included the construction of a suspension bridge. Of course, most of that money was coming out of my pocket, but still, if it could save me from a pole-vaulting accident, I’d gladly pay the majority.

I decided to look for more resources to sell off-island and the dodo’s brought me to a wonderful place. They brought me to an island filled with rare hybrid colored cosmos growing all over! It was truly a sight to behold! My garden would look absolutely stunning with some of these added in the variety! Why haven’t these dodo-brains ever brought me here before? Oh…

In addition, I think my talk with Audie yesterday night helped her overcome her fear of fish. But I still don’t think she understands how fishing works…

Day 11

I still needed to make some money for that suspension bridge, so I thought a little bug catching and tree shaking would do the trick. Kitt called out to me, asking if I was having a fun time bug catching. She then apologized for assuming, and though she did assume correctly, I appreciate her earnest apology. 

We also opened a campsite today! To think, the future resident of my town would soon be here! Nook was very persistent about persuading people to settle down here, and I couldn’t agree more. I wonder what kind of animal they would be? I wonder if maybe… No. Certainly he wouldn’t be there…

Enough stressing myself out over the thought of my future resident. I also took another mystery flight from Dodo Airlines to see what magnificent isle they might bring me to today. Yesterdays “Hybrid Island,” as I am thoughtfully dubbing it, was a sight to behold. How could they ever top that?

In short, they didn’t. They brought me to an island where every fish in the river was a black bass. Every. Single. One.

I hate you all…

As awful as that experience was, I had to be grateful that the ocean fish were not all sea basses. Ugh. I shudder at the very thought of such a place even existing. Still, I complained to their manager. I had already booked a Nook Miles Ticket in advance, so their flight tomorrow had better be good!

All the neighbors today kept stressing out about the Happy Home Designers committee and I just couldn’t understand why. They give you nice presents if you do a good job decorating your home, right? Well, when speaking to Audie, she presented it to me in a whole different way. I’ll never look at the Happy Home community the same way again…

A friend of mine had invited me and another chum over to his island later that evening. It was a delightful night filled with picnics and hide-and-go-seek.

I also met someone. Roald. His eyes were so striking, I could not look away. With that and his chiseled features, one could easily… No. Stop it. You are a one-anteater kind of woman! Someday he’ll come back. I know he will. Until then, I must resist the sweet temptations of this gorgeous hunk of penguin. 

Oh, you lift? I can tell…

Day 12

Today’s the day~

We have a guest at the campsite! Oh, I can’t wait to meet them! I’m so excited that I had to write about it the first minute I got up today! This lucky fellow isn’t even aware that they’re going to be our future resident! Ooo, I’m so excited! I have to go! I’ll write more when I get back tonight!

I don’t want to talk about it. Ugh, but I have to vent somewhere, don’t I?

Our guest today was Graham, the hamster. Ugh. I do not like Graham. Why? He’s such a wannabe poser! He claims he’s a celebrity and uses corny terms all the time. He greeted me by saying “Bonjourno!” and later exclaimed his excitement by shouting “Guten Tag!” First — that’s not even the same language as you were faking before, second, you’re not using that phrase properly! Don’t think I’m not onto you, hamster.

To make matters worse, he doesn’t even refer to me by my name. He just calls me “Hey, you!” Do you even know who I am, pal? I’m more a celebrity than you’ll ever be!

Ugh, after that nightmare finally ended (for now,) I needed a bit of joy in my life. Stitches was the perfect friend to brighten my day. But then I screwed that up too — I thought it would be cute to give him a stuffed Panda Bear, and then I remembered he is a stuffed bear. Oh, my dear sweet Stitches, I am so very sorry.

Then Gulliver washed up on my shore again. Even he is aware of my excess loads of free time so, of course, I had to help him…

I decided it was time to just take a breather and use that Nook Miles Ticket I had. I looked the pilot dead in the eyes before we took off and said, “I swear, if you bring me to black bass island one more time, it will be the last thing you ever do.” Needless to say, he brought me to Bell Rock island today. I went to the island with 5,000 bells and came home with 87,000. I am one satisfied customer.

By the way, how does that work? I understand when I chip away at a rock and things like stone or clay fall from it, but bells? Perhaps bells are actually a type of stone valued so much by the animal people it’s used as currency? You see, I could accept that, but the fact that sometimes it flies out of the rock wrapped in little bags, it just baffles me!

Well, with all my profits from that trip I managed to pay for another bridge. Audie and I were discussing how this would benefit us by not having to use the vaulting poles anymore.

Also, Kitt hurt my feelings today too. She said that my style was basic. She could see I was a bit upset by this, so she covered it up by saying she meant I wore basics well, but I knew what she really meant. I’m starting to remember why I let her move from Citytown…

Yeah, well, your hat doesn’t match your jacket!

Though this day was full of ups and downs, the final part of my story ends with the highest high one could feel. Later in the evening, I thought I should attempt to find the rumored Tarantula Island. I haven’t had any luck finding a specimen for the museum, so certainly I would be able to find one in a place literally named after the creature. But I did not find the island. However, what I found was even better. Love.

I got off the plane, and lo and behold, there he was. My precious, my darling — Antonio was there! I ran to his side, thrilled to see him, nearly jumping into his arms — but I controlled myself.

We talked and talked, catching up on life since we last saw each other. It turned out he was doing a survival training challenge, which is why he was out on the island. Typical Antonio. Still, his training was doing him wonders, ooh, those muscles!

He also noticed how much I have been toning myself as well, what with all this island hopping and hard labor Nook tasks me with.

He off-hand mentioned that he’d love to his island training full time, so I took the opportunity and asked him to move in with me— I mean, to Islandtown. After everything that had happened between us, I thought perhaps I came on a bit too strong, but he answered in the affirmative. Antonio, sweet, sweet, Antonio, is going to be part of my village once again!

Despite all the bad things that happened today, I can rest easy knowing my favorite animal is going to be with me.

Day 13

Graham was the first one to move in today, but Antonio will be here tomorrow! I’m so excited! Audie and I got together and talked about it all morning. It was funny because she was watching a romance movie the day before and had an inkling something special might happen!

But sadly, poor little Stitches was sick today! I immediately ran over when Kitt told me the news and brought him some medicine. He was feeling a lot better afterward, but I told him he should still rest inside for the day.

I proceeded from there to go to the Town Hall as Tom Nook had requested for my assistance — MY assistance, not Isabelle’s… Okay, Isabelle’s too. Ugh.

If you think for one second that I’m your task force you’ve got another thing coming…

Anyway, the two of them asked me to keep inviting new residents to live in our town. Easy enough! I knew plenty of people from back home who would love to live here! I called up my girl Whitney from back home and invited her to camp out with us here on the island. I figured we’d hang out a bit and then I’d ask her about moving in.

She was thrilled when I called her and came over immediately. We had such a good time catching up, it’s been so long! These past few days have been overwhelming me with emotion with so many familiar faces.

However, when I mentioned that Whitney should move to Islandtown, she didn’t say no, but she didn’t quite feel ready yet. I get it. Citytown is a great place. I mean, it’s less great now that I’m not mayor anymore, but it’s still pretty cool. I’ll invite her over again after she’s thought it over a bit.

Oh! With my garden doing so well, I decided to set up my own little flower shop right outside my house. I stood there for three hours today and not a single customer. Mabel, I applaud your patience and durability.

I was hoping to raise a bit of money through this stand to set up a bridge. You see, when I picked a spot for Antonio’s house to be, I didn’t realize he had no connection to the other parts of the island. It was imperative that I got this bridge funded and finished by tonight. Luckily I had some help from friends to donate enough bells for the project to be completed. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of fishing…

But it will all be worth it. Tomorrow, my prince charming moves to town. 

A Residents Representatives work is never done! With so many tasks to complete and more residents moving in, how will our solo human villager handle the heat? Read the New Leaf Diaries first here! Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway…

[donttellpeterparker]

When In Europe

Summary: Europe was a magical place that captivated everything from art to music to food and even love. It had captured your entire being and drew you closer to someone you were trying so desperately to stay away from. It took only a matter of time for everything to start spinning out of control...

Requested: No

Word Count: 3k+

Note: Please listen to this and watch this

Warning(s)?: Senior!Reader, Senior!Peter, FFH, Angst, Fluff,

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

When In Europe

(Different writing style)

Spending my time in Europe had been epic. It had only been three days into my trip and honestly, I never wanted to leave. Visiting all the monuments and tourists attractions instantly had me hooked to this place. I was so glad I spent the past year saving up for this, those extra shifts at the cafe really were paying off.

There was only a few months before graduation, a last trip with all of our friends before we departed each other to start our own journey. I teared a little knowing this was probably the last time we will all be together, not arguing, studying, stressing over an oncoming exam or anything like that, just being in the moment, together. I couldn't have been happier.

''Come on Y/N, we have five minutes before Mrs Y/T/N possibly burst through our door and finally slaps us across our heads'' My friend MJ laughed from beside me, referring to one of our teachers who have joined us. Her and Mr Harris had the dreaded job of controlling the Senior Year, poor them.

I smiled to myself in the mirror and made sure my lip gloss was perfectly across my lips before popping my phone and wallet into my off the shoulder purse. Only two more days of bliss before reality set back in.

''Let's go'' I couldn't contain my excitement, I was sure I was annoying MJ to no end. Tonight was the night of the ball. I know, it sounds tacky but honestly, it also sounded kinda fun. Ever since the school Prom last year, any dance would be better than that one.

''Oh god come on Sarah! This is going to be the best night of our youthful lives!''  I was beyond excited for tonight. Prom. We weren't Seniors but this night was important to all high school students. We rarely had dances so all year levels were aloud to attend Prom, though all the years below Senior had to leave by 10.

''God your always so dramatic'' Sarah sassed as we sat in the back giggling together. Both of us had managed to score dates, mine be Mike, a forwarder for our school football team and Sarah's boyfriend, Andrew who was the Quarterback. (sorry, I'm Australian so I'm not sure how American football works)

''Why thank you Darling'' My horrible accent had us both into hysterics once again. Once we had arrived courtesy to Sarah's dad driving us, we hopped out and waved goodbye walking arm in arm into the school gymnasium.

''Hey you'' Andrew came up from behind and wrapped his arms around Sarah, twirling her around as she giggled. She mouthed 'sorry' to me and I just waved her off, hoping she would enjoy her night.

''Wow you look... so hot'' I faked a smile and turned to face Mike. I wasn't asked out by anyone, not even the guy I was falling for.. but it didn't matter, Andrew's friend did so I wouldn't have to go tonight alone.

''Not to bad yourself'' I tried to compliment but it just didn't feel.. right. He just smirked and took my hand beginning to walk me away when he saw something.

''Oh god, what the hell is that loser doing here?'' He asked aloud and turned around. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned around myself. There, not 20 meters away was Peter Parker walking through the doorway, stopping suddenly when his dazed eyes reached mine.

I could hear Mike scoff from beside me, turning back around uninterested. Instead I stared at Peter and smiled sadly, wondering myself why he was here. He hated dances, and especially attending them alone. He nodded his head and smiled timidly at me before glancing around, still looking dazed. The look unsettled me more than it should have. My eyes followed him as he walked past us, Mike muttering some insult underneath his breath as he approached Liz Allen. Of course, the Senior he had been crushing on.

I was an idiot, a complete and utter idiot. Why would he even like me back when he had her? And especially in the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen. She smiled happily at him and-

''Come on gorgeous'' Mike had interrupted my thoughts when he began to lead me onto the dance floor, exactly towards the middle. I shake my thoughts and move my eyes to his, trying to hide the heartbreak and hurt that I was currently feeling towards a certain brown eyed boy.

He placed his hands on my waist and pulled me close to him as a slow song began to play, my eyes finding Sarah and Andrew in the distance snuggled up together, an occasional kiss shared between them. Was it too much to want something like that? Someone to hold, care for, love?

''I can't do this'' I looked for the familiar sound of his voice and frowned once I saw him, leaving Liz. She looked shocked and confused as he took off, racing towards the side exit of the gym. I kept slow dancing with Mike as I watched, my eyes following his retreating figure as worry began to settle in my stomach. Why in the world would he ditch the girl he was madly in love with?

''I'm going to go get us a drink ok?'' I asked Mike without looking at him, he responded with an 'okay' and let me go. My legs took me into the direction where Peter ran off to, my arms opening the doors before I can even process what I was doing.

But I regretted it instantly. All I could see down the hall was just that, an empty space filled with lockers and doors that lead to classrooms. There was no sign of Peter. But then again in my life there never really was, wherever he was going I was never really following... till now.

And even then.. he's gone.

It was as if I stopped trying after that night. I didn't ask anymore questions about his disappearances, I didn't voice my concern, worry, or anything. We fell out of touch but yet I never fell out of love with him.

''Are you okay?'' Mj walks up behind me once she realised I was spaced for a while. I look over my shoulder and wiped away a tear, nodding my head.

''Yeah, totally, come on, the day awaits'' I knew MJ didn't buy it but she didn't ask either which was good. We left our shared hotel room and made our way down into the lobby to meet up with everyone else.

''Okay gather around now! Hurry! We haven't much time!'' All 56 of us excited teenagers did as the Tour Instructor asked.

''Now as you are all aware of, We have been invited to the masked ball held by Mr and Mrs Salvatore, proud owners of the beautiful History Of Europe Museum for their grand Opening! We were very lucky yesterday to get a sneak peek and small tour, now, you'll only have a few hours after lunch to shop for your dresses, suits and masks, all have which been acquainted for apart of your allowance.-'' I had droned out, admiring all the lovely art works that hung in the quite historic. God this whole country was beautiful on the inside as well as the outside.

''God I feel like I am in some cheap fairytale'' MJ comments beside me stirring me from my thoughts. I glance at her and laugh, slightly agreeing with her.

''So on we go to the Theater!'' I was silently excited for this as opposed to many of the other students.

''And let the torture continue'' I smiled once again at MJ's remark before following behind everyone else and onto the shuttle bus.

~*~*~*~*

''So apparently, we are heading to lunch now, then into town for shopping, then we get the afternoon off to get ready'' I was saddened by the idea of leaving the theater so soon. I had wanted to walk around backstage, soak in the atmosphere.

''I'll meet you at the bus'' I had left MJ and walked around the other students and headed back onto the theater stage. We were again, lucky, to be able to get access to one of the most famous theaters in the world, having it all to ourselves for a little over an hour.

Walking up the steps I had expected to be alone, not to see a figure standing right in the middle. I took small and slow steps towards the center as well, not really paying attention to the other person as I stare out in the auditorium. The hundreds of red cushioned seats starring back at me.

I closed my eyes and smiled, feeling at peace.

''Beautiful isn't it?'' I asked aloud, my eyes opening to see the blarring lights still shining down.

''It definitely is'' I could feel myself freeze when I recognised the voice. I stiffened and wished the ground right then and there would swallow me up whole. I slowly turned my face to the side and saw Peter standing not too far away, already looking at me. I licked my lips nervously and glanced down at the ground.

It hurt being near him.

''We should get back to the others'' I spoke up with a small voice now, wanting to leave.

''We still have a few more minutes'' It was as if he wasn't fazed. Like we haven't being ignoring each other for the past 12 months. I wasn't sure whether to be angry or upset, or both.

''Lunch will be soon'' Speaking so formally at him felt wrong. Peter just nodded but continued to pick up the peaceful serenity of this place.

It was silent for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to speak or say.

Did he feel nervous and uncomfortable like I did? Did he feel like he had been punched in the chest when he saw me? Of course not.

''You've been quiet these past 24 hours'' Why the hell would I bring this up?

''Just had some stuff on my mind'' He had gotten very good at lying. He was acting weird like he normally would, even on this vacation.

''It's more than that'' I found myself speaking, turning to face him. No matter how hard I tried I still cared for him, even when I hated myself for it. He looked at me and starred for a few seconds, a look in his eyes I couldn't pick up on before he smiled.

''You could always tell when I was lying''

''Cause you're an awful liar'' We both laughed. It was nice. He slowly began to walk away and casted me one last glance.

''You look really pretty today'' He said shyly and quietly, so quietly I almost missed it. I starred after him in shock as he left, walked down the stairs and out the doors.

''So do you..'' I murmured after him but it was pointless. I left out one last glance before leaving as well, my heart swirling with emotions I had buried long ago. (Spider-man FFH trailer anyone?)

~*~*~*~*

Dress shopping with MJ in Europe was probably not one of my most favourite things to do. After I told her about my very short and probably non meaningful conversation with Peter she wouldn't stop yapping. She told me to stay away from him, knowing how much I still felt for him.

''It's been forever, I mean, maybe it was just Deja Vu? You know, with feelings instead of the scenario'' Even I knew I was bullshitting myself.

''Doesn't quite work like that'' I wanted roll my eyes at her but I knew she was right.

''I've moved on, I'm not in love with him anymore'' I lied. MJ looked at me and smiled as if she bought it.

''Good because he isn't worth it, he's hurt you too much'' Not by his own choice.

''Yeah, I know. Want to be my date tonight?'' I was just about finished with my dress and makeup when we heard a small knock at the door.

''Sorry, Ned has already asked me'' She smiled sadly before opening the door to reveal Ned standing there in a suit, his mask in one hand as he smiles at MJ before turning to face me.

''Hey Y/N'' I smiled back and nodded.

''Ned'' I replied, fixing the final touches of my hair before reaching for my black and white mask from my bed.

''Peter's going stag so do you mind if he joins us?'' Ned asks MJ and she nods slowly, glancing at me. I ignore her look and glance at myself in the mirror one last time, remembering this morning before heading over towards the door.

''Of course'' she responds.

''I'll see you there?'' MJ asks, picking up her own coat and mask. I smile back as I watch her and Ned leave the room, closing the door behind them.

I take a deep breath and try not to glance at my nervous figure in the mirror before taking off myself, heading down to meet everyone to hop on the bus.

~*~*~*~*

Was it weird that I smelt the air as soon as I hoped out of the bus? For some reason the air In Europe smelt fresher, clearer. I lifted your spirits in ways you never thought possible. I loved it. The gloom I was feeling not an hour before soon drifted away as I felt a genuine smile cross my lips, the first one for the day.

I was beyond excited for tonight. I had wanted to spend the night exploring, having a few drinks and soaking in the atmosphere. I was here for that particular reason. I had no care for another dance, not after the last one.

I believed I was cursed when it came to dances. Especially once my eyes found Peter Parker off in the distance standing with Ned and MJ. I quickly looked away before any one of them caught my lingering stare.

My mask was surprisingly comfortable on my face as I walked through the huge doors, smiling to myself in awe at the polished inside of the museum came to life. I took in the art, the high ceilings that hung chandeliers, the waiters were immaculate. I stopped in my floor length gown and stopped once I heard the doors open again, my eyes deceiving me by glancing over my shoulder.

And there he was, Peter Parker being the last to walk inside. How long had I stood admiring my surroundings?

But that wasn't what made me froze. My heart leaped in my chest at the sense of Deja Vu. I didn't mean to get lost in his eyes, I didn't mean to smile as my heart melted all over again. He stayed absolutely still and smiled back, nodding his head as tears brimmed in my eyes, just as before. I turned around this time, not distracted by some other guy as he approached me.

''Hi..'' I opened my mouth to speak but words escaped me.

''Hi'' I was smiling like some love struck fool. God my cheeks were blushing so bad right now but I did not care. The way he was looking at me, the way I had dreamt and wished for so very long, had me locked.

It was cheesy of me to say that it felt like we were the only people in the room but it was true. Everything else fell away into the background. The music was the only thing I could hear, the soft lullabies of a familiar tune playing (insert song) had my chest hammering.

But as soon as the moment arrived it left. Peter frowned and in concern so did mine. It was happening all over again I knew it.

''I have to go'' He said sadly, beginning to walk past me. It was as if my heart was breaking all over again, the same look he had shared with Liz now being shared with me. My head whipped around so fast to see his retreating figure once again. I could feel the tears brimming around my eyes, one falling. My breathing being caught in my throat.

But there was no way I was letting him get away this time so I took off. I raced after him so fast that I was sure I would fall over, especially in these heels. The whole world melted away as I could feel my feet run faster and faster, feeling myself being pulled back into the past. This time, my dress was a cocktail dress, no heels and less makeup. I had exited the gymnasium and into the hallway only this time, I could just see him in the distance.

''Peter!'' I yelled out causing him to stop. His tie was loosen, that was the first thing I noticed soon followed by his scared expression. I quickly jogged up to him with tears in my eyes, seeing a younger version of Peter standing in front of me.

''I can't redo the past'' I said more to myself then him.

''Can't you see I've already been here with you, more than once, I am not doing that again'' A sob left my lips with the words. Peter just stared at me at a loss for words. I shook my head as another tear slipped onto my cheek.

''Nothing's changed, after a whole year nothing has changed'' I spoke, Peter just staying still.

''I am so tired of living in the past, I am so sick of my feelings being in the past but hurting me more in the present''

''So tell me, or show me that some part of you, anything, feels for me'' Peters eyes softly widen at my confession.

''Anything but please, don't run, not again'' I begged. It was as if something had clicked inside of him and he started towards me.

''Please, Peter I lo-'' I could soon feel warm lips on mine, placed so gently that it took my breath away. My eyes instantly shut as I felt myself being drawn back into reality. The lighting in the room changing back into the Museum, the past now being replaced with the present.

Peter's warm hands cupped my cheeks holding me still and close towards him.

I could feel him slowly pull away, his lips only a breath away from mine. My forehead resting against his, eyes still closed.

''I've never ran away from you'' He spoke so softly in a whisper. He searched my eyes looking for something. I gulped and glanced at his lips once again, feeling his hands still cupping my face, the warm tingles still pulsating through me. He lent in again slowly and let out a shaky breath.

''But I do have to go'' And just as soon as the rush came it left again. He pulled away and left, his hands leaving me cold as he raced away, rushing out the doors. I stood still and let another tear leave my eye as I just watched.

Peter was more complicated than I could ever explain. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to him. He was there one minute and gone the next, but in that minute, I felt whole.

So In spite of myself I smiled. A tingle still upon my lips as I turned around and joined everyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A very different imagine, hope you guys enjoyed! :) xoxo

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 15 v.2

PSA time: Criticism can be a positive force, especially when it’s constructive, and even more so when it’s given by someone you trust and respect. (Don't be afraid of it!) “But it’s just fan fiction,” the mantra goes, meaning fics don't warrant scrutiny, like "real" writing does. But “It’s just fan fiction,” to me, means I have the ability to go back and reassess, to learn from my mistakes, especially when given sound advice to guide me. I’m writing to learn, as I’m not a writer by trade, so there is no shame in tearing something apart and starting over again. Chapter 15 warranted a serious makeover, so I dove in...the gist is the same but the information imparted differently. I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of "show not tell,” so I’ve gone back and applied that liberally. And here we are, back at Chapter 15, with a (hopefully) more satisfying result. Plus, in the meantime, I’ve plotted out a much better ending (for the story), so it's a win/win situation all around. Edited 6/5.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

////////////////////

Myka checks her phone and looks toward the door again; no new news, but Helena really should be here by now. The VIP preview started at five, and her public opening at six, but now it's near seven, and Helena’s still missing in action. A mix up with her ticket left her stranded until late afternoon, but after some strong words with the manager, she transferred to another airline. She texted over an hour ago that she'd "be there soon," but Myka's beginning to worry she's run into further trouble.

It's almost laughable, her fretting over Helena’s absence, as she was adamant for weeks Helena not join her. But at the last minute, she changed her mind, unnerved about stepping into uncharted territory alone. Helena convinced her she needed a buffer and that she was the best candidate for the job.

After their initial conversation, Helena called like clockwork every day, but at first, Myka didn't pick up. Ignoring Helena entirely seemed the only way to focus, but her heartfelt messages kept creeping into her head. If she was ever going to move past this, they needed to talk, and sooner rather than later was better than waiting.

Their first few conversations were bitter affairs, little more than Helena listening while Myka listed her “wrongs.” Myka vented a laundry list of frustrations, beginning with Germany and tumbling back through their relationship. But over time, her hostility weakened, allowing Helena to steer their focus towards Myka’s show.

“What do you want,” Myka grumbled, tapping "accept" after three full rings.

“To ask how you're faring today,” Helena replied.

“Stressed out. Super busy. Same as yesterday, and the day before.”

“You have been rather agitated lately.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka snapped. It had become a habit to push Helena’s buttons whenever possible, but this schtick was getting old, her heart wasn’t in it as it was a few days ago.

“Were you able to ask for more time off work?”

“Yeah,” Myka answered, a little disappointed Helena didn’t offer her usual apologies. "Leena’s sending stuff I can work on at home, so I only have to go in once or twice a week.”

“Excellent. That relieves much of your burden.”

“True, but there’s still so much to do.”

“Talk me through it. Perhaps I can assist.”

Myka looked across her room at the collection of objects on her desk, the ones she and Abigail rescued from Helena’s apartment. She hadn't told Helena what had happened there yet as she wanted to process her experiences there before inserting Helena's influence. But considering the subject matter, that was kind of counterproductive as she wouldn't be able to keep it from her for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were gutting your building?” she asked.

“Are they? I wasn't aware.”

“I think you knew.”

“I’d only heard rumblings. Nothing substantial. Certainly, nothing this soon."

Myka grunted in disapproval. "You couldn't have mentioned it was a possibility?"

"Discussing such destruction seemed cruel after all you’d been through. And I didn't want to alarm Christina.”

When Helena got kicked out, Myka was still a mess, so she could see where Helena was going with that. But Christina was going to find out eventually, whether while walking to the park or from a friend at school. Though she didn't mention it either the last time she saw Christina, probably for the same reasons Helena had kept it from her.

Standing from her stool, she walked across the room towards the group of objects littering the table. She fingered the frayed edge of a worn LP sleeve she dug out from the dumpster, one that once lived on a bottom shelf in Helena's living room with many others. They were visible from the couch while she was lying down, and she'd often wished they had a turntable to play them on. That couch provided so much comfort in those trying times, especially when Dewy would knead in circles and then curl up at her feet.

“I loved that apartment.”

“As did I.”

“Well, it’s gone. Ripped apart. The whole damn thing.”

“How do you—“

“Your couch was in a dumpster. We went inside. Took everything left of you we could carry.”

“We?”

“Me and Abigail."

“Oh. You and Abigail.”

The line quieted.

“Sorry, that was...” Harsh, Myka thought. But no harsher than finding her with Bonnie at the sale.

“A-And what treasures did you gather?” Helena asked, in soft, defeated tones.

“A, um...pen,” Myka said, describing the nearest thing to her. “From that Mexican place on Houston. The one with the soup Christina likes when she’s sick.”

“Pozole.”

“Yeah, that’s it."

“Then it's truly a souvenir worth saving,” Helena replied. Her words were polite but distant as if she was thinking about Christina being sick and her inability to comfort her. Myka wanted her to feel guilt, but over her, not her child. She looked around her collection for something less fraught.

“There’s that pom-pom Christina made at Brownies.” Dust fell to the table as Myka lifted an orange poof of yarn.

“The singular time we attended before she began kempo. It wasn’t for us.”

Myka drops the pom-pom and hones in on another item. “Shells from the beach you said were from Santa Cruz?”

“From our excursion after Claudia’s job interview at Apple. That was…an enlightening day.”

“Tell me more.”

“I shall, one day,” Helena answered. “But it wasn't terribly pleasant.”

“Oh, sorry." Myka searches her collection for something with a cheerier backstory.

“I’m touched you felt compelled to save these trinkets, but I must ask, whatever for?”

“They’re lost memories, like mine, from the fire, and I’m painting them for my show. Or at least trying to, but I’m running out of time.”

“Ah, yes! That makes perfect sense."

“It does? How?"

“Thus far, you’ve been piecing together memories, painstakingly recreating objects you’ve lost. But there’s a distance there as if you're compiling a catalog, much like the registrar you’ve trained to be."

“They’re more than cataloging—"

"But the objects from my flat are extant, and your renderings draw directly from their energy. Mixing our memories with your own adds a richness, describing the limbo we're all experiencing while building our lives again.”

“I, um...” Myka looked toward her easel, at the rendering of the calendar she rescued from the floor displayed there. Various events from that month flashed through her mind, and she realized the amount of baggage she was memorializing. Helena’s interpretation of her motives suddenly made sense, though unpacking them at the moment seemed too intense.

“Can you work on multiple paintings using artificial light?” Helena asked.

“I have been, and it helps. But I need to ship everything at least a week and a half in advance.”

“Ship many as you're able and take the rest with you on the plane.”

“Can I do that?”

“Yes. If you're still using wooden panels, they're not weighty. Pack them securely and pay the excess baggage fee,” Helena explained. “Buy them pre-primed to save time in the studio.”

“I like preparing them myself.”

“You must focus on content. Hire someone to prepare them for you, if that’s critical."

“You’re probably right.” Myka sighed.

“You're allowing too many distractions to get in your way.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka said, her bite from earlier gone.

“I’ll refrain from phoning if—“

“No. Call. I might not pick up, but this was...helpful." It was, but everything wasn't sitting right just yet. "We’re still not ok. Ok? You know that."

“I’m acutely aware.”

“As long as you know.”

“My offer still stands, either way.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Myka said, then tapped end her phone. That was all the critique she could handle for the day.

Positive news also eased tensions between them, as early on, Mrs. Frederic's bid won the sale. The sizable commission allowed her to step away from the gallery, though she promised to help out when needed. And the residency in LA got in touch before her trip and informed her she made it through to the semi-finalist round.

But she needs to get through tonight before anything can truly move forward, a big art night in Warsaw all round. The city's museums and galleries have openings concurrently, and tonight's crowd has already has exceeded expectations. The director's been buzzing around all evening, introducing her to new faces left and right. By the time Helena arrives, all the activity's made her head spin, and she's starting to zone out.

She spies Helena weaving towards her mid-sentence, cornered by a woman asking detailed questions about technique.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I must steal the guest of honor,” Helena says and hooks her arm through Myka’s. She leads her back across the room towards the entrance, then steps back and sweeps her eyes over her outfit. “Lovely as ever. More captivating in person. Though I did appreciate the preview over the phone.”

Myka blinks a few times, a little stunned by Helena’s actually here. “Y-you look nice, too. You didn't say you were wearing a dress.”

“I’m hardly well put together, but I did try my best. This event is too important to arrive both late and unkempt."

Myka searches for traces of unkemptness, but Helena's close-fitting dress is wrinkle-free. It compliments her frame so perfectly, she finds it difficult to look away. When she meets Helena's gaze, Helena's eyes fill with apology, and Myka's soften, accepting the gesture without reproach. Her show wouldn’t have come together without Helena's help, and she’s glad she’s finally here to share it with her.

"I thought you'd be here earlier. Was there lots of traffic?” Myka asks.

"I stopped by my hotel to change.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Yours was booked. Mine’s further away.”

“Oh. I didn't—“ A patron squeezing between them cuts Myka short.

Helena turns to face a painting on the wall. “This one’s mesmerizing in person. Nothing like the photo you sent. Its surface seems holographic, but that can’t be right.”

“I added mica powder to the pigment, to create a shine.”

“Myka power?” Helena quips, raising a brow.

“Very funny. You know what I mean. Christina said it should be shiny, like the sticker.”

“She is you’re harshest critic.”

“At times,” Myka says, with a smirk. “It is her sticker.”

“But the rendering is yours. And the sentiment an ode to childhood obsessions."

“It's about the resilience of materials in the harshest conditions,” Myka snaps, repeating the line she’s used all day. "But I guess it is a kid’s sticker, so...” She looks hard at the likeness of a curled and soiled Pegasus she created. Helena's interpretation wasn’t her intention, but she can see what she means.

“Have you repaired all the damage from your shipment?” Helena asks.

“Don’t get me started. I can’t believe the crappy repacking job they did."

“Manhandling must escalate the longer goods fester in Customs .”

“If they’d been held up anywhere but London, I don’t know what I would have done. Thank you again for convincing me to ask for Mrs. Frederic's help.”

“In my opinion, the paperwork error was inconsequential. They should never have been held back in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when I don’t double check things—"

“Myka, come and meet Priska," a woman interrupts. She places a hand on Myka’s shoulder and glances at Helena. “Ah, this must be the long-lost Helena. Welcome!"

“I’m pleased to have finally arrived,” Helena says, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be Eva, the director. Very nice to meet you,”

“Likewise,” Eva says, accepting the gesture. "I've heard much about you.”

“All good I hope.”

Eva smiles and looks across the gallery. “Come, talk with Priska. She’s intrigued by the calendar piece."

“There's a lot to be said, isn’t there?”

As they walk across the room, the mischievous look in Helena's eye leaves Myka wary of what "a lot" entails.

Helena shifts into dealer mode as they meet with Eva’s client, her charm on high as they check in with various guests. Myka chimes in when Helena's interpretations don’t line up with her own, but after their umpteenth conversation, she’s happy to let Helena speak for her. Helena mostly gets things right, plus she’s wiped from repeating herself, and watching Helena work, in her favor, is still a turn on.

There's a dinner after the opening, then drinks after that and Myka's running on steam by the drinks portion. Helena stays ever by her side, chatting with guests, refilling her glass, ensuring she's having a good time. It's comforting having Helena there to care of her, as she'd been mostly holed up alone for weeks.

During a lull in socializing, Helena glances at Myka and smiles a smile she knows is just for her. She slips her arm around Myka's waist, and Myka instinctively leans towards her, smiling back with equal sentiment.

As the hours pass, and the wine takes hold, their touches become more intimate. At some point, Myka tunes out the room entirely, and her eyes hanging on Helena's lips. The way they lift and stretch to match her cadence and inflection makes her wish they were moving over her skin. She aches to kiss her, but not here, somewhere private, somewhere alone. She snaps out of it when she realizes that’s not out of the question.

She asks the time, it's late, an appropriate time to leave. They say their goodbyes, then pile into a car someone called for them. Myka gives the driver directions, and when Helena adds a second stop, her heart sinks; it no longer makes sense to have asked her to book a separate room. It was an easy way out if their evening went unfavorably, but she assumed they'd be in the same hotel.

“I can’t wait to pass out,” she says, slumping back into her seat. She closes her eyes as the car drives away.

“You deserve a rest. And you’ll sleep soundly knowing tonight was a great success.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Myka says. She cracks an eye open to peer at Helena and sees she's sitting stiffly, too far away. She slides a hand across the seat and lays it over Helena’s thigh. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for allowing me,” Helena says. She covers Myka’s hand with her own.

The car turns at a light and Myka settles back, closing her eyes again, resting her head on the top of the seat. The car turns and slows after continuing on for several minutes. When it stops, Helena removes her hand.

“Come up with me,” Myka says and squeezes Helena’s thigh.

Helena looks down at Myka's hand but doesn't answer.

"If you want," Myka adds. Was Helena's doting all an act? She did offer her hotel address rather quickly. Maybe she misread her; maybe she wants to be alone.

“I’d be happy to,” Helena says, laying her hand over Myka’s again and smiling as she meets Myka’s eyes.

They exit the vehicle and walk straight through the lobby, directly into an open elevator. Myka presses a button, and as they move skywards, she steps back and examines Helena’s shimmery ensemble.

“Your dress reminds me of the one from our first ‘official’ date.”

“Do you reckon?” Helena glances down at her garment.

“The cut’s the same, but the color's different. Did you do that on purpose?”

“I may very well have,” Helena replies.

The door opens and they walk down a corridor then stop in front of Myka’s room. Myka slips her keycard into the slot and upon entering, sheds her jacket and bag, throwing both over the arm of a chair. She turns and faces Helena, who is standing a few paces away.

“Take your coat off," Myka says, motioning for Helena to come closer.

“We should talk,” Helena says, her tone weighty, beyond the current mood.

“I know, but...” Myka steps behind Helena and reaches over her shoulders, slipping her fingers underneath her lapels. She leans forward and angles her head, so her lips nearly touch Helena's ear. “Let's keep tonight about me.”

Myka tugs on Helena's lapels and Helena circles her arms back, allowing Myka to slip her coat off entirely. Myka throws the coat on top of her own, then pads in front of Helena and threads a finger under the strap of her dress.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” Myka says, her eyes following her finger as it slides up towards Helena's collarbone then back down to where the strap meets Helena's generous neckline.

“A what?”

“A do-over. For our 'official' first date.” Myka angles her eyes up, meeting Helena's questioning gaze. "We are in a hotel, and you are wearing a dress.”

"So it seems,” Helena says, her eyes falling to Myka's lips. She leans forward for a kiss, but Myka dodges, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the bed. As they reach the edge, Myka spins Helena around and taps on her shoulders so she falls into sitting position, Helena lays back and Myka crouches down, lifting Helena's foot, slipping off one heel and then another. She removes her own and drops both pairs to the floor while Helena shimmies up the bed until her head rests on a pillow. Myka crawls across the bed until her body is hovering over Helena’s and Helena adjusts so they're in perfect alignment.

“This is where we left off,” Myka says, dipping down for a kiss. Helena lifts her head, but Myka stops an inch short. “No, wait. You sit up and kiss me.” Myka settles back on her haunches and takes hold of Helena’s hands, placing them, palms down, above her knees.

Helena lifts slowly at the waist, palms skimming up Myka’s thighs as Myka cups Helena’s jaw and guides their lips together. Helena's thumbs slide inwards as they reach the hem of Myka's skirt, stretching eagerly towards tender, intimate flesh.

“Hey!” Myka yelps.

Helena freezes. “I thought we were continuing where we left off?”

“It was our first time, remember? You wouldn’t have moved that fast.”

“You haven't a clue what I would or would not have done.”

“Then tell me," Myka says, but kisses Helena her before she can answer, a strategic brush of Helena's thumbs impossible to ignore.

Helena rakes her hands up, over the curve of Myka's hips, and wraps her arms tightly around Myka's middle. Myka presses into Helena as Helena’s tongue parts her lips, the need for closer contact rushing through her like lightning. When they're forced to break for air, Helena places kisses across Myka’s cheek and lets her lips linger near her ear.

“Any flesh I’d longed to touch would have been unclothed immediately.” Helena reaches behind Myka’s shoulders and drags down her zipper. Myka leans back and lifts her arms, allowing Helena to peel her garment off entirely.

"I'd have mapped every arc and every crook; cataloged each utterance of pleasure I'd earned." Helena slides Myka’s bra strap over the slope of her shoulder and places a soft, lingering kiss on the rise of her breast.

“Wait," Myka says as painful memories trickle back. “If you wanted me so badly, why did you leave?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Helena says, laying her forehead on Myka's chest.

“But I still don’t understand,” Myka says, tipping Helena's head up, needing to see Helena's eyes as she answers.

“I thought tonight was to remain about you.”

“It was but…why were you so scared that night?”

“I’d only just learned I’d be deported.”

“That’s not it. Not enough for you to bolt. It was something else, something out of your control.”

“Myka...“

Myka sits back, distancing herself, brow furrowing as she replays the details of that evening. “You asked a lot of questions about Mrs. Frederic. But you already knew who she was, didn’t you?”

“Her reputation precedes her—“

“No, you knew her. You’d met her before. Were you working for her then?”

“I hadn’t met her until the day I was called into her office." Helena's eyes narrow and Myka shrinks back. She hit a nerve, as she did so often over the phone. “I think you're over-tired, and perhaps a bit tipsy,” Helena says, taking hold of Myka’s hands and drawing them towards her.

“I’m going to change,” Myka says, slipping her hands free and sliding off the bed. She walks towards the bathroom and after entering closes the door.

She leans on the counter and stares into the mirror, seeing what Helena saw. Her eyes are red and puffy, her hair fairly frazzled, but it's been a really, really long day, so she's not surprised. But maybe, just maybe, she's overreacting as she is both overworked and overtired.

She begins pulling out pins and thinking over the situation; was Helena spying on Macpherson for Mrs. Frederic all this time? And was Bonnie clued into the situation before now? Helena said Mrs. Frederic knew her, or rather knew Emily before London, but did she mean “knew of” or “knew her personally?” And if so, wouldn’t she have known the "other" Emily first? Unless she only knew "this" Emily, Helena's Emily, the one from the trial.

She yanks the last pin free and runs her fingers through, combing her hair out into rough, curled strands.

If Helena was telling the truth and she wasn’t Emily before their date, then it is possible, at dinner, she hadn't met Mrs. Frederic yet. So maybe she's jumping to conclusions, mixed up between Claudia's research and Helena's murky past. It is easy to fall into old patterns, so she probably should chill out until they can talk for real. They have a whole three days to hash things out, and it's best to do so with a clear head.

She brushes her teeth and gives her face a quick wash before swapping her clothes for a t-shirt and shorts. She hesitates before opening the door, how does she want to handle this? If things hadn’t gone sour so quickly, they’d be otherwise engaged right now. And she'd rather be doing that than confronting Helena. Maybe it's best to pass out and deal with it tomorrow.

When she opens the door, Helena's standing near the entrance, her coat and shoes already on.

“At least you didn’t sneak out this time.”

“I was certain you wouldn't want me to stay.”

“No, I do." Myka walks toward her suitcase and rummages through, pulling out a fresh t-shirt. “Here. Go change.”

Helena removes her coat and shoes then moves toward the bathroom, taking the t-shirt from Myka’s hand as she passes.

Once the door closes, Myka climbs onto the bed and burrows under the covers. She breathes deep breaths and closes her eyes, hoping to calm her nerves before Helena emerges.

Too few moments later, the bed dips down, and Helena sits motionless for what seems like an eternity. Myka doesn't move either, unsure of how to proceed, waiting for Helena to set the tone.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. Not yet."

“May I say something?”

“Sure."

“Our past may be irreparable, and our future...unpredictable. But our present is something we hold agency over.”

Myka rolls onto her side and bends her arm at the elbow, propping her head up with a hand. “How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Since you first entered to bathroom."

"It's good. And I get it. You mean tonight is what we make it.”

“Yes,” Helena says. “You’d asked this evening be kept about you and I'd hoped you'd allow me to hold fast to that. You deserve a grand finish that only I can deliver. Let's end your successes on a high note."

“Selling yourself, instead of my paintings? Classy.” Myka huffs a short laugh.

“In a manner of speaking. Is that of any interest?"

"Kinda." Myka shrugs.

“Then I clearly misinterpreted your earlier intentions." Helena looks down at her hands.

“No, you didn't,” Myka says. “I'm interested. But it wouldn’t fix anything. And we’d still need to talk. A lot.”

“And we shall. Eminently.”

Myka slides her hand across the duvet and brushes a thumb over Helena's wrist. She may regret this tomorrow, but it is what she wants tonight.

Helena lifts her legs onto the bed and stretches out next to Myka, angling her body so they’re lying face to face. She cups Myka’s jaw and brushes a thumb over her cheek, looking into her eyes as if asking permission. Myka covers Helena’s hand and slides it over her lips, kissing it then laying it on the bed. She then eases Helena onto her back and straddles her hips, planting her hands on either side of her head. She dips down and kisses Helena as Helena's hands skim up her thighs, fingers sliding under Myka's hem with zero protests.

-TBC-

[dailyaudiobible]

07/05/2021

1 Chronicles 1:1-2:17, Acts 23:11-35, Psalm 3:1-8, Proverbs 18:14-15

Today is the 5th day of July, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it's great to be here with you today around the Global Campfire together as we move further and further into the year and get all settled into this new month that we have. Big day of celebration around the United States yesterday. Of course, we were celebrating Jill's birthday yesterday and so, yeah, we’re just kinda turning into this month and settling in, and as we do that, well, we’re reaching some new territory. It'll be familiar territory but it’s new territory. So, yesterday we concluded the Book of 2 Kings which concluded the Books of Kings and in that final reading from 2 Kings we saw the Babylonians enter the land of Judah and eventually conquering it, displacing all of the Jews. This is where they get their name that they were from Judah and so they were called Jew's and they were there they were taken into exile. This is actually massive and when we move through the territory in 2 Kings and then finished that book and it doesn't seem apparent just how monumental what is happened actually is. So, we remember, right, that the Assyrians came and took the kingdom of Israel, the northern tribes the 10 northern tribes, they took them into exile and they disappeared. They were assimilated. Now, we have the kingdom of Judah, falling, falling to Babylon and now they have been carried off into exile so the promised land that we worked forward toward from the book of Genesis, basically until yesterday, is over. It's the end. I mean, there will be remnant, a returns after exile yes, but it will never be this kind of independent nation like it was again in ancient times. Ancient Israel has come to an end.

Introduction to Chronicles:

And so, today we’re going to begin 1 Chronicles and of course there’s a 2 Chronicles and if we’ll remember these were all one text at one time and then were broken up, especially with the with the translation into the King James, that’s when a lot of these distinctions and breaking up of books and stuff happens but that's the Middle Ages, that’s like 500/600 years ago. So, for the thousands of years before that these were one text from the time that they were written and it's not really certain who, who collected these Chronicles, there are traditions like there's a Jewish tradition that suggests the priest Ezra, who has a book in the Scriptures by his name was involved, and it's not exactly clear specifically, ya know when and where these were chronicled, but it seems that about 4 1/2 centuries before Christ’s time the first century and that is contemporary with Ezra and what will notice is that we’re covering a lot of the same territory. It will be familiar. Chronicles, both 1st and 2nd Chronicles look at this same history that we've been covering in Samuel and Kings. But it's just from the perspective of the priestly view and these Chronicles were probably chronicled from exile during the exile, at least partly in an attempt to not forget who they were. Because empire building was the process of assimilating conquered people, we’ve talked about this a couple times how, you know, the nation will come in and conquer one another nation, and then carry off those conquered people into a different region of the empire and then relocate other conquered peoples in so that it’s just all mixed up, so that as the generations pass there’s, the identities are lost and so impart this is to not forget. So, as we begin Chronicles, we’ll be reading genealogies a little bit, lots and lots of different names and this is that part that’s kind of famous in the Bible because almost in a negative way like what was up with all these names and I certainly had those feelings early on in reading the Bible, but even being aware of them in my childhood, like who sits down to read page after page of names? And it really settled in, probably a decade ago for me, traveling into Africa, going into the into the country of Rwanda and experiencing the memorials from the genocide that happened in Rwanda. And I explain this most every year because this is the best way, I can make what were about to read meaningful to us. So, in Rwanda, I mean the genocide, it wasn't like warfare, it was, but it was like with machetes and knives and stuff like that and a lot of people were killed by machetes. There was a lot of places, even churches where, like priests gave up their entire congregations to be killed off. It's just a horrible, horrible story, but it's also a remarkable story of redemption in the end. But yeah, these things happened, and in many places throughout the country, places were mass murder, basically, genocide happened they’re preserved and really preserved in a way where people are left where they died, like their skeletons all over in bones and bones and bones. But anyway, there's a national museum about the genocide in Kigali in the capital city. And, you going there, super, it’s super sobering to say the least to see clothing that was worn when people died, blood stained or bones, skulls that have been, you know, you can see where the machete crushed their skull and they died and it’s just like, it's really, really sobering to think of what humanity is capable of doing to each other. And, there is one darkened, dark quiet room you go and there’s pictures everywhere, wall-to-wall pictures of people who died in the genocide. And there's a female voice, just very quietly saying the names of the people who were lost in the genocide. We need to understand that as we go into Chronicle’s exile is upon these people. They have been dragged from their homeland, the temple of the most high God has been burned to the ground. They have been carried away because it's warfare, many, like there’s been rape and pillage and plunder and separation, people are being pulled away from other members of their family and sent to different places. No one knows if anybody's ever going to see each other again. There are lingering questions about who’s still alive like, you can only imagine the kind of agony that these people would've been going through. And so, as we go into the genealogies, if we’ll remember that this is written from exile as an attempt to not forget who they are and to have a memorial to remember how things are connected but then it gives rich meaning. Actually, when I read this section now it's a sobering reminder of what I experienced in Rwanda, but any of the Holocaust museums from World War II, similar to this, any kind of genocide memorial similar to this because as a people were trying to not forget what happened so that we don't forget who we are, but also so that this doesn't happen again. So, with that we move into some new territory. The book of 1 Chronicles chapter 1 verse 1 through 2 verse 17.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and we thank You for bringing us into this new territory 2 Chronicles and as we move through these names help us Lord understand that every single name represents an entire life. People who laughed and cried and smiled and frowned. People who ate and drank, planted and harvested, enjoyed festivals and celebrations, endured the grief of loss. These are the names of the people who formed the story. The story that we’re reading the story that affects our lives until today and so, we thank You for allowing us to recite these names and we ask that they be meaningful to us and even as we continue to journey with the apostle Paul, under arrest and the chaos going on in Jerusalem. We recognize that Paul, all of the sudden, although in chains, is communicating with power, communicating with powerful people, he’s been able to under the protection of the Romans speak to the Jewish Council and yes, they wouldn't hear and they want him dead but he’s able to tell the story and we will continue to observe this as we continue through the Book of Acts. So, Holy Spirit we invite You to plant the words of Scriptures deep into our lives. The soil of our hearts that we can see that You have been doing that because we have reaped a harvest, we are being transformed. This is changing us, so we invite You to continue the work of transformation. We ask this expectantly in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it's the website, it’s where you find out what is going on around here and its day after tomorrow, what’s going on around here. The 7th of July is coming up and that is our own holiday here around the Global Campfire. We lovingly call it the Long Walk and it's exactly that, a day that's on our calendar each year in the center of the year. A day to be, not to do so much. A day to go out somewhere beautiful whether it's a little walk down to a park or whether it's a, you know, a long drive somewhere that’s beautiful and meaningful, somewhere lovely and we go there and go for a Long Walk. And, I mean, the best way to imagine it is, think, think of when you've been in love, when you fell in love. You do that all, all the time. Time standstill when you’re love and you’re on a Long Walk with somebody that you love and you’re just talking about your life and about your future together are just dreaming or thinking. The beautiful thing about going for a Long Walk with God is yeah, you can talk out loud if you want, be silent if you want. That's what happens when you're comfortable and comfortably in love right, it's communicating with words and beyond words. It's being together and when we’re out in nature and we realize not only does God love me, but he made all this. All of this life that's bursting forth that I don't even hardly pay attention to and it’s healing and it sets us up well to go into the second half of the year so that's what we'll be doing on 7th of July. It's what we do every 7th of July so make plans for that. We will post a post on the Daily Audio Bible Facebook page for the Long Walk, 2021, and in that post, you can post your pictures or videos and all the sudden we have this place where we've gone on a Long Walk but that we can join in or appreciate. Go on a little mini holiday all around the world by looking through the little windows of each other's cameras and it's so it's a solitary beautiful thing but it's also a community event. So, that's coming up on the 7th, on Wednesday. There is a resource that we have created that is really perfect for this kind of event, it’s called Heart: A Contemplative Journey and you can get that at the iTunes store or the Google play store wherever it is that you can buy music. Just search for my name or search for Heart: A Contemplative Journey and you should be able to find it and it is a really good companion for the Long Walk because it's really good conversation starter. It's really good to allow prayer to, through prayer to open up our emotions and our heart, which is why the projects called Heart, open our heart to God in the things that we've been feeling and then just to allow music to speak while we’re in nature and to contemplate, invite God into those emotions and that gets us going on the Long Walk. So, check out that resource, it's available wherever you get your music.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com there is a link on the homepage and I thank you with all of my heart for your partnership. If what we do here, bringing God's spoken word read fresh every day and offered to whoever will listen anywhere on this planet, whatever time it is, if that has made a difference in your life than thank you for being life-giving. So, there's a link on the homepage. If you're using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill Tennessee 37174.

And as always if you have a prayer request or encouragement 877-942-4253 is the number to call or you can hit the Hotline button in the app which is the little red button up at the top.

And that's it for today, I'm Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayers and Encouragement:

Dear DAB family this is Russel from Superior. I’m calling cause I heard Little Sharie’s prayer about using her walker for the first time. And it really touched my heart because my mom started using her walker about 8 months ago because she has back problems. She had surgery and for the first time she’s at the casino with my step-dad and she’s away from me for the first time for two days. And I was just sitting there thinking about her and Little Sharie came on talking about her walker so I see you too Sharie. Ya know, it really touched my heart right now. Stay strong, I love you and I’m praying for you. God Bless.

Hi everyone, my name is Isaac and I am from Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. I’d like to give a little inspiration. Back in October of last year I spoke to one of my doctors about going off medication that had side effects of severe weight gain. Now, at this time I was 20lbs short of 300lbs. I’m happy to say now that as of right now that I am probably 75lbs down since October. With that being said, there’s more work to be done. I’m gonna trust Jesus because I’m tired of trying to live my own life the way I want to live it. So, what I’m asking is for prayer. Prayer for my anxiety, my depression. Right now, my anxiety is so strong that I can’t work and I want to work, I want to be a hard-working person. I’ve had doctors tell me my anxiety is too strong and that they can’t help me. And I don’t want to listen to that anymore cause I know that’s lies from the devil. Not only that but I’ve had a head twitch, turrets head twitch for the last 11 years and it’s just painful, it’s frustrating and it’s just, it wears me out. If you could pray for that, that’d be great. Not only that but could you please pray for my mom. She needs both of her knees replaced, she needs surgery on her spine done, she’s got something called sciatica and it’s not fun, she’s in constant pain. The nerve twinges are unbearable for her and it’s hard because somedays I just I can’t stand seeing her in pain especially when all she can do is cry into a pillow because it hurts so bad. I know that Jesus can help but I know He will. Would you please pray for me and my family? Thank you, guys. Bye.

Hello family, Drew from the Bay area. Listen, just wanted to call in a quick prayer for Travis from Alberta, Canada. Travis, I’m so excited for you being in the pastoral internship and learning all about how to teach others about God, that’s awesome. I just want pray for you. Heavenly Father, You are an awesome God, You are Holy, beyond perfection. You created everything in 6 days. Lord, the God of Isaac, Jacob and let’s not forget Abraham, Moses and David, Lord, although we are imperfect men You are with us and when you are with us Your power, Your love spills out all over the place. Lord, we thank You for the love story of Your word, we thank You for this ministry. We ask You to bless Travis and the ministry that You have before him. Lord, encourage him, take away any doubt, confusion, anxiety and help him to show others that Your word comes from You and that You encourage through people like Travis, You encourage others. So, we thank You for Travis, bless him. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Nathan Basset from Bloomington, Illinois. Hopefully your day is truly going well. I have a prayer request. One week ago, today this, pretty much this very hour my step-son and his wife and their 7-month-old were involved in a very serious car accident. They hydroplaned on the highway going 70+ miles an hour and lost control, rolled the car multiple, multiple times and ended up going to the hospital. Seven-month-old, he actually was discharged a little bit after that, he was doing fine, no bumps, no scraps, no nothing. My step-son, he had some bumps and he’s still a little sore even a week later. My daughter-in-law actually fractured two vertebrae in her neck had surgery on Sunday and was released on Monday which kind of baffles me how that works. So yes, that’s my prayer request for healing, emotionally and medically. But here’s the other request that I have: my wife had a very good conversation with my daughter-in-law about Jesus on Sunday. She was asking questions of my wife about relationship and she was raised catholic, really hasn’t gone to church since her childhood probably. And she really was seeking a change of a heart. And so, this whole week we’ve been praying, praying for that, that they attend church. We’ve even invited them several times but that they see that Jesus really did protect them. And she even said when they were rolling over, she saw two big hands surrounding their child and my wife says that was God. that was God Allie. So, please pray for them. Embrace you …

Hello, my DAB family my name is Terrell Revenelle. I actually stumbled across this app a few days ago. I’m all things devotional, I love devotionals, lover of God, lover of Jesus, Holy Spirit and I was looking for a different type of devotional I already listen to several others and when I stumbled across this it blessed my soul immensely and then at the end when I was able to hear all the testimonials, the prayers, the prayer requests for different individuals, family, friends and also for the DAB family, that just lit up my soul. So, so I’m hear today just asking for you all to stand in agreement with me for my son who is 24 years old, my only son, his name is G and a couple years ago he woke up and he couldn’t walk. He had already been dealing with a bulging disc and he found out that he had seven bulging discs so just imagine, you know, how debilitating that was for him and his life. He’s newly married of two years. Him and his wife just moved to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. And he’s really just trying to get back in step. He’s not a 100%, he’s able to walk now. We’ve gone through spinal non-decompression therapy, we’re trying to avoid surgery at all costs but now the issue is more neurological and muscular having issues of weakness of muscle, weakness of limbs. He gets exhausted very quickly after doing just a little bit of activity. He was once very active, he played college basketball, weightlifting and all of these things, dancer, and all of these things and I know that this is spiritual warfare that God is drawing him closer to Him. So, the prayer is two-fold that his spirit is enlightened and that he’s totally healed in Jesus’ name. Thank you.