#am reluctant to share because its unfinished | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

Something to Lose - Luke Patterson X Covington!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: luke imagine idea so Luke’s old gf is dead and she’s calebs daughter and is trying to get him to stay with her instead of cross over and then he doenst show up in stand tall . I just had this idea and near had a fit trying to get it down love ur writing also 💖

Warnings: angst, a lot of crying, I don’t even think there’s swearing in this one.

Words: 2293

A/n: I hope I did the request justice. This was kinda stressful the entire time writing it just bc of all the ideas that came. Like I’d be writing and then my brain would be like ‘hey what if this happened’ and then I’m like ‘oh that’s evil. put it in the fic.’ you know?

I begin nervously playing with the tulle skirt of my above-the-knee length party dress. I wanted a mini but dad refused to let me be visible to ghosts and lifers in anything ‘revealing’, so we compromised on above the knee. It’s a pretty dress, the black long sleeves are sheer and the back is completely open, and that’s as scandalous as dad would allow. Ironic considering his dancers’ costumes are cut out fringe leotards and nude tights.

And speaking of dancers,

“Who was that?” I ask Francesca as she comes to stand next to me by the black music stands, branded with the infamous Hollywood Ghost Club logo.

“Who was who?”She takes a tiny sip of water and readjusts her massive blue and purple feather headdress. Dad always chooses the most extravagant costumes. Sometimes I wonder how they’re able to dance without falling over from being so… top heavy I guess?

“That guy you were dancing in front of in the denim coat?”

“What are you talking about? I was dancing in front of Willie.”

“Nice try, I know that was Angie. Maybe next time.” On the first day the girls set foot in the place they were such amazing dancers, dad invited them to perform front and center if they wanted to join the club. The downside was he could never tell them apart. I don’t know how though, they’re not indiscernibly identical. I made it my goal to always be able to tell them apart, and they made it their goal to get me to mix them up just once.

“We’re gonna get you one of these days.”

“Yeah, sure. But, uh, do you know who he is?”

“I don’t but maybe you will?”

“What?” Glancing up to Fran’s face she gives me a look and directs me with her eyes before smiling smugly and walking away. I follow her gaze to see my dad standing on the far side of their table, talking with the attractive stranger. His excitement makes his every movement animated and he can’t even seem to string a coherent sentence. Inviting them to sit down, dad starts saying something about Willie and magic? The conversation doesn’t last long and once he leaves, I debate whether or not to approach the handsome stranger.

“Who are we looking at?” I’m startled when I hear Angie’s voice in my right ear.

“Oh. The one at the front table in the denim overcoat.”

“You mean the one Franny was dancing in front of?”

“She already tried that.”

“Dammit!” I laugh at yet another failed attempt.

“I don’t even know why you guys bother anymore.”

“Whatever. Why are we staring at him?”

“I’m debating whether or not I should talk to him.” Angie sends me a look that says ‘have more faith in yourself’ which I gleefully ignore.

“Shoot your shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My dad could interrupt and say something totally embarrassing. He wasn’t done talking to them, he just had to do rounds.”

“Girl, have you seen how many people are here tonight? He’s not gonna be done any time soon, so go while you still have some time!” Angie punctuates her sentence by gently pushing me forward, and I stumble in the direction of the cute stranger. The sudden jerky movement seems to catch his attention and his eyes soften once they meet mine. He smiles softly as a greeting and when I return the look, he takes that as an invitation to walk my way. I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen partially out of fear and partly out of curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” denim extends his hand politely and… extremely flusteredly? He sounds breathless and a touch fearful. I’m used to the energy as the club intimidates first-timers. I take his hand,

“Y/n.” Omitting my last name tends to do me a lot of good.

“Wow. That’s really pretty,”

“It’s nothing special.”

“You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“So, uh-“ he trails off in search of a conversation starter, “What brings you to the Hollywood Ghost Club?”

“Oh, you know... just uhm- just a night out.”

“Do you come to the Club a lot?”

“You could say that. It’s pretty much a second home.”

“Y/n, darling. There you are!” Luke watches my face drop from its pleasant ‘chatting with guests’ expression, to a relaxed almost-frown.

“Here I am.”

“And I see you’ve met Luke.”

“Yes sir.”

“I trust my daughter is keeping you in good company?”

“Your daughter?” Luke nearly chokes on the mystical air of the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“I did not choke!”

“You choked.” Luke and I argue over the details of how we met, in the backstage/dressing room area of the Club. It feels like lifetimes ago, but it wasn’t. And yet in such a short time, we had become completely infatuated and comfortable with one another. So much so that me wearing a floor-length evening gown and jewels doesn’t make me feel out of place with his jeans and flannel shirt.

Despite my light laughter, Luke’s face is fairly flat. He’s beginning to stare off into space, inattentive from our lull in the conversation.

“Hey, you okay?” He snaps back into reality.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” After a long moment of hesitation, he begins to speak, not looking up from the scuff on the linoleum flooring.

“Y/n, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“The boys and I… We… we have unfinished business…”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re here- why all of us are here.”

“We’re gonna play the Orpheum tonight. At seven.”

“That’s so cool! Tha-” I feel my words trapped in my throat. “That’s your unfinished business... Play the show you never got to before you died.” I feel a well of tears flooding my bottom lash line. They’re not tears of sadness. “That’s your unfinished business. And you’re playing there tonight. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?!” I cry out in anguish. Luke’s face falls from a somber reluctance to break the news, to utter heartbreak.

“Y/n, I-”

“I thought we had something.”

“We do!”

“Then why would you wait to tell me until,” I check the analog clock on the wall behind him, “An hour before you go?!”

“I wanted to enjoy our last day together without having to think about it. I didn’t think it’d make you this angry.”

“Well, I am angry, Luke!” My sentence is punctuated by Luke getting zapped by a jolt of electricity. He groans as he tries to remain standing upright. The tears streaming down my face slow from a mix of anger to extreme worry.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Your dad gave us a ‘club stamp’ that first night we left.” My face falls slack as I register what he’s just said. Without another word, I furiously push out of my chair and out of the dressing room. Each stride is larger than the last as I let my legs carry me into the wings of the Club’s circular stage. When I have the familiar silver tinsel entrance in sight, I stop cold in my tracks. In front of me stands Alex, in a dazzling pink coat and diamond-covered oxfords, and Reggie, in a luxurious red vest and coat covered in black floral detailing. In front of them stands my father in his extravagant purple number that’s reminiscent of his outfits he wore when performing.

My frustrated steps carried me into his sight and the volume of my strides drew the two boys’ attention behind them. Luke. Luke stupidly followed me out here, and father merely looks at me and blinks authoritatively before redirecting his gaze onto my boyfriend.

“There you are. I knew I was missing a third musketeer.” With a snap of his fingers, dad has poofed Luke out from behind me and poofs him back in between his bandmates. When he reappears he’s wearing a deep blue suit with a black, tiered chiffon collar and bowtie.

“Isn’t it nice that you’re all here together?” Dad launches into his huge speech, seemingly convincing them to stay at the club. He mentions everything they want can be theirs here like Willie, the glory of performing, connection with an audience. As he speaks, he steps forward and reaches up. I go to yell and reach for Luke, but nothing comes out. There’s no sound coming from my mouth, and the undersurface of my black heels feel frozen solid to the ground. Dad notices my movement and shoots me a look to knock it off. Luke sees and as he moves to turn his head, dad reaches up to keep his focus forward before adjusting Luke’s collar for him. He continues with his big speech as another jolt graces all three boys at once.

“I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking,” he downs one more sip of water, preparing to perform, “Ouch. You know where to find me.”

When he disappears onto the stage, I’m released from my spot and the momentum of my struggling launches me forward. Luke turns around just in time to catch me and once he does he doesn’t release me from his arms.

“Luke, I didn’t-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He holds me in his arms, one hand on my head to cradle me close to his chest and the other wrapped soothingly around my waist.

“He’s right,” I choke out my words through heavy sobs, “You don’t know that the Orpheum is really your unfinished business. What if it’s not? These jolts could kill you, Luke. For good. My dad may be powerful, but he doesn’t have the power to bring you back from this.”

When I look up, Luke has a heartbroken expression painted all over his face. Before I can speak again, Alex poofs out from beside us. Sharing a worried expression, Luke and I look out onto the stage where dad has him soloing front and center.

“I-I-I, I made a-a promise-”

“To Julie, I know. But if she’s really as wonderful, and as kind, and understanding, and loving as you describe her to be, won’t she understand?” Luke’s expression softens in realization.

“You’re actually considering staying with Caleb?” Reggie asks Luke incredulously. Before he can receive an answer, he, too, is poofed out onto the stage in Alex’s previous spot, to play a jazzy bass solo. Luke looks all around the backstage area, at the audience, between his band members, and at my dad. Finally, his eyes settle on mine. I can’t read his expression; I wish I knew what was going on inside his head.

“Stay.”

Luke and I run out of time when dad calls his name. He’s poofed us apart so I’m frozen against the downstage wall, out of sight from the audience, and Luke is struggling his way onto the stage.

Dad has him soloing for the audience, to create a musical dialogue between the two of them. Luke, conflicted, looks between me and my dad unsure of how to feel. The performer side of him must be loving the high that comes with performing in the club, but the loyal side of him, I can tell, is yearning for Julie.

When the song ends, the three boys share a single look of concern and remorse, no doubt for Julie. I can’t help but feel selfish asking him to stay. It’s not fair for me to ask him to choose between me and her... But that’s not what I’m asking. If all three of them stay here, they don’t risk dying for good. Surely Julie can understand choosing life, or the afterlife rather, over freedom is a rational trade.

Coming to his senses Luke runs off stage.

“Y/n-”

“It’s selfish of me to ask you to stay-”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to die, Y/n. If that means I have to play in your dad’s band, fine. But at least we can be together.” Luke runs the pad of his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tear shed out of joy. Our moment is ended when Alex and Reggie have also returned backstage.

“Boys, if we stay here, we’ll get to live and make music for as long as we want.”

“You said it yourself, we made a promise. To Julie.” Reggie almost looks like he wants to cry.

“If this is what you want- to spend eternity playing jazz solos behind Caleb -I can’t stop you. But I’m not gonna let Julie down. Not again.” Alex searches Luke’s face for any hesitation. When he doesn’t find the change of heart he’s looking for, Alex nods and fidgets with his drumsticks in one hand. The sudden swell of emotion leads the two of them to hug each other tightly; I can’t imagine their pain of knowing they might never see each other again. When they let go, Luke and Reggie share in a hug and the heartache pulls Alex into their hug.

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks, sniffling away a few tears. Reggie and Alex nod,

“Anything.”

“Will you tell Julie she’s a star for me, one last time?” A sharp jolt hits the three of them in unison once more; a signal that it’s really time to say goodbye. With sorrowful smiles, Alex and Reggie poof out of the Hollywood Ghost Club for the last time.

When he turns around, Luke’s face is red and puffy from crying and the sight breaks my heart clean in half. I pull him into a hug and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

***

A/n: YOWZA this really made my heart hurt for Julie sm. I love her and if this were canon I’d have actually kermit.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej

129 notes · View notes

zamilemzizi · 3 years

Text

A trip down lockdown memory lane!

A trip down memory lane

As my business steadily builds itself back up, with a new face and some Covid-influenced changes, I look back at what it was like for a few months last year as just the “Mom.” The South African lockdown, one of the strictest in the world at that time, forced most of us Marketing and PR SME owners to close our doors and focus on creating a safe and “new normal” environment for ourselves and our families.

My parents both contracted the Corona Virus and so, it was left up to me to care for ALL five grandchildren for a few months. Including my own children, I had two five-year-olds’ (one boy; Wandi and one girl; Koli), one nine-year-old girl (Thotse), a twelve-year-old girl (Lungi) and the legend himself, my two-year-old son (Bugsy) whom you will have read a lot about on my personal Facebook page. As if that was not enough, we rescued an eight-week-old puppy (Luna) too!

Being a person known for preferring the company of all the Mzizi grandchildren, I was up for the challenge of this time spent being reacquainted with the daily struggle of just-being-the-mom-with-no-work without the pressure of having to go to work.

I acknowledge that my experience of this time is grossly different to that of a majority of my fellow countrymen/women, who struggled to make ends meet. Zam’s Hive started a fund, which generously received funds donated by almost ALL of my clients, close friends and colleagues from my place of work. We used these funds to assist families who wrote in via WhatsApp and SMS stating what their urgent needs were and paired them with the correct donor. I was astounded at how the people I knew were able to look beyond their own experience of the Lockdown, and were able to give the little (or lot) that they had to keep hope alive.

However, being the stay-at-home mom yielded quite a few hilarious experiences, which naturally, I shared on social media as they happened. Here are some of these posts. I hope they make you chuckle a bit at my expense. I hope they remind you that no matter how bleak the situation, our inner circle, our families, our children, the people that matter most to us are the ones we should keep our focus on.

How the wars began…

Wandi’s benevolent fart

Raising boys is a BREEZE!

My Wandi has reached that age where every hug and cuddle is a conscious decision on his part to be with me. It says, ' I choose to be near YOU. I choose you, mommy'

So imagine my joy as I was working in my office and my big boy chose that moment to sit on my lap...

He sat facing me, flashed his special smile and said' 'Mommy, let me show you how much I love you'

He put his hands on my shoulders and closed his beautiful brown eyes. I could see him mentally reaching deep within himself in order to share what he had to say. Then...

I felt it. A persistent drill-like hammering on my sturdy thigh where his bony bum was perched.

The stench was instant and the fog it created in my mind was confusion personified. I could not immediately compute that my baby came all this way just to fart on me. As realization dawned on me, my little angel held onto me just a little bit tighter to keep me in place as the hammer-drill was still operating. My thin leggings were no barrier from the barrage of bodily functions battering my poor skin.

During this assault, Wandi did not change his facial expression at all. He looked like a little Buddha bestowing a blessing upon a lesser mortal.

When he was done, he nimbly sprang off my leg and bestowed a beguiling cherubic smile upon me. Slowly reversing from the room with his cheesy smile and eyes closed, he blessed me with his benevolent ' enjoy the smell mommy' and quietly closed the door.

Bugsy drinks shit water

I'm on my knees begging for this changeling to be taken. Return Bugsy pre-terrible twos to me please!

I went into the toilet for a teensy while. I'd been holding it in for some time chasing my kids around. To my knowledge, fake Bugsy was safely chilling on my bed.

As my empty bladder and I float out the bathroom, changeling proudly displays a cup of water he is drinking...now this is a problem because all taps and cups are beyond his reach. This cup looks like the dirty one I ignored on the floor a teensy while back- are you judging me Karen?!

I frantically urge fake son to show me if he got water from the other toilet. He proudly replies, ' I no drink here Wandi peepee here' This is good. It's great actually. Wandi has diarrhea and drinking from his toilet could kill someone. Never mind Corona.

So I drag the smirking not-really-my-son into the kitchen to wash this mysterious cup. At this stage I'm fuming at the lord thinking 'turn this crap into wine NOW'

As I wash the still alcohol free cup, I turn to find swopped-at-birth guy smacking his lips and drinking from the bucket mqobothi style.

MY HEART SKIPS A BEAT!

I used water and Jik to clean dog poop just now. I spilled the water but clearly not all of it. What's worse here? Jik poisoning or dog poop poisoning?

The terror child is ok. I gave him milk and surrendered the rest to his creator.

I'm ok. I have a new twitch in my eye and I think I might have peed my pants a little. But otherwise baaah I'm good.

No really.

Just fine.

Look- fake son took the tin of milk and smeared the stuff on himself.

I'm just FINE!

Then the tensions were rising

The stand off

In a bid to demonstrate his defiance of my authority, my two year old has taken the long life milk and some shopping bags to an undesirable corner of the house. He has boldly announced that, 'I puttinnnin me in noty cona' This is his strategy to deprive my authority of putting him in a corner myself. The standoff continues...

Sulking in the shower

I swear I don't make this stuff up...

Wandi just played with matches and his cousins came to tell on him. Naturally I gave him 'the look' times 10. He says to me,

'I know you're cross with me and wont talk to me.'

He stalks off to the shower and sits there while singing his new and spontaneously composed struggle song. The words weren't too clear but this is what I heard:

Take me away in peace, take me away in peace.

Please note he has taken to eating some of his meals in this shower.

Can someone please send me a bottle of gin??! Its for the kids.

The breaking point

Exacting revenge in small ways

My kids broke my hair clippers machine while I was cutting them. So now I'm leaving them with unfinished cuts because one needs to take revenge wherever the opportunity may present itself-even if it's your own kids. They think they know me. Mxim!

Mom flu strike

I've been in bed with flu for a week now. During this my kids haven't given me an inch of space and rest.

I'm still a horse, jungle gym, chef, personal snot cleaner and unwilling audience to dance shows and song decompositions.

Tonight was just the worst! I went to the chemist for more meds and so needed a nap from the trip. Only to realize that I'd over slept and it was supper time.

After a mad dash to cook, serve and feed the royal highnesses, I'd had enough.

Where am I now? What am I doing now? These are all relevant questions I'm happy to answer for you.

I'm in my bedroom. For the first time since I became a mother, I have done the only sensible thing a tired parent can do...

I'VE LOCKED MY BEDROOM DOOR BIYAAACHES!

The situation update is as follows:

Hostile!

1. Two year old has attempted breaking door down

I DON'T CARE!

2. Five year old has resorted to creepy body plastering against door and quietly chanting 'mooommyyyy can we have ice cream while you die?'

I DON'T CARE

3. In a rare show of solidarity the boys are now howling like wolves outside the door, throwing in the odd 'moooommmy where are youuuu'

I D O N T C A R E!

4. Nine year old niece has increased the volume and frequency of her coughing

IIIIIIIII DOOOOOOOONT CAAAAAAARE!

I'm at peace in my warm bed. Let the siege continue I have all that I need in here. A bathroom, all the toilet paper in the house, the only phone with airtime and did I mention -I'm the only person tall enough to cook. Muhahuahua!

They will know me!

The resolution?

Wandi prays for peace

So as usual the kids were acting up and driving me crazy before bedtime. This time however, the transgressions were extreme.

Someone didn't pee INSIDE the toilet but decided to mark his territory next to it instead.

Another decided to generously leave food on a dinner plate and put it in the kitchen sink for Santa maybe.

Another was dejectedly roaming the passage without pajama bottoms like a homeless person. Left to wander the night in shame and bottomlessness.

This was the last straw and I blew my top off.

EVERYONE TO BED WITHOUT A STORY NOW!

Even the little one understood that Armageddon was nigh, and scurried into bed as fast as his fat stubby legs could carry him (only half way up the bed usually).

In an unusually respectful and hesitant tone, Wandi bravely reminded me that I forgot to pray. So fine! I asked God to please help me make my children good etc.

Wandi again bravely offered to pray too and this is where he played his master plan into action (he never wants to pray):

Wandi: Dear God, please make all my dreams come true. The end.

Yes. He said the end and not AMEN. I felt a reluctant smile coming on but I was wise to the enemy.

The next morning the kids all came to greet me in that way guilty kids do hoping for a cease-fire.

'Good morning rakhali' etc.

Then the master played his Ace move.

Wandi: In the name of Jesus, good morning everyone!

How could I remain grumpy after my son evoked the name of Jesus?!

He's goooooood. One point to Wandi. None to me.

Please subscribe to my blog and follow me on social media for more insights into; what goes on in the life of a working mom building an empire. All the links are below. My women’s network as well as my courses are also available on this site.

#workingmama #workingmom #zamshive #liveyourbestlife #zamilemzizi #startsomething

1 note · View note

chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

xix. all white with wreath and spray

AO3 Link here

splitting into two parts for length, the next part will be up in a day or two

===

Aurelia’s booted feet crunched through the thin layer of powder snow as she adjusted the bundle of fallen wood on her back. Given the conjurers’ tenuous peace brokered with the elementals, the city’s inhabitants were rationing: they were to collect only those things which nature had already shed, and that bounty in itself was limited. Despite the fact it was mid-morning, the Shroud was as still and quiet as an open grave.

Winter had come to the wood, and with it, the hardships borne of poor harvests across all of Eorzea.

The forest’s predators, deprived of their seasonal food sources, soon became a common danger on the roads, and with the Greenwrath so newly quelled the forest was still volatile and hazardous. The city council had done as much to prepare the townspeople and the land itself for the cold months as they were able in the time they had, but their efforts had still fallen short and the outbreak of flux among incoming refugees had strained Gridania’s supplies further. Many people had been forced to winter in unfinished houses or had taken up with friends and neighbors in what space was available.

J’nehda’s ‘storms’ had more trouble yet to presage, so it seemed.

“Are you not cold, Miss Conjurer?”

She glanced over her shoulder. Keveh’to was shivering visibly, his tail wrapped close about one leg when he wasn’t moving, looking quite put out indeed. He had also drawn his shortbow, though either of them had yet to see any game worth the marking.

“Hm? No, I’m well, thank you.” She wore a fleece-lined doublet, leather breeches, a pair of old cotton gloves, and knee-high doeskin boots beneath one of Miounne’s traveling cloaks - along with, of course, the ubiquitous oversized head covering intended to conceal her third eye. Overall, it was far lighter attire than the heavy parkas and thick boots most Gridanians had donned. “Do you want to borrow my cloak?”

He squinted at her as though she’d asked him to wear one of her dresses. “I’m fine too,” he said, somewhat defiantly. “Just… not used to the snow, is all. We rarely get it this far south.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Garlemald is very cold, I hear.”

“Yes, it is.” She bent forward with a soft grunt and dropped her bundle to the ground in favor of the medium-sized branch she’d sighted half-buried under snowfall and dead leaves. “We measure snowfall in fulms, rather than ilms. And it stays on the ground a good long while.”

“How long is ‘a good long while’?”

“Mmm... I should say usually around six, mayhap seven months- er, moons out of the year? ‘Tis longer on occasion, should the season prove particularly brutal.”

“Seven moons of winter?” Keveh’to echoed, horrified. “Seven moons of snow and ice--”

“Aye. And barely any light. And gales that could tear the skin off a gigas.”

“How do you survive it up there?”

“We almost didn’t.”

“By the gods, no wonder you lot want to spread out over the whole bloody star. I’d be keen on beachfront property myself if I lived in the depths of the fourth hell.”

Aurelia began to laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

The Miqo’te’s consternation gave way to widened eyes and an embarrassed flush when he realized what he’d said.

“Er. I- that... wasn’t the most, er... tactful... way I could have phrased that, I suppose. Sorry.”

She raised one booted foot and kicked the side of the branch. The blow dislodged a wet clump of white powder, shaking it onto the leaves below like confectioners’ sugar onto toast.

“You’ve no need to apologize. The capitol is bloody awful. If I had my say I would much prefer Ala Mhigo. It’s hot as blazes in the summer, but at least you don’t run the risk of instant frostbite.”

“What is Ala Mhigo like? I hear the refugees talk about it sometimes when they think other folk aren’t in earshot. Curious. Like they don’t want none of us overhearing.” He fidgeted, hopping from one foot to the other, and she couldn’t tell if he was uncomfortable or simply trying to ward off the chill. “...You don’t have to talk about it either, you know, if you’d rather not.”

“In truth, I’ve naught of interest to share.” Aurelia shrugged. “There is precious little I could tell that you wouldn’t hear from the refugees and you’d learn more of their native land from them than you would from someone like me. Ala Mhigo was my childhood home but I’m the first to admit I saw very little outside my father’s villa, and that was by design, I'm certain.”

“Mm,” Keveh’to said, absently. “Mayhap you’re right.”

A not-insignificant part of her hoped he was simply attempting to make conversation. She was reluctant to face the censure she was sure she would see in his eyes did he chance to speak to the refugees as she had suggested, but what else was there to say? Most of her memories of Gyr Abania were very personal and very limited.

“...We should be getting back.”

“Do you need me to carry that?” he asked.

“I can do it.”

“But-”

She cast him a brittle smile before lifting the branch and tossing it in the bundle with the others, then rearranged the hempen wrap so that the weight was equally distributed and none of the larger pieces would fall before folding the corners, grasping the fabric, and hoisting her burden back over one shoulder.

They trudged back towards the city, the only sound to be heard the crunch of dead leaves and powder beneath their feet, before Keveh’to finally said, “Forgive me, Aurelia. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know you didn’t,” she said. “I am sorry. Perhaps I do feel a bit nostalgic.”

“For this?”

“Of course not, but... “ She adjusted the weight she carried on her back and paused. “...there are things I miss. Small things, you know. Luxuries that one takes for granted.”

“Such as?”

“My garden, for one.”

“Your... “ He trailed off, but she saw the light go on behind his eyes when she glanced back in his direction.

The laugh she granted him was a light and silvery thing, spilling across the snow like a sunbeam. “You heard correctly. I had a garden back in Garlemald."

Aurelia would have said 'home,' did the utterance of that word not stick so securely in her craw. Garlemald was many things, but a home had never been one of them.

"A proper garden, then? Like with roses and such?"

"Yes. It belonged to my aunt, really. But she would much rather look at the flowers than grow them herself. I feel a similar sort of… I don’t know. Peace? Serenity? As close as one can get to those things when I’m about the woods gathering.”

“...all right, now I get it. I thought it was passing strange you would be as interested in botany as you are."

"Mhm."

"But if you had a- ...but wait, how’d you have a bleeding garden ‘n all, if the weather’s like this all the blasted time?”

Aurelia shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Magitek.”

“I don’t follow.”

“There was a greenhouse on my uncle’s grounds. It had heat lamps set to cycle every eight bells, and an environmental control system that- …ah,” she stammered, seeing his blank and uncomprehending stare, “never mind.”

Keveh’to did not respond. Aurelia could feel his confused gaze still boring into her back as they continued up the hill onto the path.

She flushed, thinking that of course her attempt at explanation would have made little sense to him. Most parts of the star had no access to magitek so it was still a rare and fantastic novelty without the Empire’s borders, and Eorzea’s smallfolk most certainly would not have access to such wonders.

Even in Garlemald a self-sustaining greenhouse to preserve perennials was very much a luxury, one afforded only to the wealthy: usually, albeit not always, peers of the imperial aristocracy. But she had loved her aunt Marcella’s greenhouse. Its unique heating system had originated as a student project, one of many annual exhibition entries at the Magitek Academy. Quite often, winning projects were put to practical use whether by the government or by the creators themselves, and in this instance the student's work had been noticed by her uncle. He had gladly improved upon his prototype for the commission.

Her uncle Janus had bragged that the unit was one of a kind because the young man had elected to join the imperial army upon completing his studies, no doubt to build weapons for the legions afield. ‘Twas hardly an uncommon story, he had said with a shrug. There was more profit - and personal glory - in innovating warmachina for imperial conquest than in customizing heating systems for a rich man’s rose gardens.

Aurelia could not take comfort in his explanation, saddened as she was. That a man capable of creating daily wonders for the purpose of preserving living things would be able to turn his obviously brilliant mind towards such callous and violent ends - it defied her understanding.

As was the case with most of her recollections of her years spent in the capitol, even the relatively pleasant memory of her aunt's flowers was bittersweet.

“I… I think I’m a bit chilled after all,” Aurelia lied. She plucked the hood of the cloak from her back and draped it over her head until the top half of her face was all but concealed from view. Frost spilled forth from her lips in a white cloud. “Let’s hurry along. I’ve a mind for some tea.”

She swallowed back the harsh lump she could feel forming in her throat, unwilling to grant it any further leave for expression.

~*~

Miounne was waiting at the staff entrance upon their arrival: wiping her hands in the fabric of her apron, eyes fixed upon the pair. Aurelia shrugged the heavy bundle from her shoulders as if it were feather-light and raised a gloved hand in greeting.

“Welcome back, you two. A decent haul this morning?”

“Decent enough.” She lifted the first branch from the top of the pile and dragged it to the stump they had been using to roughly cut the scavenged tree falls for firewood. “I know we’re a bit late returning, but the Sergeant thought he saw something fit for the stewpot. We’ll have this set up for you in just a-”

“Ah… one moment, if you please,” Miounne said, and Aurelia’s outstretched hand froze in the act of reaching for the wood-axe. “I’ll get one of the lads inside to cut the wood.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Keveh’to frowned, dusting a thin layer of snow from his lapels, “but is there some reason why we can’t just go on and do it ourselves?”

“Your presence has been requested. Or rather, Aurelia’s presence has been requested. E-Sumi-Yan asked that I send you along to the Fane as soon as I could.”

...The guildmaster?

Cautiously she studied the woman’s face. She didn’t trust unexpected summons of any sort, never had- but, she realized, Miounne was smiling. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that unpleasant. “Did he happen to elaborate?”

“No, but I don’t doubt he will explain himself in full when you arrive.”

All… right then. She glanced at Keveh’to.

“I assume he’s allowed to come along.”

“Of course.”

Few souls had braved the outdoors this morning- owing largely, Aurelia suspected, to the snow. This part of Eorzea was quite temperate, more so even than Mor Dhona, and snow was a rare enough occurrence that people tended to take to their hearths upon the slightest dusting of white upon the stones.

In truth ‘twas less the weather she found refreshing than the empty streets. In the wake of the increasing food shortage the people of Gridania - already rather inclined towards isolationist behavior - spared few quests and even less coin for Miounne’s adventurers while treating refugees and prisoners of war with barely concealed contempt.

But tension aside, the city was as quiet as the forest. No one accosted or addressed them as they made their way down the snow-lined paths. The only sounds were birds and the soft rhythm of their breathing, and the quiet crunch of their footsteps upon ice and loose gravel.

Even the Fane seemed all but deserted. The sight of the tree filled her with the same dread it always did - but there was a measure of relief as well, for Brother E-Sumi-Yan stood before the entrance holding a neatly wrapped paper parcel in his youthful hands.

“Good morning, Aurelia. Mother Miounne told me she had sent the two of you on your way,” he said, beaming at her. “Come, let’s sit and take tea here by the brazier. ‘Tis a most bracing morning, is it not? I'm afraid all I have in my larder at the moment is chamomile tea, but I was preparing to break my fast. Both of you are welcome to join me if you haven’t already partaken.”

There was chamomile tea with mint, and spiced frumenty, and even- to Keveh’to’s undisguised delight- venison sausages. E-Sumi-Yan speared three onto each plate alongside a small slice of tomato and three coarse-cut pieces of wheaten apiece.

“Twelve,” the Miqo’te said, his voice trembling, “that’s real bleedin’ honey, too.”

She felt her mouth water as she stared at the plating. It was as much food in one sitting as either of them had had all week, and she suspected the guildmaster had been well aware of it.

“Where did you...” Aurelia began.

“From my own cold pantry, never fear. I rarely have guests and eat very little on my own, but seeing as this is a special occasion I can hardly be stingy.” He gestured to the unadorned smooth stones about the brazier. “Please. Sit. Eat. I have a matter I must needs discuss, and by its nature, it concerns you both.”

Gratefully she began to dig into the meal, with Keveh’to doing the same at her side. She ate neatly and carefully, trying to make it last. After so long with only a small cupful of oats a day, the Guildmaster’s spread was like unto the feasts at her aunt’s dinner parties.

Her minder - possessed of no such sensibilities - wolfed down the sausages practically whole, his tail slapping cheerfully against the ground.

“What did you wish to discuss, E-Sumi-Yan?” she asked, curling her fingers around the warm teacup after a long and contented sip.

The fresh-faced Padjal - who ate as carefully as she did, his attention to social etiquette equally conscientious - likewise balanced his cup upon his knee. “Your basic lessons have progressed with remarkable speed,” he began. “In truth, you have taken more quickly to mastery of your own aether than many who have spent the entirety of their lives beneath the Twelveswood’s boughs.”

Aurelia flushed despite herself. How long had it been since she’d heard genuine praise from anyone that hadn’t seemed perfunctory, or given under duress?

“I... thank you,” she said, unable to meet his calm grey eyes, and hastily took another sip of her tea. “It has been no simple task, as you know. I am sure I have much still and more to learn.”

“I quite agree. But I think it is time you continued your studies- in the field. I’ve a mind to send you to the Arbor. There are outlying settlements there in need of our aid.”

“Truly? I had not thought that any of the current Hearers would be willing to, er...”

His answering smile was serene. “Take you on as an apprentice conjurer?”

“....Well, now you mention it, yes, precisely so. I realize the rank and file would have no idea, but the Hearers must surely know the truth. I can't imagine any of them would take kindly to a Garlean woman as an apprentice.”

“You are, unfortunately, correct in assuming that few would be willing. However, the individual overseeing the region where I would send you has little choice but to accept you.”

Keveh’to scoffed. “That bad?”

“Bad?” E-Sumi-Yan laughed. “You misunderstand, Sergeant. No, this is simply a matter of life events necessitating a change. His apprentice is due to be wed in the next two moons and he is aging out of the field himself, and at present I have no other novitiates better suited for the position. I would have you assist him with the villagers’ needs as well as those of the forest. He will require aid whether he is desirous of your help or not.”

Aurelia grimaced.

“I need hardly say this does little to inspire one’s confidence.”

“I do not doubt you will face difficulties initially. That said, I think you will ingratiate yourself to them in due time. Our people are insular and often slow to trust outsiders to the Twelveswood, that much I will allow. But they are not so foolish as to ignore a helping hand indefinitely. No matter the form it takes.”

With a sigh she set the cup back in its saucer and placed it in the empty place sitting on her left. It made a soft, chiming rattle against the stone.

“You are asking me,” she said, “to subject myself to their likely censure.”

“Yes,” E-Sumi-Yan replied. He didn’t bat an eye, nor appear the least bit sorry for it. “I think it will not be as dire as you fear. Truly, this might even be a valuable lesson for all concerned. Yourself included. And you will have Sergeant Epocan there if-”

This time it was Keveh’to’s turn to flinch.

“No offense, Guildmaster,” he said. “Due respect and all that, but... you know full well how most of your folk feel about Keepers.”

“It will be made clear to the Hearer that you are there on an official assignment,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. The Miqo’te’s shoulders hunched defensively, but he didn’t retort. “At any rate, preparations are being made. The Elder Seedseer has given her authorization and asks that you accompany Aurelia to her new position. If the powers that be feel she is not a flight risk, I see no reason to delay the process.”

The woman in question had turned her gaze to the snow-covered clearing, watching two small sparrows clean themselves in the powder with a flurry of their little brown feathers.

“Well,” the Garlean said at length, once she realized all eyes were upon her. “Suffice to say: I have precious little if any say in this affair, being a captive audience in every meaningful sense. So, I will keep any further observations to myself. Should you believe my current skillsets might be put to better use elsewhere, then that is sufficient and I will abide by your judgment -- and that of the Elder Seedseer’s as well, I suppose.”

His small brow wrinkled at her reply, noncommittal as she knew it was.

“Aurelia, this isn’t the army. You do have some say in whence you go.”

“Again, whether or not I might mislike the assignment does not factor into such matters. You have my compliance regardless.”

“Be that as it may-”

“Guildmaster, your thoughtfulness in asking for my input is appreciated, but you and I both know it is unnecessary.” Her slim shoulders lifted and dropped, as if the outcome made no difference to her either way. “I shall await orders.”

“I will send word along when all is made ready,” E-Sumi-Yan said at length.

He did not speak his reservations aloud. That he sounded none too pleased warranted no comment.

#reborn by fire #chapter 19 #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

18 notes · View notes

mayukiayano · 4 years

Text

Endless strokes

Yushiro's POV.

tw: suicidal and isolation

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

"I've been living in the same spot of this void, not knowing how far my sanity could go."

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

"I've been daydreaming again, looking silly, with a faint smile in front of my tools, probably how I depict your stunning face in this big canvass, with the oil stains onto my hands and my blue apron with the length covering my legs."

"The last time I've genuinely smiled is when we worked together to gather the necessary items for our medicine that we need to develop and assist those impaired demons and infected humans and sharing our meals together in our humble dining area. It always feels surreal when I'm with you, every second we spend, those conversations that we always talk about our formulation, new medicines for possible new ailment, I really miss those every second moments of ourselves working together. But now, as I am sitting on my wooden stool, continuously stroking this brush to paint every day, surrounding myself with more than 50 finished painting of yours, I can't express or convey my sentiments properly. I feel... so lonely... Sometimes I feel at ease when I'm with you, like someone is cradling me into their arms for warmth, but right now, I felt I'm floating inside a bubble while in the middle of an endless pitch black path towards nowhere."

Yushiro continues to stroke his small paint brush onto the canvass, adding more detail to Tamayo's eyelashes and hair strands. He began to reminisce his moments with her again and induce sorrow once more.

"Every second that we spent together were precious and germane. Despite my short temper, whenever someone approaches you, your delicate smile that popped your tinted shade of your crimson lipstick, deep purple coloured eyes that looked through my soul, those few black strands falling to your ears and mesmerising facial features never fail to make me serene and flustered."

"It's been years Tamayo, I am the only living demon left on the earth, hiding behind these walls to protect myself from the sunlight and these annoying humans who disturb my peace. I know I've been so hard on myself isolating away from them, but I would rather stay here Tamayo."

"Also I've created some temporary medicine, to help me endure the sun rays for at least 4 hours. I've created these all by myself..." He let out a light giggles "...researching and gathering more information how to develop it. It had countless of trials until it became successful. Those sleepless nights and almost burning the whole lab were worth it. I do hope you're proud of my achievement, Tamayo... It would be better that you'll witness my success and journey, and probably praise me."

"I only consume these capsules if there's a need to buy enough art materials. Sometimes online shops doesn't cater the tools I need, plus I would rather pick and purchase them personally on an art shop nearby. Quite a risky one to go out for a walk to buy some materials, but no worries Tamayo, I always buy-bulk the things I needed."

"Oh! You don't need to worry about my source of income, I do paint other sceneries and concepts and sell my outputs to collectors and auction my illustrations online. I'm glad that I was able to adapt the technology and its innovation. I am a bright kid after all, it was a piece of cake."

As he chuckled over his endeavours, he let out a heavy sigh, placed his paint brush and paint tray on the table beside him.

"It's been hundred years Tamayo, I've missed your presence, your soothing voice that helps me feel at ease, your assurance that everything will be alright and everything will be successful. I felt that I'm validated despite bottling my emotions."

"These years of shutting myself inside this room, it crossed my mind if I should put my end to life, my life has been an endless void from the beginning of your demise. I've been traumatized from that incident... I've wanted to hang myself, develop a poison that could end my distress, slash my throat until I cut my whole head or expose myself from the sunlight back then. But you know what Tamayo, ever since Tanjiro told me to continue to live on because I'm the only person who still remembers your existence, I felt a small ray of hope despite thousands of needles are piercing into my body and heart. It really hurts, it stings every day... suffering from relentless discomfort... I wish I was stronger back then, to protect you from that scum and heartless evil bastard. But we knew this is the burden that you've been carrying for so long, being reluctant to betray and eliminate Muzan thousands of years ago. But, I know deep down you're not at fault, you're not the one to blame from all of this, all your sacrifices with the pillars were not in vain, all of you fought well."

"I've been always reminiscing our time together. I've been doing my best to keep myself stable, doing a lot of activities to keep me distracted such as researching and painting. I decided to paint hundreds or even thousands of paintings of your ravishing appearance. By painting them all on the canvass, this is the only way to fill the void, the loneliness that I've been suffering throughout these years."

He gently picked up his brush and paint tray and proceeds to paint the unfinished painting, endlessly stroking this brush, making it detailed enough that it's like a photograph or an exact copy of Tamayo.

"If only you survived from the clash against him, I will surely confess my sincere feelings to you, however it was too late yet we already expected this will happen on your confrontation with him."

He let out a sigh and gently grinned his lips "I really loved every inch of your elegance and your benevolence."

Tears have been gushing out from his eyes, placing his art tools on the table and pulled out his handkerchief, to wipe out his tears from his eyes "every day was a struggle to keep myself standing still, the pain still lingers... I don't know how and when will this end."

"These paintings are the only ones who can make me calm and clear-headed, only you Tamayo, the only person who can help me feel at ease again. Wherever you are, I do hope you're watching me above the clouds or maybe underneath. I will continue to battle against from being dispirited and stand up to it until the end."

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

A one shot fic that I just wrote last night, this was an impulse one because I’m not that confident when it comes to writing fanfics, so this is my second time to write a decent fic and I do hope it’s a good read! I’m open for constructive criticism since I want to further improve my writing, let me know in the comments!

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

Also I’ve posted this on my AO3!! You can also check out there

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215233

#kimetsu no yaiba #yushiro fanfic #discomfort #angst #pov #tw suicidal #kny

10 notes · View notes

toothpaste-dragon · 4 years

Note

I know for questions, you're probably talking about Far From Home, but what about William, the fish guy? What was he like in the early days of character development? How has he changed since you first thought of him? And I guess, same question for the FFH folks. Thanks in advance.

I was honestly so excited to receive this question because I LOVE my boy William! Plus it’s fun to talk about character origin stories.

Buckle up. This is gonna be a long answer.

Up until 2014 my art largely consisted of fanart or fan characters, so I had never produced content that was truly original. During spring of that year, I stumbled upon and quickly become enamored with some original characters on deviantart, many of which were ‘monsters’ (vampires, mermaids, werewolves, etc.). Seeing these characters inspired me to create my own story with characters that catered to my own interests.

William is the first original character I ever created, so he has a special place in my heart. This is my very fist sketch of him! (Sorry for the low quality.)

My initial idea for his story was disorganized and had a lot of missing pieces. In the early days of character development, William was nothing more than a character I liked for his design and personality. I had very little experience with character creation, so I put a lot of myself into him. He was shy and timid and anxious at times, but he also had low self-esteem and didn’t feel like he fit in anywhere. And for good reason — his backstory was one of confusion and grief. Originally, he was an orphan that had been kidnapped by scientists and genetically modified to resemble a fish, all while retaining his previous characteristics and a humanoid shape. The scientists raised him and were training him for some unknown task, of which I never decided before changing the direction of the story entirely.

William and his story turned six during March of this year, and both have changed A LOT since then! He’s no longer a chemist, nor does he have any experience in the sciences. I also gave him some glasses and a nice argyle sweater (which now serves as his classic look, haha), and I’ve decided he’s of Asian descent for reasons explained in a few paragraphs. Not only have I refined his story to be more practical and understandable, but I’ve also given William a purpose, something to pursue. He’s still anxious and feels like he doesn’t belong, but he doesn’t stay that way forever.

I always liked stories about monsters, in the sense that something not-quite-human longs for a place among normal people. Society views these ‘monsters’ as unnatural or potentially dangerous, and yet the monster displays more humanity than the humans themselves. I really want to lean into that idea as I tell William’s story. He may not be your typical monster, but he certainly feels like one. Different, unnatural, out of place. Yet he has a kind heart and a childlike fascination with the world. The road is difficult, but with a bit of help he eventually finds his niche.

Here’s my most recent sketch for comparison, and a lovely depiction of William by my pal HareSoup!

Besides the few changes mentioned above, Will hasn’t changed much design-wise. He has fins in place of ears, gills on his neck, scales scattered across his face/trunk/limbs, and a bit of webbing between his fingers/toes. He can breathe underwater and on land, but his scales and gills have to receive moisture every 1-2 hours or he’ll develop health issues/fall ill.

I don’t remember when I decided I wanted to write a full-length book telling Will’s story, but it’s still a goal of mine! To give you a brief synopsis of the current story, now titled “Fish Out of Water”, it takes place some years after the signing of the Conventional Forces in Europe treaty, which officially brought the Arms Race to an end. During the Arms Race, nuclear weapons were tested without concern for radiation and the effects it had on nearby civilians. In one particular scenario, Asian civilians were evacuated from a small town-turned nuclear test site, but they were not properly protected. The offspring of these civilians developed unnatural deformities/features, such as extra limbs or feathers, as a result of exposure to unhealthy levels of radiation. Worried that this development would mortify the public, the government hid the children in a science facility stationed in a secluded part of the ocean, and they remained within its walls for years. After 28 years, William escapes the facility with the help of his guilt-ridden caretaker and is found unconscious on the shore of a coastal city by marine biologist Martha Collins. The story follows Will as he attempts to shake his government pursuers, but it’s really a story about friendship, self-worth, and discovering what it truly means to be human.

Though unfinished, William’s story is very special to me, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with the world someday :>

As for the Far From Home folks, they came from simple beginnings. It all started with a sketch — this one to be exact!

Back in the spring of 2017, I was stressed and tired and frustrated with school, so I thought it’d be fun to create some new characters. Specifically, comfort characters that fit my favorite tropes. I took a lot of inspiration from the movies “Ernest & Celestine” and “You Are Umasou” when it came to personalities and character dynamics. I loved the idea of a tough, grumpy man who is completely unqualified to be a father stumbling upon and eventually adopting a small, bright-eyed child. There’s just so much you can do with that concept!

I specifically remember sitting in the library at school and just…drawing. I had no initial designs in mind besides something big and sharp, and something small and soft. Two opposites that would become a makeshift family.

I liked the designs enough to digitalize them, reworking aspects of their designs in the process. This was the first ‘accurate’ drawing of Baz and Toko. (I don’t like it too much anymore, but it’s a good color reference!)

I never like leaving a character without a story, so I eventually came up with a couple ideas that adequately described their relationship. In fact, my first idea presented Toko as some sort of child princess and Baz as her assigned bodyguard! That one obviously didn’t stick, but it did allow me to gain a better understanding of what I wanted.

Over time, I did a bit of world building and expanded upon the FFH universe, which opened and closed doors for potential storylines. I realized I wanted to add more characters too, leading to the creation of Gerdie and some other important figures. Gerdie looked quite a bit different than he does now — in fact, he was originally supposed to be an android! I played around with that idea for a while before eventually discarding it.

Here’s my most recent size chart featuring all three main characters!

I honestly never expected Far From Home to expand beyond a simple idea, and yet here I am, thinking I can turn the story into a trilogy someday. There’s still a lot of work to do if I want to reach that goal, but I genuinely enjoy these characters and their dynamic is really fun! They’ve grown very dear to me over the past three years. So I think that’s reason enough to try, anyway.

To give a bit of background on the story itself, it’s set in a fictional version of outer space where humans don’t exist. Intelligent, technologically-advanced aliens from neighboring planets/galaxies have established contact with one another, leading to the gradual formation of an intergalactic government and melting pot mega-society. Due to the unforeseen complexity of this endeavor, strict rules were put in place to regulate the selling/purchasing of certain goods and services, transportation between galaxies, and other related activities. This system is not without complications.

Baz and Gerdie work as intergalactic merchants, but that’s just a cover for their job as smugglers. Together, they travel to different galaxies and exchange goods for the designated currency, as well as deliver illegal substances to specific planets. Baz is the captain and pilots the ship while Gerdie is an engineer and works as the mechanic. They’ve known each other for quite some time when the story first begins. Baz has quite the interesting history, much of which ties into important aspects of the story.

Toko is a young alien who gets separated from her family and wakes up in the storage unit of Baz’s ship, with no memory of how she got there. Baz finds her and suspects she’s a thief, but she quickly explains her predicament and asks that he help reunite her with her family. Baz is reluctant at first and denies her request, only to discover there’s more to her story than he originally thought. Unintentionally dragging Baz into a frightening adventure full of old friends and all-too-familiar foes, Toko eventually inspires a change of heart in the smuggler. The story explores themes like forgiveness, what it really means to be good/bad, and the idea that family isn’t defined by blood.

I know that was a lot, but I hope it was at least somewhat interesting! Thanks for asking about my characters and sticking with me through this <3

#ask #ihavebeencalled #Far From Home #Baz #Toko #Baz and Toko #Gerdie #Fish Out of Water #William

6 notes · View notes

elvendorkinfinity · 4 years

Text

New Year’s Day: 2020

Yup, I wrote a 1000th Anniversary Thing. (Not a very good one.)

It’s very quiet. I wanted to do something with a less dramatic confession for A/C.

Wasn’t sure if I’d share, but since we’re basically all stuck inside with very little else to do... Enjoy. May or may not post to AO3 at some point. If I do, I may edit/expand/improve beforehand.

In the millennia-spanning friendship between an ancient pair of immortal adversaries, a great deal gets left unsaid. This is often for the best. It is safest, not just to keep certain knowledge from their superiors, but to keep it from each other; to keep it from themselves. Least said, soonest mended, and all that. Sticks and stones may break some bones, but these words will shatter hearts.

Matters very nearly come to a head during what is, in fairness, almost the end of the world; a perfectly reasonable time for emotions to be running high. They come close. They come so close, and then they just… don't. Nothing happens. Certain words are spoken (go off together - don't even like you - best friend - opposite sides), but many of these are untrue and quickly - although not, it must be said, necessarily explicitly - taken back (don't have a side - suppose I am really - good person - just enough of a bastard) .

Life settles back into its old patterns with almost unseemly haste. Aziraphale and Crowley return to the worn out grooves of their standard routines nearly as quickly as the humans do, and nothing needs to be admitted after all. Nothing needs to change.

Unless, perhaps, it does. Unless, perhaps, it is time. Unless - unless - unless.

It feels unfinished, like a conversation abruptly cut off, rudely interrupted by the world continuing to exist as it always has. Rather inconsiderate of it really, Crowley thinks. They were in the middle of something there.

It is just possible that Crowley is not entirely sober when he thinks this.

The problem is, these thoughts are not as easy to miracle away as alcohol. Like woodworm, like rust under a faint layer of paint, they eat away beneath the surface, weakening his resolve, changing things, and that just isn't fair. Isn't the whole reason they saved the bloody planet so that things wouldn't have to change?

A month ticks by, and then another. The year creeps along towards an end it was never guaranteed to have, and only gets because of the stubbornness - the curiosity - the love - of a quite extraordinary eleven year old boy and his quite excessively ordinary upbringing.

And the year 2020 rolls around.

And still. The words are there and they haven't been said and okay perhaps they don't need them, perhaps they have gotten along just fine without them for this long but damn it all this isn't about need.

Crowley doesn't need this. He wants it. Somehow, that feels worse.

Crowley tries to plan what to say, but finds that words would probably be easier to come by if he was sure what he was even trying to express.

He thinks of a hundred, a thousand times he has spoken in the past, only to find the words he chose were the wrong ones. He thinks of a hundred, a thousand times he has instead relied on showing rather than saying, and wonders if any of it ever actually got through.

He thinks of grand gestures and small ones, and each disguised as the other. He thinks of running away together, of bombs dropping on churches, of a tartan thermos. He thinks of oysters; of crepes; of favours and trinkets and jibes. He thinks of how well you can know someone, after six thousand years, and of how much they can hide behind a hereditary wall of paper thin animosity. How much they can pretend not to know. How much he can pretend not to see.

He thinks, eventually, of how they came to the Arrangement. That was ten centuries ago now. An entire millennium of history has passed since then, and still it only really deserves the capital letter because it has been around so long; it was never actually all that dramatic to begin with. Despite all Aziraphale's protests, it had been… easy, in the end, to slip into. Frighteningly easy.

Perhaps this, too, is simply a natural progression.

He swirls the wine in his glass and stares at it. He finds himself oddly reluctant to drink, though the scattered bottles around his feet would suggest this is a relatively new development. Aziraphale is watching him across a table littered with old papers and older books. Neither have spoken for some time; not since the sound of the fireworks in the distance faded; not since midnight came and went, all but unnoticed in the little Soho bookshop.

‘So,’ says Crowley eventually, eyes - uncovered, for once - flicking to Aziraphale’s face and then away again. ‘Twenty-twenty, angel.’

‘Hmm,’ Aziraphale replies, frowning at his own glass for a moment before shrugging and drinking most of it in one go. It has surprisingly little effect.

‘Do you know, it’s been a thousand years since… ?’ Crowley trails away and raises his eyebrows. Neither of them are anywhere near as drunk as they should be, given the quantity of alcohol already consumed, and neither of them are sure if this is deliberate or not.

‘Gosh, has it been that long?’ Aziraphale looks genuinely startled, though not unpleasantly. He smiles, just a little. Crowley looks away.

Perhaps, after all this time, they have no need for fireworks.

In the end, Crowley doesn’t plan what he says next, but he doesn’t resist it either. It just happens, and he lets it.

‘You know I love you, right angel?’

There is a long, long pause. It is not, to their mutual surprise, an uncomfortable one.

‘I…’ Aziraphale starts and then stops again. He sighs, gently. ‘I believe I do, yes. I think I have for quite some time.’ His smile is melancholy, but not regretful. His eyes, soft, follow Crowley’s answering nod.

‘Good.’ Crowley is not looking at him. Aziraphale wonders why. ‘That's good.’

‘I hope you know, I…’ Aziraphale glances down and leans forwards, clasping his hands on the table top. ‘The feeling is mutual, my dear.’ He admits eventually.

‘I did wonder, sometimes,’ Crowley replies. Neither of them are speaking at very much more than a whisper. Crowley does not say whether he had wondered about the presence or absence of Aziraphale's affections; Aziraphale finds himself reluctant to ask for clarification.

There is another, longer, period of silence.

‘Well,’ says Crowley at last, pulling himself to something approximating upright in his seat. He flashes a grin, achingly familiar, at Aziraphale, and raises his glass. Aziraphale mimics him automatically.

‘A thousand years,’ Crowley offers. ‘Here's to another thousand, I suppose?’ There is a question in his voice even now, and Aziraphale cannot have that.

‘Oh, at least,’ he enthuses.

Perhaps Aziraphale is imagining it, but there might be just a hint of wickedness in the smirk playing around Crowley's mouth now; a touch of suggestion in the quirk of his brow.

All he replies, however, is, ‘I'll drink to that.’

So they do.

#good omens #writing #fanfiction

1 note · View note

weerd1 · 5 years

Text

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1908.12: Missions Reviewed, “Return to Grace,” “Sons of Mogh,” “Bar Association,” and “Ascension.”

In “Return to Grace,” Major Kira is on her way to a summit to share intelligence against the Klingons with the new Cardassian government when the freighter captain who is taking her there shows up…and it is Gul Dukat, shamed and demoted having brought his half Bajoran daughter Ziyal back home.

He still smarms quite a bit, but is frustrated trying to get the old freighter he’s captaining to act like a combat ready ship. Kira bonds with Ziyal on the flight however, even if she can’t bring herself to like Dukat. When they arrive at their conference, the Klingons have already attacked and destroyed it, but the Bird of Prey responsible doesn’t see Dukat’s ship as enough of a threat to even destroy. Kira talks Dukat into taking ground defense weapons from the destroyed outpost and mounting them in his ship. They chase down the Bird of Prey and disable it with the new weapons. After a switcheroo with the transporters, Dukat’s gang captures the Klingon ship, abandoning its crew on his freighter which he promptly destroys. Without Cardassian backing though, he can’t bring the war to them with his new ship, so he decides to become an underground fighter after Kira’s example. Kira convinces him to leave Ziyal on DS9 though, and Dukat and his crew go off to harangue the Klingons.

Another episode that feints at Dukat’s redemption, and even teases his romantic feelings toward Kira. It works because the writers never write Kira as gullible enough to believe him. A lot is put in place here that will be picked up later; Dukat’s BoP, Ziyal on DS9 with Kira, and even a certain new Cardassian bridge officer named “Damar,” who I am sure is just a background extra. (Narrator: “He wasn’t.”)

Worf’s brother Kurn comes to DS9 to reunite the “Sons of Mogh.” The happy part of that reunion is short lived however as Kurn, based on Worf’s loss of status at the beginning of the season, is similarly discredited.

He asks for a Klingon ritual where Worf will kill him and in his death, Kurn will regain his honor and can enter Sto-Vo-Kor. Jadzia realizes what they are up to and intervenes just in time to beam Kurn to the infirmary with Worf’s knife in his chest. Needless to say, Sisko is not amused, and they try to find a new way for Kurn to move forward in life.

Kurn takes a job as one of Odo’s deputies, and in spite of early success, allows some criminal schlep to shoot him. Worf then catches him considering suicide. Worf is able to reach out to a family friend in the Empire and with Bashir’s help they wipe Kurn’s memory and change his face allowing him to become the son of Worf’s friend believing he has lost his memory in an accident.

We can all talk about “proud Klingon warriors” but the fact is there is one thing they have always had in common- all the way back to TOS, and all the way forward through Discovery:” Klingons are always drama queens, and none more so than the House of Mogh. This is an effective episode though for showing Worf there are more consequences to his actions than just being stuck on a station. Tony Todd is back, having last been seen as the older Jake Sisko in the exquisite “The Visitor” and is unrecognizable as Kurn versus Jake. One neat thing they do here is demonstrate family resemblance with Kurn’s nose, forehead, and facial hair being just like Worf’s. Then, when he has been altered for his new life, there is a contrasting crest. Worked nicely. Stand by for more Klingon drama soon too!

First though, some Ferengi drama! In “Bar Association” the Bajoran verison of Ramadan is killing business at Quark’s and he decides he has to cut wages. There are some complaints, and Rom hears about this neat little Earth concept called “a union.” He assembles his fellow employees and proposes they form a collective.

Lita is immediately ready to don a Che’ t-shirt, but the other Ferengi are not as eager. Unions are a huge taboo on Ferenginar. Rom is convincing though, and soon there is a union, a list of demands, and a strike! Even O’Brien gets in on it talking about his family’s Union history, while Worf breaks the picket-they have an altercation that lands them in one of Odo’s cells. Worse, Liquidator Brunt with the Ferengi Commerce Authority shows up with two Nausicaan enforcers who initially try to intimidate Rom, but then beat up Quark to get the Union to break.

With his brother wounded, Rom still won’t budge, but then Quark agrees to meet all demands if they make it look to Brunt like the union is gone. Rom agrees, and all is well…except Rom will not go back to work for Quark. He takes a job as one of the station maintenance techs instead.

A cute episode that gets more serious in how Ferngi culture deals with fairness. I’ll avoid any political commentary here, but as I have said before, Star Trek is always relevant. Rom continues coming a long way since just being the “Ferengi Pit Boss,” and they begin to allude to something between him and Lita. According to Memory Alpha, that was supposed to be for just this episode, then the chemistry between Chase Masterson and Max Grodénchik was so good, it influenced where the characters went! And of course, the indomitable Jeffrey Combs is back as Brunt. It always amazes me how subtle a dig the producers through in here with him being the enforcer of Ferengi business values…and having the smallest set of lobes of any male Ferengi we see.

In “Ascension,” Sisko has just finished blessing a married couple as The Emissary when a Bajoran light ship like the one he built comes spilling out of the Wormhole. They beam the lone occupant on board, and it turns out to be a man named Akorem, a famous Bajoran poet who disappeared 200 years earlier.

He has been in the wormhole all this time, and has come to believe that HE is meant to fulfill the role of the Emissary. Sisko is initially happy to pass the role on, but when Akorem begins to preach that Bajor must return to its former caste system to truly find healing after the occupation, that could endanger Bajor’s petition to join the Federation.

When a Vedek kills a monk because he is of too low a caste to be a monk, Sisko challenges Akorem. They fly into the Wormhole to ask the Prophets what’s up. As non linear beings they imply who entered the wormhole first is irrelevant, and Akorem was sent “for the Sisko.” They return Akorem to his own time and Sisko takes his place as Emissary once again. Kira looks up her favorite unfinished poem by Akorem to find the man has now finished it, leaving a message of faith in the prophets.

A great message about not going backward in the name of one person’s interpretation of a religion (because Star Trek is always relevant), this episode builds well taking Sisko from reluctant icon to a man who sees what his duty is in the Bajoran faith. Actually reminds me a little of “Last Temptation of Christ” in that way- seeing the alternate path, but understanding why one must make the sacrifice and play their role. The political ramifications along with the social results are interesting as the “farmer” Shakaar may not be elected to run Bajor again, and poor Kira turns out to be from a line of artists…and she is not particularly artistic.

The episode lets her shine a few times as she struggles with what the right path his for her faith. Not bad at all.

NEXT VOYAGE: In a pitched battle Worf has destroyed a Klingon civilian passenger liner. His trial will show if it was Klingon bloodlust or if he followed his “Rules of Engagement.”

#star trek #star trek: Deep Space Nine #DS9 Rewatch

3 notes · View notes

fountainsofsilver · 7 years

Photo

What to work on next? I don’t know if I’m lacking focus or motivation, but I haven’t been able to make any headway on any of my works in progress. Maybe if you let me know which one you’re interested in it will kickstart me.

The ones with prequels up on my Tumblr blog:

Snow White & The Seven Dwarves - The prequel to this one is Snow White & Rose Red. Now that Thorin is taking his elven consort back to Lonely Mountain, she finds herself equipped with the task of choosing the Queen’s Royal Guard. Not an easy task since her movement within Erebor is restricted to the unfriendly Royal Halls for lack of having said guardsmen. This is currently a 7 chapter book leading into 6 more books. I’m currently utterly stalled out in book 3. The only reason I haven’t already posted The Seven Dwarves is because I might have to make changes to it when I get to later stories. I can always let you know if I make any adjustments though I suppose.

Sweet Dreams - The continuation (2nd chapter) of Sweet Nothings. Things with Dwalin take a turn. The honeymoon is over when a guest arrives and stays for an extended length of time causing marital strain and drama. Things are said. Things are not said. Did I mention drama? This one is 100% drama. I trainwrecked in chapter 4 and don’t know how to get out of it. That chapter may need a full re-write.

Unchained - For lack of a better title, no seriously, if you can think of something better, please let me know. This is the continuation of Bondage. The unexpected journey gets an unexpected addition to the company when Nori introduces his family to his new wife. I’m not gonna lie, this is 13 chapter of sex. I have zero direction of plot, except that they are on their way to Erebor and setting up beautiful locations for the sex. I realized this in chapter 14. I don’t know where this is going. Maybe it will never end? Maybe I will just write every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had of the company of Thorin Oakenshield ad infinitum.

The ones that have been started, but are also as yet unfinished:

Elflocks - (Really want a new title for this one.) This is the first fanfic I have written from The Hobbit. I started this one during Nanowrimo a few years back and more than managed the 50K words. It’s also not finished because not all Durins live and that became very painful to write. I’ve always intended to go back and finish it, but this is going to take some serious cheering from you if you want it because it will be a bittersweet ending and I like my endings happily ever after. It is currently at 9 chapters.

Bachelor Party - Thorin and his nephews go to Iron Hills to find a wife and get more than they expected. This one is a mix of silly, cute, romantic, sexy, drama, mystery, and adventure. It has a bit of everything. Also the ending is planned out in my head if I can keep to the script. It is currently 8 chapters and probably needs at least 4 more to get there.

Cinderbeard - A retelling of Cinderella. I love my fairytales. I also like to write them my way. This is a one-shot that is getting too long and I’m not sure how to end it…

The Arrangement - Arranged marriages aren’t as romantic as you might think, especially when one of the spouses is unwilling despite incredible attraction. I mean seriously, why are you so attractive when I just want to hate you for getting me into this? This one promises to be epic long. I know how I want to end it, it’s the middle stuff that’s giving me trouble.

Heart of Gold - Thorin finds his One at an unanticipated early age and she’s not at all what any expected. A lot of secrecy and hidden courtship because he thinks no one would understand and he is more correct than he knows. Begins in the pre-Smaug time of his life and extends to post-Smaug so yeah, it’s not short. I think I know where I’m going with this one, but it’s taken me for some turns so I can promise nothing.

Dwarves vs. Elves - A one-shot in which dwarves and elves know very little of each other. A lot of assumptions are made. There is only one way to properly evaluate the other race and that is with sex. Of course. This is probably the closest to being finished, but I’m not sure how to end it…

Balin’s Gift - Balin finds that some gifts are best when shared. I love this one. If you thought Gimli x oc fics were hard to find, try looking for one with Balin. If they’re out there, I haven’t found one yet. If you’ve found one, please share.

The Courtesan - A post-BotFA story in which Dwalin suffers from PTSD and finds some small comfort in the arms of a prostitute. I am reluctant to share/continue this one because it is extremely dark and no doubt triggering. My mind was in a bad place when I started this one, but it was extremely cathartic to write. I am to the part of the story where the clouds begin to part, but when I originally wrote it I planned on telling how every dwarf in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield dies. I don’t want to end it that way, but this story seems to have a life of its own and there is no telling where it will go.

A Gypsy’s Dance - This started as a fun romp with Bofur and now has a more complicated plot. I have no idea what I’m doing with this one. I have been letting it write itself, but it seems to have abandoned me temporarily.

Several of these have the same theme: What if our heroine marries a dwarf and then finds her One? The dwarves and circumstances within the story change, but finding resolution to that problem is the common theme. I decided to approach that with each dwarf individually and see where the story would take me. I have yet to start the story for four of the dwarves, but I figure I have more than enough to work with so far.

Which one would you like to see me work on next?

#next #what to do #so many fics #so little time #The Hobbit fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

surplusperson · 7 years

Link

Adam Curtis, the amazing filmmaker, wrote an article about self expression being dangerous, because it’s a tool of capitalism and is a form of conformism. I beg to differ. Collaboration and groupings of artists in my city (Den Haag, NL) have exhausted me. I have been a part of at least 3 different organizations in my city who wanted to offer something to to the city in the way of contemporary art. The first grouping I affiliated with was a couple who wanted to start a discussion forum for unfinished works accompanied by dinner. Super nice idea. At first I hosted the meetings in my freezing studio, and they invited the artists. Later, the idea turned from discussion and dinner into a reading group for contemporary scientific and art related texts, I was in charge of getting the peanuts for the group to snack on during discussions. I became disillusioned. I had no ideas for who to invite to the table. The writers, teachers and philosophers all came from the arsenal of the couple. This was their calling and they were very talented. I was just a logistical fly on the wall. What was I doing with this group? The reading of the texts was exciting at first but later became tedious, and in all probability I just couldn’t keep up intellectually. I only have two bachelor’s degrees after all. At the same time I had a studio in an old school building with an assortment of artists, many of whom are my good friends. The municipality started putting pressure on the group because they wanted to demolish the school and rebuild it. The threat of being displaced from our cheap and precarious our studio spaces made us jump to action. This demanded a lot of meetings to decide what our mission statement was going to be, the kind of work we were going engage in and the kinds of collaborators we would invite in from abroad to make ourselves more visible to “the public.” A mission statement fueled by the need for proper real estate and artistic visibility. Founding the non-profit and strategizing to be seen in a positive light by the municipality became a priority over making artwork, at least for me. This would make it easier to maintain our place and more importantly, to ask for funds. But what about making work? And what about the people who are more or less crap at organizing (me), and leadership (me)? I wasn’t feeling any of it. We had bi-weekly dinners at our building during the winter. There were a few electric heaters and we almost always had to wear our coats indoors. Maybe in 20 years I’ll be able to romanticize these conditions. The dinners were cozy, but it did feel like having signed up to a club whose common interest (artmaking) was on a backburner to becoming a non-profit. Tensions rose, particularly between a neighbor who had made himself the super useful handyman of building, and several of the artists who thought he was pushing too hard. In their eyes, he settled to quickly for any mission statement so the whole non-profit thing could get on its feet and start planning events and applying for funding. The artists in turn wanted to take more time to whittle down their vision to a proper mission statement, which infuriated the handy neighbor. He cursed us all out for being idiots, and put himself down to being the only one of the group to have any vision. Topsy turvy world. Eventually I relinquished my studio (after being offered a 3 month residency with BAR in Barcelona) and never looked back. That was one of the least artistically prolific times in my life, and when I got to the residency I exploded with content. There was so much I could make in this environment of supported solitude, as opposed to the paralysis I felt when at the old school building. I’m happy to say that the non-profit is up and running, and according to the mission statement of the artists who stuck together and made their vision as explicit as they could. The place turned around. The non profit is no longer a move toward self-preservation in the face of the real estate market which is always on the prowl for old buildings to knock down and price up. Still, it didn’t feel like my fight. When I returned from the residency I started to scout for another studio. There was a complex close to my home looking for new artist members. I went to look but expected nothing. I placed my name on the list, but because some of the older tenants said that this building was also scheduled to be demolished there was a limited time to be there, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I was offered a studio, and shared it with 2 other people. This meant rent was cheap and I had a place to work nearby. I did my best to utilize the studio. My studio mates both had different schedules than I did so it was easy to find solitude. I made some good friends there and even managed to make a short video and install a small exhibition together with a friend. But then the atmosphere started to change at the building. There was a schism between a group of artists who had been there 10 years and the rest. They had been applying for funding in the name of the association, which was also a non profit, but had hidden that from the rest of the tenants. There were some shady dealings to do with the finances of the association. No one had any insight, and one of the tenants became so outraged that she enlisted outside organizations to investigate the matter. This killed my drive to work there. Every time I walked through the door I prayed that I wouldn’t be stopped along the way for a chat about the state of affairs, or asked to take sides. I clamped down and became reluctant to interact with either of the two groups. There was such a limited time in which I could do any work at all, and it was all being wasted on this group dynamics disaster. I began to stay away from the building altogether, avoiding meetings, and ignoring fired up chains of emails. I know that what was being fought over here was a just cause. The outraged tenant literally saved the association, stopped all the shady financial dealings and tried to find new tenants when the old tenants up and left for a for a more permanent setup in another neighborhood that wasn’t scheduled for demolition. In our municipality, established groups of artists (i.e. groups that have a paper signed by a notary stating they are a non-profit foundation or association) are prioritized to be matched with breeding grounds; cheap buildings are offered to artists so they can develop community and offer something new to the neighborhood, and of course continue their own work. Is it a sign that I am too individualistic because I cannot in good faith commit to these kinds of groups ? Is my absence and my unwillingness to formalize my responsibilities and commitment to these groups one of the many causes of my own scarce artistic production? I have a patron now. A friend of mine has been living in a building in downtown for 20 years. He only uses the top floor. The first floor, where my studio is, has served as a storage space for countless friends and their possessions as their life situations change. It is cold and damp and the sun never shines on this side of the building, but you know what? I don’t have to fit into the municipality’s criteria of being a legitimate artist. There are no studio mates, and apart from my friend, no other tenants. I’m here while he is at work. I work part time job in the evenings, just as he comes home. This is the space I need to fall in love with art again.

#adam curtis #capitalism #arts #nonprofit #arts collective #individualism #bureaucracy #solitude #real estate #capitalistart

1 note · View note

winemum-ignis · 7 years

Text

Brotherhood

Notes: There is little that I love more about Ignis and Noct than exploring the bond that they have as brothers, they’ve been in each others lives since the dawn of time and I think they have a wonderful relationship and I could no longer resist. Plus I felt I should not only finish writing something (ahaha so many unfinished fics) but that I should throw my hand at doing something not centrally Gladnis (I mean there is still Gladnis because hello have you met me I can’t not it is like crack to me), but it is a side note rather than the main focus. Plus I needed something amusing in their to break the tension or I may have cried. I just have a lot of feelings. Don’t judge me. And just to set the mood because I am terrible some wise words from Cid.

"They're not your bodyguards. They're your brothers."

Ignis and Noct brothery fluff, lucis and past insomnia, gladnis mention, 3376 words. (AO3)

The sun slowly dropped below the horizon, the stars sparkling in the clear night sky as the darkness once again crept over the world. If the longer nights weren’t a sign of much worse things to come it would be quite easy to get lost in the beautiful night sky that sat over Duscae, but alas it was nothing more than a reminder of how much time they didn’t have. Fortunately for them, as the Regalia rumbled to a stop in the parking spot, the bright lights of the outpost would fend off such evils as the four young men quietly got out of the car. They hadn’t slept the night before, travelling through the night and fighting off the terrors that threatened them and finally they were all able to succumb to the tiredness as bags with clean clothes were removed from the boot of the car. The motels weren’t the most luxurious of accommodations but it was better than the cold hard floor of the tent and they would all benefit from a real bed at this point in the proceedings, and a decent shower.

Since he was the only one who hadn’t had the novelty of napping in the car, Ignis had to stifle a yawn as they approached the motel owner but fortunately for him, Gladio stepped in to acquire their rooms allowing him to simply rub tiredly at his eyes as they awaited the keys for the two rooms.

“Hey, specs.” Only just catching the set of keys that his bodyguard threw at him, Noctis looked almost nervous as he looked up to Ignis who was readjusting his glasses. “Do you mind if we share a room tonight?” Had they both been more awake and perceptive they may have noticed the slightly disappointed expressions that fleetingly skated over both Prompto and Gladio’s faces.

There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation before Ignis responded, after all he knew what such a request meant and he would always strive to do everything he could within his power to aid the Prince, even if that just meant being a sympathetic ear for the younger male when all he wanted to do was sleep. “I don’t mind at all.” An almost unseen little smile curved the lips of the twenty-two-year-old as he picked up Noct’s overnight bag that had been placed on the floor as they loitered waiting for their sleeping arrangements to be acquired. “Let’s call it a night and retire for the evening.”

It didn’t take them long to all get in to their rooms. It was hardly the Leville or Galdin Quay, but there were beds and a shower and at this point in time that was all that mattered. Ignis hadn’t even closed the door and Noct had already thrown himself down on one of the beds with a loud exhale. For once in his life though he wasn’t worried about the younger male falling asleep within moments. If that had been the plan he wouldn’t have asked him to bunk with him for the night. There was a small, selfish part of Ignis that questioned why the Prince couldn’t have waited until a night when he wasn’t dead on his feet but for all his years of knowing him, the advisor had quickly learnt that there was no telling when Noct would get to this point: the point where he had to talk, so there was no way he would hold it against the poor lad.

“I’m going to go and have a quick shower.” Stepping out of his shoes was one of the best feelings he had had all day, and the relieved expression on Ignis’ face would have given that away had Noctis not been staring up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to the unsolved mysteries of the universe. With everything he would need at hand, just about to close the door to the bathroom a strange gurgling noise broke the quiet of the room, Ignis raising an eyebrow as he peered back round the door to see Noct placing his hand on his stomach as if to try and hush the noise. “Then I will pick us up some dinner so your stomach doesn’t devour itself over night.”

The prince had skipped dinner that night. The excuse he had given was that he had homework but Ignis knew him, he was like a brother to him and any good brother would know that Noctis wouldn’t pass up food to study. As the fifteen year old walked down the high ceilinged corridors, he ensured he kept the tray in his hands steady. One of the kitchen staff had offered to take the meal up to the prince but the bespectacled boy wanted to do it himself, he needed to make sure everything was okay even if he already knew in his heart of hearts that it wasn’t.

Stopping in front of a large, familiar door, a shifting of the tray and its contents allowed knuckles to rap against the solid wood, echoing through the vast and empty hallway. No response. Knocking once more he listened closely, and he was sure he could hear rustling of some sort, but still no response. Sighing, he knocked again. “Noct, it’s me.”

For a few moments he was expecting yet again a response of absolutely nothing. He wanted to just burst through the door but the young Prince already had enough going on in his life and burdening him, the last thing Ignis wanted to do was start invading what little privacy he still had a hold of. On the verge of turning around and walking away a small voice came from within the room behind the door. “Ignis?”

“Can I come in?” He waited in silence yet again before a quiet, reluctant noise of approval came in response. Carefully swinging open the door, Ignis placed the tray down on the desk in the corner of the room as he tried to assess what was quite going on in the younger boys bedroom. Noctis was nowhere to be seen but he didn’t need a map to tell him where he was as all the pillows, blankets and sheets that were supposed to be on the boys bed had been stripped and assembled into a quite well fashioned fort. There was no doubt about it that if he were to look inside the small ebony haired boy would be sat in there. “Room for one mo—“

“Password!” The word came out with such volition as Ignis had slightly raised the corner of one of the sheets to take a quick peek, instantly dropping the fabric as he tried to hide the smile that crept at his features. He knew it was a coping mechanism, it was hiding a much bigger issue but if it was what Noct needed then he would play along.

Thinking it over for a few moments, nothing particular came to mind so he hoped manners would grant him entry. “Please?”

Noctis had gotten into the shower as soon as the bathroom had been free’d. He knew why Ignis had opted to go first: as he stood under the warm water he soon last track of how much time he had been in there, just enjoying the sensation. Finally he stepped out of the shower, drying off and getting into his pyjama’s for the night he expected to leave the bathroom and find Ignis already asleep after picking him up some food. It was clear to see how tired the older man was when they pulled into the outpost. What he did see as he swung open the door to the bathroom, hand rubbing towel over damp hair to try dry it as best as he could, drew a very much perplexed look on his soft features.

Dropping the damp towel from his shoulders to the floor, he instantly picked up knowing if he were to leave it there Ignis would probably smother him in his sleep with it. He tried to find somewhere to drape it but the chair in the room was being used to create a peak in the blanket fort that had appeared in the space between the two beds. Opting to drape it on the door handle, black hair fell floppily in front of eyes as he edged towards the new construct. He didn’t know what to expect, but at the same time as he lifted what was clearly supposed to be the ‘door’ he wasn’t at all surprised by the set up inside. All the pillows and sheets from the actual beds made up two, make shift beds on the floor under the canopy of the larger sheets. Ignis had even bought in the lamp from the bedside table to provide them with light as two takeaway boxes from the diner next door in the space between the ‘beds’ with a bottle of water each.

“Password.” The matter of fact tone came from Ignis as he sat cross legged in his makeshift bed for the night, putting down the phone he had been scrolling through to look to Noct as he peeked into the fort. The smile that adorned the Prince’s face was the first genuine one he had seen for a while and it brought out one of his own.

“Please?” Receiving the nod of approval, a quiet laugh was shared between the two as soon they were sat facing each other, both looking far from their usual presentable states as damp hair fell flat, clinging to foreheads as lose pyjama’s hung off their bodies. Reaching out for one of the bottles, a quick swig was taken as Noctis looked around at the structure that they resided in, shoulders relaxing as he finally started to think about letting the wall down that was permanently up with the boy. “How long did this take you?”

“Not long, I learnt from the best.” Reaching out he passed one of the takeaway boxes to Noct who eagerly took it. His stomach may have become quiet in its protest but he was still ravenous, not surprising since they hadn’t eaten since lunch. “Besides, you took a considerable amount of time in the shower, I had to find something to do.” Lifting the bun tentatively of the burger that was in his lap, Noct was mildly surprised to see all the garnish had already been removed, looking questionably to the green eyed man sat opposite him. “Don’t get used to it, I’ll be putting extra vegetables in your dinner tomorrow to make up for it.” It was a small gesture, but it was one that meant a lot to the Prince as he dove into the meal hungrily.

No words were shared as they enjoyed the meal, not until the phone that sat by Ignis’ leg lit up and buzzed quietly as it vibrated with an alert. With a mouth full of food Noct was unable to question who was texting him at this time of night, but the raised eyebrows and curious expression was all Ignis needed to see to know what was on his mind. “Gladio, wanting to know that you’re okay.”

A rather mischievous smile played on his youthful features, swallowing his mouthful before he spoke in a tone that matched his expressions far too perfectly. “Oh really, is that all it is?” The question drew a confused look out of the man who made no effort to hide the fact that he swiftly locked his phone in retaliation, choosing to say nothing than put his foot in anything. “If I looked at that message, it would just be Gladio worried about me?” He could see where this was going and Ignis wouldn’t bite, taking the high road as he refused to be sucked in to the situation instead just picking up a few chips as he looked back at Noct blankly.

It happened within a blink, before he could even pre-empt it Noct had done it, reached forward and grabbed his phone and before he could lunge wildly to try and get it back it had already been unlocked. He still tried none the less, as what little remained from their dinner went flying to the floor he hadn’t even grabbed at his sleeve to try and drag his arm back and Noctis was reading the message outloud. “’Hope everything is okay with Noctis.’ Okay, so you didn’t lie about that. ‘Prompto is taking forever in the shower’ yeah he does that you get used to it.” His free hand pushed away at Iggy’s head as he continued to scramble for the phone before he could carry on, the two of them lying on the ground as the taller male tried to scramble up the attempting to crawl away Prince. “’Miss you, wish you were here with me’ aw, that’s sweet even if they are just down the hall. Oh, and he sent somethi- OH GODS.” As soon as he clicked on the attachment Ignis got his opening even if it was too late, catching the phone as Noctis launched it in shock.

With the phone back in his possession, ignis took it upon himself to compose himself, moving back to where he was sat and doing his best to clean up the food that had scattered in the ensuing frackar while trying to remain as dignified as possible and doing his best to ignore the embarrassed flush that highlighted his cheeks. “I did not need to see that.” He ignored Noctis’ words as he regained some order to their blanket fort (honestly not the situation he thought he would be in that evening if you’d have asked him how he was going to spend his night). “So how long have you two been…” Trailing off, there was an immovable grin on Noct’s face as he looked to the flustered advisor as he sat himself back up, readjusting his pyjama’s in light of the scuffle. Their eyes met and once again Ignis remained silent, opting to take a sip of water rather than engage the Prince. “… Smooshing booties?”

He was trying so hard to keep it together but as those words tumbled out of Noctis’ mouth even he couldn’t help but crack a smile despite how much he didn’t want to. “That is not what you wanted to talk to me about tonight.” Getting a shrug in response, it may not have been how he had expected the night to go, nor may it have been the subject matter Noct planned on talking about with his oldest friend, but Ignis did have to admit that for the first time in days the Prince seemed content and relaxed. While it wasn’t the route they had expected to take, it certainly seemed to have let him wind down and just have the opportunity to act and feel more like a normal twenty-year-old boy. “How long have you known?”

“A while.” His answer elicited a quiet groan from Ignis that Noctis couldn’t help but laugh at as he picked up some of his pillows, fluffing them up in preparation for settling down to sleep. “Well I’m not stupid! But Prompto and I—“

“Prompto knows as well?”

“Of course.” Shifting so that he could lie down on his now nice and fluffy bed of pillows, Noctis pulled the thick blanket over him as he got himself in to a comfortable foetal position, watching Ignis who removed his glasses as he exasperatedly rubbed at his eyes. “Well, we knew you two were…. Yanno…”

“Smooshing booties?” A line that Noctis never thought he would hear the other man say as they both dissolved into laughter as Ignis also made himself horizontal for the night, trying his best to make himself comfortable but the floor wasn’t as comfortable as the mattress would have been but on reflection, he wouldn’t have changed anything about the way the night had gone.

“But he didn’t think it was anything more than that. I know you’ve been into him since we were back home.” A silence fell at the mention of the word, a heaviness that suddenly filled the room. They all felt it, the longing to go back to Insomnia but they couldn’t, and that knowledge made the whole concept even harder to accept. “I miss it…everyday…” There it was, the wall that Noctis always hid behind was gone as eyes met, laying opposite each other in their sanctuary. Without saying anything one of Noctis’ hands reached out from his blanket, laying waiting in the small space between the two of them until Ignis’ hand appeared, taking a hold of it tightly, squeezing it reassuringly and not letting go as eyes closed.

“Me too.”

He thought he was asleep, the prince was well known for drifting off in a matter of seconds but as one green eye opened just to check he saw Noctis looking down at nothing in particular. As soon as he felt Ignis watching him though gaze went up, catching his eye and forcing a smile on to his features even though it was clear where his mind had gone. If his mind was there, then even he the lord of sleep would struggle to get off and Ignis knew that they all needed at least a few solid hours interrupted sleep. He had a card up his sleeve left to play though. He may have felt endlessly embarrassed earlier but he could still use what had ensued to his advantage. “You know, I never reply to those pictures with my own…” Noct’s pensive expression was replaced with one of curiousity as he waited to see where Ignis was going with this. “Normally I find something completely unremarkable in the background to comment on because I know it winds him up.”

It worked and a hearty laugh came out of Noctis, his face definitely much more relaxed as he got over the laughter and the mental image of how much it must wind up Gladio. He knew Ignis said it just to make him laugh, but the strategist couldn’t be faulted, it had done the job as he finally closed his eyes to get some sleep, his own hand gripping Ignis’s back firmly. “Thanks, specs.”

“You know you can always talk to me about anything, right Noct?” Ignis crouched down as he crawled into the fort that Noctis was hiding within, settings eyes on the small boy who was curled up lying in the corner under several blankets. Noctis tried to hide his face, presumably to try and stop his new company seeing eyes that had the telltale redness and dampness of someone who had been crying but they certainly didn’t go unnoticed

“Why, because it’s your job?” There was a bitterness in those words that the fifteen-year-old knew wasn’t entirely focused at him. But he had a hunch he knew where it was coming from. “It’s the only reason anyone ever does anything for me…” And with that his hunch was confirmed. Sitting down next to Noctis who remained curled up, he didn’t even know what he could do or say at that moment. He was a thirteen-year-old boy, that sucked for anyone and he knew, he had been there but when you were the Prince on top of that? That bit he couldn’t relate to. As they both grew up they learnt more and more about the rolls that they were destined to fill and where their place was. Ignis never shied away from his duty and recently he had been taking more and more on himself, to better himself, and was now starting to regret it as it meant spending less and less time with Noctis as they had spent their younger years, as friends. If he’d spent more time with him, maybe he’d have been able to see this coming, been there to support him as his job in life was supposed to be.

Picking up a pillow he laid down on his side, facing the young, and more than likely scared Prince with a soft, reassuring smile on his face. Slowly he reached out, taking a hold of one of Noctis’ hands and holding it tightly. “Because I’m your brother.”

84 notes · View notes

thechasefiles · 6 years

Text

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 7/5/2018

Good Morning #realdreamchasers! Here is The Chase Files Daily News Cap for Thursday 5th July 2018. Remember you can read full articles by purchasing Daily Nation Newspaper (DN), via Barbados Today (BT) or Barbados Government Information Services (BGIS).

MOTTLEY: TIME TO ACT IS NOW –The region’s young people will not wait another ten years nor will they forgive present leaders for procrastination or lack of courage. And Prime Minister of Barbados, Mia Mottley, told her colleagues if they were serious about making the CARICOM Single Market and Economy (CSME) work, it was time to move past the talk. Mottley was making her maiden address at the 39th Regular Meeting of the Conference of Heads of Government of the Caribbean Community(CARICOM) in Montego Bay, Jamaica, earlier this evening. “Our political leadership must facilitate and shepherd, not control and stifle,” she told the gathering. “What is most needed, I am convinced, is to give our people the scope to express their natural inclination to getting things to a conclusion in ways that are productive and beneficial to the region as a whole. Our people should not have to jump through hoops to make this happen.” She pointed to the lack of movement on regional travel whether it was in the form of a ferry or the problems with LIAT and Caribbean Airlines. Mottley said the free movement of people needed to be addressed. She announced Barbados would be removing the visa restrictions for Haiti – a signatory to the Revised Treaty of Chagauramas – because travellers outside of the region were allowed to do so every day. The Prime Minister said there also needed to be better communication and sharing of information across the region. (DN)

DEFAULT BACKLASH – The decision by Prime Minister and Minister of Finance Mia Mottley to default on the country’s debt has come back to bite local companies that do business in Canada. Barbados TODAY understands that some manufacturers and suppliers that receive assistance from the Ontario-based export credit agency Export Development Canada (EDC) are demanding prepayment from Barbadian businesses, which means they now have to look for US dollars upfront. This is the result of new restrictive measures to its credit insurance coverage for Barbados imposed by EDC, which provides insurance and financial services, bonding products and small business solutions to Canadian exporters and investors and their international buyers. EDC describes itself as a ”self-financing, crown corporation that operates at arm’s length from the government”, and that supports and develops Canada’s export trading by helping Canadian companies respond to international business opportunities. Of particular concern to the Canadian export credit agency is the decision by Mottley last month to suspend debt payment to international commercial creditors. “The newly elected Barbadian Government announced its decision to seek to restructure its public debt, including via the suspension of payment on external debt owed to commercial creditors. The Government is also currently engaged in negotiations with the International Monetary Fund and because of this, EDC expects that market and policy uncertainty are likely to continue in the coming months pending the outcome of negotiations,” Senior Advisor for External Communications Simon Forsyth told Barbados TODAY. He said EDC would continue to monitor developments in Barbados and “adjust its country position accordingly”. According to the company’s website, it was “open on a restricted basis” in relation to Barbados, meaning that the company was taking a responsive approach to business. EDC said it determined its position by taking into account government of Canada restrictions, political, human rights and corruption risks, adding that “other factors that may be taken into consideration are size of the economy, diversification of the economy and risk of natural disasters”. In relation to its risk rating, the company said Barbados was now high risk. “The commercial country ceiling (CCC) risk rating is measured from low to high, and is meant to represent the best possible rating that can be assigned to a commercial business (obligator) in a country,” it said. The company said its CCC Risk is determined by the sovereign probability of default, political risks, and other mitigating or worsening factors. EDC described Barbados as having a stable political system with effective institutions and good governance, while acknowledging that the country was highly dependent on tourism, which has driven the construction sector for many years. “The Government needs to invest in non-tourism related infrastructure projects. However, fiscal consolidation remains a challenge to further investment. The economic profile has been weakening for several years, reflected by high unemployment, low growth, rising debt levels and high debt servicing costs,” the company added. It was not immediately clear how many local companies have been affected or how many Canadian firms have asked for payment before shipping products to Barbados, but last year the EDC provided assistance to 50 Canadian companies engaged in trade with Barbados. When contacted, several local companies were either reluctant to comment on the development or employees reported that their managers were out of the island. However, one of the major Canadian manufacturers requesting prepayment from Barbadian firms is Kruger Inc, which spans a range of sectors through its supply of a variety of items including tissue products, packaging, publication papers, specialty papers, energy products, and wines and spirits. In an emailed response to questions posed by Barbados TODAY, Kruger’s communication department would only say that the matter of prepayment orders was “a current business practice” for the company. (BT)

MINISTER, UNION AND PORT ENGAGE IN TALKS - Issues surrounding the modernisation and improved efficiency at the Barbados Port Inc. (BPI) were discussed recently during a courtesy call with Minister of Maritime Affairs and the Blue Economy, Kirk Humphrey, and a delegation from the Barbados Workers’ Union (BWU). The union’s delegation included General Secretary, Toni Moore; Special Advisor, Sir Roy Trotman; and Liaison Officers, Cameron Layne, Lisa Holder and Shawn Scott. Chief Executive Officer of the BPI, David Jean-Marie and Permanent Secretary in the Ministry of Maritime Affairs and Blue Economy, Esworth Reid, were also in attendance. During the visit at the BWU’s Solidarity House headquarters, Humphrey commended the good industrial relations climate between the Union and management at the Port, and gave his commitment to assist with deepening those relations. However, he stated that operations there needed to be improved and things done differently. In response, Moore outlined some of the challenges workers faced and indicated that she was looking forward to working with Government to make the necessary changes. The parties agreed to ensure continued cordial relations going forward. (BGIS)

CABINET TO SIGN OFF ON NEW ROAD CONTRACT – Cabinet is to meet next week Thursday to consider proposals for the start of major Inter American Development Bank (IDB) funded road rehabilitation. During a press conference at Government Headquarters yesterday, Minister of Transport, Works and Maintenance Dr William Duguid said on the heels of the recent approval by the House of Assembly of $7 million to pay contractors and complete some unfinished projects which began just before the last Government’s term in office ended, that his ministry had already decided on a contractor “for about four of five of those roads”. “We have made arrangements with the contractor . . . [and] a lot of [the road rehabilitation] would be on the ABC Highway,” Duguid said, explaining that much of the work would focus on the westbound side of the highway from Norman Niles Roundabout to Warrens, St Michael. “The contractor has given me his assurance that they would be working night and day to get that project completed as quickly as possible with all the traffic management that is required and all the infrastructure, to get those four projects [completed],” the Government minister said, adding that work would be done on all four projects simultaneously. Duguid noted that the idea was to finish phase one of the road repair project and draw down from IDB funding. “They [contractors] have told me that once I sign those contracts . . . once I’m given the approval of Cabinet to sign those contracts [the necessary work will begin]. Duguid, whose Barbados Labour Party administration took office just over a month ago, also suggested that “we, unlike the other administration, we do not sign contracts without the approval of Cabinet”. However, he said “a significant amount of work has gone into that programme to get the permission and we have actually been paying commitment fees for a long time . . . [so that] millions of dollars in preparation work would have gone into that road programme”. While stressing that his ministry was ready to go and was only awaiting final approval from Cabinet, Duguid said the second phase of the programme involved a number of intermediate roads. “We also have a programme to buy $10 million worth of equipment. That was also mentioned in the mini Budget [recently presented by Prime Minister and Minister of Finance Mia Mottley] so that we can re-equip the depots to get the depots working again . . . . Not that they were not working before, but at optimum levels, so that we can get a maintenance programme for all of the roads,” Duguid added. The minister pinpointed the road that leads to Greenland, St Andrew, which he said was one of those with lots of commercial vehicles using it. “Those are the roads that we have to make sure that they are in good stead. We also have problems with roads that may not be coming up for repair right away, but we have to do proper maintenance on the roads. So that if we maintain the roads now, we don’t have to spend millions on them later. For instance, parts of the Spring Garden Highway that we have to maintain,” he added. (BT)

CALL TO BLANK BANKS – Barbadians are being called on to take their monies out of the banks and invest them in the credit unions. At the same time, the credit unions are being warned not to charge their customers fees, following a move by a leading commercial bank this week to adjust some of its fees. Government Senator Lynette Holder on Wednesday expressed disgust at the move by CIBC FirstCaribbean International Bank to change its fee structure on chequing and savings accounts from July 1. Holder, who is also chief executive officer of the Small Business Association, said it was important that credit unions lobby for change so they could offer current accounts and some of the critical services needed by members. (DN)

CIBC BANKING FEES ARE ‘SCANDALOUS’, HOLDER SAYS – A Government Senator is urging Barbadians to remove their savings from commercial banks and deposit them in credit unions. Lynette Holder, who heads the Barbados Small Business Association (SBA), is upset over the latest banking fees announced by CIBC FirstCaribbean International Bank. “I would advocate that persons who own savings accounts at these commercial banks consider transferring those savings to the credit unions. I really would advocate that,” Holder told journalists this morning on the fringes of a meeting of the Partnership for Sustainable Development at the Courtyard by Marriott in Hastings, Christ Church. “I would also want credit union leaders to come together to lobby for the legislative changes that govern credit unions. For too long credit union leaders have sat and done nothing in this respect,” she added. FirstCaribbean has implemented a $3 charge for over-the-counter deposits and a $10 monthly service charge for chequing accounts. The bank has also abolished its average balance requirement fee for accounts falling below a minimum amount and has imposed a standard “monthly service charge” of $5 across the board. Holder described this development as “scandalous”, charging that it was unconscionable for banks to raise fees at a time when the country was going through severe economic challenges. “The increased rates in our banking sector will impact negatively not only on micro, small and medium enterprises but also on the wider public. Our commercial banks in Barbados have elected to increase their rates against the economic environment that the citizenry is facing, and . . . the small returns to the deposit holder, which in some cases is less than one per cent, is bordering on scandalous,” she said. The increase in fees comes as Barbadians are earning virtually zero per cent interest on their savings accounts at commercial banks, following the 2015 decision by the then Central Bank Governor Dr DeLisle Worrell to remove the 2.5 per cent mandatory minimum interest rates on savings accounts. The SBA executive today argued that since that decision, banks had been operating as if they had been granted a licence to do as they please. She therefore recommended that the new Mia Mottley-led administration reverses the 2015 decision in order to restore equity to the sector. “It would appear that the commercial banks now believe that they can do as they will relative to the imposition of fees. Now, I feel that it is time that the current Government revisits the mandatory minimum interest rates. There must be some restrictions to what commercial banks must charge and must offer to depositors in this country,” she stressed. (BT)

BE STRAIGHT WITH US – The France-based international petroleum company RUBIS wants some straight answers from the Barbados Labour Party (BLP) administration on the sale of the Barbados National Terminal Company Limited (BNTCL). Chief Executive Officer of RUBIS Caribbean Limited Mauricio Nicholls said hints by Government that it was no longer interested in selling the oil storage facility were not good enough. What was needed, Nicholls said, was concrete word on what the Mia Mottley-led administration intended to do about the facility. “I have read what has been reported in the paper but I have not had a chance to discuss this in any detail with the Government,” Nicholls said in reference to a report carried by Barbados TODAY quoting Minister of Tourism and International Transport Kerrie Symmonds as casting doubt on the controversial sale. “I think the Government is still in the process of making some decisions for the future of the country, so I would really like to discuss this issue with the Government before we can determine what we would like to do,” he told Barbados TODAY. The BNTCL has been mired in controversy since the then Freundel Stuart Government confirmed in January 2017 that it had signed an agreement with the regional petroleum giant Sol for the sale of the storage facility in a bid to raise US$100 million to shore up its foreign reserves. This was met with strong opposition from RUBIS, which itself had put in a bid for BNTCL. RUBIS filed an application in the High Court for judicial review of a decision to approve the inclusion of a 15-year moratorium clause in the sale and purchase agreement between a Sol subsidiary and the Barbados National Oil Company Limited, BNTCL’s parent company. As the controversy surrounding the proposed sale continued, RUBIS offered Government US$50 million for joint ownership with Sol, but the offer was turned down. In November last year the Fair Trading Commission ruled against the sale of the state entity, stating that sections of the sale bid would hurt competition and were, in fact, unlawful, a decision RUBIS said preserved a competitive fuels marketplace and protected individuals and enterprises that consume fuel. Up until the last minute the Stuart administration was attempting to revive the sale, but it ran out of time and was swept out of office in the May 24 general election. There has since been questions regarding the sale of not just BNTCL, but also the Hilton Barbados Resort, another state asset the Stuart administration had unsuccessfully attempted to shed for another US$100 million. However, Minister of Tourism and International Transport Kerrie Symmonds last week stopped short of saying the BLP Government would no longer proceed with the sale of the two entities, telling Barbados TODAY on the sidelines of a Caribbean Aviation Day conference that the privatization was a “last resort”. “The BNTCL has not yet been put before Cabinet. We are on the voyage of discovery with respect to some other financial atrocities. But the fact of the matter is that the same principle applies. The sale of the BNTCL is not at this stage perceived as being a sensible solution to the country’s economic fortunes,” Symmonds said. However, Nicholls said he intended to meet with Government to discuss the oil storage facility, although he would not say if the meeting had been confirmed or when it would be held. In the meantime, the RUBIS boss said, the new administration needed to be allowed some breathing room as it determines where state assets fit in Barbados’ recovery plan. “We realize that we need to give the Government some time and we will sit down with them to see what their intentions are on the sale of the BNTCL. We have reached out to Government for such a meeting but I prefer not to go into any details about it,” Nicholls said. (BT)

SCREWS ON STANDPIPES – Standpipes have become a financial strain on the Barbados Water Authority (BWA), with Barbadians abusing them for personal gain. As a result, catching water from them could soon be restricted, according to the BWA’s senior non-revenue water technician Kenrick Rogers. He told THE NATION that the BWA was losing thousands of dollars every month and pumping unnecessary gallons of water to certain districts. Rogers announced the state agency was undertaking a special programme to meter all standpipes, after which an initiative would see it earning money for water distributed from these outlets. (DN)

CATHOLICS BACK CCJ DECISION – Archbishop of Port of Spain and Apostolic Administrator of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Bridgetown, The Most Rev. Charles Jason Gordon, has welcomed the Caribbean Court of Justice’s (CCJ) recent decision which declared as unconstitutional and a violation of the right to life the mandatory death sentence for a conviction of murder in Barbados. A similar judgment was handed down by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights in 2007. The Archbishop noted: “The CCJ’s decision is a step in the right direction but does not remove the death penalty from the laws in Barbados, so there is still some work to be done.” He said: “Every life is a precious gift from God. We are all created in the image and likeness of God and thus have inherent dignity. The taking of one life does not therefore justify the taking of another.” In 2016, Archbishop Gordon and the other Bishops of the Antilles Episcopal Conference (AEC) appealed to “politicians and citizens in our region to abolish capital punishment or the death penalty and embrace a restorative justice approach to crime and violence . . . . A restorative justice approach focuses on holding the offender accountable in a more meaningful way and helping to achieve a sense of healing for both victims and the community. It embraces socialization, rehabilitation and reconciliation, rather than retribution and vengeance”. In that 2016 Statement, the Bishops underscored that, “to reject capital punishment is not to make light of the loss of loved ones and the violation of human dignity and rights experienced by victims of crime. The pastoral care of the Church is directed first towards the comfort and assistance of these victims”. Archbishop Gordon added: “The compassion and love shown by the Church and society to victims and the support given to their families to help them cope with a tragic loss continues to be vital. Prayer, love and counselling can help grieving families reach a place of peace and, hopefully, healing.” Successive popes, including Saint Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, called for the abolition of the death penalty, encouraging nations to work instead towards a just means of punishment and public order. Pope Francis has contended that the death penalty “is in itself contrary to the Gospel because it voluntarily decided to suppress a human life, which is always sacred in the eyes of the Creator and of which God only, in the final analysis, is the true judge and guarantor.” Archbishop Gordon commented that the death penalty did not provide justice but was a barbaric form of revenge. He said: “It does not act as a deterrent for violent crimes in society – in fact it supports the very act which took a life. We cannot teach respect for life by taking life. The mandatory death penalty left no room for a judge to consider mitigating circumstances. It did not allow for conversion, mercy or forgiveness. As Pope Francis said, ‘For the rule of law, the death penalty represents a failure, as it obliges the State to kill in the name of justice’.” There is a growing movement worldwide to abolish the death penalty, with many countries taking into consideration moral and social implications as well as alternatives such as restorative justice, which seeks to give the perpetrator an opportunity to take responsibility for his/her actions, to show remorse and to be rehabilitated. In the region, the charge is being led by the group known as The Greater Caribbean for Life. Archbishop Gordon concluded: “There has been increasing concern about the level of violence in society, especially incidents ending in death. These demonstrate the diminishing respect for life and the need for all societies to promote integral development of their citizens so they can become the best version of themselves. The application of sound traditions and values, including love and respect for our neighbour, can help to rebuild a just and peaceful society, where conflict does not end with the taking of a life and where disagreement does not destroy but can strengthen relationships. This is not a lofty ideal. Every person, every family, every faith leader and every policymaker has a role to play to promote the value and dignity of life, this wonderful gift from God.” (DN)

CHURCH URGED TO WELCOME HOMOSEXUALS, SEX WORKERS AND TRANSGENDERS – Executive director of the Caribbean Vulnerable Communities Coalition Ivan Cruickshank is urging faith-based institutions to create a space in their congregation for marginalized people. Cruickshank said he wants the church to create a welcoming environment for homosexuals, sex workers and transgenders who want to have a spiritual life. “The church has a responsibility to be Christian — for wanting of a better way of saying it — to recognize that we need to think beyond the narrow confines of how they currently think about a number of these things. “[The church also needs] to be open to understanding differences and the different people who are part of the society, and to be willing to embrace and engage with the different sectors of society without taking these type of strident standards they often take on some of these issues,” Cruickshank told the Jamaica Observer following yesterday’s launch of “Do You Dare” media campaign at the Knutsford Hotel in New Kingston. At the same time, Crickshank said he wants the churches to be less resistant to change. “[It needs to be] less resistant to accepting a new way of thinking and understanding of what the sign is showing; what the evidence is showing about how societies have evolved and how societies operate,” he said. Crickshank’s sentiments were echoed by fellow panellist senator Donna Scott Mottley. “I think that the church should follow in the traditions of Christ; Christ went out, as I understand it, and he ministered to those who had a need. He didn’t recognize any differences between any of us. In fact, he died for our sins and I think that the Church should recognize that the persons who they want to minister to are not the persons who have already accepted [Christ). They should reach out to the most vulnerable people in the society and be their brother’s keeper,” Mottley, the opposition spokesman on justice, said. “One of my favourite commandments is do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I think if we adhere to that as Christians we would come as close to perfection in the world as that which we seek. I am not just saying it, I really mean it. What a difference it would make if we sympathize with the frailties in other people; what a difference it would make if we really understood, took the time to understand what people go through and help them. Sometimes all people want is a little understanding, a little sympathy, somebody to talk to, and the church has a role, which is a very, very important role — to lead the way in transformation of people’s lives and transformation of our country. But to do so we have to embrace everybody,” the senator said. At the same time, Mottley dared the public to refrain from discriminating against homosexuals, sex workers and transgenders. Cruickshank described the campaign as a new beginning, a catalyst for change, and a renewal of the vision for the elimination of HIV by 2020. “Although there have been significant advances made in the HIV response in the Caribbean, particularly the downward trend in HIV prevalence in the general population, epidemiological evidence shows that there is a high prevalence among key population groups,” Cruickshank said. (BT)

MUM LOSING HOPE OF FINDING SON – Hopes of finding Daquan “Willy” St Hill, who has been missing for the past 146 days, have all but gone for his mother Sharon Callender. She told THE NATION Wednesday that she was doubtful her son would ever be found alive. The unemployed mother of seven said though it was difficult coming to grips with his disappearance and likely death, she was helping to comfort her other children. Speaking from her St George home, she said: “It is not easy. The longer you go without hearing anything, the harder it becomes.” Callender said she would be hosting a memorial service in October at the Mapp Hill Seventh-Day Adventist Church and asked for all St Hill’s friends to attend. (DN)

CURFEW IMPOSED ON TEENAGER – A daily curfew has been imposed on a 17-year-old male who appeared in court today on several criminal charges. Jacobi Rohan Woodroffe, of Ealing Grove, Christ Church, is accused of unlawfully and maliciously wounding Joshua Jackson on June 13 and assaulting Shirnell Clarke on June 24, occasioning her actual bodily harm, as well as damaging a motorcar belonging to Durham’s Car Rental. He denied all three charges when he appeared before Magistrate Elwood Watts this morning. And while there were no objections to bail, Woodroffe was warned that he must be off the streets between 8p.m. and 6a.m. daily unless in the company of his parents. The accused teen, who is now on $7,500 bail, returns to the Oistins Magistrate’s Court on October 8. (BT)

ADAMS DENIES THEFT CHARGE – A 29-year-old woman, charged with theft, will make her second appearance in the District ‘A’ Magistrate’s Court on October 24. When Sade Francoise Adams, of Hunte Street, Baxters Road, St Michael, appeared before Magistrate Douglas Frederick today she denied stealing items from No.1 Beauty Supplies worth $162 on June 27. She also denied stealing $362 in items belonging to Paradise Beauty a day later and $1,760 worth of items from LaFlam’s Boutique on June 29, as well as unlawfully and maliciously wounding Naquita Alexander that same day. The prosecutor objected to bail, but Adams’ attorney Shadia Simpson was able to convince the magistrate to release her client on $3,000 bail. (BT)

CASE DISMISSED – A 27-year-old man, charged six years ago with assault, has been freed of the charge. Kentish Orlando Roberts, of No. 28, Regent Hill, Pinelands, St Michael, was accused of assaulting Kadija Layne on February 17, 2013, occasioning her actual bodily harm. However, when the matter was called before Magistrate Douglas Frederick today the prosecutor had no file on the case in which Roberts has continuously maintained his innocence. The matter was therefore dismissed for want of prosecution. (BT)

MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS MEETS WITH CXC REGISTRAR – The Caribbean Examinations Council (CXC) is a critical institution to CARICOM and, as a result, Barbados is interested in its effective longevity and functioning. This was one of the conclusions reached following a recent courtesy call on Minister of Foreign Affairs and Foreign Trade, Senator Dr Jerome Walcott, by CXC Registrar, Glenroy Cumberbatch. Cumberbatch shared the CXC’s plans to offer qualifications to the Caribbean diaspora in the United Kingdom and possibly the United States of America, as well as the regional organisation’s goals to eventually expand into Africa. In response, Senator Walcott mentioned that the Foreign Affairs Ministry was keen to establish a mission in Africa. The two officials also discussed regional integration; the use of technology in education; and the variety of subjects offered by the CXC. (BGIS)

TROWEL PLASTICS LENDS HELPING HAND TO SCHOOL – Helping Hands Christian Day Care was the recipient of much needed renovations as part of Trowel Plastics (Barbados) Limited corporate giving initiative. The director of the school, Catherine Williams, said: “We are so pleased and thankful that Trowel Plastics came forward to assist us with these much needed renovations. The children were very fascinated about how paint is made and how the colours are used to paint. It was truly a great learning experience to partner with the company.” Trowel Plastics chief operating officer, Anthony Christie, noted that: “Such community projects are part of our growing mission to strengthen our corporate responsibility. We believe that our children may one day become part of our staff or even our clients. “Therefore, we were more than willing to provide assistance to our neighbours at Helping Hands Day Care. Aside from bettering the community, corporate responsibility does provide a sense of moral responsibility and gaining a good feeling.” (DN)

NATIONAL ART GALLERY TO BE GIVEN A HOME – The earnest wish of local artists and artisans has been fulfilled. The Barbados National Art Gallery will finally have a place to call home. Minister of Creative Economy, Culture and Sports John King made the announcement Sunday at the official opening of the Central Bank Crop Over Visual Arts Festival Village and Art Walk. King revealed that Block A at the Garrison Savannah would be the gallery’s base. However, he noted that funds were needed to complete the necessary renovations. King called on the public to contribute to the completion of the national art space, which he said, would see an increased number of exhibitions during the year. “Once the renovations are completed, this would ensure that Government-owned exhibition space would be accessible to local artists. We expect that this would result in an increased number of galleries available to our artists. We also hope that it would, in turn, lead to an increased number of exhibitions held throughout the year. “Furthermore, the accommodation for the Barbados National Art Gallery would allow employment of the relevant staff, which is necessary for the effective functioning of the gallery,” the minister said. While advocating for the development of the arts and for more youth participation, King revealed that his ministry was in the process of developing a 52-week calendar for arts, entertainment, and sports that would also facilitate chefs, mixologists, and baristas. He urged the nation’s youth to see the arts as a viable and lucrative career option. “To convince them, we must ensure the cultural industries are firmly established. In this regard, the Government is committed to evolving the Barbados Cultural Industries Development Authority to nurture, showcase, market and export the products of Barbadian creative professionals to the world,” he said. During the opening ceremony, Justin Downey was awarded the Central Bank’s Governor’s Award for his multimedia piece Progressive/Regressive, while the Central Bank’s Award of Excellence went to Anya Stephen for her installation Anecdote. Stephen was also awarded the Best Depiction of the Theme ‘Memories: From Then ‘Til Now’ for her piece. (BT)

FOREDAY BLUES - There has been a higher than 20 per cent drop in the number of bands participating in this year’s Foreday Morning Jam, the street party that is a highlight of the Crop Over festival. Corporate Communications Officer with the National Cultural Foundation (NCF) Simone Codrington told Barbados TODAY 37 bands have registered to participate in this year’s event, of which 33 are small bands, with the remainder being large bands. This is ten fewer than the 47 that took part in last year’s event, which is being overseen by Randy Eastmond, a consultant with the NCF. Eastmond said he was unable to give reasons for the decline in numbers, “but bandleaders are running a business and they determine whether they can operate based on prevailing market conditions”. However, he said that in meetings with the bandleaders, some expressed concern about the current business environment and the possibility of other events clashing with the major activity. News of the decline comes in the wake of complaints by one bandleader that a leading beer company here had left it high and dry by pulling out of a sponsorship deal at the last minute. The bandleader, who requested anonymity, also suggested that other small bands were suffering a similar fate, which affected their participation in the Foreday Morning activities. However, Eastmond said that “to the best of my knowledge the NCF has not received any formal complaints regarding bands running into problems with sponsors”. At the same time, the potential sponsor denied having reached an agreement with the band. According to the promoter, the beer distributor had entered into an arrangement since February to provide free drinks, financial support, radio promotions, and support at other events during the Crop Over season. “He came to the first lime we held and brought two cases of drinks as per the agreement, but he never posted any images of the event on social media as he said he would. I had also sent him some images of a truck promoting the brand that we had designed, and he said he liked the idea and agreed to pay half the cost associated with that, but then we heard nothing after that,” the promoter lamented. She claimed nothing was heard from brand manager for more than four months despite her efforts, until mid-June when she received an email stating: “Despite this initial tentative agreement, due to budgetary constraints we will not be able to proceed with this . . . .I am still interested in providing drinks specials and free product should you decide that you still would like to use [our product].” She said it became clear that the drinks distributor was abandoning smaller promoters for bigger bands. “All the bands they have agreed to sponsor are bigger bands based overseas, and to my mind they are doing the smaller promoters a disservice. They seem to be working with us in the early stages, and then when the bigger bands come along, they cast us aside and run with the [bigger bands],” she charged. However, the distributor has denied reaching a sponsorship agreement with the band, insisting that what they had was a “tentative” deal. “I would have met [this promoter] in February, shortly after I joined this company. We discussed a number of matters and I sent her a tentative agreement via email, but we never confirmed anything between then and now,” said the brand manager, who also requested anonymity, and who said his correspondence to the bandleader was clear. “Before we commit to sponsoring any band, I have to go to my superiors to get their permission. I am currently going through the contract, because we do not sponsor anyone without a written contract; it protects us and protects them. So far this year we are working with eight bands,” he said.(BT)

HELP US OUT – Following the announcement last month that the National Summer Camp Programme will be put on hold, Government today called on non-governmental organizations, youth groups, churches and other interest groups to assist in the hosting of summer camps this year. At the same time, Minister of Youth and Community Empowerment Adrian Forde revealed that the National Science and Technology Camp at St Stephen’s Primary School and the agriculture camp at the Ministry of Agriculture, Graeme Hall Christ Church will take place this year. Speaking at his ministry’s Sky Mall, Haggatt Hall headquarters, Forde also expressed support for interest groups who wanted to continue the summer programme or possibly expand their camps so as to minimize the impact of Government’s cancellation. He stressed that his ministry would be open to providing technical support and direction to the interested parties. However, he made it clear that it would not be responsible for the day-to-day management of the camps. “We are trying to get the community . . . more involved in the camp, more volunteerism,” he said, while also appealing to the business sector for help. Forde also revealed that his ministry would provide a camp grant to families who are unable to cover their camp costs. However, he said this would be done on a needs assessment basis. He also urged Barbadians to be understanding as Government seeks to rectify the country’s financial woes, saying “our spend is very, very critical at this point in time and we have to ask ourselves and especially as Barbadians, not what Barbados can do for us, but what we can do for Barbados”. He however promised that the Government funded camps would return in 2019 after a full assessment was made of their financial costs and viability. “We will definitely revamp and come next year with a camp that will obviously meet the needs of our young people, but would look at the amount of spend as it relates to a Government going forward,” Forde said, adding that “by next year you will have a new and improved camp that seeks to incorporate the technological aspect that we are living in. “We will look at ecommerce. We will present a camp that is relevant for our young people and will maximize returns,” he stressed. Forde also disclosed that a meeting will be held with NGOs who are running camps to discuss the framework, expansion and access to camp accommodation to ensure that no child is disadvantaged throughout the review process. Interested camp coordinators have until July 17 to apply to use the schools, he said. (BT)

BCC TO HOLD MUSIC CAMP – The Barbados Community College’s (BCC) Music Department will be running a free camp for young musicians this summer, from Monday, July 9, to Sunday, August 19. It will be open to students ages 9 to 19 and will run Mondays to Fridays, 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., in the Performing Hall. The camp will focus on performance, musicianship, music business and ensemble techniques. It will cater to the following instruments - flute, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, trombone, electric bass, guitar, keyboard, drum set, steel pan, violin and voice. Students must have an instrument as the College will provide only a drum set and piano. It is not for beginners and students must have been playing an instrument for at least one year. Interested students are asked to register by this Friday, July 6. For registration forms and to address any queries or concerns, persons may contact Co-ordinator, Roger Gittens, at [email protected], or call 233-1687. Completed forms may be scanned and emailed to Gittens or submitted to Inan Waithe, the Secretary in the Division of Fine Arts located at Morningside, “Eyrie”, BCC. (DN)

FTC HOSTING CONSUMER OUTREACH EVENTS – In an effort to increase public awareness about consumer rights and responsibilities, the Fair Trading Commission will host a series of Consumer Outreach Days this month. On Friday, July 6, Consumer Protection Officers will be located at Abed’s, Swan Street, Bridgetown, St Michael. On Friday, July 13, the outreach activity will be held at Sheraton Centre, Sargeant’s Village, Christ Church. On Friday, July 20, officers will be at Cave Shepherd, Broad Street, Bridgetown, St Michael; and on Friday, July 27, they will return to Abed’s on Swan Street. All outreach events will be held from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Members of the public are invited to interact with the Consumer Protection Officers, who will be available to address consumer queries and concerns related to consumer protection. (DN)

For daily or breaking news reports follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter & Facebook. That’s all for today folks. There are 179 days left in the year. Shalom! #thechasefilesdailynewscap #thechasefiles #dailynewscapsbythechasefiles

0 notes