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dameronology · 3 years

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the one with the proposal (finn x reader)

i would add a summary, but the title feels fairly explanatory - for @phoenixhalliwell - i hope u enjoy!!

warnings; language

- jazz xx

Finn had been in love with you since the moment he met you. Maybe he hadn't realised it at the time, but it made sense now.

It was funny, looking back - the first time you'd met, under the thick jungles of Ajan Kloss, both damp in sweat from the heat and hearts racing from the tense atmosphere. Finn had practically tripped and fallen on his ass in front of you; you'd immediately noticed the fact that he hadn't run away in embarrassment. Instead, he burst into fits of laughter and humoured himself, cracking a joke about how clumsy he was. He'd stood out to you since that moment, for his ability to make the best of a bad situation. It had been a saving grace during the war's worst moments, and he'd been the driving force behind the entire Resistance. It was hard to believe that a man who had been through so much, both in his past and present, could keep so positive. It started to make sense when you realised how golden his heart was.

Given his formative years in the First Order, Finn had never been introduced to the idea of soulmates. It was something that his friends spoke about - Rey, when she dreamily gushed about Han and Leia, or Poe on a weekly basis whenever he saw a hot person in the nearby cantina - but he could never quite get his head around the idea. How could there be one person for everyone when there were billions of people in the galaxy? Mathematically speaking, it was impossible that fate would let every person find their soul-mate. It sounded more like a drag than anything, waiting around for the perfect person.

Still, every time Finn saw you across a crowded room, or caught you smiling out the corner of his eye, a little part of him did wonder. Maybe you were soulmates - even if you got annoyed at him for leaving the lid up on the refresher, or if you constantly left your shoes in places that he might trip over them. Or maybe, just maybe, you were two people in love and made an effort. Two people who had worked for your relationship until it felt like you were soul-mates. Because things weren't perfect; sure, there were moments, but you had worked hard for it. You'd both prioritised communication, and tried to iron out your far-and-few arguments in mature ways. It wasn't always easy, and you did test each other's patience at times, but you were always, always sure in your relationship. Maybe your love wasn't perfect, but it was real. And it was strong and constant.

That was how Finn knew he wanted to marry you - because he doubted a lot of things, but he had never doubted you. After the war, you'd been through some of the worst things imaginable, and you'd never strayed from his side, or him from yours. When things had been really bad, and during the moments when it felt like the First Order were creeping towards victory, you'd made giddy promises to one another. That after the war, you would get married and settle down. They'd been day-dreams at the time, really.

But now that you had settled down in Coruscant, with a cozy little apartment and with stable jobs, Finn knew it was time. You were working hard training new pilots and he was dedicating himself to training as a Jedi; things were falling into place, and he felt ready for the next step. It was just a matter of working out how.

Naturally, he went to Poe for advice - which was funny really, because the man fell in love four times a week and had never proposed to a single person in his life.

(Unless you counted the drunk pact he'd once made with Finn about getting married if neither of them were wed by the time they were thirty-five. Ah, what could have been).

"Poe, I don't know what to do," Finn had stressed to him one day over a drink. As usual, they'd met at a cantina in downtown Coruscant on a Tuesday night. It was the one week they always set aside, in what Poe had colloquially christened guy's night.

"I consider myself to be a romantic," Poe began, "but it doesn't need to be anything big. What really matters is what comes after."

"Like our life together and stuff?"

"I was thinking more a wedding with an open bar," he countered, "but sure! After the wedding with an open bar, your life together is what's important."

Finn sighed. "What if they think I'm cheaping out?"

"C'mon," he reached across the table, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "It's you two - you could propose at a dumpsite and they would still say yes."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Poe shot back. "I don't think it'll matter where or when you do it. I think you'll just know."

Finn nodded unsurely - he wanted to believe Poe's larger-than-life spiel about just knowing. Because Finn was smart and intuitive, but even he wasn't sure he was intelligent enough to just know things. Similar to all the old tales of soul-mates and true love, he was just a little too much of a realist to believe it. It wasn't a testament to you or your relationship, because Finn knew with his entire soul that he loved you, and that there was very little that could change that. He just always put it down to sheer dumb luck; luck that you'd found each other, luck that you'd managed to work hard for such a sustaining and comforting relationship.

After downing a few more beers, it was gone 11PM. Finn rarely stayed out late, but his weekly catch-ups with Poe were the exception, and you had never minded. You and Finn trusted each other with your lives, so you it was rare that you ever doubted why he was out after dark. Provided he was there when you woke up the next morning, you didn't all that much mind if he was in the next room or the next planet.

Your apartment wasn't too far from the bar - a few blocks over, tucked away between an old diner and a land-speeder fuel station. When you'd first moved here, the place was just meant to be a go-between until you found yourselves a little more on your feet job and money wise. But, as the last two years had passed, you'd found yourselves becoming more and more settled. It was now filled with memories of the lives you built; it was the opposite of minimalism, crammed to the brim with pictures and blankets and random objects. Not to mention the lightsaber marks on the wall courtesy of Finn, that meant you would never get your deposit back.

The lights in the living area were off, save for a small lamp in the corner. You were curled up on the couch, a knitted blanket thrown over you. A book was cascaded just beside it on the floor - you'd obviously fallen asleep reading and dropped it.

Finn could have stayed in that moment forever; you looked beautiful under the golden glow of the old lamp, peacefully snoozing in the home you'd spent so long building for yourselves. It wasn't perfect - far from it, in fact - but it was yours. It was yours and his, and that was all that mattered.

Apartment aside, you were his home. You were the person who he felt most comfortable with; the person who he always wanted by his side, through thick and thin. Neither of you needed to get engaged or married to prove your love for one another, but those naive, war-time promises were still something he held close to his heart. You were his main support system during that time - you'd helped him adjust to life outside the First Order. Everything had seemed so scary to him then, and you'd guided him through it. Not to mention that you'd constantly encouraged him, nor had you ever once doubted him. Now, Finn wanted to give back to you - even if it was something as simple as fulfilling a simple promise he'd made a few years ago.

That's when the penny dropped for Finn, and Poe's voice rung in his head.

You'll just know.

It hit him like a ton of bricks - not that he just knew know, but he'd known this whole time. Since the moment he'd seen you in the sweaty forests on that cursed jungle planet, he had known. Not in a spiritual, soul-mate way, just in a...him way. In the same way he knew that the sky was blue and trees were green, he knew you were the one for him.

Quietly creeping across the room, Finn picked up your book and placed it on the coffee table. He knelt down beside you and ran a hand across your cheek-bone, gently smiling when you sleepily nuzzled against it.

"Hey, trouble," he whispered.

"Hey," you peeled one eye open, beaming back at him. "I missed you."

"I only left four hours ago."

"Mmm," you murmured. "Four hours too long - how's Poe?"

"He's good," Finn replied. "I think he drank a bit too much."

"Typical Dameron," you quipped.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you moved over slightly so that there was room for Finn. He kicked off his shoes and took the seat beside you, raising his arm as a signal to lean against him. You took it, flopping against his side and pulling the blanket over both of you. Even though the end of the day was closing in, the smell of his after-shave still lingered, just mixing in with the faint smell of leather from his jacket. It was a comforting scent for you.

"I have a question," Finn quietly said.

"Oh yeah?"

"I..." he faltered for a moment, trailing off. "I haven't really planned this to be honest, but this feels like the right time, and if I don't do it now, I know I won't find the guts to do it for a long time."

Sitting up, Finn shuffled so that he was facing you. He took your hands in his, tightly gripping them as he took a deep breath.

It was only natural that you were panicking a little. His statement had been...ominous to say the least. It could have been a proposal or a break-up. Heck, it could be something a lot simpler than that. That didn't stop your heart picking up in your chest.

"I love you," Finn began. "You know that, but I feel like I should really stress it - I love you, and I love this little life we've built for ourselves. I know it hasn't always been easy and I know life will throw more stuff at us, but I know that as long as we're together, it'll be okay."

He could tell that you were still half-asleep, tired eyes barely taking in his words. At the same time, though, it seemed like you were completely consuming them, hands gripping his even harder with each passing moment. You didn't know where it was going, but you liked the sound of it.

"I guess you know all that, though," he continued. "But I've been thinking lately a lot about all the things we spoke about during the war and we've done most the stuff we said we would, bar one thing. And it feels like an important thing, so...will you marry me?"

You gave him a watery smile. Maybe you'd seen it coming, but maybe it had blind-sided you too. That was the thing with Finn; he was both predictable and extremely surprising at the same time.

"Of course I will," you grinned. "Of course."

"I don't have a ring yet," Finn confessed. "I guess I got a little trigger happy-"

"- I don't care!" you cut him off. "The ring doesn't matter, okay? We'll get one at some point. All that matters is that you're going to be legally tied to me for all of eternity."

"Sure, that's one way of putting it," he gave you another grin.

Leaning across, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. You stayed like that for a moment, before Finn pulled you closer by the waist and into a tight hug.

It hadn't been the ground-breaking, romantic proposal that he had in mind, but it had been perfect at the same time. It was so quintessentially him; casual and sweet, and filled with love. Even more annoyingly, Poe had been absolutely right about the time and place and mattering - but of course, Finn was never going to admit that to him.

finn tags/everything tags: @crystalized-drumming @karasong @megmeg-chan

#finn x reader #finn x you #finn imagine #finn imagines #finn reader insert #finn fluff #finn fan fiction #star wars fan fiction #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars reader insert #star was

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generic-hufflepuff1 · 3 years

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My Tma favorites (per entity per season)

In honor of the finale of Tma, I'm looking back and going through the seasons and picking out my favorite episodes. I'm sorting them by entity and Im gonna write a little piece at the end of each fear as to why I picked that episode. It is relatively spoiler free but still keep your wits about you.

Also this is only up to Mag 197

The Stranger

Season 1: 1 Anglerfish tied with 34 Anatomy Class

Season 2: 77 The Kind Mother

Season 3: 83 Drawing a Blank, with 96 Return to Sender as a close second

Season 4: 128 heavy Goods

Season 5: 182 Well being, but 165 Revolutions is very very good

Overall: 1 Anglerfish

So all the of The Strangers’ episodes are really evocative and well written and I have to say that it was a very, very close call for almost every single season and I still cannot really decide if I truly like Mag 1 more than Mag 34 but I have to say that Mag 1 is so very good at drawing you into the world and works as a stand alone piece.

The Buried

Season 1: 2 Do Not Open

Season 2: 66 Held In Customs

Season 3: 97 We all Ignore the Pit

Season 4: 132 Entombed

Season 5: 184 Like Ants

Overall: 2 Do Not Open

I love Mag 2 as the protagonist straight up did not have any of this bullshit. And they even got a mike drop moment with the frozen key. Like in this house we stan Joshua Gillespie. His determination to not have to deal with that shit is so incredibly strong that it sticks with you.

The Web

Season 1: 16 Aracnopobia

Season 2: 69 Thought for the Day

Season 3: 81 A Guest for Mister Spider

Season 4: 136 The Puppeteer

Season 5: 172 Strung Out

Overall: 81 A Guest for Mister Spider

Honestly Mag 81 is absolutely brilliant and serves to contextualise so much of season 1 and 2 and ends up being incredibly important to the world as a whole. That plus the delivery and excellent premise gives it a slight edge over Mag 172 that is a pure exploration of the controlling and manipulative nature of addiction

The Vast

Season 1: 21 Freefall

Season 2: 75 A Long Way Down

Season 3: 91 The Coming Storm

Season 4: 124 Left Hanging

Season 5: 174 The Great Beast

Overall: 174 The Great Beast

So the first half of season 5 does an amazing job of truely fleshing out each fear and the Vast is no exception. The split between the two protagonists makes it clear that The Vast is not just about big things or empty space but deep existentialism and the fear of the inevitability of life.

The Spiral

Season 1: 26 A Distortion

Season 2: 74 Fatigue

Season 3: 85 Upon the Stair

Season 4: 126 Sculptors Tool

Season 5: 177 Wonderland, tied with 187 Checking Out

Overall: 187 Checking Out

This one was difficult as Mag 177 and Mag 187 as both of them lingered in my head for literal weeks after listening to them. In the end Mag 187 was so completely mind boggling in how it completely changed my perception of the Distortion. And is a masterclass in writing a character twist.

The End

Season 1: 29 Cheating Death

Season 2: 70 Book of the Dead

Season 3: 94 Dead Woman Walking

Season 4: 155 The Cost of Living

Season 5: 168 Roots

Overall: 168 Roots

I have quite literally experienced some version of what the victims are describing. But more than that the realisation of the implications of this domain for the world as it elevates the episode much higher than any of the Ends other appearances as eventually the other entities will fear the End just as the mortals do.

The Flesh

Season 1: 14 Piecemeal

Season 2: 58 Trail Rations

Season 3: 90 Body Builder

Season 4: 131 Flesh

Season 5: 171 The Gardener

Overall: 171 The Gardener

Everything about Mag 171 just speaks to me. From the visual it conjures, to the brilliant use of botany metaphor to describe various body image issues, to Jared’s simple but weighty request. This episode lives rent free in my brain at all times. This is the first time that I have zero contenders for my favorite of an entity.

The Corruption

Season 1: 32 Hive

Season 2: 68 The Tale of a Field Hospital

Season 3: 102 Nesting Instinct

Season 4: 153 Love Bombing

Season 5: 164 The Sick Village

Overall: 32 Hive

Although Mag 164 does have a very particular place in my heart and in the history of literature due to its topic and the precise time it came out, but it does pale compared to just how brilliant Mag 32 is. As the first real mention of the entities it reveals just little enough to keep the suspense whilst providing just enough answers that it's obvious in hindsight. But once more none of that matters in the face of “There is a wasps nest in my attic” the shere delivery of this episode has placed it in many people's favourite lists.

The Slaughter

Season 1: 7 The Piper

Season 2: 42 Grifter’s Bone

Season 3: 105 Total War

Season 4: 125 Civilian Casualties

Season 5: 163 In the Trenches

Overall: 42 Grifter’s Bone

Mag 42 is very interesting. I’ve mentioned in some of my other posts that Im pretty sure that Jonny Sims finds some fears harder to write and the Slaughter is definitely one of them but I’ve only come to this conclusion by looking at how frequently they show up but listening to the show you would never be able to tell and Mag 42 is one brilliant example of this it is a brilliant way to expand on how the Slaughter manifests.

The Desolation

Season 1: 37 Burnt Offering

Season 2: 67 Burning Desire

Season 3: 89 Twice as Bright

Season 4: 139 Chosen

Season 5: 169 Fire Escape

Overall: 67 Burning Desire

I find Mag 67 so intensely interesting as it leads into one of the major themes of Tma, that love can and will defeat and overpower even the most gripping fear. The simple love of a simple man sowed just enough doubt to destroy an avatar of destruction. Tma is filled with similar moments but personally this one is my favourite.

The Dark

Season 1: 25 Growing Dark

Season 2: 63 The End of the Tunnel

Season 3: 86 Tucked In

Season 4: 143 The Heart of Darkness

Season 5: 173 Night Night

Overall: 173 Night Night

I remember the reaction to Mag 173. It was so incredibly powerful to watch most of the fanbase (myself included) react in exactly the same way the characters did to the reality of this domain. First with dawning realisation, then anger followed sudden confusion at where to direct that anger. It was quite eye opening to say the least.

The Hunt

Season 1: 10 Vampire Killer, with notable mention to 31 First Hunt

Season 2: 56 Children of the Night

Season 3: 112 Thrill of the Chase

Season 4: 133 Dead Horse

Season 5: 176 Blood Ties

Overall: 112 Thrill of the Chase

I absolutely love Mag 112. It is such a brilliant idea, and as a result I end up valuing it a bit more than Mag 133 or 10 which are particularly telling for me as it proves that the Hunt is weirdly the fairest of the entities and absolutely condones fighting back and even killing its avatars or that it just cares about the circular nature of the hunt.

The Eye

Season 1: 23 Schwartzwald

Season 2: 53 Crusader

Season 3: 82 The Eyewitnesses

Season 4: 138 The Architecture of Fear

Season 5: 183 The Monument

Overall: 138 The Architecture of Fear

Oh Smirke. Poor naive and enlightened Smirke. I love Mag 138 more than the other Eye related episodes because it is due to this character that we even have a metric through which to observe the world of tma

The Lonely

Season 1: 33 Boatswain’s Call

Season 2: 48 lost in the Crowd

Season 3: 92 Nothing Besides Remains

Season 4: 159 The Last

Season 5: 170 Recollection

Overall: 170 Recollection

Covid lockdown hit me quite hard and I have not seen a single piece of media that captures the feeling of having hours and days drift into each other quite like Mag 170 so along with Mag 164 it has a very strange place in my heart.

The Extinction

So this one is a bit of a different situation so im gonna simply list my top five in order

175 Epoch

149 Concrete Jungle

65 Binary

157 Rotten Core

156 Reflection

Mag 175 is another example of a statement that my mind will drift to if I leave it alone for too long. From the vivid visuals to the subtext of the descriptions to the delivery of every line it is easily one of the best episodes of Tma in my personal opinion.

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years

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Frenulum

Apparently, according to Suzie Carmichel, Billy Hargrove had a dick piercing.

Steve had overheard it at a party, when he was busy in the kitchen making up a drink concoction that was mostly hard liquor and very little mixer. Usually he just ignored gossip, especially at parties where everyone is in a constant state of being somewhat drunk and because he had been the subject of a lot of gossip himself in the past, but that one. That one small line, half slurred over the kitchen sink and a now empty bottle of malibu, made Steve’s ears burn. Made his mind run a million miles an hour, self control long gone a few cups ago with whatever drink Tommy had given him when he’d first arrived.

Tommy’s jungle juice was lethal but it got the job done. Fast.

With his own strange mixture Steve wandered through the party, brushing past bodies in different stages of sweat and sobriety, all bumping to the music that was loud enough to rattle the family photos on the walls, until he found the man in question outside in the yard. Sucking on a cigarette and nodding his head from side to side at the echo of the music. He had his own cup filled with god knows what, the leather jacket he came in long lost somewhere inside. Someone else was probably wearing it like a trophy.

Lucky them.

Steve stood on the back porch, a little higher up from where Billy was stood in the grass nearby by himself, and pointed a finger with the hand that was holding his cup at the back of that dirty blonde mullet.

“You! I’ve heard a rumor about you.”

Billy just turned his head, eyebrow cocked, eyes glassy like blue marbles. They were both as gone as each other. Maybe Tommy had given them the same warm welcome even though it wasn’t his party. At least Steve didn’t think it was. He’d lost track of who’s house this was and on what street about an hour ago. Billy hummed around the cigarette between his lips as Steve made his way down so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Suzie Carmichel knows your secret...”

Billy blinked heavily and stared at Steve. A curious expressional mix of confusion and I don’t care crossed his face at the same time.

“Who the fuck is Suzie Carmichel?” he spoke around a nearly burnt filter.

“You know. Suzie Carmichel. Big hair. Has that bag. Horses.” Steve explained with his hands, mimicking her blown out perm she always had. It was huge. Like a blonde cloud made of hairspray and hope. He couldn’t believe Billy didn’t know who she was. Everyone knew who Suzie Carmichel was. It was Suzie Carmichel. Billy just continued to stare blankly, took a swig of his drink in the silence before Steve waved his hands again to move onto the next subject, the more important one in his mind. “Did it hurt?”

“Wha’? This conversation? Yeah it’s pretty painful, pretty boy,” Billy grinned, flicking the spent filter towards a covered up trampoline pushed up next to the flowerbed. Probably to stop drunk party guests trying to bounce on it and hurting themselves.

“No! It. Did IT hurt?” Steve didn’t imagine it was a pleasant thing to get done. In the half hour it had taken to find Billy in kind of a small house it was pretty much all he could think about the entire time. A whole barrage of questions. What did it look like? Did it hurt? Why?

Billy blinked again and sighed, glanced a look down at his cup as he rolled the dark liquid around inside, clearly contemplating a top up. “One last chance amigo and I’m headin’ back inside...”

Steve sighed frustrated. He didn’t want to actually have to say it in case it wasn’t true and then he looked insane, thinking about Billy Hargrove’s dick. Not that it would be the first time he’d thought about it but still, Steve didn’t need to admit it out loud if he didn’t need too. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the drink warm in his veins talk for him.

“Did it hurt getting your dick pierced?”

Billy’s grin was wild and hot when Steve opened his eyes again. The same look he got during a particularly rough basketball game, where everyone else playing was just prey waiting to be caught. It made Steve’s blood feel impossibly tropical, especially when Billy leaned closer, muttered into the shell of his ear deep and sultry.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Steve would like to know, that was the point in asking. But Billy was gone before Steve could follow up, disappeared back inside the house alive with the whole senior year. Steve felt abandoned in the backyard, answerless and alone. That had neither been a confirmation or denial and it just made the thoughts in Steve’s head worse and harder to hold onto. Especially in his inebriated state. No. He was finding out the real answer to this tonight even if it killed him.

Which if he was wrong, probably would.

The music changed from one synth track to another. Eurythmics making themselves known. Making the walls shake. Making bodies bump and grind. Making it harder for Steve to get through. A riptide of hormones. But Billy was nowhere to be found. Wasn’t downstairs anywhere either in the kitchen, or the makeshift dance floor of the living room that had spilled over into the dining room adjacent. Wasn’t in the basement getting high with whatever terrible weed was getting passed around the few stoner kids. And as far as Steve knew he wasn’t upstairs occupying one of the few bedrooms that seemed to be permanently engaged. Someone probably would have bragged by now. He tended to hear that type of gossip now he wasn’t in the highest levels of Hawinks hierarchy anymore. There may as well have been a ticket system in the hall with couples waiting to find one to use, so he might have at least seen.

Whomever's house this was had better air the place out in the morning.

Steve didn’t want to seem desperate. But he was. He was also several cups of whatever was going deep and needed to piss pretty badly.

In his own defence, the bathroom door wasn’t locked when he pushed it open and saw Billy standing over the bowl finishing up, shaking out the last few drops. Steve would have been pretty mortified usually but Billy just glanced back and laughed before looking down at himself again.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to know that bad Harrin’ton,” he chuckled. “Should’a been clearer in askin'.”

“I’m not,” Steve lied. He couldn’t help but stare a little at Billy holding himself. Holding the answer to a million new questions. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“Maybe that was on purpose...” Billy rolled his head on his shoulder and smirked something wicked. Steve felt warmth pool in his gut that had nothing to do with the alcohol but had everything to do with those lips and darkening eyes. “You wanna see then? Since ya’ found me.”

Steve made sure to lock the door behind him when Billy cocked his head, beaconing him over. He leant back against the smooth tiled wall, still holding his cock and okay it was bigger somehow than Steve remembered. He’d only seen it in the showers though. And he wasn’t really looking. More a haphazard glance in the wrong direction than anything else when temporarily blinded by shampoo. Steve stepped closer in the small bathroom, eyes dragged down as Billy just lifted his cock up like it was no big deal to show off like this. To show off a three rung ladder of small black balls, clearly attached to bars, living either side of his shaft just under the head.

Seeing it made all common sense leave Steve’s head immediately. He’d never seen anything like it before. At least Suzie Carmichel wasn’t lying.

“Did-did it…?” Steve couldn’t get the end of his sentence out, just mesmerized by what was in front of him. Unable to take his eyes off it. Maybe sober it would have been a lot more awkward but here, in the cramped bathroom, there was nowhere else Steve wanted to be. Even if it did smell like piss and too much cologne and some weird floral perfume from coming from somewhere.

“Hurt? Yeah,” Billy chuckled, moving his hand so his thick fingers caught a little on the piercings, rolling them with his knuckles. It was impossible to ignore the way his cock twitched in his hand. It was impossible to ignore how Steve felt his mouth water. He blinked, trying to shake that thought away somehow but impulse was in control, no longer burdened by sense and a public filter. “Worth it though. Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

Billy nodded in that self satisfied way, just stroking himself now in a drunken haze. And Steve couldn’t stop watching as he got hard, somehow got thicker. It was nice to know Hargrove didn’t suffer from whiskey dick. Steve set his half empty cup on the edge of the sink and let curiosity take over, reaching across the short gap to brush his knuckles over one set of metal. They felt cool against his skin. Billy muttered out a shit at the small touch, so Steve did it again with his fingertips this time, rolling the smooth metal and brushing against the hot velvet of Billy’s cock, now completely hard as he let go and let Steve take over. He wrapped his hand around and gave a few tentative strokes, noting how the piercings felt against his palm, how he could feel the connecting bars if he squeezed a little, being careful not to drag or twist too hard. Whatever Steve was doing was clearly working, Billy’s eyes were hooded and heavy, his head rolled back against the white tile of the wall.

"Knew you had pretty hands for a reason," he muttered breathless, filled with lust, starting to rock his hips into Steve’s fist.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle a little, changing his grip again to roll his palm over the head that was quickly getting slick, spreading it back down to Billy’s thick base to make everything go easier. He made a point to really press his thumb between where the balls were connected to each other, rolling over the bars that lived under his skin. That had Billy practically purring, gripping Steve's shoulder with one strong hand, moans echoing throughout the room.

"You been starin' at my hands Hargrove?" Steve spoke with a grin. It felt good to have both the upper hand and to have the other boy so pliant for once. All bark and bite completely dissolved. Like he had found a secret ‘off’ switch in those tight jeans. In return Steve’s own jeans had become incredibly tight, his hard dick pressing up painfully against his button fly, almost threatening to pop the buttons free.

"Fuck-ah-h-hard not too. You talk with 'em a lot."

Billy practically melted when Steve swept his thumb through the weeping slit, gripping the opposite shoulder harder so there would be a bruise under Steve’s shirt in the morning without a doubt, letting out a noise that would surely be heard through the door by someone. Not that Steve cared anymore. Or really cared to begin with. He'd never admit it, but he thought about this a lot. Not just having Billy in his hand and falling apart so easily, but being able to shut that smart mouth up for once. But now with the piercing discovery he had something new to add to the little fantasy, well, memory now. They were hard not to play with every stroke up or down. Just there to apply pressure too, to see what new noise he could get out of Billy’s pink mouth.

But there was still one question left, bubbling up in Steve's mind and popping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Anyone ever blow you with 'em?"

Billy chuckled around a moan, both noises getting confused in this throat, but it sounded amazing. Made Steve’s dick kick harder. "You wanna try suga’?"

Not an answer. But Steve would take this one. Even as drunk as he was, he doubted any of this would leave the bathroom. The same way things never left the locker room. His knees hit the floor with a heavy thud as he settled between Billy's legs. Another set of bruises for the morning. He rolled the tip of his tongue around the little metal balls first, to see how they would taste. Musty. Like Billy’s smell. But not unpleasant. Like licking over a ring. A fist was heavy and tight in his hair in an instant. Not pushing or pulling. More bracing. Holding something that wasn't smooth so could be held.

Hargrove was a tight fit. Or Steve was out of practice since Carol came along and took up all Tommy’s time. Probably both really in all honesty. Steve's lips stretched something obscene taking down as much as he could, using plenty of spit cause Billy looked like he was into anything but clean and neat, pressing his tongue wide and flat over the piercings, rolling them with a little swallow that had Billy barely able to stand. Steve could taste his tongue getting more and more coated.

Billy didn't taste half bad, surprisingly. Not good, but not bad.

Duran Duran started coming through the floor. Hungry Like the Wolf. It seemed appropriate. Steve pushed Billy's hips back flat against the wall to stop him from moving, he was rolling on the balls of his feet within his boots and it was threatening to become an issue.

Not that he would mind Billy's thick monster destroying his throat, but breathing was still important. Maybe another time. If that would ever be a possibility.

It was less than a minute before Billy's fist got tighter, pushed Steve back so just the head of his cock throbbed on the taller boy's tongue as he came in ropes. Painted the inside of Steve’s mouth, threatening to bite through his own lip to contain some of the guttural noise that erupted from his throat just watching it happen with laser focus. Steve swallowed most of it, but there was a lot, some dripped down his chin and into the collar of his polo, leaving a strange stain. He nearly popped being used in such a way. His briefs felt damp.

It had been a while.

Billy panted as Steve got back to his feet, took a swig of his drink to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth, getting his hand batted away when he reached out to keep playing with the piercings like he was magnetized.

"God, give a guy five would ya?" Billy tucked himself away, zipped up his jeans loudly, but didn't sound annoyed. It sounded more like a proposal.

Steve shrugged with a grin, biting the rim of his plastic cup and leaning up on the sink. He still needed to piss after all, just now it would be a lot harder. Billy patted his shoulder and went to leave, just unlocking the door before saying something over his shoulder that was definitely a proposal.

"If you’re still hard in twenty you can find out how they feel gettin' fucked."

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #dirt #my writings

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xxsanshinexx · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER 3: A Start

Chapter 2| Jungle City |Chapter 4

Chan explained everything as simply as he could to you. The Pack, their group of nine members, had been around for a year; garnering new members as the unrest in the city grew. The members ranged from struggling children on the streets to members of some of the wealthiest that had ever dwelled in the city. He didn’t touch much on the members besides that, seeming to think it better to leave their names and what they did a secret for now.

“So you all met up and formed a rebellion?” You summarized, leaning back in your seat, tapping your fingers against the wood in thought. “And now… this band of ruffians are trying to overthrow the government.”

“That’s a rough summary but yes,” Chan nodded, eyes glancing to the watch on his wrist. “We all had a vendetta against Mayor Seo… some larger than others. We’re trying to use our experiences to make a change.”

You nodded in understanding. It was a group of children who had been wronged by the authorities, tired of trying to live up to the expectations of people who cared little for their wellbeing. It was the same stories who you had witnessed from the kids you used to go to school with; their anger and sadness having to be stored away behind placid smiles and teary eyes. They were some of the few ready to do away with what they were gifted in life, any safety they might have had, to try and create something new; something better than what they were thrown into.

“What’s your next step than.” The question seemed to make even Seungmin’s fingers stop their typing for a moment.

The heavy silence that had encompassed the room only lasted a few moments, as Chan’s face contorted into so many different expressions before settling back into one of neutrality. “We’re working on it.”

The answer didn’t satisfy you. Chan and Seungmin had both given you such full answers about everything yet now, the seemingly most important question you had asked, they couldn’t give you an answer. You couldn’t press on or object them however, because the steps were suddenly shaking and the clanging of metal roared around the room.

All eyes were turned towards the darkness, a panic feeling you that couldn’t subside even if Chan and Seungmin waited with neutral faces. One by one, boys dressed in all black from head to toe waltzed into the room; draped with full bags and guns and other weapons slung over their shoulders. They looked like a pack of robbers, with their ski masks and black gloves; but their presence screamed that they could kill you. Except for one, who stood right in the front, his hands pushed into his jean pockets and his face a mask of indifference. He looked young, a face of pure youth; with red hair and a sly look in his engaging brown eyes as they met yours. For some reason he seemed to scare you the most.

“We got what we could,” The one in the middle, that largest of the group said as he pulled at his mask with his free hand. Underneath was a boy of perfection, and you could have sworn you had seen his face before. The way his lips curved and the way his eyes glowed with an unwavering intensity; if it wasn’t obvious by his demanding voice, he was one of the leaders of the group. “We could have gotten more but with the amount of security we wouldn’t risk it.”

“I tried to keep the drones off of you all,” Seungmin said and you realised that that was what he had been doing the entire time. He had managed to slip into the mainframe and control the drones; something you hadn’t heard of anyone being able to do without getting shot. “But there was too many. They seemed to have tripled the amount since last time.”

“Well we all know why,” The red haired boy snorted, finally taking his eyes away from yours to stare at Chan. “Jaebum’s dead. Yugyeom was lucky he didn’t get captured from taking those shots. Jackson and Mark almost got killed if it wasn’t for me and Jinyoung killed a senator. Things are getting much more hectic.” He said it in such a laid back matter that it made it all the more chilling.

“Which senator?” Chan asked, the authority back in his voice; a complete contrast to how he had been with you five minutes before.

“An unimportant one, Senator Woobin. Was the one in control of the fifth district, not well acquainted with The Five… or at least not enough to join their little league.” The boy said messing with the phone in his hands, his fingers scrolling even if he wasn’t looking at it anymore; his eyes back onto yours. “Now who are you.”

The eyes of all the masked boys turned to you, all with calculating glares as they hadn’t even noticed your presence when they had walked in. You felt like you should have panicked, felt your heart in your throat and your breathing cut off; yet you felt steady. “Y/n.”

The boy nodded, his eyes now back and glued to his screen. “I saw you and Chan at the rally. Stopped him from making a fool of himself and end up with Jaebum.”

“Doesn’t mean we should just let anyone in.” A deep voice growled in the back, and you could feel the eyes glowering with rage stuck to your forehead.

“Felix, stop.” The boy in the front ordered, his head shaking as he glanced between you and Chan. “Take the weapons to Minho, get them cleaned up and ready for selling. Jisung, go with him.”

“Don’t use my name around a newcomer.” Both of the boys in the back huffed, filling their arms with weapons before stalking down the dark hallway Minho had retreated down moments prior. That was the reaction you had been waiting for; the unfriendliness, the cold shoulder and glares. It made the whole situation feel more serious, more real; none of the kind smiles and the light talks that Chan and Seungmin had been giving you.

“They don’t like new people. None of us or incredibly fond of anyone we don’t know.” The authoritative boy said, setting his own pack of weapons down on the table. “Don’t take it to heart.”

“I understand it.” You said, causing his eyebrow to raise as he began to take inventory right on the wooden countertop. “This isn’t something like a class club.”

“It’s war.” The red headed boy nodded, moving so he was at the head of the table. “Something new comers don’t just appear. You’ll have to prove you belong here to them.”

“And what’s it to you?”

He smiled at your question, one that was amused rather than genuine. “I think you’ll be interesting. You’re already proving it.”

The words weren’t a compliment nor were they a insult; they were a statement, one that shouldn’t have scared you as much as it should have. This boy was the most unassuming, even with the red hair, the one who looked like he could blend in with any crowd. It’s what made you the most weary of him; not of the muscled giant to your left or the boy who could corrupt the files of a high-tech government in the blink of an eye, but scared of the boy who looked like he could know everything with only a smile.

“You’ll learn what you need to.” The boy with the guns huffed, taking apart the contents of a pistol piece by piece. “We all started somewhere.”

“Some of us in better places than others,” Chan snorted as he picked up a handgun from the pile on the table. “You’re smart, you’ll pick it all up quickly. Especially-” Chan slammed his hand against the boys shoulder, “- with this bear teaching you.”

The boy shrugged Chan’s hand off of him and sighed, though it didn’t seem like he was mad about Chan’s proposition. “Give it a day before you elect me teacher. I’ve got guns to clean and a nap to take before you say anything else.”

You quite liked the boy with the guns, even if it he one of the most intimidating things in the room; and the prospect of him teaching what you needed to survive in The Pack wasn’t helping your stomach from aching or your head from spinning. You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into.

“Woojin won’t kill you Y/n.” The red headed boy laughed as he sat on the counter top. “He might just maim you a little.”

“How lovely.” You huffed, watching the way the boys all smiled a little; seeming to share you sentiments. They probably all started off the same, newcomers with a sense of justice but no sense of fighting; of what this all would really entail.

“But my nap first.” The boy cleaning the guns, now deemed Woojin, reminded. “We’ll start in the morning.”

You couldn’t believe how easily accepted you were. How Woojin just nodded and continued on with his tasks, the thought of teaching you what you needed to know just another simple thing. How the red haired boy, with his sly smiles and other worldliness about him, looked at you like he had just gained something incredible. How Seungmin just shrugged and he began to treat you the same way you saw siblings treat one another on the streets. How Chan made the decision to bring you along, despite only knowing your impulsive thoughts; and was now adamant of you joining them.

Somehow, these thoughts made it easier to fall asleep that night in the comfort of a foreign bed, in a foreign room- entirely uprooted from the life you thought you would always be stuck in.

~~~~~

@kwanisms-replies @uwu-yifan

#jungle city #stray kids #minho #woojin #bang chan #changbin #seungmin #felix #hyunjin #han jisung #jeongin #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #xxsanshinexx

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belphegor1982 · 4 years

Text

*deep breath* Okay, here goes.

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18)

Chapter 19: Run (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

Evelyn wasn’t used to feeling claustrophobic in a pyramid. She had entered dozens of temples and mastabas, opened tombs and sarcophagi, and never felt so much pressure, such a sensation of being boxed-in. It must have to do with the jungle, she thought. The tombs she was used to were dry, dusty, but the temperature was more or less constant. Here, she was reminded of the Oasis of Ahm Shere after sunset: hot, humid, stifling. Unlike the desert, the canopy had kept the day’s heat inside and trapped moisture. The fact that the jungle was shut inside the pyramid now made the suffocating feeling even worse.

There was no conceivable way to follow the sound after the explosion, although she had an inkling Rick and Jonathan could not be far from it, without necessarily being the cause. Her mission and her priority was to find Hamilton first, she kept reminding herself, and her husband and brother second.

The encounter with the pygmy mummies seemed to have spooked Izzy, but only insofar as he looked tense. Sweat was beading down the side of his face she could see, whether due to the oppressive heat or the knowledge that death might lurk somewhere among the big fronds and the shrubs. She didn’t blame him. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she had to wipe them on her trousers from time to time.

Between the heat and the promise of danger, the tension was so high it was almost a relief to hear screams and gunshots again.

The hapless men in the next chamber were discharging weapon after weapon, but as Evelyn saw when she came out of the corridor at a run, they were outclassed and outnumbered. The pygmy mummies were as relentless as they were ferocious, and they were in much greater numbers than what they had faced earlier. What was worse, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were toying with their prey and would soon enough get bored of the game.

No matter how quickly she and Izzy fired, reloaded, and fired again, it was never enough, and soon the rescue turned into covering for a hasty retreat. Fortunately, the corridor they had come in was narrow, forcing the creatures into a bottleneck; the humans all piled up in the previous chamber behind the walls on either side, dodging deadly spears and poison darts and picking off the little beasts one at a time.

“We need to close this corridor!” yelled one of the agents. “Who has dynamite?”

Evelyn almost protested. This was the quickest route to the heart of the pyramid, the former lair of the Scorpion King, and any other way would take much longer to reach it. However, as a spear narrowly missed the side of her head, she had to admit that way was impracticable. Nobody would survive long down there.

One of the men rummaged in his rucksack, lit an ingot of dynamite, and threw it into the swarming, hissing horde.

“Take cover!”

Evelyn clamped her hands on her ears and screwed her eyes shut.

The blast, amplified by the small space of the corridor, sent enormous blocks of stone and metal flying as though they were made of paper and a giant cloud of dust. When she opened her eyes, she first spotted the heap of rubble that effectively plugged the corridor, and, on the other side of the archway, the surviving agents. The dust the explosion had blown over them coated one side of their suit as they hunkered down next to the wall, making their clothes and their faces look strangely two-tone.

Then, to her horror, there was a small snarling sound somewhere in the dust.

One of the pygmy mummies had made it through before the blast.

Evelyn raised her gun.

The creature lifted its spear.

A shadow fell, stealing her breath and turning her stomach. It scurried away down the destroyed corridor as fast as it had come, leaving everyone dazed and confused – including, it seemed, the pygmy mummy, which had gone still, spear still held above its head.

Evelyn aimed again, but there was no need. The creature stiffened, an astonished look on its decaying face, and crumbled into dust.

The whole room let out a collective sigh of relief.

“What… what were those things?” an agent asked, his voice trembling.

“Apart from one of the reasons you should never have come here in the first place?” said Izzy scathingly, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. It only smudged the mingled dust and sweat there. “Probably guardians meant to keep dumb twats like you lot away from evil places like that damn pyramid!”

Evelyn had nothing to add to Izzy’s accurate, if rather rude, answer. She let her arms come down and her shoulders slump, her chest heaving, shivering slightly from reaction. Her eyes slid closed.

Anubis’ Army had been sent back to the underworld. It was over.

Her mission had failed, but in the end it did not matter. All that did matter was that the world was safe again, from supernatural threats, at least. The jackal-headed soldiers were gone.

They had won.

All that remained to do now was finding Rick and Jonathan, getting back to Alex, and checking on Ardeth and his people.

Evelyn’s eyes snapped open. It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?

The next second proved her right as the whole pyramid started to shake, slowly and slightly at first, then harder and harder, until she had to lean on the wall for support.

The agents looked at each other, and ran towards the chamber entrance, one or two barely taking the time to hastily thank her and Izzy for their help.

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Izzy called after them with a derisive gesture. “We only just saved your bloody lives, that’s all! Ungrateful bastards. C’mon,” he added urgently, turning to Evelyn, “they got the right idea. We need to get the hell out, now.”

“But…” Evelyn knew she ought to run, knew there was nothing she could do except try to stay alive, but her husband and her brother were still somewhere in there. To come so far into the pyramid and still leave them to their fate was sheer torture.

Izzy looked more serious than she had ever seen him.

“I know. But O’Connell has got out of more sticky situations and your brother looks wily enough. They’ll make it out. And do you think they’ll be fine if anything happens to you down here?”

The memory flashed through her mind like fire. Rick kneeling over her, morning sunlight in his hair and tears in his eyes, lost in a sea of grief he was close to drowning in.

She could not let her family go through that again. Not if she could help it, not if there was even the slightest chance of survival.

Evelyn nodded, and she and Izzy darted for the exit amidst the dust and the falling rubble.

.⅋.

Despite what Rick had told Jonathan, he had absolutely no intention of letting them get separated. The two of them had gone – okay, gotten dragged – into that pyramid, the two of them would get out, period.

Sure, they had to dodge bullets and duck random debris, but they would get out.

Baine was still after them, and a number of flunkies with him. Rick hadn’t looked back to find out how many.

The guy must really hate them, he thought as he ran, to come after them like that, while the world – well, only the pyramid, thankfully – crashed down on and around them. You’d think he would have more pressing concerns, like his men, or at least saving his own skin. But no, he chose to hound them, as though they had done him personal harm and not saved the world by making a gong fall on a megalomaniac.

That had to be the most ridiculous way to save the world yet. Rick still couldn’t believe it had worked.

He had hated Imhotep, the first time. Oh, how he had hated the mummy when Evy had walked away from him and toward the prospect of death in order to save their lives. Rick O’Connell had realised, at that moment, that he had never truly loathed anyone before. And strangely, as he watched a mortally-wounded Imhotep stumble into that dark goo, any semblance of humanity being quickly stripped away, it had been tempting to feel sorry for the guy, just for a second.

The second time… When Anck-su-namun had stabbed Evy, Imhotep barely taking the time to look smug about it, as though snuffing the life of the most incredible woman Rick had known was nothing, an afterthought – then Rick had truly known what hate felt like. It had been burning, all-consuming, and only Evy’s unhoped-for return had extinguished it enough that he allowed himself the luxury of almost feeling sorry for Imhotep, at the very end. Watching an enemy get pulled out of the fire by the love of his life and then having your own girlfriend bail on you at the last moment had to sting. He was pretty sure there had been tears in the poor chump’s eyes before he let go of that ledge. Who knew a three thousand years old abomination could cry.

In hindsight, Imhotep had been… not exactly a worthy opponent, because a worthy opponent came at the one they had a beef against, not their family; but he hadn’t really been entirely devoid of honour. And while honour was not usually an important part of Rick’s vocabulary, he believed in fighting fair and square – if the situation allowed. Hence why he had zero qualms in not taking Baine – or Hamilton – one on one and sneaking around to beat them instead. Neither were anything close to worthy or honourable. When the deck was stacked against him, he just made sure there were other ways to come out on top.

In the present circumstances, the only way to come out on top was to literally go to the top, which meant running up endless stairways and sloping corridors. At some point, collapsing pyramid or not, those stairways and slopes took their toll and they were forced to stop, their lungs burning and their legs turned to liquid.

“How much… farther…?” gasped Jonathan, looking like he was about to dissolve into the stone tiles. Rick had to gulp air a few times before he was able to answer.

“Dunno, but… not that far.” Man, I hope it’s not far. “We really need to go, now.”

“In… a minute…”

“We may not have a minute, Jonathan!”

But Jonathan was not listening to him. He had been staring at something near the wall; now he lurched closer and pushed a frond aside, eyes wide.

“Good Lord,” he breathed.

For a second, Rick could only share the sentiment. It looked like a cross between a magpie’s nest and a pirate cache, a stash of various gold trinkets and shiny things, haphazardly thrown in a heap. A row of spears had been erected behind it, like a hedge, a small shrunken head planted on every other spike.

Amidst the urgency and the exhaustion, Rick wondered, in the back of his brain, how come they had seen neither head nor tail of the pygmy mummies since they had taken down Hamilton.

Jonathan seemed to have no such questions, and he hastily plunged both hands into the stash and stuffed the contents into his pockets. Just as Rick thought he would have to physically haul him from the treasure and out of the pyramid, Jonathan turned a triumphant grin to him.

“No bloody way I’m coming home empty-handed this time!”

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s not worth risking your life, you idiot?” Rick yelled as a chunk of ceiling missed him by inches and they hugged the walls to the exit.

“As many as it takes, old boy!”

Just as they reached the corridor, a bullet hit the doorway two inches from Rick’s head, leaving a chink in the dark gold. A second’s glance behind told him Baine had mostly caught up with them.

“Save your breath to run!” he shouted at his brother-in-law, and ran like he had rarely run before.

The necessary respite had done him good, but not nearly enough. If they hadn’t been running through a slowly collapsing pyramid, Rick had no doubt Baine or one of his men would have put a bullet in their brains right there and then. But if the floor shook, debris fell from everywhere, and dust and shredded leaves almost blinded them, then the same thing applied to the agents behind them. Rick ran for his life, his chest on fire, bullets and rubble flying around him, expecting to get hit any second. When his heart seemed to burst in his chest, he kept running. When Jonathan stumbled and almost pitched forward, he reached behind and grabbed him by the collar to help him keep up. When his legs threatened to give out he still ran some more.

His entire body was screaming. There was only one thought spinning in his mind, over and over, as steady as a heartbeat.

Get out get out get out –

And then – suddenly – there was light at the end of the corridor. Real, glorious light, beckoning them forward, the possibility of freedom and safety.

The sight lent him a speed and breath he didn’t know he still had.

Somehow, Rick accelerated.

.⅋.

“THERE!” Evelyn shouted over the noise, grabbing Izzy’s arm. “There’s the way out!”

Finally, the exit. They had found the way they had come in. The last few metres were arduous, between the slope of the stairs, the tremors, and the leaves and ferns whipping at them as they ran. They burst into the open air and half tumbled down the enormous stones of the outer pyramid, and Evelyn felt the sweet, cool caress of a desert sunrise on her face. The sensation was so familiar and unexpected after the long, long night that she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She opened her eyes again quickly when she heard Izzy gasp.

The smell of dying fires struck her before anything else. The whole camp was in shambles, the tents either taken apart or burnt, the fabric trampled on the ground. Around the pyramid entrance stood a handful of Medjai with guns and scimitars, all of them bearing tell-tale signs of a fierce battle.

There was no trace of the dirigible. Evelyn’s heart seized up in her chest. Where was Alex?

Izzy slowly raised his hands, finger distinctly off the trigger of his gun.

“Lower your hands, Izzy,” Evelyn said impatiently, before calling out, louder, “Alex! Has anyone seen my son? Or my husband and my brother?”

“Evelyn!” The voice was familiar. Evelyn looked to her right to see Atifa push past between two warriors. “Lower your weapons, now,” she said in Arabic to her men. “They’re friends. Evelyn, your husband and brother aren’t here, but your son is safe. Look.”

She pointed up, and Evelyn and Izzy followed her gesture. There was the dirigible, a couple of dozen yards in the air, making a hiccuping descent.

Evelyn reached for a block of stone for support, her gaze still upwards. She was still worried sick about Rick and Jonathan, but at least Alex was safe and sound. Oh, thank goodness.

“What happened?” she asked as Izzy stared at his beloved Dee, gaping.

Atifa looked battered and bruised, and grim-faced. “A detachment of the Army of Anubis came this way,” she said in English. Izzy tore his eyes from his dirigible to stare at her – then at the balloon again – in horror. “We did our best to hold them off. The white prisoners even fought by our side. They did well, considering.”

“How many dead?” asked Evelyn, dreading the answer.

“About a third of our men and half the prisoners. The Army went back to the sands some time ago. Did you –?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No, I had nothing to do with it. We didn’t even see Hamilton. We were too late to stop him before he released Anubis’ Army, and we were too late to stop him after.” She drew a ragged breath. “I failed my mission.”

“I reckon you would have kicked his arse if it hadn’t been for those nasty critters,” Izzy pointed out, making Atifa look at him curiously.

“You saw the guardians of Ahm Shere and lived?”

“They were hunting down a few of Hamilton’s men. I think they were all sent back to the Underworld when the Army of Anubis was. Did the men get out?”

“Yes. That’s why my orders were to intercept anyone who got out of the pyramid. We’ve been collecting prisoners since the battle ended.”

“Good,” said Evelyn with a firm nod. “They need to be held accountable for their actions. If –”

“Watch out!” shouted Izzy, pushing the two women away from the foot of the pyramid.

The next second, the big dirigible all but crashed into the sand and the bottom row of the stone blocks. When the dust settled and the noise died down, Evelyn looked up to see a rope ladder be thrown down and a small blond head pop up from the rail.

“Mum!”

“Alex!”

She hastily saluted Atifa and climbed aboard as fast as her legs allowed. She had barely got down from the ladder when her son barrelled into her. She fell to her knees and hugged him as tight as she could, breathless, eyes screwed shut, bursting with love.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

A thud and a few incoherent sounds behind her told her that Izzy had climbed up as well.

“How – what did – my dirigible!”

“I had to,” Alex piped up, breaking away from the hug. He looked halfway between exhilarated and nervous. “The Army of Anubis were coming this way, I had to, otherwise they would’ve just – I don’t know, but I didn’t want them to, so I tried to get Dee to go up, I mean, first I couldn’t remember – but then I thought, positive buoyancy! And then I switched the whatsit on to fire up the whole thing –”

Her brave, clever boy. He never ceased to amaze her, did he.

“It’s all right,” said Evelyn. She was smiling so wide it almost hurt. “It’s all right, you’re here, you’re safe, that’s all that matters. And,” she added with something of a wicked smile behind her, “I’m sure Mr Izzy will thank you for taking such good care of his dirigible.”

Izzy, who was bent over the rail trying to assess the damage done by the somewhat… rough landing, threw them a dirty look over his shoulder. The next second, surprisingly, he softened.

“You did good, kid,” he said, as though reluctantly. “Could’ve been gentler, but… Yeah, that was right clever of you.”

Alex beamed at the praise. Then Izzy’s eyes went round.

“My moorings! What –”

“Oh, yeah, I had to, er, cut those in a hurry.” Alex actually sounded sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Look at the state of the – oh, bloody Christ on a bike, the balloon!”

Evelyn was on the verge of calling him out for his language, but Izzy took off at a run towards the wheelhouse. When she bent over the rail and looked up, the dirigible’s balloon had started sagging dangerously. Trusting the pilot to restore the proper state of things, she turned back to her son, who was staring up with a look his mother knew only too well. That look ran the gamut between ‘what just happened’ and ‘um, did I do that’, and seemed to run in the family.

“Oops,” Alex said. “I kinda forgot to take the jammer off the handle.”

Evelyn had no idea what that meant, but somehow she almost burst out laughing. She only just managed to turn the mounting giggles into a grin and reached for him again. To her surprise, he happily complied and returned her embrace with all the strength of his arms.

“I take it the child is safe?” came a voice from the ground. Evelyn, still smiling widely, broke away from the hug and walked to the rail.

“Yes, he’s safe and sound, thank goodness.”

Atifa nodded. Some of the tension left her face. “Good.”

“Mum?” said Alex behind her. “Did you see Dad and Uncle Jon while you were down there?”

Evelyn’s smile slid abruptly.

“No, dear, I didn’t,” she said softly, running a gentle hand through his hair. “But I’m sure they –”

Someone cried, in Arabic, “More coming!” She only had time to go to the rail again before two men came sprinting out of the pyramid entrance directly towards the dirigible.

Alex let out a wordless cry of joy. Evelyn thought her heart was about to burst right through her ribcage.

The first to climb aboard turned out to be Jonathan. As soon as he reached the top of the rail, she threw her arms around him to help him on board, then tightened her grip into a bear hug, her hands clasped against his back. When he hugged her back, she could feel his body quiver, and only held him tighter.

“Jon,” she gasped, “oh, Jon, I thought –”

She broke away from the embrace, smiling giddily, and couldn’t resist the impulse to kiss his forehead. Jonathan looked too breathless to speak, still trembling and panting from their last run, but he gave her a small smile.

And then an exhausted voice said with a smile she could actually hear, “Hey, hon.”

Rick was sitting on the deck, chest heaving, as grimy and covered in dust as Jonathan was, smiling up at her. He had his arms around Alex, who was wrapped up around him like an octopus, as though two arms and a torso were just not enough for the kind of hug he needed.

Evelyn’s grin threatened to split her face in two.

She lay a hand on Jonathan’s arm and made sure he was propped up against the wall of the cabins before going over to her husband. Rick whispered something in Alex’s ear and ruffled his hair – and how she had missed this, missed the small affectionate touches between all of them. He stood up slowly, and while Alex ran to his uncle, Evelyn finally crossed the last yard and took her man into her arms to hold him close.

There was some kind of commotion from the ground, voices raised angrily, but she only had eyes and ears for Rick.

He had lost his jacket and smelled of sweat, grime, and the sap of exotic plants, but underneath his own scent was still there; there was a half-healed cut on his forehead as well as small bruises and scratches all over his body, but his hands were warm against her side and the back of her head. She clung to him with all her might, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, drinking in the smell and feel of him, feeling the fear and worry of the past few days ebbing little by little.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered into his shirt. “I just… You… Oh, Rick, I missed you so much.”

He made a small noise at the back of his throat and she felt his lips press against the side of her head. She broke away, taking his hands into hers. When she looked up, it was into a pair of intense blue eyes, misted over and glistening.

The kiss drew both of them in at the same time. When she came up for air, trembling with emotion, she marvelled at the way her husband looked at her, as though he couldn’t believe she was real. Not that she felt any different, of course. Having him in her arms like this, kissing him like this, after a week of fearing for his life, was like drinking from the purest spring after a week of wandering in the desert.

His breath trembled against her lips. She closed her eyes and basked in all the precious sensations she had missed so much for the past week.

“Evy, I…” She heard a sharp intake of breath, and opened her eyes. “Evy, you got hurt!”

“No,” she said, puzzled. “I didn’t –”

Rick was looking down in alarm; she followed his gaze to her hands, still entwined in his.

Her palms were covered in drying blood.

Fear rose into her like bile.

“Are you—?”

Rick shook his head.

“Then what…”

Instinctively, her head swivelled to the other two members of their family. Jonathan was where she had left him, braced against the wall of the cabins, while Alex regaled him with a spirited version of the adventure he’d had.

“So then I grabbed the axe to chop off the ropes, and the darn thing was so heavy I almost couldn’t – Uncle Jon? Uncle Jon, are you okay?”

Jonathan had gone utterly white. He blinked, a confused look on his face.

“Wha—”

Then his knees buckled and he abruptly slid down the wall, blood smeared where his back had been.

There was a considerable amount of blood.

“MUM! DAD!”

Her son’s scream pierced through the icy fog in Evelyn’s brain. She ran over and dropped in front of Jonathan while Rick strode over to Alex and picked him up.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when they were finally together again, safe again, not when the world had been saved once more… They were supposed to have so much time in front of them, a whole life of it…

“Jonathan,” she said in the most assertive voice she could muster, “Jonathan, look at me.”

He looked at her. Incredibly, after so many years, the voice still worked.

“Jon, please, stay with me. You’re going to be just fine, just… don’t close your eyes.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out except the sound of his shallow, whistling breathing. The sound pitted a shard of ice against her heart. What drove it in was the expression on her brother’s face. He looked flat out terrified.

The same terror drenched her entire body in ice. She had not felt this helpless in decades.

“HELP!” she screamed, turning away to the rail, to the wheelhouse, to anyone who would listen. “Somebody, please!”

Her eyes met Rick’s, just beside her. He had crouched down to her level, unable to hold Alex’s weight much longer; he still had their son in his arms, small head tucked against his chest, one large hand gently stroking the back of his neck. When he looked at her, there was unutterable sadness in his eyes.

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“No,” Evelyn whispered. She grabbed Jonathan’s hand, and with her other hand cupped the side of his face. “No, Jon, no – don’t go, don’t leave me, please, Jon, don’t –”

His hand tightened around hers. She could have sworn, later, that he tried to say something. She stared into his eyes, desperately ignoring the greyish tint of his skin, the blue tinge of his lips, willing him to stay a little longer still.

Jonathan could be lazy, absent-minded, and a bit of a ne’er-do-well, but he had always made an effort when she asked.

She was so focused on his face that she didn’t notice his hand had gone slack right away. He seemed to be staring into the distance, his expression still a mixture of fear and incomprehension; but his eyes, so blue, so lively, so ready to twinkle, were dull, the light faded out.

Evelyn opened her mouth, and his name died on her lips. The mind she had always prided herself on was an utter blank.

She was barely aware of Rick reaching out, and, with a gentleness he hadn’t had since Alex had been an infant, closing Jonathan’s eyes.

.⅋.

...

(don’t kill me?)

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films #the mummy

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youthforourplanet · 4 years

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Leading the fight for a Sustainable Palawan, Karina May Reyes-Antonio

Karina May Reyes-Antonio is a community organiser, conservationist, lobbyist and the Co-Founder of Centre for Sustainability, Philippines, a non-profit, female-led environmental organisation working on sustainable community development in Palawan, Philippines. She is also a National Geographic Explorer and was recently featured in CNN Philippines as young Filipino leaders making a difference in their communities.

She talks to YFOP about her love for the Palawan Island and the local communities, challenges faced as a female conservationist and solutions for climate change and environment and wildlife conservation.

(Image credit: Jessa Garibay)

How did your love for wildlife and nature start and what motivates you to work for it?

I started out as a community organiser in South America, doing empowerment projects in education and non-violence with impoverished urban communities affected by narco-trafficking. While studying environmental security I realised how disconnected myself and the communities were to our immediate environment despite how vulnerable our location was to environmental disasters, especially landslides! My angle for empowering communities drastically changed, and I pursued development projects encouraging communities to protect the immediate nature and wildlife that surrounds us to overcome impoverishment. Witnessing first-hand the empowerment of the communities I work with as a direct result of the projects we work on together is my ultimate motivation.

How was the Centre for Sustainability, Philippines formed? Can you tell us more about the organisation?

The Philippines is 1 of only 17 megadiverse countries in the world, hosting 80% of the planet’s biodiversity! It used to be 95% covered in rainforest, but now only 3% of this rainforest remains! As young Palawenyos, we grew up swimming in the sea with turtles and exploring the wild forests of our island, but a lot has changed between childhood and adulthood. We see that today Palawan’s natural beauty is under real threat from unsustainable exploitation of natural resources and unsustainable development programs, and our seas and forests are no longer like they were. So we created the Centre for Sustainability PH, Inc. (CS) to better organise our passionate efforts in creating a sustainable future for Palawan, and to have a stronger voice to influence decision-makers and shape development on our island!

The Centre for Sustainability PH is a women-led, youth environmental non-profit based on Palawan island, known as the Last Ecological Frontier of the Philippines. We work to CONSERVE LAND and protect Palawan’s last remaining rainforests through the establishment of national parks, through community organising, scientific research, and political lobbying.

Our biggest win so far has been the legal establishment of Cleopatra’s Needle Critical Habitat now the Philippines’ biggest Critical Habitat, representing 41,350 ha. of virgin forest, or HALF the size of Hong Kong! Cleopatra’s Needle is the highest peak and largest drainage basin of Palawan’s capital city, the ancestral lands of the last 200 members of the disappearing Batak tribe, and home to countless endemic flora and fauna, including the world’s #1 poached animal, the Philippine Pangolin.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg. The United Nations says that 30% of the Earth needs protection by 2030 (a mere 10 years!) if we’re to ensure clean drinking water and a stable global climate for all. Our mission is to complete protection of Palawan's forests—with only 300,000 ha. remaining (or 7 times Cleopatra’s Needle), it really is a concrete and attainable goal!

How can one be a part of the organisation?

Near and far, anyone can be a part of CS by:

• Following us on social media and liking our posts. Politicians really pay attention to us when they see that the local and international public supports our work! FB @centreforsustainability, IG @centreforsustainabilityPH, Twitter @cspalawan_ph

• Telling family, friends, and colleagues about our work, and encouraging them to follow us on social media too!

• Volunteering in person or online.

• Becoming an intern by joining our International Student Program. • Hosting fundraisers for us.

• Donating money or in kind.

What are some challenges that you and other members face being part of a women-led nonprofit organization?

We are two young women, Jessa Garibay and myself, that are the principal lobbyists and CoDirectors of CS. From day one of the project, we have worked in a male-dominated environment in a country where patriarchy reigns supreme—from fieldwork to board rooms. Our abilities have been questioned every step of the way—from our physical strength in hiking to reach our remote indigenous communities or withstand treacherous and gruelling expedition conditions deep in the jungle, to our capabilities in successfully lobbying and making ourselves heard by older, male decision-makers. On different occasions, I have experienced stakeholders tell me how to dress; request my marital status in the middle of a presentation; advise me that hiking is not an appropriate activity for women; openly make lewd comments to me, and even clearly show disinterest in relating to me as a leader because I am a woman.

What has been your proudest moment while working for CS?

The most obviously proud moment for CS was the legal declaration of Cleopatra’s Needle Critical Habitat. However, on a more personal level, my proudest moments are those involving our communities. For example, Mother Erlinda Delos Angeles, sole female tribal councillor of her indigenous Batak community and mother of 3, stood up to her powerful male co-councillors in a very important community meeting. She looked small and weak, but her words were BIG and STRONG. “The talking has to stop!” she said. “It’s time to act, and it’s time to act NOW.” So we all listened to her, and we have not looked back since!

(Image credit: Duncan Murrell)

What are some measures that we can take to stay in harmony with nature and wildlife?

1. Refuse, Reduce, Reuse everything! Note, I haven’t included “Recycle” because very little of what we send to recycling ever actually gets recycled. Our world does not operate on a circular economy, so recycling is largely a MYTH in most places. Remember, many of us have much more than we really need, so work on consuming less everything!

2. Avoid single-use disposal plastic—always be ready with your own straw, cutlery, food and beverage containers, and carry bags.

3. When you can, choose public transport. When you can, choose a bus or a train to travel, not a plane.

4. Volunteer at your local nature/wildlife organisation.

5. Donate to your local nature/wildlife organisation if you believe in their work.

6. Get outdoors to discover nature and wildlife—the more you learn to appreciate, the more passionate you will be to protect it!

Do you believe that youth have the power to change the environmental scenario on Earth?

I KNOW that our youth have ALL THE POWER to change our environmental scenario on Earth. Because we are already the leaders of TODAY and we are the leaders of the FUTURE. We do not have a choice, we are inheriting this planet for better or for worse, so why not make for better?

What according to you is the role of the governments in wildlife and environmental conservation? Are you satisfied with the efforts of your government? If not, do you have a message for them?

Sustainable wildlife and environmental practices occur on the ground when governments at the top implement policies and most importantly allocate sufficient budgets to facilitate and incentivise conservation at the community level. We have to act fast because as an island nation we will be one of the most vulnerable and worst hit by the climate crisis our planet currently faces. I want to see our government, from the local to the national level, collaborate with and listen more closely to community groups on environmental issues. This ensures that government time and resources are more efficiently employed so that communities and the least-advantaged sectors of society can reap the benefits of pro-environment actions coming from the government.

Lastly, what is your message for budding environment and wildlife conservationists all over the world?

You could not have chosen a more exciting time to be a conservationist—CONGRATULATIONS! While the climate crisis we face is daunting, we are also very privileged to be environmental leaders who will be making (her)story as the frontliners creating solutions! So don’t ever give up, don’t ever be scared to make yourself heard, the world is waiting for you and listening to you!

#youthforourplanet #climate crisis #naturecrisis #phillipines #sustainability

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jaaryl · 5 years

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jaaryl (or if someone beat me to it, daaron)

Some answers are going to be based on the rewrite of my Daaron fic which is going to be set during 9.16 (that one day I will get around to finishing I swear lmao).

So, spoilers for that I guess lol.

1. Who makes the first move and how?

It would have to be Daryl.

Even though Aaron has the most experience dating another man/ person in general, I have no doubt in my mind that he would find it incredibly daunting to even try and proceed a relationship with Daryl. His friendship with Daryl is one of the few bright spots of the apocalypse and it would absolutely break his heart if he scared him off or was rejected.

Since my fic is set during the 9.16 blizzard, the two of them are going on ahead to collect supplies at the next way station and, of course, it has to have the cliche trope of Aaron being all heroic and pushing Daryl out of the way of cracking ice so he’ll fall through instead… all while they are escaping ice zombies. Cue the trope of them cuddling naked for warmth and waking up with an awkward situation yada yada.

Aaron: [incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out] This doesn’t have to change anything.

Daryl: [also incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out, and just fresh off thinking Aaron could of so easily died one (1) day ago and not wanting to waste what time they have together] Ahhhh I kinda want it too????

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Being seen as outcasts still bothers them a lot, even if they try their best not to show it. No matter how far into the apocalypse, or how important they have become to the success of the communities, there will always be those douches who look down on people for being different. And the best thing about Daaron is how leaning on each other for support and having each other’s backs when they are feeling this way is literally the foundation of their relationship.

3. Who is the most romantic?

Aaron’s the obvious choice with his tendency to be extremely tactile and handing out affection left and right while also giving away huge gifts, like the bike. However, Daryl is incredibly sentimental, and loves and cherishes that bike like it’s one of his most precious possessions, and he also shows his love by making sure the people that he cares about are well provided for. So, it’s for you to decide.

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Daryl is extremely touch-starved but he is also pretty awkward when it comes to asking for affection. Aaron is a mix of very tactile, begging to give hugs and super lonely.

So, once Aaron figures out that Daryl wants to be touched more than the occasional hug, handhold or brush of arms all bets are off. I can only imagine how bad it will be when they get into an actual relationship.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I feel like Aaron has said those words long before they started dating, “Daryl, I love you, but no,” and completely mean them (both platonically and romantically). So, the moment Daryl says the words back for the first time…he is kinda worried Aaron’s smile is going to split his face in half.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Season 5: Eric, for obvious reasons.

Season 9: Paul, most definitely, hot, gay, single and already someone they both trust completely.

Post 9.08 though? Ah, no one? Aaron is literally the only male character that Daryl is close to lmao.

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

I doubt there is much to do datewise beyond the wall, even for two bamfs like Aaron and Daryl. Maybe fortnightly overnight camping trips when it gets too stuffy in Alexandria and they need to escape for a bit.

On the nights that they have the house all to themselves, it is pretty quiet. Just the two of them hanging out, kicking back beer, pressed up against each other, talking about mindless topics, and having sex etc.

8. What do they like in bed?

Daryl: when you said “magical in bed” this isn’t exactly what I was exp-

Aaron: *holds up 8 of hearts* is this your card

Daryl: *softly* holy shit

Aaron knows that Daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience in the bedroom department, and is happy to help guide him. I see Aaron as someone who is super into foreplay and body worship, especially on someone like Daryl who needs all the touch he can get and is v receptive to praise kink. As Daryl becomes more confident I do see him taking charge a little more, maybe some manhandling etc and he doeeesss have an oral fixation, always putting things in/exploring things with his mouth so take that as you will lmao.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Honestly, Aaron is pretty hard to embarrass. Like, sure, he does embarrassing things but he’s always the first one to laugh at himself. Things like his over-the-top dorky dances to make Daryl laugh, his celebrity impression of people Gracie has never even seen, or heard of, and she is super embarrassed about when he pulls it out as his party trick, his off-key singing to Disney songs with Gracie and trying to get Daryl to join in (AK can take Disney nerd Aaron from my cold dead hands these people have solar panels and the kids have definitely seen movies).

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Damn, I can’t cheat and answer with ‘a book on how to build a raft’ or ‘survival guide for dummies’ because they are both very survival competent lmao.

For luxury items: Daryl’s crossbow and Aaron’s knife.

Ahhh I am worst at music questions! I can see Daryl being a sentimental loser and bringing Rick’s terrible music with him even if he hates it.

Ross apparently headcanons Aaron’s favourite song as “Hand in Glove” by The Smiths, so why not?

11. What do they hide from one another?

Their unspoken feelings uwu (lame).

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Their relationship status.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

There has always been something simmering under the surface of their friendship. From the very beginning, Aaron has been incredibly fascinated by everything Daryl Dixon and Daryl in return has found comfort, acceptance and an overwhelming amount of fondness towards Aaron.

It has just never been the right time to explore the unspoken thing between them. But after the six-year time jump, Daryl is finally in the right emotional place to settle down and Aaron has been ready for a long while. Daryl is confronted once more that the world is a dangerous place when Aaron almost dies again (in the fic) and the prospect of leaving their relationship open-ended weighs on him heavily.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Aaron has been run ragged by the worrying he has done about sick Gracie all week (even just a cold in the apocalypse is a scary thing for Aaron with all that he’s lost). He probably got one good day in before his own immune system came crashing down hard. Daryl feels a little useless that he can’t really help him get better so he goes out and hunts whatever bird he can find so he can cook him something at least resembling chicken soup, and distracts Gracie for the next couple of days so he can get some rest.

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

In this house, we appreciate animated films and since Lydia and Daryl are not really accustomed to the broad range of them they get the final vote. It would probably be Jungle Book (after years of rejecting civilization they finally rejoin it) or even something like Spirit (refusing to let anyone tame their wild).

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Do I need to answer this one lmao?

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

Try and change the events of 8.02? Saving Eric and having the three of them adopt baby Gracie? Changing the events of 9.08, so Paul lives and Jaaryl can happen? 7.01, so Glenn lives? 9.05, Rick never blows up the bridge? 9.15, so there are no pike deaths?

Ahhh there are just so many options, these two have such a sad life!

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Out on a hike in the woods, a picnic is involved.

20. Where do they go on holiday?

You and @boltsandashes have given me major daaron beach day feels, it’s an absolutely adorable visual. Aaron making sure Daryl has the best day possible visiting the beach for the best time? I dieeee.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

They are still both not the biggest fan of parties unless it is a family event with people they like.

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Waystation cabin.

Aaron makes sure to ask him if it’s okay if they kiss for the first time after they are already in a heated grinding session, the goober.

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Beyond the walls and out in the woods hunting, hiking, exploring ect just like old times.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Waystation cabin.

25. Why do they fight?

Pissed at each other for being so damn self-sacrificing (“Whether we make it or not, we do it together,” remember that, asshole?!)

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Aaron’s first priority is his daughter’s happiness so it is pretty crucial to find out where their relationship stands before it gets way too deep (which good luck on that one), it would be different if Gracie wasn’t in the picture but she is so he needs to know if Daryl is 100% on board with being a parent to her or not.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

The shifty way they try and keep their relationship under wraps.

There’s nothing strange about Daryl moving in with Aaron, they are both close friends, right? But what is strange is Aaron turning up to every council meeting absolutely glowing and grinning ear to ear, and Daryl being a super nice to everyone in Alexandria.

Are they sick???

It goes on and on until Gracie accidentally spills the beans when she excitedly tells Judith that her daddy and Judith’s uncle are dating(not that Gracie knows all the details of their relationship or anything it’s just what she suspects lol).

They probably going to get married one day, and it will make her and Judith related!

So, Judith goes home and asks her Michonne if Aaron and Daryl are dating, causing Michonne to finally connects the dots on why the hell they have been acting so weird.

28. Why do they get jealous?

Aaron is super jealous over how cool Daryl looks on a motorbike, while Daryl is pretty jealous over how well Aaron can articulate his words to describe how he is feeling.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

When Daryl is being absolutely precious with Gracie, Lydia and Dog. It makes Aaron’s chest tighten and his heartbeat frighteningly fast. Those are the moments that Aaron wants nothing more than to raise a family and have a future with him.

Aaron is probably being dorky af just to make Daryl laugh, for real not just an under the breath chuckle. Every time he pulls one from Daryl, Daryl can feel his heart expand tenfolds.

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Oh man, I could write an entire essay on why these two are perfect for each other but to really simplify it: they already have a super strong bond, they are comfortable with each other and trust each other, both relate to feeling like an outsider, both like kids, they have history, their personalities balance each other out etc

It’s one of Daryl’s healthiest relationships on the show I don’t think there are any reasons why not?

#daaron #aaron twd #daryl dixon #twd

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ofvernacular · 5 years

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Tom McCarthy’s ‘Satin Island’ and the Anthropological Apparatus

What does an anthropologist do? U., a corporate anthropologist and the protagonist of Tom McCarthy’s Satin Island, tells the readers of the novel that “Structures of kinship; systems of exchange, barter and gift; symbolic operations lurking on the flipside of the habitual and the banal: identifying these, prising them out and holding them up, kicking and wriggling, to the light—” is his job (McCarthy 15). U. is the in-house ethnographer for a consultancy evasively called The Company. The Company “advised other companies how to contextualize and nuance their services and products. It advised cities how to brand and re-brand themselves; regions how to elaborate and frame regenerative strategies; governments how to narrate their policy agendas—to the press, the public and, not least, themselves.” Peyman, The Company’s head and another elusive figure through the novel, liked to say that “[They] dealt…in narratives” (McCarthy 16).

A narrative, defined primordially by the Oxford dictionary as a “written account of connected events,” is further defined as a “representation of a particular situation or process in such a way as to reflect or conform to an overarching set of aims or values.” The narrative, taken as a representation of a set of values, can be likened to an ideology. Ideology, as Louis Althusser proposes, is a “representation of the imaginary relationship of individuals to their real conditions of existence.” Althusser says that what we commonly call ideologies are one of many “world outlooks,” which when examined

As the ethnologist examines the myths of a “primitive society,” are largely imaginary, i.e. do not correspond to reality. However, while admitting that they do not correspond to reality, i.e. that they constitute an illusion, we admit that they do make allusion to reality, and that they need only be “interpreted” to discover the reality of the world behind their imaginary representation of that world.

(Althusser 693)

If we understand The Company’s role as that of dealing in narratives, in investigating the existing ones and articulating new ones as consultations to other companies and governments, then we come to view the company as an agent of ideologization. When Peyman first hired U., he told him that “the Company needed an anthropologist because its entire field of operations lay in analysing groups, picking apart their operations and reporting back on this” (McCarthy 49). U. being the company’s anthropologist, was their specialist in the intellectual discipline of people and society. Therefore, U. determined the narratives that operated in society, that is, uncovered the imaginary relationships between individuals of society and their real conditions, and found ways for companies to modify these imaginary relationships to their own profit. Whenever the Company took upon a project, the brief would be worked at from “several angles, bringing all [their] intellectual disciplines to bear upon [it]…and slapping the pertinent offerings of each of these down on the collective table.” These offerings would be amalgamated into a concept, and Peyman would convert these concepts “into tangible undertakings that had measurable outcomes” (McCarthy 50) via the Company which, U. claimed, had “supplanted [family, or ethnic and religious groupings] as the primary structure of the modern tribe” (McCarthy 48). How specifically did U. aid the Company’s clients in achieving this?

…we unpick the fibre of a culture (ours), its weft and warp—the situations it throws up, the beliefs that underpin and nourish it—and let a client in on how they can best get traction of this fibre so that they can introduce into the weave their own fine, silken thread, strategically embroider or detail it with a mini-narrative (a convoluted way of saying: sell their product).

(McCarthy 25; emphasis mine)

With this construction of narratives for companies, U. helped them gain hegemony, or “social power or domination” (Rivkin 673) in society. These mini-narratives allowed companies to subtly reconfigure the imaginary relationships of people to their real conditions. Antonio Gramsci proposed that “power [could] be maintained without force if the consent of the dominated can be obtained through education and other kinds of cultural labor on the part of such intellectuals as priests and journalists” (Rivkin 673). U. was an intellectual employed by The Company for this very purpose. Gramsci said that society could be fixed into two major “superstructural levels,” one being “civil society” or all private organisations, and the other “political society” or the State.

These two levels correspond on the one hand to the function of “hegemony” which the dominant group exercises throughout society, and on the other to that of “direct domination” or command…

The intellectuals are the dominant group’s “deputies” exercising the subaltern functions of social hegemony and political government.

(Gramsci 673)

The dominant group, comprising of the owners of production, that is the corporations, thus control the dominant ideology of the society, meaning that they have hegemony over the society, and U., being an intellectual, stands at the base of this distribution of ideas, or these mini-narratives. The dominated group, or general society, accepts this domination by giving “spontaneous consent…to the general direction imposed on social life by the dominant fundamental group…historically caused by the prestige which the dominant group enjoys because of its position and function in the world of production.”

To further our understanding of how these mini-narratives function in society, we must look at U. as a representative of “the great masses of people” (Gramsci 637) to the corporations, or to “the dominant group” and consider representation through the work of Gayatri Spivak. By representing what the public wants to the corporations, U. is “[speaking] for” them, in a political sense, as opposed to ‘re-presenting’ them in the sense of art or philosophy (Spivak 275). Just as an agent of colonialization would study the natives of their inhabited colony and represent them to the Empire, U., in the capacity of an Ethnographer (historically also recognized as professional agents of colonialization), would do field research which was

…about identifying and probing granular, mechanical behaviours, extrapolating from a sample batch of these a set of blueprints, tailored according to each brief—blueprints which, taken as a whole and cross-mapped onto the findings of more “objective” or empirical studies…lay bare some kind of inner social logic, which can be harnessed, put to use.

(McCarthy 25; emphasis mine)

and present it to the company, or the modern day Empire. An example of this was the way U. had, for a breakfast cereal company, unravelled the symbolic significance behind the first meal of the day, behind fasts and breaking them, and feed all his interpretations and discoveries back to the client, for them to incorporate these cultural insights into their branding and packaging to make their way back into people’s shopping carts. The conception of representation as a tool of indirect oppression and even social control helps us understand the deep hegemony formed by the Company, in which U. played a crucial role. In chapter 4 of the novel, while U. pondered his “official function as a corporate ethnographer, [which] was to garner meaning from all types of situation,” he realised that sometimes he allowed himself to think that “[his] job was to put meaning in the world” and not the other way around (McCarthy 38). Later in the novel, in chapter 12, we see a development in these ponderings.

Around this time, my attitude not only to the Great Project but also towards Koob-Sassen [Project] underwent a sea-change. I started seeing the project as nefarious. Sinister. Dangerous…Worming its way into each corner of the citizenry’s lives, re-setting (“re-configuring”) the systems lying behind and bearing virtually on their every action and experience, and doing this without their even knowing it…

I started to regress my own part in it all…I was quite literally underground: secreted…among the Company’s foundations…This afforded me no power to shape the Project in a formal or official way—but to unshape it, sabotage it even…

(McCarthy 154, 155)

Upon this moment, U. realized his subversive power as an agent of ideologization, as a mediator of the narrative built between the dominant group and the masses. Koob-Sassen was the Company’s latest and till now most consequential project. His “issuing erroneous interpretations and assertions, or even insinuations, could lead to key decisions being made later that were catastrophically bad ones…[He] could do it, if [he] wanted: [he] could torch the fucker…” (McCarthy 154). The Koob-Sassen project, U. claimed, was so important that there wasn’t a “single area of your daily life that it [hadn’t], in some way or other, touched on, penetrated, changed; although you probably don’t know this.” This pervasiveness is reminiscent of ideological manifestation. Ideologies, enabled through narratives constructed by dominant groups, are so deeply worked into the frame of society that they affect the lives of all individuals, however go by unnoticed. A similar demand of overarching theorisation, titled the Great Report, was made by Peyman to U. personally. It was the Company’s ultimate assignment for U. that he had the liberty to create and work on whenever he could.

“The document, [Peyman] said; the Book. The First and Last Word on our age. Over and above all the other work you’ll do here at the Company, that’s what I’m really hiring you to come up with. It’s what you anthropologists are for, right?

…you don your khakis, schlep off to some jungle, hang out with the natives, fish and hunt with them…then, after about a year, they lug your bales and cases down to the small jetty that connects their tiny world to the big one…send you back to your study…you write the book.

Not just a book: the fucking Book. You write the Book on them. Sum their tribe up. Speak its secret name.”

(McCarthy 70)

This directive can be seen as problematic in many ways. Peyman, the head of the Company which not only directly influences the dominant ideology, but also dispenses ideologies to other companies, other centres of narrative distribution, is demanding an almost “codex” on the “modern tribe,” the entire populous of the era. This overreaching, overarching text, U.’s representation of the social order and the intrinsic logic that determines that social order, could be used corporately for the purposes of ultimate hegemony. This need for a fantastic “brand-new navigation manual” (McCarthy 71) betrayed the Company’s intent to be colonizers of the entire era, the supreme capitalist-industrialists. For the course of over half the novel we see U. investigate the “symbolic operations lurking on the flipside of the habitual and the banal,” (McCarthy 15) indulging in identifying patterns and connections between oil spills and parachutist deaths, hoping to find some “universal structure lurking beneath nature’s surface” (McCarthy 18). We can understand why a professional ethnographer was chosen for this corporate project, for ethnographers specialise in investigating practices and social behaviours, it is their job to uncover the symbolic, that is the conceptual, purpose of human acts. Any concept to be expressed, according to Ferdinand de Saussure, must be attached to a signifier. “A science that studies the life of signs within society is conceivable,” (Saussure 60) and it is called semiology. Culture, like language, is a semiotic affair, claims anthropologist Clifford Geertz (5). Culture, being a collection of such symbols, can be read as a text, interpreted in its own way, and U. does just that. In investigating various cases of parachutist deaths and oil spills, he looks for intertextuality to explain connections that may govern the occurrence of these events. U. being the medium through which the interpretation of what is signified through any social event is passed onto the Company for entwinement into the dominant ideology, becomes a locus of translation. He maintains dossiers, collections of observations and interpretations, on a variety of events, for professional and personal purposes. The intertextuality within cultural practices or social events becomes quite literal in the case of this ethnographer. U. becomes the translator of culture for the companies, an intermediary between these far-removed dominating groups and the masses.

We can understand the nature of far-removedness of those who dominate by the way that they are titled or signified in the novel. The Company always remains the company, and is never signified as anything more specific. “To the anthropologist, it’s generic episodes and phenomena that stand out as significant, not singular ones…the more generic, therefore, the more pure, the closer to an unvariegated or unscrambled archetype.” (McCarthy 74). The Company was a generic consultancy, pure and archetypal. This loose signification also helped bolster its affective value for the reader, helping it encompass more meaning and signify more concepts than a more accurate signifier. The lesser the difference between The Company and other companies, the more overarching, overbearing its presence was made to seem. The Company was further headed by an equally illusory character, Peyman, who for his employees was “everything and nothing.”

Everything because he connected [them] individually and severally…connected [them]…to [their] own age… He connected the age to itself and, in doing so, called it into being. At the same time he was nothing. Because, in playing this role, he underwent a kind of reverse camouflage.

That’s a Peyman thing. You would find yourself saying this several times a week—that is, seeing tendencies Peyman has named or invented, Peymanic paradigms and inclinations, movements, everywhere, till he appeared in everything; which is the same as disappearing.”

(McCarthy 52)

Peyman’s signification as a god-like figure who was “above” and reclusive reinforced the Company’s signification as an overbearing presence in society. It was told that Peyman “took up spectral residence within some sacred recess full of ministers and moguls over whom he held sway” (McCarthy 53). This description solidified the hegemony that was held by him and exercised through the apparatus of the Company. However, as much as Peyman connected everything to everything, it was still U. who mediated much of society to Peyman, becoming one of his most valuable right-hand men. The writer of Peyman’s fantastic Great Report, the translator of cultural texts, and one of Peyman’s personal interpreters of culture.

Towards the end of the novel, in a chapter revealing the story of another character Madison, the woman U. is dating, we are given testimony to the unassailable nature of a hegemony. In a narration of Madison’s activism days, she tells U. about an incident where protesters against capitalism at the G8 summit in Genoa were gathered, beaten and held by the police. Her narration followed into an account of her abduction by a strange old man in a mansion who made her enact various classical poses. At the end of this encounter she was released from the mansion without many of her belongings except her wallet. When U. asked her how she reached home, she narrated

I saw a little airport icon by the [train] stop just before Turin…so that’s where I got off and bought a ticket back to London—again, with my credit card. I remember thinking that it was ironic.

That it was my credit card that saved me after I’d been protesting against capitalism.

(McCarthy 198)

This account helped place the incontestability of a hegemony once put in place. The dominant ideology was the one in the book that took the ultimate position, the final word. There was no final cultural subversion, U., in the last pages of the book when given the opportunity to investigate his much fantasized Satin or Staten Island took up no such opportunity, and the existing fate of society was accepted by all the characters.

This essay, in conclusion, tried to trace the story of U.’s struggle with the nature of his company’s work, and understand his company’s role as that of a hegemony in society, with U. being one of its principle propagators of ideology. The essay made it important to understand the works of Gramsci, Althusser, Spivak, and Saussure to forward the argument made, with select references to Anthropologist Clifford Geertz.

#english literature #literature #anthropology #critical theory #literary theory #hegemony #gramsci #spivak #althusser #geertz

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lessawildmoon · 6 years

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Together - Prologue & Chapter 1

Title: Together

Summary: Emma and Graham escaped Neverland to Emma’s world together as teenagers and despite being separated, they later managed to find each other and build a life together. So what happens when her biggest secret from their time apart knocks on their door?

Pairings: Gremma and Snowing

Rating: T

Notes: This is a S1 AU that was plotted and planned during 3a. I may incorporate some later canon, but I also may ignore later canon that does not fit. Also, as I usually only post complete fic, here’s your warning that this is WIP.

Beta thanks to @arianakristine

AO3

Prologue

Neverland

“You are powerful. Maybe even more powerful than Pan.”

“Run”

The boy followed the girl’s demand and they tore a path through the jungle. It was not long before they heard the sounds of a chase behind them. Desperate to outrun their pursuers, they ran even faster. As she looked back to see how close they were her foot caught and suddenly she was falling, her momentum pushing her towards a patch of dreamshade.

“Emma!” He dashed forward impossibly faster to catch her, his arm coming round her waist and pulling her back. Their relief at her close call was quickly interrupted by the arrow flying past her head, close enough to make her wince as a couple of hairs were caught and pulled out. They started running again.

“Take this. I used it to open the portal I used to get here.”

“Where are we going? We cannot run forever.” They boy asked as they waded through a shallow stream, the water feeling like ice as it soaked into their clothes, Pan’s anger turning the island against them.

“Dead Man’s Peak. I have a way to get us out of here.” She smiled brilliantly at him despite the cold.

“But Tink, how will you get home?”

They did not stop as they reached the base of the cliffs, starting to climb immediately. Ignoring the way the rocks tore at their hands they threw themselves up the sheer face as fast as they could.

“The spring at the top is the source of Neverland’s magic. If we can get there I should be able to open a portal back to my world.”

“Nevermind that. You need to leave before he kills one, or both, of you. You’ll need the pixie dust to make it work.”

“Graham!” Hanging on to the cliff with one hand she swung herself over towards him to pull him out of the way of another arrow fired at them. He scrambled to regain his footing before they resumed their treacherous climb.

They pulled themselves over the ledge when they got to the top, and took a moment in relative safety to catch their breaths.

“Here love, it’s the last of what we stole, so make it count.”

On the move again, they raced to the entrance to the spring. Emma made quick work of the dreamshade barring them entrance and they dashed inside before the magical plant could block them again.

What little light there was sparkled over the spring as it flowed down over jagged rocks into a small pool. The boy looked at her, “What now?”

“Sprinkle the dust on the charm, hold it under the spring and believe; and you will get home.”

She was holding the dust infused pendant under the spring but nothing was happening and she looked back to her companion in fear. He reached for her hand and lacing their fingers together brought her hand up to lay a gentle kiss on it.

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

The whole cave shook as a swirling green portal opened in front of them and they looked at each other and smiled. Hands still laced together, they jumped.

“Now get a move on and go rescue your lad.”

Chapter 1

Boston – 15 Years Later

Graham had been waiting for his wife to get home and was already halfway to their front door when Emma virtually stumbled through. She stopped and sighed in relief when she stepped out of her shoes. Their home was not large, in fact Emma had called it a ‘glorified cabin’ when he had first brought her to see it. The main room combined both living space and kitchen and there were only two other doors, one that led to their bed chamber and bathroom, and the other to the small room they used as an office. But she had agreed to buy it anyway and had soon fallen in love with it as much as he had. He took the last couple of steps needed to be in front of her so he could welcome her home.

“You know, I still don’t get why you wear those.” One of the many things he did not understand about this world was the weird footwear that the women chose to wear. She still was not completely stable on her feet so he moved to steady her and then pulled her in for a gentle, but lingering, kiss. When he pulled away he smiled and continued, “It’s not like you need them.”

“You’re my husband; you’re contractually obliged to find me attractive regardless of what I wear.”

“Lucky that’s not hard, then.” He could tell she wanted to tease him for being corny, even though he knew that she actually didn't mind it as much she claimed she did. He had moved his hand round to her back when he felt her tense and he knew she had caught sight of the cake on the counter.

“Graham.” She tried to give him a disapproving look and pulled away to put her hands on her hips. But he had won this argument every year for the past 5 years so he ignored her reaction as he led her over to their kitchen. He had picked up her favourite chocolate cake, not above appealing to her sweet tooth to get his way.

“I know you are not much one for birthdays but I happen to think the anniversary of your birth warrants a little celebration, so humour me.” He pulled a blue candle shaped like a star out of the packet he had bought and put it on the cake before striking a match to light it and pushing the cake towards her. “Now make a wish.”

Emma closed her eyes, and for a moment he swore he could see what he could only describe as heartbreak on her face but it disappeared so fast he figured he must have been mistaken. She blew out the candle and opened her eyes.

“Satisfied?” She drawled suggestively as she trailed a finger through the thick icing and fixing him with a long sultry look, licked it clean, humming in appreciation. He swallowed a groan as he realised that just because he had won this battle it did not mean she was done fighting.

“For the moment.” He curved his hands around her hips to pull her in for a kiss when there was a knock on the door. He looked at Emma, puzzled, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” Living as far out of the way as they did, they did not really get many random visitors. She brushed her lips against his in a tease of a kiss before heading for the door. “Hold that thought.”

He watched as she put a bit of extra sway into her hips as she walked towards the door. He smiled, still not sure how he had gotten quite so lucky as to have this amazing woman agree to be his mate.

He was surprised to hear it was a child at the door and even more so when he heard him claim to be Emma’s son and was about to join her when the boy pushed his way into their home.

“Whoa Hey, kid! Kid! Kid! I don’t have a son! Where are your parents?” Emma followed him trying to get his attention and he turned back to face her once he reached the middle of their living space.

“Ten years ago. Did you give up a baby for adoption?” The lad was looking earnestly up at her, so focused on Emma that Graham doubted he had even noticed him standing there.

Graham waited for Emma to deny it, but when she looked at him and he saw the blood drain from her face and the shock melt into guilt, he felt something inside him break as he realised she had lied to him, been lying to him, for years. Her gaze was darting between him and the lad but he could not take his eyes off her. He stood deathly still unable to move, barely able to breath, as the knowledge of her betrayal spread through him. Suddenly unable to stay in that room a moment longer he quickly turned and strode into their bedroom, needing to get away from her before he either did something he would regret or broke down.

Being in the room they shared wasn’t any less painful, his eyes darting from the pile of clothes she had left on the bed and he had carefully folded earlier, to her favourite red leather jacket before finally landing on the wedding photo beside their bed. They had been so happy. After so long they had both all but given up hope of being reunited, and to stumble across each other completely by chance had seemed like a miracle, or fate. She had shared his bed that same night and they had wed within a month. He felt the shock and betrayal slowly give way to anger and he felt his fists clench and knew he should try to calm down but at least the anger was better than the pain and he wished he had headed out of the house, he always felt better out in the woods.

A moment later Emma entered and closed the door before leaning against it and gasping in several deep breaths in quick succession. Part of him, seeing her panicking, just wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but that was squashed by the part of him that wanted to hurt her the way she had hurt him. She had been able to tell him all about how she had been betrayed and abandoned by her former lover. She had told him about being imprisoned for his crimes. But somehow mentioning the fact she was pregnant at the time had not been important enough for her to tell him.

“Something you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Emma’s eyes shot up to his and she stepped forward and looked at him pleadingly.

“Graham, I know you’re pissed at me and you have every right to be pissed. But is there any chance we could postpone this fight until we have dealt with the 10 year old in our living room?”

It was the desperation in her voice that swayed him. And she was right, dealing with the boy, who was shouting something about juice from the main room, was more important for the moment. So he took all the hurt and fury and shoved it down behind the impenetrable mask he had not needed with her since Neverland and asked, “What did he say his name was?”

Emma sighed in relief at his tacit agreement. “Henry, apparently.”

“Well, let’s go deal with Henry.” He opened the door for her and he saw her take a deep breath and brace herself before walking through.

“You know, we should probably get going.” Henry said as soon as Emma walked back in. He seemed to have had no problem making himself at home in their kitchen and shared Emma’s habit of drinking straight out of the container.

“Going where?” Graham asked.

It appeared the boy hadn’t noticed him earlier because his question seemed to take him by surprise and he asked, “Who are you?”

“He’s my husband, Graham.”

“You’re married?”

“Yeah, kid.”

“Is…” Henry’s eyes had shot to Graham and it was the first time since entering their home he had given more than a cursory glance to anything other than Emma.

“No, that was before we were together.” Emma was quick to cut him off and he could hear the small thread of regret in her voice that she was trying to hide. He was struck suddenly by the thought of what could have been, if things had been different, if they had not been separated. This could have been their child.

“Oh. I suppose he can come too.” Henry said after a moment and he wasn’t sure whether or not the disappointment he heard was just wishful thinking or not.

“Come where?” Emma asked and he could sense the frustration in her and shared it himself. He was trying not to be angry at the boy who had stormed into their lives and disrupted their evening, but it was not easy.

“I want you to come home with me.”

Did he really think it was that simple, that Emma would just leave with him? But then Graham supposed the lad really was not lacking in confidence, he had come all the way put here to knock on their door. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising he thought Emma would just follow him.

“Okay, kid. I’m calling the cops.”

“Then I’ll tell them you kidnapped me.”

That worried him, Emma had a record and it would be all too easy for the police to believe Henry. Particularly, as Henry was pointing out, given she was his birth mother.

“You’re not going to do that.” Emma said after giving him a long look and Graham was glad she was so confident, because we was not.

“Try me.”

“You’re pretty good. But here’s the thing – there’s not a lot I’m great at in life. I have one skill. Let’s call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying and you, kid, are.”

Usually he would have said something about her habit of putting herself down as it always pissed him off, but his annoyance was swallowed by the knot of darker emotions he was trying to keep under control.

“Wait… Please don’t call the cops. Please, come home with me.” Henry seemed desperate for her to agree and was looking up at her with a wide eyed innocent look that he recognised and for the first time he could really see Emma in the lad.

He could tell that Emma was weakening and resigned himself to spending the night getting the boy home.

“Where’s home?” Emma asked.

“Storybrooke, Maine.”

“Storybrooke? Seriously?”

Henry nodded. When Emma looked over at him, Graham just inclined his head, letting her know it was her call.

“Alrighty, then. Let’s get you back to Storybrooke.” Emma headed back towards the bedroom. “Just let me get changed first.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with her son.

“So, how long have you been married to my Mom?”

“Six years.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He was not good and idle conversation at the best of times, and this certainly didn't qualify.

“Cool.” He looked around curiously. “Do you two have any kids yet?”

“No.” Every time he had brought up the possibility of a child she had brushed it off or changed the subject. He had always thought it was because she doubted their ability as parents, never having had their own. But he was starting to suspect this boy might be the real reason Emma had been so reluctant to think about starting a family with him and he wasn’t sure how to handle that.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it wasn’t the lad’s-- no Henry, he must start thinking of him as Henry-- it wasn’t Henry’s fault. No, the fault lay firmly with his mate.

They sat in silence until Emma returned dressed in her normal clothes and red leather jacket carrying a couple of bags. When he gave her a quizzical look, she said, “It’s a long drive, I packed us overnight bags just in case.”

He grabbed his own leather jacket and ushered mother and son out to his 4x4. Emma didn't even try to argue about who was going to drive, just got in the passenger side without a word. He wasn’t sure if that made him more or less angry, so he just started the car and got them on their way.

*~*~*

Emma sat looking fixedly out of the card window, her body tense, determinedly not looking at either her husband or the kid in the back seat. They had barely been on the road half an hour when the kid said he was hungry and asked if they could stop. Emma rolled her eyes, “This is not a road trip. We’re not stopping for snacks.”

“Why not?”

“Quit complaining, kid. Remember – we could have put your butt on a bus. We still could.”

“You know, I have a name? It’s Henry.”

Yeah, she knew, but as long as she called him kid she could pretend that this was all some big misunderstanding and she would be able to get back to her life once they dropped him off. Or nightmare, she would take a nightmare.

She noticed he was reading an odd looking book. It seemed to be nearly as big as he was, bound in brown leather with wear showing on the spine and edges, even if the pages seemed in good condition, and it had ‘Once Upon a Time’ in gold leaf on the cover inside some kind of decorative border. “What’s that?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready,” he said like it was some big secret. God, that kid was irritating.

“I’m not ready for some fairy tales?” She raised and eyebrow at him, giving him her best ‘you have got to be kidding’ look. If the kid only knew...she wondered if Pan was in that book and if so, how badly mangled this version was.

“They’re not fairy tales. They’re true. Every story in this book actually happened.”

At that, she and Graham exchanged a look. They knew that at least some fairy tales were real, but there’s no way the kid could know that, right?

“Of course they did.”

“Use your superpower. See if I’m lying.” He wasn’t but just because he believed it, didn’t make it true-- at least in this realm-- and she told him so.

“That’s exactly what makes it true. You should know more than anyone.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re in this book.”

OK, now she knew the kid was nuts. ‘Cause she wasn’t from some fairy tale. She was from this world, that was about the only thing about her origins she did know. Graham on the other hand…

“Oh, kid. You’ve got problems.”

“Yep. And you’re going to fix them.”

*~*~*

Graham pulled them to stop in the middle of Storybrooke. The drive had been tense. Henry had been enough of a buffer to stop them from out and out fighting, but the tension between them did not make for a pleasant trip.

“Okay, kid. How about an address?” Emma asked.

“Forty-four Not Telling You street.”

If the lad wanted to win Emma over, he was going at it completely the wrong way. At this rate she was more likely to strangle him.

She stormed out of the car and Henry followed. While they talked, he stayed in the car but looked around. He could see a sign for ‘Granny’s Bed and Breakfast’ and made a note of where it was. It was getting late and it had been a long drive. He really didn't want to have to try and drive all the way back home tonight, this time without a buffer. And staying at an inn that probably had thin walls was as good an excuse as any to put off the fight a little longer. He wanted more time to deal with this before they had it out.

Emma and Henry climbed back in the car and she pointed up the road. “We’re looking for Miflin Street, the biggest house. Apparently he’s the mayor’s kid.”

Wonderful, if the situation wasn’t complicated enough as it was

*~*~*

Emma looked up at the house and compared it to the one room glorified closet she had called home after her release. This was what she had wanted for him, something better than she could have offered.

Graham was waiting in the car. She couldn’t believe how great he was being so far. But the fight was coming and she just hoped they survived, ‘cause this just proved how lucky she was.

“Please don’t take me back there,” Henry begged, returning her attention to him.

“I have to. I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.”

“I don’t have parents. Just a mom and she’s evil.”

“Evil? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” She’d paid close attention to him the entire trip. He didn’t show any signs of injury and he hadn’t flinched or cowered when she’d snapped at him. She was pretty sure he wasn’t being abused.

“She is. She doesn’t love me. She only pretends to.” But of course abuse was not the only bad thing that could happen to a kid. She knew only too well the pain of growing up knowing that the people looking after you didn’t really care about you.

“Kid…I’m sure that’s not true.” She had to believe that. ‘Cause if it wasn’t, she would never forgive herself.

Emma looked around as the doors were thrown open and a well-dressed dark haired woman rushed out. Behind her was a dark skinned man in a sheriff’s uniform.

“Henry! Henry… Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?”

“I found my real mom.”

Emma winced in sympathy at that one herself as the kid rushed into the house.

“Y-you’re Henry’s birth mother?” Her voice was slightly shaky and Emma could see the way she had paled at finding out who she was.

“Hi…” She wasn’t really sure what the correct thing to do in this situation was. She felt bad for intruding on the woman’s life like this but part of her still wanted find out more about the woman who had adopted her- the kid.

“I’ll just go check on the boy. Make sure he’s alright.” The man she assumed must be the sheriff said, following after him.

The mayor seemed to pull herself together from her shock in a way Emma couldn’t help but envy, and asked, “How would like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?”

“Got anything stronger?” ‘Cause once we’ve finished what I’m sure is going to be a really awkward conversation, I’m going to have to go explain to my husband why I have been lying to him for the last 6 years. The only reason she was still here instead of making her excuses and leaving was that a stilted conversation with the woman who adopted the kid she gave up was preferable to a fight with Graham.

The mayor, who had introduced herself as Regina Mills as she led Emma into the house, poured them both a drink.

“How did he find me?” Emma asked.

“No idea,” Regina replied. “When I adopted him, he was only three weeks old. Records were sealed. I was told the birth mother didn’t want to have any contact.”

“You were told right.” Yeah, ‘cause this was really not a situation she had ever wanted to find herself in. She’d just wanted to put that chapter of her life behind her and try to forget.

When Regina predictably asked about the father all she said was that there was one, Neal was not a subject she wanted to get into with this woman.

“Do I need to be worried about him?”

“Nope. He doesn’t even know.” And never will if she had anything to say about it. Particularly as, assuming he didn’t give up on her after this, she didn't think Graham was going to be any less inclined to kill the man after he heard the rest of the story.

“Do I need to be worried about you, Miss Hunter?” She considered correcting the mayor about her marital status but decided that was more detail than she really wanted to get into.

“Absolutely not.” No, she was going to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible and hope she could somehow salvage her marriage.

The sheriff came back down the stairs. “Madam Mayor, don’t worry. Other than being a little tired, Henry’s fine.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Regina turned to Emma. “Miss Hunter, this is Storybrooke’s Sheriff, Sydney Glass.”

“Nice to meet you.” Glass said.

“You, too.” She hoped the sentiment didn’t actually sound as fake as it felt like it did.

The sheriff left and Regina ushered her into another room and offered her a seat which she took gratefully. It had been a long day even before the kid showed up on her doorstep.

“I’m sorry he dragged you out of your life. I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Kid’s having a rough time. It happens.” She’d run away enough times, if never from a place like this.

“You have to understand. Ever since I became mayor, balancing things has been tricky. You have a job, I assume?”

“Uh, I keep busy, yeah.”

“Imagine having another one on top of it. That’s being a single mom. So I push for order. Am I strict? I suppose. But I do it for his own good. I want Henry to excel in life. I don’t think that makes me evil, do you?”

“No.” A little high strung maybe, but this life seemed to be pretty much what she had hoped for. She was really trying to tamp down the part of her that was ringing alarm bells. Regina seemed every bit the concerned parent, but something made her not mention Henry’s curse theory anyway. “You know what, it’s a long way home and I think I have taken up too much of your time as it is.”

She stood up and downed the rest of her drink. “I’m sure you want to check up on him anyway, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

She all but dashed out of the house but paused when she got halfway down the path. She looked back. She saw the kid in the window looking down at her before he turned around and disappeared from her sight. She took a deep breath, reminded herself that this was what she wanted, and turned to walk back to the car.

She climbed back into the passenger seat and closed the door, did up her seatbelt and basically did everything she could to put off looking at her husband. But she couldn’t put it off forever and when she did look up she was surprised to see concern in his eyes. He was obviously still mad at her, but seeing that did give her hope. She also noticed he had been flicking through the kid’s book.

“So he thinks the entire town are fairy tale characters who his mother cursed to forget who they are.” That seemed the safer topic for the moment.

“I think he left the book on purpose for you.”

“We should probably return it,” she said reluctantly looking back towards the mayor’s front door. She knew they wouldn’t now, the last thing she wanted to do was head back into that house, she’d ship it back to him if necessary.

“No, I want to read it a bit more first.” Her gaze snapped back to him, that was his ‘I think I’ve found something’ voice.

“You aren’t seriously thinking he might be right are you?”

“I don't know. But I have read enough to see these stories are probably closer to the truth than any we’ve seen in this world. And Regina was the name of the evil queen Tinkerbell was banished for trying to help.”

“Really?” She’d never heard the full story, but he’d spent much more time with her than she had. It would be a bit of a weird coincidence. And to be honest, she really could see Regina as a fairy tale villain, there was just something about her.

“Snow White’s stepmother.” He handed her the book and started the car. “I saw a B&B earlier; hopefully we can get a room.”

“Do we really want to stay the night?” She so wanted to put this town behind her.

“Do you really want to drive all the way back home tonight?” She could hear the edge in his voice and knew he wasn’t just talking about the drive.

“No, you’re right.” Yeah, let’s try not making things any worse for once.

They got to the inn. It seemed this town had remarkably little tourism, as the innkeeper had to literally blow dust off the books and she gave them a free upgrade. The surprise at having guests even seemed to distract her from the fact that Graham was staring at her. Emma gave him a nudge once they were checked in and they headed up to their room. At least he hadn’t been staring at the girl dressed like a stripper.

“So what’s with the staring at the poor woman down there?” she asked as soon as the door shut behind them. “Don’t worry, I don’t think she noticed.”

“I think I know her. I pretty sure that was the Widow Lucas, which would make the girl her granddaughter, Red. I traded with them a few times while I was near their farm. Granny would always make me come in and eat a hot meal if she saw me.” Emma didn't know what to say. “Emma, I really think Henry might be right. That this town is the people from my world cursed here.”

“Graham.” She paused, not sure what she was thinking. It sounded crazy, but then so would believing in Neverland and she knew that was real. And Graham was the one person she knew she could trust. If he thought it was real, then…

She sat down on the bed and started flicking through the book. She came to stop on a page right at the end with a picture of a fair haired man putting a baby into some kind of cupboard. But that wasn’t what had caught her eye and made her freeze. Graham sat down beside her and looked over her shoulder at the book and saw what she did. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, but not just any blanket, a baby blanket them were both very familiar with.

#Gremma #gremma appreciation #ouat ff #Emma Swan #Sheriff Graham #Once Upon a Time #my fic #fic:Together

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jaceythejester · 6 years

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Kamilah x MC x Priya Fan Fiction: Bloodbound The Way of The World

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Pairing: Kamilah x MC x Priya. Poly.

Cast: The whole cast (as of Book 1 chapter 11) are featured.

Synopsis: Diana falls in love with Kamilah and Priya while trying to save the Clanless who are left to die by the other vampires.

Author’s note: Please separate the artist from the work. You wouldn’t ask an actor who plays a serial killer if he kills people in real life. Like people, each character has different facets to them. In this story, no one is entirely from the light side and no one is entirely from the dark side. That’s all I can say without spoilers.

About author: f / http://youtube.com/JaceytheJester Check out Becca x MC: Two Sides of The Same Coin (ongoing) on http://wattpad.com/JaceytheJester

Rating: 15+

Prologue word count: 2,663

Chapter I: TBD

Chapter I word count: A bit over 10k. I might not reply any asks until chapter I is posted.

BLOODBOUND: THE WAY OF THE WORLD PROLOGUE

If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere, Diana remembered. That’s what they say about New York. Lily had told Diana that the people she met in New York would help her realize her dreams. Diana didn’t know how but she wanted to believe so.

The life in this concrete jungle, where tall buildings rise so high they seem to pierce the sky, may not be for everyone. Here, people talk fast, walk fast and do everything fast. Nobody has time. Everyone who isn’t rich or won’t have a large inheritance from their family anytime soon, has to work to live or live to work to keep themselves in New York City; the capital of the world and the centre of business and finance. Only the best of the best are here. You either go hard or you go somewhere else.

It was already four in the morning. Diana just finished brushing her long blond hair when she realised she couldn’t sleep in the luxurious and secure suite inside Raines Corp Tower. She set her large green eyes on the writing desk at the opposite site of the bed and thought she should write something down in her deep red leather bound journal which she just bought last week to make sure she wouldn’t forget anything or any details about the serious situations in her new life.

Being the classic case from a small town, Diana decided to leave for New York after her college graduation. People didn’t see her off. They just said things that were anything but supportive. Do you really think you can make it? How are you gonna do that? What if you fail? Diana remembered those words well. It made it easier for her to pack her things and catch a flight to New York. Some people from this young city craft their own way and become a part of history in this world. Diana wanted to make people see that there was something special about her. Most importantly, she wanted to be free from family values that branded certain things forbidden for women but not for men.

In this sleepless city, bright neon lights and the big, high definition digital screens make night more beautiful than day. Diana found that she really preferred dusk to dawn which was a good thing. Night had become Diana’s regular time of work merely a week ago after she became a personal assistant of a vampire CEO, Adrian Raines, the owner of Raines Corp; one of the leading companies in technology industry in the world.

One of the very important things anyone should know about vampire race was that not all of them were gorgeous and glamorous like they were made when featured in vampire films and fictions. In reality, there were all kinds of them. Some were utterly ugly and murderous. Some were incredibly kind and universally beautiful. Diana had met the former and she was very lucky to still be alive. She made a bunch of blood thirsty vampires her enemies after all.

Fortunately, the vampires around her were people she could trust. Adrian might look like a man in his mid twenties but in fact, he was around three hundred years old and he wanted to be the force of greater good in the world.

Kamilah Sayeed, the perfect beauty and the Egyptian vampire queen was the CEO of Ahmanet Financials, one of the most successful companies in financial industry on earth. Kamilah was royal by birth and reserved by choice. Even though she was two thousand and sixty three years old, her appearance was that of a woman in her late twenties. She would never grow old or deform. Her beauty was eternal like the universe itself.

After Lily Spencer, Diana’s roommate and best friend was attacked and was on the verge of dying, Diana begged Adrian to save her. The only way was to turn Lily into a vampire. Adrian did and Kamilah was furious at both Diana and Adrian. The action could jeopardise him and his whole clan. But what else was I supposed to do? Watching my best friend die? Diana thought. Kamilah threatened to kill Diana as a result but Diana wasn’t really afraid. She thought it was just something close to what a protective sibling sometimes say to their sister’s boyfriend; If you break her heart, I’ll break your neck.

Not only Kamilah was there the whole time during Lily’s turning process, she offered to teach and train Lily herself. Kamilah told Diana about Lysimachus, her twin brother who sacrificed himself for a good cause when the Egyptians were attacked by the Romans in 35 BC. That was five years before Cleopatra who was Kamilah’s cousin, passed away. Diana was convinced that Adrian reminded Kamilah a lot about her brother. Adrian and Lysimachus had a lot in common. It was plain to see why Kamilah was fiercely protective towards Adrian. The fact that Kamilah remembered precisely that they met two hundred and thirty four years ago said it all.

During her years as a human, Kamilah served as a nomarch. A governor of some sort and a title very rarely earned by a woman. Diana didn’t expect any less from a cousin of Cleopatra specifically when the last Queen of Egypt was known to be strong and fiery too.

A lot of things about Kamilah remained to be discovered. All Diana knew was that there was no one else Adrian trusted more than Kamilah.

Diana glanced at Lily who was lying on her stomach on their bed and was probably asleep. Lily was one day old in her vampire age and so it was her time to get some rest. When Diana was certain that her friend would not bother her, she got her journal out of a drawer and set it on the desk. She casually flipped through the pages without so much as glancing at what she had written. There were things she had already remembered by heart.

According to Adrian, there were one hundred and eighty vampires in New York City and six of them were the most powerful ones who had seats on The Council of New York vampires. These were also the leaders of other twenty nine members of their own clans. Each clan ruled in six different sectors. Kamilah in finance and Adrian in technology.

The Baron was a short, chubby man in his late sixties. He was a criminal before and after he became a vampire. A nightmare that no one ever wanted to come true. He was a gangster in 1920s, he still dressed like one and he was a gang leader today too and he probably would be until the end of time. Diana believed that if having been turned into a vampire couldn’t change a man then nothing else would. He reigned ruthlessly in organised crime.

Lester Castellanos who was neither tall nor nice must have been in his late fifties when he was turned. Lester had thick, untrimmed facial beard and thick greyish hair and a lot of worry lines on his face which definitely didn’t have any bad affects on him in commerce. After he caressed Diana’s arm in front of Adrian and Kamilah simply because he wanted to, Diana quickly went to the bathroom and washed her hands and arms twice. Then she remembered that she slapped his face and she washed her hands again for the third time. This was a kind of man who would make everyone of every sexuality run. Out of disgust, not fears.

Adam Vega was a tall, broad shouldered Spanish man with the kind of magnificent jawlines that handsome Hollywood actors have. He looked like a man in his forties. His thick dark hair and his thick eyebrows only added up to his charisma. But Diana learnt that at the end of the day, Vega was still a politician who only cared about himself and his own gain. Like the colonial Spanish nobleman that he used to be. Adrian had to pay a generous amount of money to him in exchange for his vote so Lily could be a new member of Clan Raines.

Despite the fact that Lily was no longer a human being, she still had feelings and she had every right to live as much as anybody else on earth. Yet Vega didn’t care. Lily is now one of his own kind but she is not one of his own clan. Like human society, the discrimination among vampire race existed. Diana couldn’t help but think about Jax and his people. Clanless and rejected. Excluded and soon to be executed. It was Vega’s idea to wipe them out once and for all. She wished she could do something for them. If only she could change Vega’s mind. But he was a kind of man who would not do anything for anyone unless he would receive an irresistible offer in return.

That is politics, she remembered what Adrian had said to her. Now Diana wondered why anyone should trust and give power to politicians to run their cities and countries when all they cared about was themselves and their benefits. It took Diana a few minutes to shake the thought of Vega out of her head.

And at last but not least, Priya Lacroix, a famous fashion designer who was gorgeous enough to be a model herself. Despite being the youngest clan leader among them, Priya was confident and comfortable leading Clan Lacroix and having a seat on The Council. On top of that, for the past years Priya thrived in fashion industry. It is one the most fast-paced careers of all time. Anyone who has money can own their own studio in New York but only those who are truly talented get to keep theirs. Priya was one of them. Not to mention, her studio was one of the most popular scenes in the city. Diana had met Priya only once and she found her to be extraordinarily exquisite. Her pair of playful brown eyes and and her full, sensual lips just suited her personality so well. One could never tell that Priya was slightly over one hundred and fifty years old when she looked and acted so naturally like a woman in her mid twenties.

Then there were the Clanless whom Diana decided to never write anything about in her journal for her and their safety. In case Diana and Adrian failed to get a vote from Priya to keep Lily alive, at least Lily would still have Jax Matsuo and the Clanless to rely on. Diana was convinced that they would never turn her away.

Another thing that Diana had never mentioned to anyone, not even to Lily, her best friend was her newfound clairvoyant abilities that enabled her to see visions. Fragments of Kamilah’s and Adrian’s past. There was always another man with them. He was called Gaius Augustine. Yet neither Kamilah nor Adrian had ever said his name. As far as she understood, Gaius was ancient and dangerous. She knew this because Kamilah and Adrian were different people when they were with him in the distant past.

Diana wondered what it meant to have the power that she had but she didn’t mind it at all. It made her feel empowered as though she was some sort of ‘the chosen one’ like those cool characters in fictions and films. She simply hoped that she wouldn’t need saving like a damsel in distress among the vampire race.

Diana craned her neck to Lily’s direction to make sure that she was still asleep before she started to write on her journal with her casual cursive handwritings that were feminine and rather tidy.

I am in New York. Is this the right place for me? Even when I’m right here right now, I still have doubts in my mind. Is this really where I belong?

I feel bad for Adrian. I feel bad for putting him in this awkward situation but there was no other choice to save Lily. I’m thankful for his selfless action. I think he likes me and I have nothing but friendship to offer. He’s a great guy but I just keep thinking about Priya and how perfect she was when I first met her in person. I’d like to meet her again though I’m not sure what I expect.

I want to know how she thinks about me or if she thinks about me at all after our first meeting. I want to know what she’s doing right now. When Adrian told me that we’d need Priya’s vote to save Lily, I was glad that it was her. I definitely don’t want to owe Lester or ask him for anything. Baron is cold blooded. He probably smiles when he kills someone. I think Priya will help us. Even though I don’t know her that much, I have a feeling she’ll understand.

When she was done, she put her journal back in a drawer, charged her phone and left it on the desk. Then she silently slipped into bed beside Lily and was ready for sleep to take her. She didn’t see a text message from Adrian which said that something urgent came up and so Diana would have to accompany someone else to meet Priya instead. Someone he trusted with his life.

#Kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #priya lacroix #priya x mc #bloodbound #playchoices #choices fan fiction #fan fiction #bloodbound fan fiction #jacey the jester

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e350tb · 6 years

Text

Steven Universe: Marooned Together - Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

“Maybe they’re not gone.”

Lapis pursed her lips, glancing quizzically at Stevonnie.

They were sitting on the edge of the barn, watching the sunset over the sea. It had now been three and a half years since Stevonnie had arrived - the nightmares that had once been near nightly occurrences had long subsided, and a strange sense of normalcy had settled in on their little island. What, then, prompted this sudden statement, Lapis wondered?

Thinking a little more about it, she decided she shouldn’t be that surprised. Stevonnie had told them that the gems had been taken, not shattered outright. She supposed it wasn’t entirely implausible for one of them to have escaped. But these were the Diamonds they were talking about - escape from them would have been incredibly unlikely. And if they were still alive in their clutches - well, some things were far, far worse than shattering.

“Stevonnie,” she said, as evenly as she possibly could, “I don’t…”

“It’s possible, right?” they shrugged, “They could be looking for us right now!”

Lapis furrowed her brow.

“...how long have you been thinking this?” she asked.

Stevonnie shrugged.

“A while,” they replied, “Couple of years, actually. I mean, I know… I know my parents are gone, but… but maybe there’s still a chance…”

They smiled nervously at Lapis.

“That’s possible, right?”

No, thought Lapis.

“Yeah,” shrugged Lapis.

Stevonnie grinned.

“See!” they said, “Maybe all we have to do is wait.”

They got up, heading off to their bed.

Lapis sighed. She felt like she should have been honest, but she didn’t want to hurt them. No, better to not rock the boat. Maybe they’d see the truth, given time.

“Gonna be waiting a long time, then,” she muttered.

With the island now fully explored, Stevonnie and Lapis had begun to search the rest of the planet.

Every so often, Stevonnie would climb onto Lapis’ back and they’d fly off over the sea, soaring over the horizon to find the nearest landmark. As it turned out, there weren’t that many - there wasn’t much land. The world they now lived on was a massive ball of water, dotted with a few small islands here and there. Those islands largely resembled their own, but with enough small differences to make them worth checking out.

A few old gem structures still dotted the landscape, and Lapis explained those she knew of to her companion. There were many she didn’t understand, however - late Era-1 or early Era-2 structures that were just as alien to Lapis as they were to Stevonnie.

The one they’d found today was one such building. It resembled a giant bean floating in the ocean - it was featureless and made from a reflective material, and unlike the rest of the gem ruins, this one was pristine.

They landed at the north end on a landing pad next to what looked like the door. Lapis looked around and shivered, a deep, cold feeling chilling her being.

“That sigil,” she said, pointing at the blue diamond just above the door, “This place belonged to Blue Diamond.”

Stevonnie’s eyes widened.

“You mean… personally?” they exclaimed.

Lapis nodded.

“She’s been here,” she said, “She… she could still be here.”

She felt herself begin to shake. She closed her eyes and breathed - in, out, in, out…

Stevonnie scratched their chin.

“But if she came back,” they said, “Wouldn’t her ship be here?”

Lapis thought for a moment and nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, “This planet is pretty much totally abandoned. She wouldn’t want to come back to this place.”

She gulped.

“Probably.”

They walked up to the door. It was tall and shiny - the original symbol of the Great Diamond Authority was emblazoned on it, and there was a very noticeable dent where the bottom, pink diamond was. Lapis walked up to the panel next to it and pressed her hand on it.

“Access denied. Entrance restricted to security clearance DIAMOND.”

“Let me?”

Stevonnie stepped up, pressing their hand onto the panel.

“Access granted. Welcome, Pink Diamond.”

Stevonnie grinned as the door opened.

Inside the building was a giant pool of water. It resembled a swimming pool, but on a grand scale - fit for a diamond, in fact. The material that the building was constructed from was transparent on the inside, and they could see the ocean around them. It stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions.

At the far side of the room - roughly the halfway-point of the bean-shaped structure - was a giant throne. It was just like the one on the moon base, and the one on the Jungle Moon - but this one was a light blue colour. It was also far larger.

Lapis swallowed.

“This must be some kind of meditative chamber,” she whispered, “Blue Diamond had one of these…”

She shook her head.

“Well, I heard she had one on Homeworld,” she shrugged.

“Kind of hard to imagine Blue Diamond swimming,” mused Stevonnie, carefully dipping their hand in the water, “I mean, does she shapeshift into a swimsuit or something?”

“No,” replied Lapis, “The water would be heated, and she'd just sit in it.”

Stevonnie gasped.

“It's a diamond spa!”

“A diamond what?” asked Lapis.

Stevonnie shrugged.

Lapis stepped up to the edge of the water, gazing down at her reflection. This was a sacred place, a place personally chosen by a diamond for their solitude. No other gem, save perhaps her Pearl, would have ever been allowed in here. This was hallowed ground, sacred ground, and she deeply felt the enormity of it’s significance.

“We shouldn't be here,” she said.

“No,” replied Stevonnie, “Probably not.”

There was a long silence.

“Wanna swim in it?” asked Stevonnie.

“Okay.”

It was a great afternoon - just them, cheerfully playing around in a pool intended for their ‘betters’. They'd tried a splash fight, but Lapis’ clear advantage had put pay to that - then Stevonnie had spent an hour trying to turn on the warm water, after which they'd relaxed on the side of the pool, talking about little things that didn't really matter. It felt almost normal.

By the time they were done, night had fallen and Stevonnie was getting tired. They decided to spend the night here and head back to the barn in the morning.

It was still late at night when Lapis awoke. She winced - she wished someone would turn off that strange blue light.

Hang on - what blue light?

She opened her eyes.

A holographic figure sat in the pool, head in her hands. She was impossibly tall and clad in a hooded robe - Lapis’ eyes widened as she realised who it was.

A much smaller hologram walked up to her, bowing demurely.

“My Diamond, there is an urgent communication for you.”

Blue Diamond stood up.

“Patch it through, Pearl,” she ordered.

Her voice was shaky and desolate.

Out of thin air, a diamond-shaped screen formed in front of her. Before long, the cold, impassive gaze of Yellow Diamond was looking out at them. Her arms were crossed and her lips were pursed, but her eyes seemed dark and sunken. Had this most powerful and impassive of gems been crying?

“Blue,” she said curtly, “The blockade is in position over Earth. Evacuation of important gems has started. We're waiting for you to begin the attack.”

Blue Diamond nodded.

“Very well,” she said, “I will depart immediately.”

She sighed.

“Where did we go wrong, Yellow?” she asked, “How did we let such a… terrible thing happen?”

Yellow Diamond furrowed her brow.

“Focus, Blue,” she snapped, “Use your anger. It's the only thing that will get you through this.”

Blue Diamond paused, then nodded curtly.

“I will see you at Earth,” Yellow Diamond declared, “End communication.”

The screen vanished.

Slowly, Blue Diamond emerged from the pool, slowly walking towards the door.

“I want to be rid of it, Pink,” she said soberly, “To smash that turbulent rock into dust. To wipe it all out and be done with it.”

She bowed her head.

“But that's not what you'd want, is it?” she sighed.

She looked mournfully at the sigil on the door, and the small pink diamond at the bottom of it.

“So I suppose,” said Blue Diamond, “I'm just going to have to settle for silencing Rose Quartz and her rebels. And I promise you, Pink, whatever she and that treacherous, defective Pearl fear most? I'll do worse.”

Lapis glanced at the blue Pearl, standing behind her master. Perhaps it was a trick of the light - but was she crying?

She had no time to look closer, for the holograms abruptly vanished.

Lapis turned to the chair, finding Stevonnie standing on it. They were gaming forlornly at where Blue Diamond’s image had been. The room felt strangely empty, now that Blue Diamond’s holographic image had vanished - her presence had created a strange feeling of enormity, and part of Lapis regretted spending the day playing around in the chamber. It felt… inappropriate, almost as if they had desecrated a very sacred place.

“She was here when she found out,” Stevonnie said numbly.

“Stevonnie?”

“I've been watching these old security recordings,” they explained, “Somebody scratched the password into the arm.”

Lapis thought of the blue Pearl again. It couldn't have been her, though - could it?

“I never… I never really knew how hard it hit her,” Stevonnie continued, “I thought I did, but... but she really wanted to hurt mom for it. Even though Pink was mom…”

Lapis pursed her lips. There was a deep undercurrent of pain in Stevonnie’s hollow tone.

“And she has my family, Lapis,” they continued, their voice breaking, “They…”

Their voice trailed off. Lapis struggled to think of a reponse - the air felt thick, and it almost seemed to take on a sour taste. She wanted to help, but what could she say? Stars, she could hardly articulate how she felt about Earth (and by extension, Peridot) being gone, never mind how Stevonnie did. Part of her wondered if it might have been better if somebody else had landed on the island - at least if Peridot had come, she’d have been better able to…

A deep feeling of shame washed over her. Stevonnie was her friend. To think such things felt like a betrayal.

“Stevonnie…”

Mentally, she kicked herself. Her response felt useless, pathetic.

Stevonnie climbed down and sat against the side of the throne.

“They're gone,” they said, “They're all gone. Nobody’s coming.”

They clutched their head, their shoulders heaving as they began to break down.

“I'm all alone.”

Lapis watched as her friend began to cry - loud, painted, choked sobs that echoed in the large room and made her skin crawl. She felt a deep, uncomfortable pit in her being, amplifying her earlier shame. How dare she even consider the possibility of them not being there?

Before she could really think, she was by their side, pulling them into a hug and rubbing their back.

“Come here, just let it out,” she said softly, remembering how they had comforted her on the beach so long ago, “Just let it out…”

She closed her eyes, rocking gently back and forth.

“You're not alone,” she said, “I'm here.”

The rain season had come and gone now - Stevonnie called it winter, which didn't mean much to Lapis. She didn't really get cold or warm - all the seasons were about the same to her. Although she did like rain - the moisture in the air was calming.

Their exploring had slowed down since that day at the pool, about three months ago now. For a while, Stevonnie’s nightmares had come back, and they tended to stay in the barn all day, often in bed. It had hurt Lapis to see them so depressed, and she’d tried what she could to cheer them up - it never seemed to work, but she got the sense that Stevonnie appreciated her efforts. Eventually, they started to go outside again, but always on their own - they never said where they were going.

Then, one morning, Stevonnie asked her to follow them.

They took her to the command post and stopped outside, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” they said, “I'm ready.”

“Ready for what?” quizzed Lapis.

Stevonnie led them inside.

The command post had been cleaned up - all of the junk that had built up inside was now arranged as neatly as possible along the walls. Some of it was arranged into elaborate murals, making abstract images of life back on Earth. By the window were a collection of large rocks, atop each was a small candle - each was different, probably because Stevonnie had scavenged them from wherever they could. Each of the stones had an image drawn in chalk along the side.

An image of one of Stevonnie’s family.

From left to right, Lapis could recognise them - Greg, what she assumed were the Maheswarans, Amethyst, Garnet, Pearl… Peridot. All of them were drawn smiling, afterimages of a better time, long gone - but not forgotten.

“What is it?” asked Lapis.

“It’s... it’s a memorial,” replied Stevonnie, scratching the back of their neck, “I thought it would be a way to...to put them to rest.”

They forced a laugh.

“You know,” they continued, voice cracking, “Because… because they’re gone, and they’re not coming back… and I just wanted...”

Slowly, Lapis stepped forward, gently taking their hand.

“...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

They covered their face with their hand, their body shaking as they began to sob. Lapis squeezed their hand, hoping that it might calm them. The right thing to do was offer comfort, wasn’t it? She hoped she was doing it right.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “It’s okay…”

Stevonnie took a deep breath, rubbing their arm over their eyes.

“Okay,” they said, taking another deep breath, “Thanks.”

They took out a lighter.

“Here we go.”

It was a long, hard and emotional morning, but when they finally left the command post, Lapis felt strangely lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted off of her chest.

A brief, slightly wet smile from Stevonnie convinced her that they felt the same.

#steven universe #marooned together #lapis lazuli #stevonnie #blue diamond #blue pearl #yellow diamond

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celestiallydamned · 4 years

Text

INTRO

Hmm’s & Praises.

Love us - don’t hate us. Contacting me from the other side, that’s what the Guardian Angel said. Using my inner voice. Sentiment I felt completely. And exactly what I’d wanted to say. But they got in there before me. And I grew angrier, still.

They’re like komodo dragons; one whisper inflicted, strategically, and you’re done for. That’s how I sometimes envisage them. The Agents (similar to our detectives). These monstrous beings hovering around their huge, oval-shaped desk with monitors throughout the length of its circumference. Monitoring constantly. Me. You see, I can make them out some of the time. Even though there’s the inevitable time delay and the fact they’re faster in their movements compared to us. Doesn’t matter. At certain times, as we converse - well, they talk, I listen and occasionally get the chance to interject - I can make them out. Which surprises them. But I can’t prove it. They’re likely to agree with me about the fact that I think I see them to purposefully keep me amused. Especially when I tell them MyGuy’s just arrived back from their canteen with goody bags for y’all. Yes, they snack up there.

The Agents don’t reckon I can see them at all. And seem bemused every time I might ask them things like, who’s the new guy leaning into the left end of the oval desk. I haven’t noticed them before. Long legs and great ass. I used to make comments like that to keep them entertained. As they seemed to buy into it every time. But now things have changed. Gone are the days when the Agents would select my best one-liner of that day, collect them and have them ready to show several of the elected Gods another time so they, too, could laugh. At my expense. Behind my back no doubt. But still, laugh.

Are there so few Agents still connected with my case up there they’re now using wannabee actors. This ongoing situation always was farcical. But this morning they’re adlibbing like I’ve never heard. And the problem is, especially as I lack concentration first thing, I start to wander, hardly taking anything that‘s said to me with any seriousness. Not that I’ve missed much. They’re usually quite fastidious about needing to grab my attention. But when they do, it’s often a case of their not having anything of any importance to tell me. We need to talk to you, they’ll say with urgency. Sit down, we need to explain what’s going on. But their explanations this morning were so boring I actually started to envisage the Agents bins, by their desks, bugged. And told them so. Of course they didn’t take it seriously, until later when they belligerently added, ahem, you were right. Besides them and their usual quandaries, the problem for me is simple: as a medium I can both see and hear.

Neither Agents nor Guardian Angels, both departments working from the same Head Quarters, had even thought of checking the bins. Although, for some reason, I suspected Special Branch’s TopCat’s involvement the night before - maybe so he could prove just how lax the Agents really are. TopCat? All names of the Agents, etc., by the way, are made up by me purely as I can neither hear their language nor the proper pronunciation of their names. Excepting for some of the Angels, those of us that have crossed over already. But even with them they don’t use their actual names. For some reason, and no one has explained this, they’re given different names by the angelic beings to be able to exist up there. Really? Or is it a case of not wanting me to know exactly who they are. Let’s face it, I could get in touch with theirs down here.

07:20 Dream: Large bouquet of flowers - was making mine out of branches. Within a wild, OTT garden. Was it a jungle-type place? Very overgrown but tame at the same time.

White kittens, playing in a very beautiful white flowering shrub. Some girl I didn’t know had just bought or acquired them.

Simon, an Angel from the Dream Factory’s already there, just arrived to chat with me about dreams created by them, transmitted to me and played out this morning (notes above). Are dreams supposed to be split into sections? According to Agent Tedi (short for tedium and from the Psychic department within HQ) they’re usually 2 - 3 segments within one section, but sometimes split. Of course, regardless of what I snarl at these animalistic Agents, off their tethers, about not being able to remember dreams if and when, always when, I hear them droning on, on and on in the background first thing on waking throughout my night and early morning as this makes it practically impossible for me to remember the content of any of the dreams received. Like well-groomed actors waiting for their auditions, Simon and Tedi are easy to put up with admittedly. At least it’s possible to deduce from them certain interpretational skills in association with trying to understand the visual content of dreams that appear as suddenly as that one person you never, ever want to bump into again.

Is the content of dreams really based on Birth Charts rather than timelines? Somehow, and I can’t argue the reasons here, this has always been a factor, never mentioned by them until today. Do they think we’re all astrological junkies?

I should really bother to make notes more often as my journalesque foray into recording this absolute debacle - as it unfolds - has virtually stopped. There’s never enough time, what with dealing with live footage from them. All too live, as it‘s not possible for mediums to hear the ‘other side‘ without listening devices and other equipment installed, by download, inside their heads. Ssshh. Just don’t tell mediums nor psychics as it might destroy their inbuilt notions in being able to communicate with the other side as an innate ability accrued presumably at birth and nurtured throughout their apparent especial lives.

Live footage and monotonous tapes of conversations enacted by Angels (who used to be actors here and now work there as Agents) are played out for my benefit, to keep me company throughout the day. And every day. From as soon as tired eyes blink Agents are there, waiting slathering at their desks. Some conversations are hardly discernible at times as the volume to the listening device installed deep within my left ear is kept off to prevent interference - from others. Yes, according to the Agents, even with the volume switched off I can still hear them through my inner voice. I call it miraculous.

‘We’ve walked straight into a trap‘. Barely audible is someone’s admittance off in their distance. My pen hastily jots notes, marks tearing across pages at times erratically. You see, the Agents encourage both. Not only my writing but my moods. To keep me subdued. Occupied. Frustration verging on repetitive anger orchestrated meticulously and easily due to medication applied by them. And those that play at being god.

Talking of which, the medical department there have been hiding cellars; heavy decorative rugs strategically placed over trapdoors - leading to their underworld no doubt. Five male doctors were involved with monitoring me last night. Who were they? The only names I’m fully aware of within their department are Ben, and, to a lesser extent, Neil. Although I doubt if either were included in last night’s nasty littl’ soiree. Which seemed to be going fine for the 5 monitoring docs, until this temporary Guardian Angel (GadFly or GA for short) of mine at the moment squeaked a splash or two of oil on cogs needing lubed. Are they, within the medical department, able to multitask; masturbate and monitor me, with cameras spying on everything I do, at the same time?

This relatively new GA was conferring last night with Agents TopGuy and MyGuy about this supposedly classified case. In other words, me. When pertinent information was shared with them, along with an explanation proffered by Agent BigGuy who specialises in electronics and communication. According to them, the signals of the medical department had been checked and configured to track specifically an outgoing signal emitted through the use of significant 3D software?of me. I call the fucking thing ‘the Beast’. It’s an exact replica of myself - on a scale of 1:10 I would’ve guessed, without blemishes and skin infections I’m crawling with. Let’s call the Beast heavily Photoshopped. In other words, digitally worked over so I look perfect, in every angle. And twenty years younger.

The immense power of the imagination of Angels, those humans that have managed to reach the other side. Or Tearaways as I sometimes refer to them as. Those who have crossed over, bringing all-important recent hardware coding with them. And building Beasts.

Last night, according to notes I bothered to make, the realisation this case of mine means nothing actually bothered me. And I’ve no idea why. I’m exhausted; waking up each night several times: right rib cage causing postural problems when trying to relax in bed - the after-effects of having been brutally attacked through their use of poison. But it’s the dreams. And other means of communication, usually downloaded and opening early morning, I never seem to be able to recount. Yet they’re leaving me with neither hope nor wanting to get this misery figured out. And that’s exactly what’s happening. There’s an apathy gradually erupting. With their system so corrupt, and regardless of how disparate these departments appear to be, they’re essentially and relentlessly one and the same. The only real noticeable differences are their distinct races. And character traits.

Somehow female GA’s got through to me last night, late. Had I slept already? That aside, why were they making comment. It’s usually only those that do I’ll pick up on as their tiresome voices come through to my inner voice. I could even see them standing at a pedestal of some sort. Seriously, like something out of a television show. And their comments, intended to provoke, came through loud and clear. About the fact that it serves him right. Meaning me. I’ve no idea what other thoughts may have been charging through my head at the time.

If only I could sleep. All night. Like regular folks do. But I seem to wake up after every sleep cycle, and those don’t seem to last any longer than 60 - 90 minutes or so. Invariably I’m woken up out of dreams or some sort of communication - from them. And that’s when I hear them. Unintentionally. But they can’t help themselves. These wretched GA’s. Eagerly awaiting for me to wake so they can verbally whack me with totally unnecessary commentary. They’re like vultures, circling. Ready to drop. To rob their victim of all that’s holding them together. Before I doze back off again into never-never-land. Only to wake up.

A lull exists. Only if I scribble haphazardly into my notebook. Or if I read a book, something I haven’t bothered with in years. Or editing old photographs taken occasionally on travels thrown together. This lull’s happening during writerly scrawls and morning coffee, desperately needed today. The medical department, after last nights discovery by the Agents of a hidden lab within the medical compound, sent a delegation to HQ (where the dreaded Agents and hellish GA’s lunch most of their days away) to apologise. Not to me. Obviously. Why would the entire medical department be aware of my eavesdropping abilities from here if and when confabs ensue about me.

Besides, how come I was able to view a Victorian pile, or a neo-Gothic architectural monstrosity, last night where the medical moderators were, playing at being doctors. I could see them panicking when they realised their precious monitor / computer system was going to be checked by Agents - as the doctors were monitoring me at the time. The imaging itself (think along the lines of a vivid daydream) was of one of them handing something through a trapdoor just behind and to their left.

And then, along with several Agents, I happened to notice a turret outside, a rather horrid attachment to the original building of the medical compound, containing a spiral staircase with access to other floors; at its peak a cupola. Turns out this small, decorative roof was adorned with an aerial suitable for outgoing signals allowing the 3D software of the Beast and those that operate it not just full control of the Beast itself but their signal emitted under the radar, under the noses of the Agents stationed there monitoring all other signals transmitted through aerials on the main roof of the medical building.

But then I got slightly confused when I spotted a dark green and flourishing grassed lawn within the walled confines of the grounds. Rectangular in shape, its very existence incongruous to there. Is it real? I asked one of the Agents. Watered? Then it dawned on me, ‘It’s a grass roof; similar stuff used down here within inner cities‘. The lawn itself edged in a glass-like casing, allowing slivers of weak daylight into a darkened space below. Apparently the medical department were growing specific botanical specimens in relation to procuring essential natural substances; all organically grown I should hope. All within a large artificially lit greenhouse below the lawn itself. These substances elicited, albeit illegally, to be used in medication created in-house for the doctors insistence on carrying out deadly experiments. On our lives down here. Not theirs - they’re brain-dead already.

#spirituality story spoof angels gods medium journal

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kyberled · 7 years

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📖

Send 📖 for my muse to tell yours their favorite story! || Accepting

“My favourite? I dunno, I mean, as a Jedi, I know a lot of different stories, since, you know as well as I do that we see a lot of stuff, when we go out to our missions, but, I can probably think of something…” He pauses for a moment, right hand reaching up to stroke at his chin. After a moment, he seemed to perk up, and folded his hands behind his back.

“Alright, I think I have one,” he says, settling into a more comfortable position. “A while back, I’d say about four rotations, I was on a mission with Master Kenobi, and it was a solo mission, in that it was just us and our men. No other Jedi accompanied us. It was a nice little planet, not as big as Coruscant, but it wasn’t as small as a standard dwarf planet would be, somewhere in between… And it was a really beautiful place to be, actually. Kind of like the jungles of Kashyyyk, really lush jungles, but the trees weren’t as tall as that. I remember it was really hot, a bit humid, but, it wasn’t too bad. – Not for us, anyway. I know the men didn’t like it much… And we were there to find out what had been messing with so many ships’ nav systems. We initially thought it was because of a magnetic field or something natural like that, but the fact that it only happened sometimes, and we couldn’t happen to find a pattern made us start to wonder… You might have heard about it, so, if I start telling you stuff you already know, just let me know.”

He pauses, here, scratching at the back of his neck for just a second before he shrugs and carries on.

“So, anyway, we thought we might be looking for some sort of magnetic field, or what-have-you, on… Numikaar, I think it was called? Numikaar V. And we’d been there for a few days, we thought we had everything figured out, and I was just happy to be heading home… And right as we were getting ready to leave, our ship stopped working. I don’t mean just the engines, either - we couldn’t even get the caf machine working. I remember pouring over the notes I’d made with Gr- Uh, Obi-Wan, and we’d gotten only a few paragraphs or so into them when we both felt something. … Or, didn’t feel anything, at the same time. … You know how droids don’t have a presence in the Force, but, when you lift them with the Force, you can still feel their weight? And, for the more mobile kinds, like the B1s the Separatists like, when they move around, you can feel their weight shift, even if you don’t feel the droid? It was kind of like that. We both felt something there, without actually feeling what was there. There was a moment where neither of us said anything, and I remember holding my breath, trying to keep the Force as still as I could… And then I was trying to stand up and Obi-Wan was pulling me to my feet, and we were both running as fast as we could and yelling for the men to do the same. The good news was that we’d all been outside; Like I’d said, it had been a hot day, and, when the ship broke down, the cooling units went with it, and the men were baking in their plastoids, so we’d all decided to wait outside, where there was at least a breeze. … The bad news was that us being outside did nothing to stop our ship from exploding. We didn’t lose anyone in the blast, thankfully, but there were a few injuries, and some of them were pretty serious. So, I was bouncing back and forth between trying to help the men get to a safe distance away, just in case, helping the medics prevent any casualties, and trying to figure out what had just happened, and… Everything was just happening all at once, which happens a lot in war, but it never really gets any more enjoyable…”

“So, we were hiding out in the jungle, just until we could figure out what be happening, and just on the edges of the outskirts of the jungle, since we didn’t want to just run as deep as we could without due cause. The men had their scanners out, and I was searching out in the Force to see what was going on, and if I could feel that thing again, and I could. I could feel its weight through the Force again, but it was sort of serpentine? If that makes sense? I could feel its weight moving and slithering through the Force, and it… It was kind of really gross, actually. I don’t… Really like– Ah. Anyway. I could tell Gramps could feel it, too, ‘cause he was looking exactly where I felt it being, and he looked less than happy, and not just because our ship blew up. He told everyone to be still, and so we were, and I swear, as weird as it sounds, I could hear it moving, but, not, at the same time. Kind of like how when you think something, you hear it, but don’t? But it wasn’t in my head, or even in the Force around me- More like, I felt like I should be hearing something, and knew what the sound should be, but, that sound just wasn’t there, like an audio version of having a word on the tip of your tongue, if that makes sense… Kind of like this thing, and everything about it, was blank, like it had been erased… … I’m sorry, I’m probably spending way too much time explaining how strange this thing was, but I just need you to understand what it was like. It was so weird… I’ve never experienced anything like it since.”

“Anyway, once that not-noise started, all the men got agitated, and Obi-Wan yelled at us all to move, and there was this sudden burst of the Force, like all the blanks had suddenly been filled in all at once, and then there was another explosion. … We lost a couple men in that one. Their names were Skip, Dura, Gloss, and Riley. It took me a moment to realise what was going on, though, ‘cause I thought I’d gotten caught under some kind of debris. Turns out Gramps and Cody had both gotten the idea of making sure that I didn’t get hit by the explosion. And, I appreciated the gesture, still do, but I couldn’t really feel my ribs. We went to check out the site, and aside from the usual explosion stuff, there was a hole, right in the middle of the blast zone, was a hole, impossibly deep, but only about as big as my fist,” he paused, here, holding up a fist to illustrate his point, before extending his arm outwards, locked straight, on a downwards forty-five. “And on an angle, like this.” Satisfied with his demonstration, he let his arms fall to his sides, then clasped his hands behind his back. “And, the area around it was charred black, but the hole itself, and the area right around it was melted down to glass, same black as the soot, except little veins, I guess, of glowing-hot bits that hadn’t cooled off yet. There were more of them closer to us than farther, so, whatever it was had to have come from underground in our direction. I could feel the Force surge for just a second, and then it was back to normal. No blank spaces, no surges, nothing out of the ordinary at all, and I had no idea what to make of it. I don’t think any of us did. Obi-Wan just frowned down at the hole, and Cody was running a scan, and just when the scanner pinged and Cody looked up and said ‘sir!’ to get Gramps’ attention, Obi-Wan stood up and told us that we should get moving, and gather the men up and take them with us, and you didn’t have to tell me twice. Gramps and Cody walked up at the front of the group, talking about… Something, I couldn’t tell what, from where I was. We’d taken on a lot of damage, thanks to the two blasts, and I was helping along one of the men who’d hurt his leg, so I couldn’t keep up… Dodger, that was his name, so it was the two of us and the rest of the men in a group, and Gramps and Cody up front. A bunch of the men had their blasters out, and Gramps had his saber drawn. I had mine ready, but not on, since I didn’t want to stab Dodger, but.. We were all on edge, I guess, is what I’m trying to say, but even then, I sort of zoned out for a moment, and, I know, it was careless, and dangerous, and I put myself and others at risk and I must always be focused when in a hostile environment, I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the absence, and I was trying to see if I could find it again… I wound up passing Dodger off to one of the other troops, since I was worried I’d drop him, or stumble since I wasn’t really paying attention, and once he was looked after, I jogged to catch up to Gramps and Cody. We talked for a while, about how the men were doing, what had just happened, and where we were going - there was a friendly village up ahead, and Obi-Wan thought we could have the men rest up there while he and I contacted the Council, and told them we needed at least one other ship, and that our mission wasn’t quite as finished as we thought it was.” He cleared his throat, shifted his weight to spare his legs the stiff discomfort that had begun to set in. He hadn’t meant to speak for so long, but, he hadn’t been stopped, so he took that as an invitation to continue.

“We decided we were going to deal with it ourselves, and not take the men with us, though Cody somehow convinced Obi-Wan to let him come, too, and I was relieved to have an extra set of hands to help us out, but also worried about what might happen to him, since at least Gramps and I had the Force to keep us safe, and Cody didn’t, but I doubt we could have kept him away if we tried.”

“So, the three of us made the call to the Council, and it was pretty standard fare, and set out to find what was going on after the men were settled. Obi-Wan lingered for a few minutes while Cody and I were finishing preparations, but, this’ll only be important later on. We were walking for a while, and we had lapsed into silence while we walked. We were in the middle of a huge field, with this tall, dried-out grass, when I felt that absence again. Gramps and I froze for a second, and then both of us grabbed Cody and ran. While we were running, and Cody was having the opposite of a good time, I noticed that the absence was moving at a consistent speed, except for when it turned - it had to slow down, then. I told this to Obi-Wan - sort of shouted it at him while we were running - and he suggested we should turn around and run towards it. … Honestly, I feel like, if Cody were the type to desert, that would have been the moment he’d have thrown down his blaster and quit. But, neither of us had any better ideas, so, we did. I remember I got this weird feeling when we ran over it, like electricity, and it was really uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like I had much time to think about it. I mean, Obi-Wan had been right, of course - it did buy us a few minutes to get away. I felt another surge, and I was set to join the Force right then and there, but Gramps pivoted and turned one-eighty, and pushed out with the Force, and the surge shifted and there was an explosion from underground, and a small earthquake and a jet of flame, like a really badly-made lightsaber, just straight up in the air, but, we didn’t really have time to be impressed. I just remember being grateful for all the laps I’d run back home. ‘Course, all the laps in the galaxy wouldn’t make me able to run forever, so we all knew we had to do something.”

“There was a lake up ahead, and we all had an unspoken agreement to jump into the water, and I was just about to ask Obi-Wan if he had actually had a plan for what we were going to do when we found the absence, but before I could get the full sentence out, it stopped moving, and there was this pause, then this creak like a ship about to go down, and the ground exploded. It– The absence– was coming from this giant train-thing, like a massive centipede made of metal, but each- Segment, I guess, housed a battle droid, with a pretty big blaster on each side - kind of like a mobile, digging fortress, and it reared up, and looked like it was about to charge up and fire some kind of cannon, and right before it could… Master Plo and Master Skywalker’s fighters came in, along with the rest of their men, and they just lit up the sky. Swooping in and unleashing Chaos, and… People aren’t kidding when they say Anakin’s the best pilot in the galaxy. Anyway, once the three of us got out of the water, we joined in best we could, focusing on the parts closer to the bottom while the ships took out the top.”

“Turns out the cannon it was about to fire was powered by kyber crystals - small ones, taken from the lightsabers of fallen Jedi, from what we could tell. That was why the Force felt so strange whenever it fired; It was attuned to Force signatures that no longer existed, and more than one, at that…” He pauses, sighs, and glances at the ground for a moment before shrugging and running a hand through his hair.

“Long story short, we ended up uncovering an underground Separatist weapons lab, and Gramps, Anakin, Ahsoka, Plo and I - and Wolffe, Cody, Rex, and the men, of course - had a grand time getting rid of that one and destroying their research. … It was a weird day.”

#long post //#kuatiisms #&& best foot forward; ic #&& brave new worlds; padawan #&& far far away; drabbles #&& as best i can; answers

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redlemonz · 7 years

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Day #22

Exhausted, cold and alone. Just another great and standard theme of the day to wake up to, with the return of some red eyes. Though I'm pretty sick of waking up now, because what am I even really doing it for? What's even the purpose at this point anymore, when the life you were building has already fallen apart? Oh well, just gotta keep marching away on that burning coal as always. Guess I know how she may have felt putting up with me - but at least she's not standing upon those flames alongside me anymore, where my hand kept dragging her along with me. I'm sorry I ever brought brought her into my mess. Sadly my dreams betrayed my reality once again too, as I awoke to her not laying beside me. I didn't hear the sound of her laugh, or attempt to put on some random, weird or funny voices the way she does. Speaking of which, this morning all I can care to think is that I miss her and the sound of her voice. It's just extremely strange and terrifying to not have spoken to her on the phone at least, in the last 17 days. I'm my enjoying getting use to this at all. I've thought about it many times now, to call her and just speak to her - but I don't feel as though I can anymore, or rather that she wants that I guess. Even though it's so simple, especially when we've been messaging and having light conversations some nights - it's so easy and the button's right there. But I still can't. I miss my best friend so very much, every single day. I'm probably not even as subtle as I may lead on (though I'm not even leading on any sort of ambiguity or mystery at all to begin with) considering all the flirtatious behaviour and constant spamming throughout the day of snaps she probably gets from me, in addition to my long messages. Never been great at playing it cool when it comes to someone I'm wholeheartedly in love with. No wonder I was in all likelihood clingy or attached in our relationship too, even if they do stem from insecurity. I suppose I've just wanted her to actually want to be with me, which I couldn't help but believe on occasion was otherwise the case. Though as I stated, I'm sadly one who requires actions to speak louder than words, and my fantasy or expectations took me way away from all the real efforts and everything she actually did do to portray her love and care for me. What a tragic idiot who maybe should have never even deserved such a wondrous person to allow him into her life. As I finally stumble myself out of this damn bed, I come across by my windowsill the little tree in a jar that's grown a bit. She gave me this very special little memento on my birthday last year, and the most adorable part is the golden heart she strung around one of the little branches. She's always been a creative soul (hence the architecture lifestyle) who's gift giving is a craft derived from real imaginative and innovative thought for another. I remember feeling so incredibly special and loved on that day like I actually never have before, for she made a birthday actually feel like a birthday. The joy I felt was unreal, and I'm certain I even got teary-eyed at one point. For a person who's never felt like they deserve anything, let alone the girl of their dreams, it was a surge of unexpected happiness that I wasn't use to. I probably said thank you a billion times to the point where the repetition would've gotten annoying, but it's simply because this level of positivity was unfamiliar territory to me, and I loved it. It's in that moment where I truly realised that ever since she stepped into my life the way she did, the difference she's made is impeccable to say the least. It's quite crazy how one single person out of nearly 7 billion can have such an impact on your life, and make you feel as though you do belong. I smiled at the thought, as I went and got ready for the busy day of hell ahead. Day 22 - the unplanned future Work went as expected. No time for much bantering and such as I was focused on being the supposed exceeding employee that I am. Though then my eyes wander to an old email in my inbox which I still haven't deleted, just so that I can punish myself further at the thought of missing out on one of life's opportunities. I start thinking about the fact that if I had accepted and gone through with the other role offered to me - that today would mark my second day living in a new city, the capital city, for the next two months. All flights and travel, accomodation and meals paid for, including flights every weekend home if I wished. My fingers were ultimately crossed as a result that I wouldn't get this second role - even though it is absolutely way better in the long run, and for the doors it could open up in my future. My future with her, that is. So it was certainly a hurrah moment when I didn't get the role I'm currently in, but as you guessed - considering I literally said I'm currently in it, I eventually did get reconsidered for the role. That's because my current team leader actually liked my application and wanted to have me on from the beginning, but my manager wasn't quite fond of the idea, because she wasn't quite fond of me. Fair enough too, as we (the three, as the name was pronounced upon us by this very management group) probably gave her enough grief in our constant workplace revolutionist behaviour. Our reputation with some of those higher ups weren't exactly favourable to say the least, although we did stand up for ourselves and our colleagues when defending our behaviour in a non-vigilant manner. We were that one greatest punk rock band of all time who wouldn't quit nudging, and this manager was the president of said United States in this scenario, except on a way smaller scale physically to the point where our actions did often enough get us into informal appointments in booked rooms. Hell, we even got Santa hats banned in the workplace around Christmas time. I digress - the point is that my big boss invited me into what turned into a one on one surprise interview with her in regards to my declined application for said current role, essentially to tear apart my soul further & make me feel as though all my work and contributions have been nothing but worthless. It's quite amazing how much she apparently knew me, by constantly reading through my application live in front of me, and flicking upwards after each segment to my face to inform me that this isn't the person she recognises. It was just a bit humorous that it was actually the first occasion in which we've even shared a conversation past saying good morning to each other. If anything, it felt as though it was the beginning of my existence to her. My saving grace was my favourite team leader (who was the current one at that point in time) and now friend, who'd apparently bet her life away on me being promisingly one of the best at my job. Though the manager didn't necessarily believe in me based on her presumptuous judgements, she had faith in my true, respected leader. Realising in that moment, and reflecting upon others in how much she's actually fought for me, and the amount of effort and constant push she's given my reputation in the direction it should've probably been in to begin with (but let's face it, management in any organisation can be quite corrupt and biased), I unleashed myself. The self confidence of the fucking king of the jungle arose within me as I grew up from my little teenage rebellion phase and took what's mine. She may have kept pushing me down, but I didn't take it - I leaped back up, took control, debated, swore (don't ask), and ultimately conquered. My wits knew that she was just trying to psyche me out for weakness, by giving me some much needed tough love, and I actually funnily enough respect her for that. I knew I was getting the job after waking out that door, and here I am. The interview to job correlative streak of of 100% continues (unsure if that actually makes sense). Now after I was done with that bitch (kidding, she's alright now - I've just currently psyched myself up with a bit too much confidence), I had to take this job. It was a no brainer because declining it after multiple leaders had fought for me so much, and now my manager going out on the limb and even giving me the opportunity past the original no I received, would mean that I would be letting their efforts and belief in me go to waste - and I couldn't stand to let them down. Also, I knew that it was always kind of a dream job to me anyway - just one I'd hope to delay to after having that dream break working in a different city for a couple months is all. Unfortunately, it had to be this dream more than the other, because rejecting this meant I would realistically never be considered for this again in the future by said management. So here I am, the only one in my previous role to create this organisational history (and humbly so, I may add) by skipping countless steps, time and experience - to be here, inside the deep end with my own self to count upon for learning and training as well (mostly - I'll still nudge people when required so as to not fuck up doing more important things). But I'm swimming along with the current, and my new leader is more than happy it seems. Finally, achieving the recognition for my efforts in this area of my life is actually a reality I'm living in, and I can feel proud and more confident with myself, and it's decreasing my worthlessness. But here's where it starts to all fall apart slowly. Because the only, yet fundamental problem is now that I don't have her to share it with. It doesn't mean all that much anymore to me, as the value has significantly deteriorated without her presence, because now it's just a lonely success. It was suppose to help me build better opportunities for the future, but with that thought comes another, in that my future during that moment was always pictured with her by my side. It was suppose to be our future. Jokes on me though, because I didn't have a plan for what to do if we parted ways, but I seemed to always be an unrealistic planner on every other occasion. I didn't plan to fuck up the way I did - and yet shockingly enough (with utmost sarcasm please) I did. And now that she's gone, that motivation is somewhat draining - even though I am trying my best to uphold it. I do in fact now wish that I could've just run away when I had the chance, to the other City for a couple months and take a break away from this current one filled with heartbreaking memories. Just to leave everything behind and start anew, even if it was for that temporary period - it'd be long enough to make some progress on healing from my ongoing mental wounds I think. I don't know for certain though, I'm not the expert - she would be, considering she lives away from all these physical memories (for the most part anyway) in the snowy mountain town. It would've truly been the rewarding way in which I could have embraced the lone wolf in an actually remote and isolated setting, and separate myself from the current life I'm living. It's okay though, I guess. I'd feel stuck without her anywhere I was right now either way I suppose. I'll aim to embark on that new journey in the new year perhaps, as the organisation is significantly changing by then anyway, and not for the better. An adventure must surely await beyond that horizon somewhere, and she has after all taught and inspired me to conquer it. But for now, it'll just be another lonely night imagining her voice in my head, as I shed some tears at what could have been.

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