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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

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September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

#the year 2021 #2021: rl #real dear diary moment here

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brownstonearmy · 4 years

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2020-05-24: “Legal” Litter Liberation, Part 3

July 26 (Sunday afternoon)

Picking up right where the last adventure left off, our party of intrepid adventurers has returned to Yula's mansion to settle their obligation. Except there's a tiny problem: the party's hourglass tattoos haven't run out of sand. Yula explains that it means they came back a few minutes before the 24 hour reclamation period was over and that the party could accidentally lead the vault reclamation guards back to the mansion. Yula storms off to his Breakable Objects Room and starts throwing things to release some of the stress of the situation.

As a precautionary measure, Lucky dons the invisibility cloak and casts invisibility on the rest of the party just in case something shows up. Six minutes later, the teleportation circle activates and one of the clockwork reclamation agents crawls through. It is missing one of its legs and is thoroughly scorched from its recent collision with lava, but it's still hunting for the treasures that were stolen from Goldleaf's vault. Everyone tries to remain still and quiet to avoid attracting any attention in the remaining 4 minutes, though it's more difficult for Spleenifer because of her chainmail and squeaky shoes.

Eventually, though, the timer runs out and the mechanical guard's body sags in defeat. It blinks out of existence after having failed in its mission to retrieve the stolen items. Yula returns to the party and begins inspecting the recovered items. He chastises the party for leaving fingerprints and mortal body odor on many of the items. Fuego flings a sizable booger onto Yula's 4,000 GP shirt in response. Half of the recovered items Yula deems to be salvageable, and takes those for his personal use. The items that Yula deemed to be unsalvageable or spoiled were gifted to the party. The items were still perfectly usable, so the party still came out ahead. Here's what Yula left the party with:

Portable Hole

Wand of Magic Detection

Wand of Secrets

Periapt of Health

Dust of Disappearance

Marvelous Pigments

Shield +1

Weapon +1

Slippers of Spider Climbing

Paste of Attunement

Moments later, a wagonload of gold appears in the teleportation circle. It's the insurance payment that will be providing the necessary funds to construct Yula's ostentatious litterbox. All that's left is to do is actually build the thing. Bostvick hears the commotion in the teleportation chamber and comes to investigate. He asks Spleenifer if she managed to get a relaxation chair for the litterbox to potentially negotiate Bostvick's freedom from his obligation. Unfortunately for Bostvick, there is no throne in the loot the party recovered.

While Yula stashes the salvageable items, the party gets to work building a litterbox. The sides of the new litterbox are lined with platinum, and the litter is a tasteful mixture of volcanic sand and gypsum dust (for clumping purposes). But the piece de resistance of the new litterbox comes from Lucky. The ethereal sand from the desert dream world appears to be made of concentrated energy. Perhaps it could be used to make the litterbox self cleaning? Or maybe it could be set up as a trap to set up to launch a holy lightning bolt up Yula's butt the first time he uses the litterbox?

WHY NOT BOTH?

Yula returns from hiding his freshly-stolen possessions and eagerly awaits the chance to use his new litterbox. Fuego almost used it first, you know, for quality control purposes and DEFINITELY NOT as display of dominance. Spleenifer stopped Fuego, because this is going to be a very intimate and personal moment between a fiend and his litterbox. Yula is thrilled at the quality of the siding and the minimalist aesthetic of the sand arranged to resemble a Japanese rock garden. He shuts the door in the party's collective face and rushes to attend to business.

There is a sigh of relief and some joyous exultations, but they are cut short by a warbling scream. All is silent for several minutes before the seneschal comes to check on Yula. Everyone is still under the effects of Lucky's Seeming spell, with Fuego still looking like Yula and Spleenifer still looking like seneschal Storm. Everyone with a coin of obligation feels the metal grow cold. Real Storm has an awkward conversation with her doppelganger about her future employment and eventually forces her way into the litterbox room to do a wellness check. Thanks to the brilliant energy of that spectral sand, Yula's corporeal form is no more!

According to the terms of the Coin of Obligation, the bodily death of one or both parties in an agreement ends the obligation. Storm, tired of her innumerable years stuck managing Yula's estate, takes the next train to Splitsville. The party starts sleuthing around the mansion looking for easily-looted things and also the treasure that was stolen. Spleenifer finds Yula's bedchamber with a dumbwaiter in one of the walls, but as she is looking around, she senses infernal evil below. Unfortunately for Spleenifer, she's too large to fit in the dumbwaiter. But Norm, on the other hand... Norm is dumbwaiter-sized. He hops in, ready to complete his first infernal exorcism (but you know... using daggers).

Lucky and Fuego are stuffing armload after armload of silverware into whatever they find that can hold it. Fuego's staying close to the dumbwaiter, though, in case Norm needs to make an emergency escape. But there doesn't seem to be anything immediately dangerous about the room in which Norm finds himself. It's a smaller room with lead-lined walls covered in infernal runes. The only furnishings here are a bed and a safe in one wall. Although too heavy to lift normally, the portable hole comes in handy as Norm is able to wedge some of the material into a small crack in the wall and dump the safe into the hole. If he can get it back to his house, Norm plans to use the Chime of Opening on it to find out what was inside. Success!

In an adjoining room, Spleenifer finds a shine to Asmodeus, complete with a blood-soaked altar. Naturally, Spleenifer smites the heck out of such an unholy place of worship. But so far, there's no sign of the missing treasure. After Storm's departure, word is getting around to the rest of the servants and slaves that Yula is no more. Everyone else starts looting whatever they can carry, and Spleenifer goes to check on Bostvick.

Bostvick thinks that Spleenifer is just there to gloat at first, but she offers him a job working at SHART. It's a decent position for a geologist like Bostvick to have, and best of all, the employment is completely voluntary. He accepts and starts packing his bag. When Bostvick learns that Spleenifer and the rest of the party were looking for the confiscated treasures, he gives Spleenifer some disappointing news: Yula has probably already teleported that treasure to a different vault for safekeeping. Yula has an entire network of vaults where he keeps his treasures, periodically rotating things between vaults.

Down in Yula's lead-lined safe room, Norm is now ready to explore what's beyond the door in this room. It leads to a staircase with yet another door at the top. But Norm has been in enough bad-guy hideouts to know that there's probably some traps here. Indeed, every other step is marked with a glyph of warding. Though he couldn't know it at the time, the glyph only triggers if someone without infernal ancestry puts weight on that step. So it's for the best that Norm didn't take any chances with those steps. He deftly avoids the traps and comes out the other door, which turns out to be a secret door hidden behind the large statue of Asmodeus in the shrine that Spleenifer previously desecrated (consecrated?).

Moments later, the party is reunited, but there's still the problem of how exactly to get home. Fortunately, the contingency plan that Norm came up before the heist comes into play. While everyone else was interviewing people for information about the vault's floorplan and defenses, Norm was collecting information about potential places to safely teleport in the event that the heist went pear-shaped. He also managed to find a spell scroll of Teleport in the seneschal's office (presumably to be used for business travel, but things are weird right now). Anyway, the party and Bostvick teleport into Brownstone and spend the rest of the day relaxing.

Lucky goes to visit Hilaria after unloading 10 sets of silverware (worth approximately 1,000 GP) from inside the shirt Lucky borrowed from Hilaria. This is going to be help Lucky and Hilaria throw an amazingly fancy party. Fuego has an equivalent amount of silverware, but they are more concerned with the melted salvage value of the silverware. But back at Lucky's place, Lucky asks Hilaria if she would mind watching Lucky while she slept to prevent any sudden or random wild teleports. Hilaria agrees to be the big spoon, and the two snuggle the night away. They may have done more, but we faded to black out of respect for their privacy. And either way, Lucky woke up the next morning glowing. Literally glowing. As in, emitting light in a 5 foot radius around her.

But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. Norm got the safe back to his house and booped it with the Chime of Opening. Inside were several ledgers detailing all of Yula's shady business transactions. The most recent transaction was recorded earlier today, and it mentions moving supplies to another vault in Fort Cainesbury, a town in the Kingdom of Obrus about 60 miles northwest of Cedar Hollow. That smells like an adventure hook if I ever heard one!

Spleenifer is eager to do some cross-stitching to unwind after such an eventful adventure, but she is unfortunately out of the necessary thread. She makes a stop at Oneida's, the local glovemaker, to acquire more supplies. As Spleenifer purchases the last spool of black yarn, a pompous and entitled woman named Gertruda Frostart gets up in Spleenifer's face about trying to steal her man by being better than her at cross-stitching. Apparently Gertruda is trying to court Hjalmar Magnusson, a local wealthy businessman, by showing just how literate and spiritual she is through tasteful renditions of holy verses on fabric. Spleenifer graciously offers to split the yarn in half for Gertruda, and in an extremely satisfying power move, slices the ball of yarn right down the center and leaving hundreds of functionally-useless tiny bits of yarn. Gertruda grabs her half of the yarn and flips Spleenifer a copper piece out of spite before storming out the door in pursuit of her dream man.

July 27 (Monday morning)

The party assembles at SHART HQ for after a restful and well-deserved sleep in their own beds the previous night. Dave gives them their work assignment for the day: deliver a notice to someone called Granny Agatha, informing them that the waste collection tax is going up for Granny Agatha. According to Dave, this has to be done in person, and he hasn't raised her rates in over a decade because Granny Agatha gives him the heebie-jeebies.

When Fuego (going by Q on this fair Monday morning) asks why Granny Agatha is so scary, Dave can't quite put a finger on the reason. She's shriveled and old, lots of black birds seem to hang out at her house, and sometimes she has lots of meat in her trash. To motivate the party to take on this assignment, Dave promises everyone the day off if they can deliver that notice.

Well, that and an envelope. Norm recognizes the envelope as the kind the constabulary uses to send important correspondence about legal matters. Dave doesn't specify or even know what's in the envelope, only that Granny Agatha is supposed to get that, too. Even though it's not illegal to open other people's letters, it's definitely frowned upon and the party eventually decides to leave the letter unopened until it reaches its intended recipient. The party sets out for Granny Agatha's house.

But alas, the journey to Granny Agatha's house is not a terribly smooth one. A well-dressed dragonborn preacher with a full head of hair, of all things, berates the party as they pass by. The dragonborn preacher is Jrr'al Oshtreeth of the Reformed Church of the Dragon Lord, and he's announcing his support of Zaribeth Quickfingers as the mayoral candidate in the upcoming special election. Jrr'al implores his congregation to similarly pledge their collective support to Zaribeth since the current mayor is clearly too cozy with SHART, having gifted the organization an interest-free loan of all the money in the town's coffers with no oversight while simultaneously employing disingenuous sorcerers, disgraced law officers, degenerate women of faith, and distasteful harlots.

Q and Jrr'al exchange several harsh statements, but Norm opts to stop the argument a different way: by stuffing Jrr'al into the portable hole. Although the action does stop Jrr'al's tirade, it is not appreciated by his congregation. Norm makes a few hostile remarks in kind, causing several churchmembers to rush at him. Q puts on a mighty fine performance with real tears and everything, pleading with the crowd that Norm was merely defending their honor. Lucky does her best to help quell the commotion, while Spleenifer uses her impressive wingspan to stop more people from attacking Norm. Apologies are exchanged with various levels of sincerity, and Jrr'al is dumped out of the hole with the promise that everyone leave each other alone.

Eventually the party reaches Granny Agatha's house. Just as Dave mentioned, a collection of crows are perched on the roof and squawking at the party. Agatha opens the door right after the first knock, swooning over how adorable everyone is and offering the party free cookies. Everyone politely refuses, though Q decides it's probably more polite to take some cookies for the road to make sure Granny Agatha doesn't feel slighted. The party informs Granny Agatha that the waste collection tax is going to be going up, per Dave's request. Granny Agatha doesn't seem to take it too hard, though she does mention that she's on a fixed income.

Next comes the letter from the constabulary. Her arthritic hands open up the envelope and she starts reading, her face growing increasingly dissatisfied. During this moment of silence, Spleenifer notices the stench of undeath coming from beyond the kitchen. Spleenifer hops up and goes to investigate, but Granny Agatha stops her. Agatha can sense that Spleenifer is a woman of faith, and asks her to please exercise restraint before proceeding.

Yes, Granny Agatha keeps an undead skeleton around to help with housework and baking. The skeleton's name is Tandy, and she's been with Agatha's family for at least 200 years. Tandy's been a part of Agatha's life for as long as she can remember, and she keeps Tandy muzzled and indoors at all times to prevent any unfortunate biting incidents. Spleenifer requests to see Tandy, and Agatha agrees on the promise that Tandy not be harmed in any way. It's a difficult choice, but Spleenifer agrees.

Inside the kitchen, a small boy is mixing up some more pastries. The boy is introduced as Milo Cherrycheeks, and Agatha legally adopted him about a year ago. Milo's arm is bandaged up, and Q asks him what happened. He replies that he burned his arm on the stovetop while cooking. Q asks to see the wound, and the injury appears consistent with a stove burn. They offer to heal Milo with Healing Word, and Milo readily agrees.

Granny Agatha remarks how wonderful it is that people are helping Milo, and mentions that she adopted him a year ago because his parents considered him to be a burden. The letter Agatha received from the constabulary was actually a lawsuit from Milo's parents, Rudd and Hadley Warren, accusing Granny Agatha of owing 9 years of late child support payment for Milo. Norm takes a look at the letter, and concludes that it is legitimate, though it would probably get thrown out in court. According to the letter, the court date is on Monday, August 17.

The adventure concludes for the evening with the characters having fulfilled their mission from Dave. Granny Agatha praises them for being such professional and polite individuals, and before sending them off, makes sure to apply a generous dab of icing to each cookie she sends with the adventurers. Everybody reaches level 10 at this point; stay tuned next time for more!

#shits and giggles #adventure log #Dungeons and Dragons #fishdavidson #court #child support #cookies #heist

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poeticsandaliens · 5 years

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A Pirate’s Life for Me Ch. 10

Yep. It’s still fuckin’ goin. Six months later, I finally work up the motivation to finish this chapter. I have to thank @rey-thelast-jedi for offering to draw the lovely Captain Gibson for this story; it’s been hugely helpful in pushing me to finish an especially difficult chapter (after an especially dragging absence).

If anyone catches my stupid Shakespeare joke, congratulations and I’m so, so sorry. Cheers!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Stella%20Gibson*s*Dana%20Scully/works

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Scully rowed through the burning boards of the Claudius, her mouth set in a grim line. She scoured the wreckage for a wooden chest that might contain Stella’s heart. She dared to hope she had beaten Spector to the blow; he hadn’t time to plunge his knife into the captain’s heart before the Claudius was set ablaze.

She looked to the beach, at the entrance to the creek, where a few surviving sailors had gathered at the sight of fresh water. Her paddle caught on the ship’s mast, where it floated in the center of the wreck, and as she dislodged herself, the Jolly Rodger reached from the waves, clinging to her paddle like a squid, sticky and soft from the water. She hauled it into the boat—it was only fair to carry it back to a pirate’s vessel.

In the aftermath of the battle, the bay stilled eerily. No longer did the raucous sounds of soldiers and buccaneers alike rattle on in the distance. Even the island itself, once buzzing with living creatures, had gone quiet, as if Stella’s heart beat life into the enchanted isle, and without it, the landscape itself began to wither. Davy Jones sailed with the dead, while her heart gave life to an island upon which she could never set foot. Stranger things had happened since she left Port Washington.

The rowboat carried her back to the Flying Dutchman, and the ship hoisted her aboard. She tossed the Jolly Rodger beside the a mop that was swabbing seaweed off the deck. Mulder leaned against the railing, just behind the wheel, watching the sun dip as Stella had done so many times. She told herself she’d squared with the possibility that Stella had died, that she was prepared to face the loss. Deep down, she knew adrenaline and unfinished business kept her going. There’d never been a moment to wonder if Stella would survive; Hell, not even to wonder whether she and Mulder would survive. If Spector lived long enough to plunge a knife through Stella’s heart, Scully would put a bullet in his head. An eye for an eye. A pirate’s trial.

“Any sign of Stella?” Mulder asked as she climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

When Scully shook her head, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “The crossfire couldn’t have killed her,” he promised, engulfing her in his arms. “You told me so—you’ve seen her get shot three times in chest and walk away unharmed.”

“What if Spector got ahold of the knife? What if he stabbed her heart before the ship went up?” Scully demanded. She stared defiantly up at him, arms crossed, steeling herself to face the worst possible outcome while hoping desperately for anything else.

“Then you would have found her body. The dead always leave bones, Scully. No one just disappears. Isn’t that something you promised me, every time I told a story of ships vanishing on haunted shores? If she died at sea, her body would be there.”

She might have believed him. But Stella’s body belonged to a curse, to the Hall of the Moerae and the forces that bound her to the Dutchman. It was ageless. For all she knew, it turned to sea foam as it hit the waves.

Still, she said, “I know.”

“Scully—” Mulder’s voice caught in his throat. “Scully, look.” He grasped her collar and pointed to the Dutchman’s lower deck. Two hands grappled with the wall, followed closely by a sooty face and a familiar waistcoat. The woman hauled herself over the side and dusted off her pants, and when she looked up, her eyes glittered even from so far away.

Scully practically slid down the netting, clambering toward the captain who stood sopping wet beneath the mast of her ship. “Stella,” she breathed, throwing her arms around her before she could get a word in. “God, Stella.” She took Stella’s ashen cheeks in her hands, took in her shape, her proud nose, the way she spelled relief and admiration and something Scully wanted to believe was love.

Scully kissed Stella with all she could muster, clasping her soot-stained cheeks in her hands. She felt Stella squeeze her waist and sweep her close, saltwater seeping through her coat and sticking to her skin. She stammered as she ran her hands through Stella’s stiff, wet hair. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”

“You blew up a ship for me,” Stella rasped as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “You commandeered the Flying Dutchman, and you sank a ship.” She shook her head, her eyes raking over Scully’s body, from bandanna to linen shirt, trousers, and bare feet. She cracked a dry, eye-crinkling smile. “You spectacular bloody pirate.”

Scully took in those otherworldly blue eyes, swimming in so much life. Socked into a body without a beating heart. Sea water dripped onto her shirt from the scarf tied around her bloody socket. She felt its loss like a garden dug into by foxes; she felt the hollowness of her face. Now, in the tattered absence of rapiers and cannonfire, she felt it fresher than the morning her mother had taught her to bake, and she’d scooped up the sweet-smelling pot with her bare hands. She gulped down a lump she hadn’t bargained for.

Stella’s fingers brushed feather-light over the worn scarf. She softened; her lower lip trembled as she tucked Scully’s hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for what they did to you, Love. I’m so sorry.”

“Stella,” she scolded, “don’t apologize for my pain.” She pushed aside the lapels of her linen shirt to reveal the pale scar that trailed down Stella’s chest, “I make my own choices.”

“I know.” Stella kissed her again, smearing ash with her thumb down Scully’s cheek. “I never doubted you’d give them a hell of a fight. I won’t take from you the rewards and consequences of your battles. Not from such a respectable captain such as yourself.” She frowned, pulling away. “But I am sorry to see you hurt.”

“Captain Gibson.” Mulder descended from the quarterdeck, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Scully touched his shoulder appreciatively, shooting him a grateful look as he came up beside them. He’d allowed them a moment of privacy between lovers. For the first time, she’d had carved a space in her heart for someone who wasn’t Mulder and had her life irreversibly altered in Mulder’s absence. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had the priceless comfort of time, but with Stella, Scully shared romantic intimacy and six weeks at sea, facing monsters and deadly storms. Pirate’s life, she couldn’t help but think. Mulder hadn’t yet settled into piracy, discomfited at first by the Jolly Rodger and the self-sailing Dutchman, but for Scully he was trying, and she could ask nothing more.

Stella acknowledged him with an arch of her brow. “Fox Mulder, I presume. It’s a pleasure to meet you in one piece.”

If Mulder hadn’t had a chance to take in the chaotic grandeur of Davy Jones, he took it now. Scully leaned into Stella’s chest as Mulder studied her features. He took in her weatherbeaten cheeks, the flaking tan on the bridge of her aquiline nose, the severity of her profile. Scully loved that face; it arced and peaked like the desolate landscapes she’d read about as a child. It wasn’t the most welcoming visage, but to watch Mulder shake Stella’s hand felt as though the heavens had lifted a rock from her shoulders.

“Thanks for saving our asses,” said Mulder at last, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’d relaxed visibly in the past few minutes. They all had, slowly settling back into their bodies in the aftermath of the battle.

Stella shot him a wan half-smile. “Being dead has its perks.”

“Are you really—” Mulder stopped himself, struggling to contain his curiosity. “Dead?” it came out as a whisper.

Stella opened her shirt hem again to reveal the scar where her heart used to be and the three white bullet holes above it. One white bullet hole lay to the side, from Scully’s gun. Stella’s father’s gun.

“I’m alive,” explained Stella nonchalantly, “but the thing keeping me that way is thumping in a wooden chest.”

His initial apprehension dissolved, Mulder stared at her like a child who’d just met the fae folk. Davy Jones was the sea’s greatest legend; Stella was every mystery and old wives’ tale Mulder had worked to prove true. Scully couldn’t call her the elusive Truth—she wouldn’t wish that title upon anyone, but she was evidence of something Mulder had spent fifteen years searching for.

A glint over Stella’s shoulder caught her attention. She snatched the scope from Mulder’s hands and held it up to her eye, scanning the shoreline. What she saw squeezed the breath from her chest. Governor Spender hauled his beaten body ashore, crawling onto the pearl-white sand. The chest of Davy Jones was tucked beneath his arm. She growled and pounded her fist on the rail.

“What is it?” asked Stella.

Scully passed her the telescope. “Speaking of your bloody beating heart.”

Stella lifted the scope to her eye. Scully saw the moment it dawned on Stella that her heart was no longer thumping beneath the sand. “Shit,” she spat. “Shit. Fuck. Of course that sorry bastard has the chest.” Her chest heaved as if there were still breath in it. She flicked her gaze between Mulder’s fidgeting fingers and Scully’s gnawing at her lip. Scully drew Stella’s slight body toward her, slipping her arms around her waist.

Scully had never viewed Stella as an affectionate person, someone she had the power to comfort with a touch. Stella Gibson was a solitary creature on the prow of a ship, and to simply hold her had felt like a disturbance of that picture. Now, she sailed over that boundary.

Mulder wrung his hands. “Who has the chest?”

“Spender does.” Scully handed him the telescope. “He’s alive; he made it to shore.”

She tightened her scabbard and fetched her coat from the rail, where it was hanging to dry. The sleeves were stiff with salt and sand, the collar stained with her blood.

“Scully,” Stella laid a hand on her shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“I’m going after him.”

Stella’s fingers brushed the bandage over her eye. She could still smell the rum on it, where it dried and caked her skin. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I said I was going.” Scully opened up the back of the pistol and counted the ammunition. “Where do you keep your guns?”

“Scully, listen—”

“Where do you keep your pistols?”

“ Listen to me .”

Beside them, Mulder sucked in a breath and took two steps back.

“What good will it do to save that chest? I’m cursed. I’m dead.”

“I know that,” Scully said breathlessly. “I’ve known that from the night I met you. I came aboard this ship knowing its curse.”

Stella pressed her lips together. “Then you know it can’t be broken. I will not stop you going ashore; I would never stop you. But know this: if you re-bury my heart, or we take it with us upon the Dutchman, it will do you no good to have it. I will still be cursed. You’ll grow old and die by the laws of nature, and I’ll remain as I am now until someone takes up my mantle. Remember what I am before you endanger yourself. I am not human.”

“I know,” Scully rasped. She pressed her forehead to Stella’s and cupped Stella’s cold, bloodless cheek. “I didn’t chase the horizon because I thought I could catch it. I just liked waking up to the sight of it while I could.” She took a deep breath. “Now where are the bullets?”

Stella knit her eyebrows. “Bullets are in the desk in my cabin.”

Scully nodded and fetched a handful of bullets from Stella’s desk. Tucking them into the gun one by one, she tightened the holster over her chest and re-wrapped the bandage around her head. Then she put a clean bandanna over her forehead, holding back her sea-dried hair.

“Scully.” Stella stood at the door of the cabin. “Before you go, I have something for you.” She opened a second drawer in the desk and pulled out a strip of stiff scrap leather. “Come here.”

Scully stepped forward. Stella held the leather up to her face, overtop the makeshift bandage and gauze. “This will do nicely.” She stretched out the leather on her desk, and with her letter opener, carved it into a patch. Then she sliced two eyelash-thin strips of it. Scully watched her work—quickly, methodically, chewing on her lower lip. She hated that someone else had to guard her life. She had relied only on herself for so many years that Scully could only imagine how much she hated this helplessness.

When she was finished, she gently pushed the bandage from Scully’s eye with her thumb. Scully winced. “I’m sorry,” Stella murmured. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage, and not for the first time, Scully was thankful not to have a mirror nearby. She could feel the swollen skin, the empty socket still stinging from rum and loss. By now, the sting was a fact of life that she ignored as best she could.

Stella cleaned the wound again with the liquor and a wet cloth, unfazed by the rawness of it. If she was horrified, she didn’t say. For a moment Scully had worried she’d be put off of it; then she remembered the three bullets Stella had pulled out of her chest.

“The final touch,” Stella said softly. She slipped the leather strap over Scully’s head and pressed the black patch over her eye. Then she leaned back on her heels and examined her work. A tiny smile poked at the corners of her lips. “It’s not perfect, but you wear it well.”

Scully felt the eye patch—uneven on the edges, a little worn, but a hell of a lot better than the loose cloth she’d been using. “Do I look dangerous?” she teased.

“You look a handsome sailor,” Stella replied.

Scully smiled and patted her pistol. “Aye, Cap’n.”

The Dutchman lurked close to shore as Stella and Scully readied the rowboat one more time. Night had settled into the bay, and more stars speckled in the sky than Scully had seen in her life. Stella had pointed them out to her, one by one—Orion off the port side and Leo on starboard, the planet Venus burning white-hot overhead. Mulder was standing on the quarterdeck with Stella’s spyglass, keeping an eye on the beach.

“It looks like Spender has gone into the woods,” he said. “He was looking fairly weak, so he can’t have gone far. With this sky, you’ll be able to see his footprints.” He pointed to the full moon, hanging like a baby’s mobile over the Moerae.

“Good,” said Scully, “I’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Mulder put down the spyglass. “You mean we’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Scully fixed him with a skeptical stare. “Mulder,” she chastised. “You were hostage until this afternoon.”

“So what?” he said, descending the staircase. “I’m no pirate, but you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Scully gazed at him. “Are you absolutely sure?” She wasn’t sure what answer she wanted to hear more. She wanted Mulder’s company more than anything, but she didn’t want him to risk his life for her quest. After all, Mulder had left her in Port Washington because he couldn’t bear harm to come to her for the sake of his own crusade. Yet where had that decision landed them?

“I came all this way to keep you out of trouble, Mulder.” Scully crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to regret risking your life again.”

“Christ, Scully.” Mulder clasped her shoulder. “I spent my life awash in old wives’ tales. Davy Jones has haunted me since I was only a child. If you’re going to fetch the heart of the Sea Devil, just try to leave me behind.”

“Mulder—”

“You love the Dutchman. You love the open sea and the life of a pirate. You love Stella too much to leave her heart behind, and I love you too much to let you go alone.”

She thinks of Stella slicing out her heart in the Ophelia’s rickety cabin. My father loved England. And I loved my father.

They loosened a rowboat, and the Dutchman held it aloft over the bay. Mulder stepped in.

As the boat lowered, Scully patted her pistol and gazed up at Stella. “Remember me well.”

“Don’t jest with me, Dana,” Stella said. She kissed Scully’s cheek. “Be well.”

Scully sucked in a breath. “And you, Captain.” She climbed over the wall, holding onto the detailing with one hand. Turning her eye to the stars, she let go.

She landed with a thump in the rowboat.

“What’s the plan?” he said. He was sitting on a cross-plank, turning his pistol over in his hand. Scully wondered if the Navy had ever taught him to use it.

“Ideally,” she said, “We threaten his life and he gives us the chest without a fight.”

“Yes, because that worked so well for us last time.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Spender had a ship of armed men. Now, he’s alone.”

“What makes you think he’ll give?”

“Because he hasn’t cut her heart out by now,” Scully said coldly. “Stella is right about him—he only wants to blackmail her to do his bidding. If there’s no one else to back up his threat, he’s harmless. Look at the way he captured you—he hired a pirate to betray his Navy because he couldn’t bear to do it himself. He’s old, rich, and comfortable. A man like Spender doesn’t fight on a principle; he fights when he knows he’ll win. He takes as much as he can while it’s easy.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Spender would rather be a prisoner on the Dutchman than die trying to command it.”

She touched the pistol again, taking comfort in the smooth hilt—molded to her father’s hands over many years of use. Mulder was watching her, his limbs curled into his body. There were lines in his face she had never seen before, an expression she didn’t recognize.

“You know… no one wants to die, Scully.” It wasn’t until he said her name that she realized what it was, the expression he was wearing: fear.

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “But—there are things that mean more to me than law and safety. My principles, my family…” she touched Mulder’s hand. “My friends.”

She studied him, this living face she hadn’t seen in weeks. She measured his features in the moonlight. His lower lip pushed out from his teeth like a puppy, or a young boy just getting his permanent teeth. His brow-line was perpetually worried, hanging over warm hounds’ eyes. He was at once far stronger and far weaker than her. He was a much more experienced sailor, but Scully had become something else altogether—a pirate.

“It’s funny,” he said. “All my life you’ve been the voice in my ear, telling me not to do anything foolish.”

“Are you saying that’s become your job?”

Mulder frowned. “I’m saying that if you wanted to do something foolish, I’m not sure I could stop you.”

The boat bucked in a wave, and Scully pitched forward. She gripped the wet rail as seawater sprayed her face. Mulder sputtered, snorting and shaking his head to get the water out of his nose. And Scully laughed, quietly at first, then shamelessly. Mulder joined in, a belly laugh she hadn’t heard since before he left Port Washington. He clutched his chest, his whole body bent in half and shaking uncontrollably. Scully’s lungs heaved, and a hiccup escaped her, which only made Mulder laugh harder.

They were still snickering when their boat bumped against the sand. The moon was high overhead, and the beach glowed a cold grey. She nearly expected the sand to feel like snow in her hand, but it was the same beach she’d crossed that morning. The treeline, under cover of night, was even more sinister, palm fronds dangling like fingers above the forest floor.

They followed the footprints Spender had left in the soft earth—the loping and limping tracks of a battered old man. Scully was confident they could outrun him. They hacked through bushes and vines rather than go around. They squeezed beneath roots as the trees turned from palms to monstrous oaks, thicker than she’d ever seen. They blotted out the stars, making the footprints nearly invisible. Still, strips of moonlight pierced the canopy like meat skewers, just enough to guide their way.

Then the trees vanished, as abruptly as waking from a dream. The woven roots gave way to granite, a stone desert dotted with scrub and cacti. On their right, the rock bent like a giant’s shoulders into massive cliffs. Even where she could standing, she could hear waves pound the bluff far below. She scanned the barren landscape. A silhouette stumbled through the plain.

“Mulder, look.” She pointed to the tiny figure. She started to run, always listening for the pound of his footsteps behind her.

As they approached Spender, their pace slowed. Scully constantly scanned the ground for dry scrub or gravel that would alert him to their approached. But Spender dragged on, hugging the precious box to his chest. His uniform was tattered, unbuttoned, scorched at the edges. The moon transformed his hair from grey to bone-white. He looked dead.

Once she reached a proper firing distance, Scully raised her pistol. “Stop.”

Spender froze. Slowly, he turned around. A bloody gash across his forehead muddled his face, giving him a half-eaten look. He was decaying before them, shrinking like pipe weed when it burns. He broke into a wheezing chuckle. “Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. How appropriate.”

Scully cocked the pistol. “Give us the box.”

“Why?”

“If you don’t, you’ll die.”

Spender was silent. He glanced between her and the vast expands of stone. He started to turn, and she realized—he didn’t think she would do it.

“Fuck you,” she snarled. She pulled the trigger. The bullet nicked the bottom of his loose sleeve. It wasn’t an accident—she was a better shot than that—but it had the desired effect. Spender’s eyes bugged like an insect. She noticed the tremble in his limbs. He knew the Dutchman was his only hope of escape. If he left, and Scully let him go, he would die on this island.

“Give up the chest, and we’ll take you back to Port Washington with us,” she said softly. “You’ll be a captive aboard an indomitable ship. You’ll be safe.”

Spender curled his lip. “And what about the Sea Devil?”

“She won’t kill an unarmed prisoner.”

“She’s a pirate,” he spat.

“And you have nothing to offer her. You’re disgraced. You have no gold, no land, no power.”

“Then why should I come with you? Why should I rot in jail with dogs and crooks?”

Scully curled her lip in a snarl. “Because without the Dutchman, you are doomed to wander this island until you die of heat exhaustion. Because even if you have the dagger, you couldn’t bear to stab that heart and take up Davy Jones’ mantle, utterly alone forever. You will live in prison, because you can’t live with yourself.”

Behind her, she heard Mulder take a step back.

Spender’s head hung off his neck like a vulture’s. He shivered. “Do you promise you’ll spare my life?”

Scully crossed her chest. “On my honor and the blood of Davy Jones.”

Spender put down the box. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out the dagger. The metal sang when it hit the ground. Mulder stepped forward and grasped Spender’s arms, tying them behind his back. Scully picked up the box.

It was heavier than she expected. It was made of iron and damp, dark wood. It was frigid under her fingertips. She could hear a rhythmic thump-thump inside that she tried to ignore. On the lid was an inscription.

“Ye dead man’s fingers never touch the Dutchman’s heart,” Scully read aloud. It chilled her.

Mulder held Spender by his wrists. “Let’s go, Scully.”

She glanced at the sky—clouds had begun to gather, not yet obscuring the moon, but harboring a coming storm. “You’re right. Let’s get back to—”

A gunshot. Scully dropped to a crouch. Spender crumpled in Mulder’s grip, choking and blathering. His body thumped against the earth.

She looked over Mulder’s shoulder. A man of about thirty was clinging to the edge of the cliff, his torso hauled over the side. He had friendly features that seemed to have thinned over time, taken on a rat-like quality. His eyes were fierce and cruel. This, Scully knew in an instant, was Captain Spector.

“Down with the heart,” he ordered, pointing his pistol at her. “Come on.”

Mulder cocked his pistol. “Two against one. Are you sure Stella’s heart is worth your life?”

A wicked smile crossed Spector’s lips. “Oh, you know her by name? Stroppy Stella, the great lady buccaneer. The great Davy Jones.” He sneered. “It’s only a name. What’s there to fear in a name?”

“You’re not convincing me,” Scully snapped.

“All right then,” Spector said, almost chipper. “Why don’t we settle this like gentleman? With a duel, for the dead lady’s heart. You and me, Miss Scully. After all, she’d give her heart to you freely, if you asked for it.”

“Scully—” Mulder started.

Scully held out her hand. “I accept.”

At the same time, they holstered their guns. Scully dropped the chest beside Mulder.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Scully fixed him with the sharp gaze of one eye. “What I know how to do.”

She drew her sword. It wasn’t Stella’s father’s sword anymore—that was in the wreckage of the Claudius. But it belonged to the Dutchman, and she hoped it would lend her good luck.

Spector attacked first. She parried his strike and moved to stab at his knee, but he was quicker than she expected. He backed her toward the tree line, but she regained the ground when he briefly lost his footing. Back and forth they carried on.

She tried twice to disarm him but found him prepared for the blow. Spector had been training for longer than she had. Still, she heard her father’s voice in her head: strike; parry; lunge; watch your footwork. Always strike where he least expects it.

She caught him in the foot, and he yowled, but he blocked her next blow easily. The injury slowed him though, and soon she was gaining ground. His moves became more and more desperate. She blocked, expecting to disarm him with the next strike.

Then he reached for his pistol. She ducked before the shot went off, but the damage was done—she was on the ground. She felt Spector’s boot on her shoulder, shoving her onto her back. His sword point was at her throat, his gun at her forehead.

“No!” Mulder shouted. He aimed his own pistol at Spector, and Scully squeezed her eye shut, expecting at any second for a bullet to enter her head.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots. She felt nothing. Tentatively, she opened her eye. Blood dribbled from Spector’s chest and forehead. His eyes wide with terror, he stumbled backwards. He used his last living breath to stare, glazed and shock-stricken at the person who shot him.

Stella.

#the x files #The fall #Stella gibson #dana scully #fox mulder #txf fanfic #stella x scully #pirate stella gibson #a pirate's life for me #paul spector

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milap-sd · 4 years

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itmakesyoulooklikealoser · 7 years

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Pynch Week 2017 Day 8: Free Choice

Every morning Adam Parrish gets up at 5 AM to begin his day. He gets out of bed and takes a shower before his roommates can steal all the hot water. Then he gathers all his stuff for the day and heads to the coffee shop down the street where he gets a large vanilla dirty chai latte and studies and does homework until his first class at 10 AM. This has been his routine for the past 4 months since starting at college. He loves the consistency and stability this simple routine has offered him.

Adam had had a hard time adjusting to college life at first. The hard work and effort needed to succeed wasn’t a problem. Adam had worked three jobs while in high school. No, the difficult part to adjust to was having to live with three complete strangers and having no privacy of his own. He had moved out of his parents trailer before his senior year in high school and lived on his own in a tiny one room apartment above a church. He was used to a certain amount of privacy and quite. But the first week in the dorms Adam had nearly lost his mind. There was always someone around, some noise being made. Food disappeared from the refrigerator and things inexplicably moved on their own. Adam was overwhelmed to say the least. He just needed at least an hour a day of peace and quiet away from his roommates.

So one morning Adam woke up earlier than normal and gathered all his stuff and set off aimlessly off campus and down the main strip. He had only walked a few blocks when he stumbled across a small coffee shop. He wandered in and fell in love with it immediately.

It was a nice, cozy coffee shop. It had about 8 or 9 tables spread around the open area with really comfortable looking chairs around them. There was a steady stream of customers coming and going. Most people taking their coffee to go instead of taking advantage of the seating. The noise of coffee beans being ground and brewed hummed in the background. But it wasn’t the chaotic disarray that Adam felt while in the dorm. This was a practiced and perfected flow of energy. It was strangely calming to Adam. So he had ordered a coffee and found a comfortable chair to commandeer and thus his daily morning routine was born.

A little over a month after Adam had started going to the coffee shop he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to start every morning there. A man who looked to be about his age came in around the same time Adam did every day. The man was tall and sharp looking. He usually wore all black and had a buzzed head. Adam thought he looked a little out of place in the brightly colored coffee shop, but the man seemed to feel at home. He had probably been coming to the coffee shop longer than Adam had.

At first Adam just ignored the man. He had a lot to do and the whole point of coming to the coffee shop was to get some time to himself. But every few days Adam noticed that the man would choose a seat slightly closer to Adam’s table. After the first month of seeing the man at the coffee shop he smiled and gave a small wave to him after ordering his coffee and making his way to his usual seat. The man seemed surprised that Adam had acknowledged him and gave him a strange look, his normally sharp features softening slightly. Ever since that day they always silently acknowledged each other, but never said a word to the other. Even when they started sitting at the same table together daily each working on their respective tasks. Adam didn’t even know the man’s name, but still he continued to sit in comfortable silence with the man every day while he did his school work and the man read a book or wrote in his journal.

————

Adam had been running a few minutes late getting to the coffee shop one morning and was surprised to walk in and find a coffee cup already sitting on the table in his spot. Adam’s first thought was that the man was meeting someone else and had bought them coffee, but when Adam made eye contact with the man he nodded towards the chair silently letting Adam know the coffee was, in fact, for him. Adam walked cautiously over to the table and lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. He was shocked to find the satisfying taste of a vanilla dirty chai latte coating his mouth. His eye went wide and he looked over at the other man who was smiling at him. He gave Adam a nod and went back to reading his book. Adam felt like he should say something, at least thank him for the coffee, but he didn’t want to disrupt the comfortable thing they had going on between them. So he drank his coffee in silence and started on his school work for the day. ————

A few days later Adam was at the bookstore when he saw a book that he thought the man at the coffee shop would enjoy based on some of the stuff he had seen him reading previously. After some debate Adam decided to buy the book and planned on giving it to him the next day as a silent thank you for the coffee.

Adam arrived 15 minutes early to the coffee shop the next morning so he could place the book in the other man’s spot before he arrived. Adam tried to focus on his school work while he waited but he found himself looking up every time the little bell on the door chimed indicating that someone had entered the shop. After what was at least 15 minutes after the normal time they both arrived Adam started to feel a little disappointed. After another 20 minutes had passed he gave up on any hope that the man was coming today. Adam was surprised at how disappointed he was that the man did not show up today. He chalked it up to the anticipation of giving the man the book and not that he had started to look forward to seeing him everyday and enjoyed his company.

The next three days happened the exact same way as the first day the man didn't show up. Adam arrived early, couldn’t focus on his work instead focusing on every one that came in the shop, and left more and more disappointed that the man did not show. He was starting to think he had done something wrong and had offended the man. Was he upset because Adam hadn’t verbally thanked him for the coffee? Or was he just weirded out that Adam continued to show up and sit quietly with him every day? Whatever the reason, Adam found himself falling into a bad mood every day he didn’t show.

After the fourth day the man didn’t show Adam went back to his dorm room nursing a foul mood. He flopped himself onto the couch and exhaled loudly. He knew he was being ridiculous. It shouldn’t matter that the man stopped showing up to sit in silence with him at the coffee shop. How was he so upset about someone when he didn’t even know their name? As he was moping on the coach his roommate Noah walked in and plopped down next to him.

Noah was the human equivalent of a firecracker. He was loud and had so much energy. He never stopped moving and was always rattling on about something or another. Adam didn’t know how he had so much energy, he never seemed to stop or get tired. Adam wished he could siphon just a sliver of the boys energy.

“Hey Noah,” Adam offered, trying to not let his mood effect his interaction with his roommate.

Obviously he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding his frustration because Noah quickly asked what was bothering him.

Adam didn’t really know how to explain what was bothering him without it sounding crazy. He hadn’t mentioned the unspoken arrangement between him and the coffee shop man to anyone before, but now he felt like he needed to tell someone, if not just to get out some of the frustration. So Adam told Noah about the man at the coffee shop.

“Hm,” Noah offered unhelpfully once Adam had finished explaining the situation.

Adam tried to resist rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t have said anything. It sounded ever more ridiculous when he said it out loud. What had he expected Noah to say to help the situation? “Sounds like you have a crush,” Noah said after a minute of silence.

Adam blanched at that.

“What?! No! That’s ridiculous Noah. I haven’t even said 2 words to the guy.” Adam protested. But as soon as he started to deny it he realized that maybe Noah wasn’t completely wrong. Shit, had he subconsciously developed a crush on him. That would explain his bad mood at him not showing up the past few days.

Noah must have seen the transition and realization in Adam’s face because he slapped Adam on the back gleefully and started hounding him for more information on the mystery guy.

————

The next morning Adam got up and prepared for the day. He tried not to think about the possibility of seeing the mystery man again, this time with the new knowledge of his crush towards him. Adam finished getting ready early and couldn’t sit still so he decided to head to the coffee shop early.

Adam arrived 20 minutes earlier than his normal time to the cafe. He sat at his normal table and pulled out all this stuff, including the book for the man. He pushed the book over to the other man’s side of the table and opened his text book. Adam really did try to study, but his eyes kept glancing to the door, his hands straying to the book on the other side of the table. After several minutes of not getting any actual studying done, Adam pulled the book back to his side of the table. He had gotten an idea. He ripped a scrap of paper out of his notebook and scrawled a note on it and put it in the book. Just as he closed the book and pushed it back to the other side of the table he heard the door chime. He looked up and saw his mystery guy walking to the counter to order his coffee.

The reality of what Adam had just done sank in when he saw the man come into the coffee shop. He had just written a note asking his crush out and stuffed it in his book like a middle schooler. Adam started to panic and was about to reach for the book when the man sat down at the table, grabbed the book while smiling at Adam and put it in his bag.

Adam tried to return the smile, hoping he didn’t look pained. Maybe he should ask for the book back. Tell the man the book wasn’t actually for him. It was for a friend. But no, Adam knew that wouldn’t work. The book was clearly for the man. Who else did Adam know who would read a book on animal husbandry? Adam hadn’t even known what that was until he had seen him reading a book on the topic a few weeks ago. He had gone to the library to research what it was before his first class that day. Adam silently accepted that he was stuck with the rash decision he had made and could only wait for the response.

—————

Several days had gone by and the man had been reading the book Adam had given him every morning. Adam had waited for a response the first day. The second day he would have just been happy with an acknowledgement that the man had at least seen the note. The third day passed with not so much as a look that said the man had encountered the note. Adam wasn’t sure if the man really hadn’t seen the note, or if he was choosing the ignore it and pretend he had never seen it. Adam didn’t know which one he would have preferred. If the man had seen the note, he was still showing up to the coffee shop every morning and sitting with Adam so he couldn’t have been too upset about it. If he hadn't seen the note Adam didn’t think he had enough courage to try and ask him out again any time soon.

On the fourth day, Adam arrived at the coffee shop to find a very nice planner sitting in his spot. Adam looked around the cafe but didn’t see his coffee buddy anywhere. He sat down with his coffee and picked up the planner.

The planner looked very expensive. When Adam picked it up he was surprised to find that it was bound in real leather. The cover was embossed with silver lettering and the year below. Adam ran his finger over the lettering which read “quoniam amicus meus capulus” in a neat cursive script. Adam smiled to himself as he flipped through the pages of the planner to the current date. He faltered when he arrived on the page laying out the current week. In a rushed scrawl across Friday there was a time and address written along with a signature. Ronan. Adam finally had a name to call the man he had been crushing on for weeks now.

————

The rest of the week crawled by at a snail’s pace. Adam was anxious for Friday to arrive. Ronan disappeared from the coffee shop again, which did not help with Adam’s anxiety. Several times Adam pulled out the planner to make sure that there was still a time and address written and he had not just imagined the whole thing. He read the entry over and over again, memorizing the address. Despite Adam’s curiosity he did not look up the address to see what it was. He wanted to see what kind of place Ronan thought he would enjoy in person.

Adam pulled up the GPS on his phone and typed in the address. The GPS told him the address was just a couple of miles from campus. Usually Adam would bike or walk that short a distance, but he didn’t want to arrive to what he was assuming was a date all sweaty. Adam also wasn’t sure how to dress for where ever it was he was going. That had almost been the thing that had nearly caused him to say fuck it and look up what the address belonged to. But Adam had torn his closet apart and chosen to dress in a button down shirt and a pair of his nicest jeans. On his way out to the cab he grabbed a blazer just in case the place was nicer than he expected from someone who wears leather and black tanks exclusively it seemed.

The cab came to a stop outside of the same bookstore that Adam had bought the book he had given Ronan from. Confused, Adam pulled out the planner and flipped the address written inside. He read the address again and matched it to the address on the outside of the building. This was not even close to what Adam had expected. He had expected maybe a dinner date or even bowling. A bookstore wasn’t even on his radar. After checking the address one more time, he paid the cab and walked inside.

Inside Adam walked through each row of shelves, keeping an eye out for Ronan. While walking through the store he notices a sign near a cluster of chairs. Curious, he walks over and reads the sign. Adam’s heart falls as he reads the sign. The sign was advertising a book talk and signing by a big time engineer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Adam was an idiot. This was not a date at all. Ronan had written the time and address for this book signing because he thought Adam would be interested in it because he was always studying his engineering text books at the coffee shop. If Adam hadn’t have been stupid and looked up the actual address he would have seen the advertisement of the bookstores webpage and known it wasn’t a date.

Adam turned from the sign, intending to leave the shop. As he turned he ran into something solid. He staggered back a little and looked up to see Ronan standing there smiling at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. One of my cows has been in labor the past few days. She finally gave birth a few hours ago. I wasn’t sure I was gonna be able to make it and I would have felt like a complete ass. But alas, here I am.”

Adam just stared at Ronan. He wasn’t sure if Ronan was making a joke or if he was serious. Adam had thought that Ronan just liked reading about farming stuff, he didn't think he was an actual farmer.

After a few seconds of Adam not responding Ronan’s smile faltered.

“Shit. You didn’t realize I was going to be here too. I knew I should have specified in the planner that this was meant to be a date. My brother said it would be cuter if I just wrote the time and address and you would know it was a date because of the note. I can leave if you want?” Ronan had started rambling nervously, his cheeks forming a very attractive blush.

Adam’s brain finally caught up to what was happening and he basically shouted at Ronan.

“NO!” He said, starting to laugh, “No. Sorry! I’m just shocked is all. I had started to think that I had assumed wrong and this wasn’t actually a date after all. I mean, do you always take your dates to the bookstore?”

Ronan’s blush deepened, “No, just the smart ones.”

Adam started to blush in response.

“So….” Ronan started.

Adam realized Ronan was waiting for him tell him his name. He had forgotten that Ronan didn’t know it yet.

“Adam. Adam Parrish.”

Ronan smiled, “Ronan Lynch. Well Adam, I think the book talk is about to start. Shall we?”

#pynchweek17 #pynch fic #pynch #trc fic #trc #the raven cycle #Ronan lynch #adam parrish #the dreamer & the magician #my writing #unedited #we made it to the end!

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taeyangdyb · 7 years

Text

Giving love a shot part 57

♡Jae’s views♡

I can’t believe I am a mother now. Me Jaeha with 3 kids? If I look back at my my life, fifteen to twenty years ago, the thought of marriage give me rash, but now now I’m married with children.

Right now I’m in the room with Jay alone cause our friends and family are respectful enough to give us some privacy to process the whole thing.

Jae: so Jaehoon came out first uh?

Jay: yea, you know considering the fact that we almost missed him, I thought he’d be last. You feeling alright?

Jae: are you alright?

Jay: I don’t know, so the hardest part of our lives begins now, ready?

Jae: you?

Jay: yes, because I have you. You should also feel that way cause you have me and we have each other.

Jae: you think we’ll be alright?

Jay: truth or lie?

Jae: make me feel better

Jay: well then, we’ll be great

After going back home, it feels like my whole life and world change. The first few days, I might’ve cried a day or two, but I can’t cry cause my husband would cry whenever I do.

It’s strange, how much I Han Jaeha- wait I Park Jaeha, you know how SERIOUS I take my sleep, something tells me that I won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

My son is a little gentleman, he only fuss or cry when he need something, but the girls I feel like They're bothering me on purpose, they cry one after the other. I’m not going to lie, I cry along with them.

Jay’s been doing his best, we tried taking “shift” like I take naps during the day, and he take naps at night. But regardless we still help each other out.

Someone asked me why can’t I pay someone to watch the kids at night so I can sleep. They are my kids, why would I do that? When I can watch my own kids.

I try to document every little moments, cause before you know it, they’re graduating school and getting married. 😥😣 too soon Jaeha. Too soon..

《Jay’s views 》

The past few weeks has been, words can’t describe great feeling of holding my babies. Jaeha as been remarkable as if she had kids before.

Even though we split the shifts, she still does most of the works. She never complain that she’s tired, or sleepy or anything. I know it’s hard for her, I know my wife, we’ve been together for a while now, and many things I’ve learn is that Jaeha, doesn’t like to ask for help, even when it’s difficult, she handles everything by herself.

The other day I walked in the room and find her crying, she gets annoyed. I did some research and find out she has post partum depression, I didn’t know what that was until I realize that Jaejae was doing the exact same thing.

She stops caring for herself, only worrying about the kids, she get scared even when they’re peacefully sleeping. I think she feels like I’m not going to love her, because of how much her body has changed over the past few weeks, even before that, she always had that insecurity that, I’m going to leave her once she gets old.

Truthfully I’m the one that afraid that someday she’ll leave me. Speaking of let me go check what she’s up to.

Walking in our room I find her looking at herself in the mirror almost in disgust.

Jay: you like what you see?

Jae:*sigh, walks away*

Jay:*pulls her back* what’s wrong?

Jae: nothing

Jay: babe, come on

Jae: it’s just….. I’m ugly, my hair is all tangled… I’m a mess *starts crying*

Jay: okay first of all, don’t ever call yourself ugly ever again, and-and look at me I have a mustache

Jae: and you look pretty hot with it, lucky you *She say while crying*

Jay:*smile* awe thanks babe, and you’re right I am lucky. I’m lucky to have you as my life partner. Look, my parents are coming over, how about we let them watch the kids, and we have a date.

Jae: date? We’re going to to leave the kids at home by themselves?

Jay: baby no, my parents will watch the kids, and Mo the lady you trust and raised you will be here, let’s just take a night just for us. Please. I know you worrying about the kids, and I am to, but I’m more worrying about you. You have to take care of yourself to be able to take care of them.

After managing to persuade her, she agrees only if we stay in. After that we took care of the kids before my parents get here, once they came, I start getting ready for our date.

Since we’re staying in, I know exacly what to do. I start by running Jaeha a bath since it’s one of favorite things in life. Go in her closet and pick her a dress.

Minutes later she walks in surprise.

Jae: babe? What’s going on? What’s all this?

Jay: for our date

Jae: but I thought we were staying in?

Jay: we are, come on *takes her in the bathroom* there go in

With her sitting in the water I sit on top of the tub to brush her hair.

Jae: aren’t you afraid that my hair is going to get in the water?

Jay: things like that doesn’t bother me. Do you know how many times I wake up with you hair on my face, all over my pillow.

Jae: *exhale* this feels nice. *leans her head on his knee, and holding on to his leg*

Jay: Jaejae

Jae: mhmm

Jay: I want you to know you’re not alone, you have your friends, parents, and you have me. If something is wrong with you, you have to tell me. The same way It hurts when our kids are crying and we can’t do anything about it, it hurts me 10 times more when you are crying and I can’t do anything to help you. I dont want you to be crying in the closet by yourself, or wait till I’m sleeping. If you need to cry I’m always going to have a shoulder for you to lean on.

Jae: I’m just afraid

Jay: afraid of what?

Jae: that you’re going to leave me, for someone cuter, younger, with a better body

Jay: Jaeha, baby that is never going to happen. I’ll will never leave you, till death do us part remember. I will never love any other woman the way that I love you, you are the love of my life, and that will never change. if anything I’m more afraid that you’ll leave me

Jae: why would you think that?

Jay: because I’m always hurting you.

Jae: not intentionally, but the hard work has just begin.

After her bath, we go for our dinner.

Jae: where are we going?

Jay: well we’re going to have dinner by the golf course.

Jae: how romantic

Jay: well I figure you need some air

Jae: awe babe

Jay: I know you hate wet grass so, the sprinklers, will be a bit late tonight.

Jae: *smile*

We had dinner, talk, laugh, I couldn’t be any more perfect. After eating we walked a bit and then head back in our room.

Jae: so what now?

Jay: whatever you want

Jae: how about a massage?

Jay: I’m at your service

Jae: no, this time I’m at your service. You worked equally hard. And I’ll help you strip *wink wink*

Jay: Jaejae, as much as I would love to get a massage I have a feeling we’re both are going to end up naked.

Jae: *walk up to him* would that make you happy?

Jay: very

Jae: okay then, let’s get naked

We had a great night for once in a while. It feel great being able to wrap my arms around her again.

Jae: shouldn’t we go check-

Jay: the kids are fine, let’s get some sleep while we can *pulls her closer to his chest* goodnight

Jae: love you

Jay: love you to babe

After she fell asleep I couldn’t help but feeling teary a bit. I spent most of the night, just admiring this woman, I cannot believe how far we’ve come.

I’m not going to say that she’s looking old, but looking at her now and years before, she look more mature. I love taking time to just admire her, when she’s sleeping cause she gets embarrassed about it if she’s awake.

After Jaejae gets into a deep sleep, I went off to check on the kiss. Knowing them at this time they’d be awake for food.

Walking in, my parents were feeding them.

Mom: you’re awake?

Jay: yeah I wanted to check on these guys first.

Dad: they’re good.

Mom: were you crying?

Jay: *sits on the floor* I was just looking at Jaejae and I couldn’t help it.

Dad: what?

Jay: I’ve known her for almost 10 years. In that time I realize that I dont deserve her. I’ve cause her more pain than she deserve. It freaks me out more now, I feel like one day she will have enough and she’ll just get up and leave with the kids.

Dad: then stop hurting her, that’s just your past catching up to you.

Mom: shouldn’t you be comforting him?

Dad: Jaebum is not a kid anymore that needs to me comforting anymore. Your a married man now, you have a son that’s going to look up to you, what exactly are you going to teach him?

Jay: the worst part about it, is that she’s always taking my side even when I’m dead wrong. I really can’t count with one hand the amount of time she has embarrassed or disappointed me, but the amount of times I’ve embarrassed, humiliated, and diappointed her, was good enough reasons for her to say no 10 times when I asked her to marry me.

Dad: so now you’re having regrets?

I spent an hour talking to my parents. My mom tries to suggacoat things when she’s talking, but my dad on the other hand just tell me to man my ass up.

Jay: I should probably go back, before she gets up and starts looking for me. I’ll see you guys later.

*next morning*

She’s not on the bed I know exactly where to find her.

Jay:*looking at her playing with the babies*

Jae: hey good morning

Jay: morning *sits next to her*

Jae: *kisses him*

Our kids are growing up very fast. It’s cute the girls are friendly, but my son, he is a serious momma’s boy. He will go to people but as soon as he sees or hear her voice, he doesn’t want anybody else.

He has a weak stomach, he vomits everything as soon he eat. The doctors gave us medicine, it’s actually working.

Jay: how’s it going?

Jae: well so far I’ve got sneezed on, vomit, drool and peed on. So I guess where having a very productive morning. Hoonie hasn’t thrown up yet, and I fed him 15minutes ago

Jay: You ready for today?

Jae: not really You?

Jay: not at all

Since Jaeha and I have the worst luck we have to take our kids to the doctor for a check up…. *sigh* also the dogs to the vet. It’s not like it’s just Gajeel, she has 3 pops.

You all know how she cares about this dog, like it’s her first child. So we’re about to take our kids and grandkids to the vet. I know I’m drinking later on.

Jae: you ready for today’s challenge?

Jay: yes let’s do it.

First it’s starts with taking the kids a bath, you put on their diapers and then they poop before you even finish with the other one. This woman sanely got evrything done, pack snacks for the kids, the dog, and me.

It shows me how strong she is, and if we didn’t have money and you know all the extra help that comes with it, she’d do fine. She’d be better than fine.

When we finish we load up, 3 car seats, dogs and head out.

Jae: okay everyone and everything is on board.

Jay: can I ask you a question?

Jae: fire away

Jay: how can you do all of this? Do you have kids somewhere else?

Jae: it just come naturally. You automatically knows and see what you have to do.

Jay: just the dogs would drive me insane

Jae: because they dont listen to you.

The kids are doing great, except for Mr weak stomach, but the medicine are helping. They each have to take two shots, and they’re going to hurt.

Jaeha cry of course all 3 of her kids are crying. I’m just here feeling sorry for everyone. After that we head out to the vet.

Getting to the vet, they doing check up all you can hear is Jaeha’s stomach going off. She forgot to eat or pack anything for herself.

Jay: you gonna eat anything?

Jae: I forgot to pack mine, but I’m not really hungry

Jay: baby, come on stop doing that.

Jae: I forgot, Hoon was throwing up, and I forgot.

Jay: you want to share mines?

Jae: no there’s cinnamon in it.

Jay: I’ll go buy you something

Jae: babe, I am fine.

Jay: I do not care, I’m getting you something.

After 3 hours everyone fed, and changed we making our way back, but first I have to stop to get something for Jaejae to eat and then stop at illi office.

She fall asleep as soon as I started driving. I cannot believe I’m driving a car listening to nursery rhyme.

*Illionaire office*

Dok2: you coming in?

Jay: cant, I have my family in the car they’re all out.

Dok2: I can’t believe this, You? A family man now, with a car full of kids and dogs. How is it?

Jay: fantastic, you just have to give up sleep ing for a few years.

My life is hectic right now, but I dont think I’d want it any other way.

#giving love a shot part 57 #jay park #aomg #kpop icons #khh #khh scenarios #jay park imagine #jay park scenarios #jay park series #jay park smut #kpop #dok2 #simon d #loco #dj wegun #eli #elo

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redrobin-detective · 7 years

Text

A Matter of Trust

This is admittedly not very good, but it's here and I wrote it. Almost 2,000 words of the League sitting around chitchatting. Honestly it was an excuse to put some of my thoughts on Billy into writing. But I promised a fic so here it is, enjoy all the talking.

It had been a long, exhausting mission but eventually, the Justice League had emerged victorious. But after almost three days of battling and strategizing and being away from the Earth, the Team was starting to feel the strain. Currently they were crashed on the Watchtower hovering far above the planet to debrief and destress before returning to their homes.

“Yes, Iris, I’ll be home today. In fact I’ll be in time for dinner so be sure to make plenty. Okay, I love you honey, see you soon. Bye.” Barry says into his cellphone, before hanging up and looking fondly at his phone for an extra moment before tucking it into his suit. Beside him, Hal smiles and gives his friend a light punch in the shoulder.

“You and Iris are so cute; you’re making all us single guys jealous.” He teases, giving a warm glance at the others around the table.

“I’m happily taken myself,” Clark says warmly, looking into his coffee reminding himself to call Lois soon.

“Me as well,” intoned Arthur echoed.

“Steve and I are content,” Diana answered proudly.

“I am happy as I am,” J’onn responded with a small, sad smile.

“I’ve got enough trouble with the boys.” Bruce says tiredly from the counter as he pours himself some coffee. It had been a long couple of days and the lighthearted, casual conversation was nice after so much noise and destruction from the averted invasion. They’d all make their way to their homes soon, but for now, this was enough.

“Looks like I’m all alone in the lonely hearts club,” Hal moans in exaggeration, “I won’t even bother asking you Cap, I bet the girls love your ‘aw shucks’ charm.” He said, shooting a grin over at the World’s Mightiest Mortal who hasn’t really participated in the conversation and was instead dreamily staring out the window as the inky black sky. “Captian?” Hal repeats, finally grabbing the man’s attention only to find the entire League looking at him. “You okay there bud?”

“Oh me?” Marvel says shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m fine, just feeling awfully tired. I’m not used to staying like this for so long, I’m feeling kind of drained.” He said leaning on his hand. “I think this is the longest I’ve ever been Cap in a row, last time was only a day and I slept so long afterwards, nearly 8 hours.” The League exchanges curious looks with each other, Captain Marvel was notoriously close-lipped about his other life. Despite the fact that everyone else’s identity was out, he had refused to share his name. This was the most they’d ever heard about the man and his powers.

“You know,” Hal begins slowly and cautiously, “Eight hours is the normal amount most people sleep.”

“Wow, really? All at once?” Cap says blinking lazily and grins when Hal nods.

“That sure must be nice, some people have a lot of time on their hands.” Clark shakes his head in confusion; he doesn’t even know what to make of that weird statement but he’s more interested on another point the Captain had brought up.

“You mentioned that you don’t always stay in that form. I just assumed that’s what you looked like and you just changed costumes.” Captain Marvel sat up a little straighter as he realized he’d let more slip than intended and searched for a way to explain that he wasn’t always a 7 foot tall god without giving away that he turned into an eleven year old homeless kid.

“No, my magic gave me this body so I can use my powers. When I’m not being Cap, I change back into regular me, sort of like a transformer.” He smiles and is rewarded with warm smiles back which is always the best part of League. It’s nice to have people smile back at you instead of cursing and pushing you aside. “I think, I don’t actually know what a transformer is.”

“So we don’t actually know what you look like?” Barry asks curiously, “do you look much different normally?” Cap bites his lip and begins twiddling his thumbs.

“Oh you know some things are the same but there are a lot of differences too. I’m uh not as tall when I’m just me, not as big either.” Diana reached over and rested a hand on his wrist as he kept fidgeting with obvious anxiety.

“It does not matter who you or what you look like outside of your costume. We know you to be strong, honorable and courageous in battle. You only need disclose what you are comfortable with, you are our friend and comrade, we trust you as you are.” Captain Marvel looked down at the hand before turning back to Diana with a bright smile that seemed to light up the whole room.

“Aw thank you Miss Prince, that means an awful lot.” Diana smiled back and patted his hand again.

“I understand it has been a long couple of days for us all,” Bruce said interrupting the touching scene. “We’re all finished up and you’re all free to leave. I’ll be heading back to the Manor shortly myself.” He turned subtly towards the magic user. “You’re welcome to stay up here a little longer Captain; your quarters are fully equipped with a shower, television and other domestic comforts. You’re the only one who hasn’t utilized it.”

“Aw man you haven’t crashed here yet? I’m half tempted to move in; Bat Wayne spared no expense on our rooms.” Hal chimed in enthusiastically, “comfiest bed ever and the shower is to die for, I never want to get out.” The Captain again looked dreamily out the window.

“Boy, I can’t even remember the last time I was able to shower,” he said with quiet awe once again questioning what sort of home life their mysterious Captain had. The more he said, the more they realized it probably wasn’t as ideal as they’d imagined. “But I don’t know,” the Captain sighed. “I’d have to change back with you all here.”

“Come on Cap, we’d respect your privacy, you can trust us.” Barry adds in with a soft, friendly voice also picking up the uncomfortable vibes.

“I’ve never had anyone in my life I could trust,” Captain Marvel responds calmly, with a light shrug as if he didn’t consider his answer to be anything out of the ordinary. Barry rubbed at his face to keep himself from speaking, maybe offering his friend a room in his house and people to love him. Clearly there was more going on here than anyone was aware. No one imagined how deep the man’s deceptively shallow, open waters really were.

“That’s…” Arthur began before reconsidering himself and continuing. “You’re our friend; you’ve fought beside us for nearly a year. Why don’t you think you can trust us?” The Captain looked down and drew small circles on the table.

“Everyone always wants something, you just gotta figure out what it is.” He looked up suddenly with a guilty expression, “I don’t think it’s that way with you guys it’s just, well, I don’t think you’d like me very much outside. I’m uh, not what you’d expect. You might even kick me out.”

“You can trust me,” Bruce said once again cutting through the tension. “I already know your identity and I still like you.” He said casually as he sipped more of his coffee. “If you’re ever interested, I could give you some help with Mr. Ebenezer.” Captain went ramrod straight, staring at the Dark Knight with wide, fearful eyes. “Did you think I’d let you join if I didn’t have a basic background on you? If it helps, you were difficult to pin down. It took me months to find you, more to get any relevant information.”

“And you let me stay?” Captain Marvel, Billy, said, standing up quickly and leaning forward on his hands over the table. The air was tense but Batman was calm as always.

“Of course, Captain. You’ve more than proven yourself a reliable ally and a good friend. I will admit I have my concerns but you’ve handled them thus far. Of course, I’m willing to lend aid should ever you need it. Well will always support you if or when you ever decide to come forward with your life. I’m told that’s what being on a team is all about.” Very slowly, Captain cracked a smile and the air became much lighter.

“Aw Bruce, you do care about us.” Clark teased, leaning back in his chair to look at the human. Bruce leveled him with an annoyed glare.

“Well,” Barry said sunny standing up and stretching. “Iris is waiting for me back at the ranch and I am not going to be late for dinner. It’s been real, but I’ll catch you guys later.” Arthur nodded and stood up as well.

“Mera is probably expecting me back as well; she gets bored running Atlantis without me.”

“Lois too,” Clark added, finishing his off the last of his coffee. “Well not the bored part, I’m sure she’s gotten into plenty of trouble while I’ve been gone.”

“And I’m,” Shazam began quietly as he stood up with his comrades. “I’m going to take a shower and maybe sleep for a bit before heading back to Fawcett. It um,” Billy ducked his head and rubbed at his neck. “It would be nice to have some place to sleep safely every once in a while.” The remaining Leaguers smiled as Marvel backed up slowly to the door. “So, safe trip home everyone and thank you again for your support. I’ll just leave now.” He said, ducking around the corner out of the kitchen. They all exchanged proud glances before Cap popped his head back in. “Also you’re going to hear a loud lightning bolt, that’s normal. I don’t think it’ll damage anything up here just uh yeah, wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t scared or anything.” He began, mumbling more and more with each word.

“Alright Captain, we understand. Thank you for your consideration, have a nice evening.” Diana said graciously causing Marvel to grin one last time before disappearing for good. Hal gave them all a look and let out a breath.

“Never have picked that guy to have skeletons in his closet, he’s about has happy go lucky as my 10 year old neighbor.” He muttered as, true to form, the sound of lightening briefly resounded through the Watchtower before quieting down. “What’s a guy like that have to hide?”

“We all have our scars Jordan,” Bruce answered, “when Marvel is ready maybe he’ll share some of them with us. For now, we keep our distance and offer support.”

“Easy for you to say since you apparently have known for a while now,” Clark commented, standing up and stretching his back out. “Anything important we should know?” Bruce turned his eyes from the group, contemplating once again if it was worth the Captain’s trust to tell the secret he’d unwillingly kept. The secret that one day might end up getting the boy killed. But they’ve come this far, he couldn’t back down now.

“You’ve worked with him and you know what kind of person he is. That should be enough for now, until then, I need to return to Gotham to make sure the Manor hasn’t burned down in my absence.” The League laughed as they wrapped up their conversation. A few doors down, a painfully skinny boy was just stepping into his first hot shower for months. Moaning with contentment, he wonders to himself if maybe he wasn’t being fair to the League. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally found people he could trust. But he’d think about that later, after this amazing shower and crawled into the bed that looked like a cloud. Yes, things might finally be looking up for one Billy Batson.

#my writing #I wrote this #Billy batson #I should have a proper writing tag

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neural-novella · 5 years

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The Marked 10

By my greatest estimates I have spent 17 long sleepy days in a box deep underground in an underwater city. I'm sure a Nullifier Mage is sat outside my box stopping my magic from working although I haven't tested it. No need to after all, I am currently exactly where I want to be. Well to the extent of being in the Magus city that is, I figured I'd be out of this box by now.

As I begin to doze off to yet another boring afternoon I hear a wretched scratching a scrapping coming from the exterior of my cell. Either they've fed me whole to a giant beast or they are lifting my cell out of the ground. It would turn out the latter was of course correct, it takes mere moments before I'm wearing the walls of my cell as an exoskeleton and forced into a position to so that they can shackle my arms and legs together.

A Mage throws a pebble at my head and my rocky exoskeleton disintegrates to dust freeing me from my suddenly claustrophobic prison. I pull at my shackles, nothing fancy just metal and chains, old too possibly 18th century? As I glance back to inspect them I see a hooded robed figure standing about 10 paces behind me. A prison Nullifier, as expected. I wonder how much effort he has to expend to contain my magical potential. These Mages train for years to do their job. They have one sole purpose to nullify the magic of another mage. The spell takes a lot of energy to maintain, you are essentially fighting a constantly losing battle against another person's emotional and mental power. You can always identify them by their brown robes with purple trim and blue symbology on the sleeves near the wrists.

Another Mage with my shackles in his hand nudges me forward. It appears I am within the Magus Council HQ yet again, the double archway into their chamber before me. I grin to myself, what lies and wonder will they sow this time. I begin walking, my stride shallow from the shackles and every footstep followed by the clattering and dragging of chains.

The chamber hasn't changed a bit. The Council continue to sit up high looking as intimidating as ever. The white stone walls and floor. The giant circular raised floor before them. This time instead of the familiar sight of my brother his wife stands before me as well as several high ranking Mages. I am marched into the center of the chamber and forced to my knees. Two spikes of rock are instantly erected from the ground, the sharp points just barely breaking the skin beneath my jaw. A reminder that I am not in control.

"Here! We have the accused. The murderer. The traitor in our midst. How does one plead ?" A council member gestures to me.

"guilty as sin."

One of the spikes moves slightly closer, I throw a look over to my brothers wife and see her fist clenched. My expression fulling conveying "do it, see what happens."

A council member on the far right continues "we have given you every opportunity. We even allowed you to live in exile, without focus. You were given life, now you give us little choice."

Another member takes over "It is after much deliberation we bring you here to pose you a question. We can no longer allow you outside of this city. We can no longer give you the trust and respect all Mages deserve. Although we will give you your final freedom."

The central member finishes "The choice is yours. Death or Life imprisonment. Decide."

To most Mages this choice is difficult, to be executed can be both honourable and humiliating. Prison would mean you live the rest of your days but with a human life time in a prison specifically constructed to house magical criminals. There is no magic, terrible food and 0 entertainment or sunlight. For me however prison is exactly where I wish to go, about 3 miles beneath the Council Vaults.

Having made my decision, I stand proudly and announce "If I die, I would not serve as the reminder you need of how you betrayed your own people and slaughtered The Marked. I will rot in prison before I die before your hands and egos."

The Council gasp in shock at my impertinence. They cast a spell that keeps me on my knees this time and read out my final rights. My brother's wife obviously wanted death, too bad. After a few more boring lines of legal nonsense my body is engulfed in red smoke. After a few seconds I am teleported to the middle of a large courtyard. Fellow prisoners surrounding me.

The lies beneath the city, deep into the earths crust. It is excruciatingly hot, a Mage hell if you will. the entire prison is constructed out of a large plinth of red rock. The courtyard being on the the highest level and accommodations on every level beneath, a room for every prisoner. About 80 feet above the prison are four further plinths of stone jutting out of the exterior wall and four more at perpendicular angles and a few feet above. Upon these exterior plinths you can barely make out the figures of Nullifier Mages. What is more obvious is the purplish haze of magic they cast to make sure those in the prison are no better than human.

I get up from my knees, the ground searing hot but not enough to cause contact burns. A older prisoner walks over to me his clothing barely more than rags. By the look of his disheveled tanned face, White bushy beard and brows I would make the assumption that he has been here for quite a while. He introduces himself as Gerald, A Mage. He takes me under the courtyard via an archway at the southern face, away from the heat. Down a short set of steps a wide corridor opens before us filled with cells. The cells are merely boxes cut out of the interior of the plinths providing little in the way of security or privacy. Gerald points out his cell and says that one of the cells opposite his should be empty, “Poor beggar, got what he deserved really. A real trouble maker” he chuckles as if remembering a fond memory. I would later found out that after a well planned altercation between Gerald and this “poor beggar” the guards would intervene and said “poor beggar” would end up falling off the plinth to his death.

“Y’know this place well?” he asks me, I shake my head in response remaining wary of the old Mage.

“Well simple terms: It’s hot, sweaty and no good place of any living being. The Mages above stop all magic including the guards. The foods terrible, when you actually get the good graces to receive some and just about everyone here wants to kill each other.” he claps excitedly.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

“There’s no time here boy! None! It could be January 6th 1998 by my estimates or it could be October 23rd 2052.” he shrugs. “Don’t matter to me none, just gotta keep yer nose clean and close to the ground. Stay out of trouble boy or trouble be finding you.”

It sounds like more of a threat than guidance. No matter, he obvious has the experience of this place. Above all else he was the only one to welcome me, if you can even call it that. It certainly was warm. I make my way over to the supposedly empty cell after thanking Gerald for his time and words of advice. It certainly isn’t extravagant, a raised stone bed with a rolled up sack for a pillow. There’s a toilet made of what appears to be black marble or maybe obsidian jutting out of the wall next to the bed. That’s really it. There are several scratches and marks on the walls, probably made by the previous tenants to this fine establishment.

I sigh and lie down on the bed. Although the air is thick with heat, down here in the shadows the stone bed feels much cooler by comparison. I close my eyes and begin to meditate on the events that brought me to this point. From my childhood rivalry with my sibling to his death. Once I have all the events firmly in sequence I begin to plan my next moves. Firstly, how do we deal with those pesky Nullifiers above.

#The Marked #Author #Short story #Novella

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golicit · 5 years

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Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse!

Paul Ferrillo

Chris Veltsos

As this blog’s readers know, there have been a number of management liability claims that have been raised against companies that have experienced cybersecurity incidents. In the following guest post by Paul Ferrillo and Chris Veltsos, the authors argue that cyber risk is in fact D&O risk and that the risk is growing. The authors also suggest a 10-step plan to grapple with the risk. Paul is a shareholder in the Greenberg Traurig law firm’s Cybersecurity, Privacy, and Crisis Management Practice. Chris is a professor in the Department of Computer Information Science at Minnesota State University, Mankato where he regularly teaches Information Security and Information Warfare classes. My thanks to thank Paul and Chris for allowing me to publish this article as a guest post on this site. I welcome guest post submissions from responsible authors on topics of interest to this blog’s readers. Please contact me directly if you would like to submit a guest post. Here is Paul and Chris’s article.

Ah, another article about cyber risk you say? Time for a late summer snooze? Or time for a serious chat post Labor Day? We think a serious chat is in order.

Chris and I have been friends a while. We did not know each other during cybersecurity 1.0 – the early days. “Little House on the Server Farm.” This was when people really did not know what to expect about cybersecurity, its risks, its rewards and its tremendous downsides if ignored. There were a few reported breaches, but not many. People had heard of Stuxnet, but barely so.

We met during Cybersecurity 2.0 – the post-Target days. You remember them? The big retailer breaches had begun. Many more were soon to come. Directors knew there was a problem (“Houston, we have a problem”) but it was hard to put your finger on its pulse. Yes, a big breach. A lot of data lost. A lot of remediation costs certainly. But then what? Did directors and officers really know how bad things had gotten. Our guess is probably not. At that stage the civil litigations were less than serious. Cases were getting settled on the cheap. The privacy bar was in its infancy. We would call it “jumpball.”

Then “cybersecurity today.” We equate that to the Equifax breach. It was a case that hit 7.0 on the Richter scale. Something was seriously wrong. And we all knew it, including the public which was most affected by the breach. Congress knew it and held hearings with a just retired/sidelined CEO. Sidelined by cybersecurity. The plaintiffs bar also certainly knew this fact too.

Said one congress person at the time of the full-blown congressional hearings, “You can’t stop stupidity. You can’t legislate against it, but you can hold people accountable for it….” See Congressman on Equifax: Can’t legislate against stupidity but can hold people accountable

Paul has an expression for this new period we are in today: Cybersecurity 3.0 – “we really don’t trust you that much any more with our data. Step it up, or else!”

So what is the “or else?”

Here is what makes cybersecurity a serious, “pay attention to me or else” risk — the regulators are in high gear. After Equifax and continuing today, both federal and state and international regulators are all over cybersecurity, management and the board. First the regulation — the EU GDPR, NY DFS 500 and now California. But let’s now layer on the Securities and Exchange Commission too, with its anti-fraud and disclosure requirements on public companies. Then the fines started. First on the smaller side. Now on the tremendous side with the recent cyber breach and privacy fines against many of the name brand companies we speak about and write about daily. Those fines and penalties cause reputational damage. Those fines and penalties — and the mere fact of big breaches themselves — cause market capitalization losses. Those market cap losses cause securities and derivative action litigation to get filed. And so it begins:

Rule 1: cyber risk is D&O risk. Rule 2: Under-appreciated cyber risk is major D&O risk, or even a bankruptcy-level risk. See AMCA Bankruptcy Filing in Wake of Breach Reveals Impact

Ok you say, we have this seen this before in corporate America, so what’s really so new? Oh, because these inopportune fines and decisions — even in other jurisdictions, like the United Kingdom and the European Union — will make their way into civil litigation in the United States, and will likely make it very difficult, if not unwinnable. Why? Because these fines and penalties tend to indicate “something was wrong.” And in some cases, something was seriously wrong. Those decisions end up as exhibit one in the securities class action. The privacy class action. The settlement papers. I saw this as a young lawyer. In many of my early securities cases, there were often occasions where the CEO or CFO was indicted early in the case. Or plead guilty. Though some of these cases had other factors to litigate, we often did not. We often could not. Because of reputation issues, many of those companies just didn’t make it past the opening volleys, and these were Fortune 500 companies.

Ok you say, so what? We survived right? Well, not so fast. Corporate America survived the Enron and WorldCom days because Congress and Corporate America woke up. And Congress passed a comprehensive set of rules leading with the Sarbanes Oxley Act of 2002 for both public companies and accounting firms. The rules had real teeth, real effects and real downsides if ignored. “The Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002 cracked down on corporate fraud. It created the Public Company Accounting Oversight Board to oversee the accounting industry. It banned company loans to executives and gave job protection to whistleblowers. The Act strengthens the independence and financial literacy of corporate boards. It holds CEOs personally responsible for errors in accounting audits… Section 404 requires corporate executives to certify the accuracy of financial statements personally. If the SEC finds violations, CEOs could face 20 years in jail… Section 404 made managers maintain “adequate internal control structure and procedures for financial reporting.” Companies’ auditors had to “attest” to these controls and disclose “material weaknesses.” See Sarbanes Oxley Summary.

For whatever rules Sarbanes Oxley gave us, it also gave us definitive guidance, rules of the road, a compliance check, real penalties, potential jail time, and real corporate responsibility and accountability for stopping corporate fraud. Having lived through the cycle, and the later the Financial Crisis, I can tell you that Sarbanes Oxley helped. A lot.

Today, corporate directors don’t have a Sarbanes-Oxley equivalent when it comes to cybersecurity. And that is the problem we need to grapple with. Right now. Today. Unless you are a federal regulated financial institution, advisor or fund, there is very little in terms of oversight and little in terms of ultimate corporate accountability. We have nothing like Section 404 of Sarbanes Oxley. And certainly, we have nothing like the Big 4, PCAOB driven accounting firms when it comes to cybersecurity oversight, compliance or review. We have a hodgepodge of cybersecurity vendors, from the very good to the “don’t go there.” This should not be comforting to a director of a name brand, data-driven company. Or any company. And just because you think you might have D&O or standalone cybersecurity insurance doesn’t mean you are ok. Indeed, you already probably don’t have enough limits of liability ready to face the threats of today, let alone those of tomorrow.

So now what should directors do? Think? And how should they react? Aggressively!

That was the wind up. Here is the pitch: an errant fastball high and tight. Almost on the jawline. Potentially catastrophic. But…. Maybe not. The Cyberavengers are here to sound the alarm, to point people and companies to safety. The world as we know it is under near-constant cyber-attack and so are your company’s systems. This is no time to stick your head in the sand. Now is the time to step up, to roll up your leadership and governance sleeves, and to get a grip on cyber risk.

Chris and I are planners. We are also educators. Here is our 10-step plan to help boards grapple with the increasingly ugly face of cyber risk:

Recognize that we have a humungous problem here. Not a small one. Cybersecurity breaches are not black swan events. They are everyday occurrences. They can hurt. They can be terminal. They can shut the power off. And many cybersecurity events are not even reported publicly. Treat cybersecurity with the respect it deserves.

Demand your company have some basic, fundamental approach to cybersecurity. The Cyberavengers basics: should be mandatory email filters/solutions, regular and timely patching, backing up your network, identity and access management tools. More details on our list of security basics.

Has your company adopted the NIST cybersecurity framework? If not, why? It should. If plaintiffs’ counsel can cite the Framework chapter and verse in their complaints, company directors should be able to as well during board meetings.

Does the board receive regular (quarterly) reports from IT and senior management? If not, why not? Reporting up is a big red flag. Not making adequate time to review these reports is also a big red flag.

What do those reports say? Are they metrics based? Or full of nerd speak?

Are risk assessments done on a semi-annual basis? Do they cover assets, threats, controls, effectiveness, risk, insurance, residual risk, risk appetite? Are the risks tracked, updated, and reviewed regularly.

Are vulnerability assessments done on a semi-annual basis? Leverage automated tools to shed light on your most vulnerable systems. Then patch, quickly if you can. Otherwise document, isolate and/or monitor.

Are compromise assessments done on a regular basis? If you suspect your company has been compromised, there is no time to waste. And if you think you haven’t, you should get a second opinion. A compromise assessment will check for sure, and give you insights into your company’s environment, its current performance on cyber hygiene, systemic risks, and just how effective your controls are. Psst: they’re probably not as effective as your CISO told you (unless they’re actually rigorously tested every quarter).

Is employee training for spearphishing and social Media training done on a quarterly basis (or even more frequently)? Does this training and testing include managers and executives? Does it include board directors themselves?

Finally does the company have a practiced and test incident response, business communication and crisis communication plan? If not, why not? The NIST Framework suggests those at a minimum.

We could have a list of 20 or 30 items, but the same points would still be applicable. Your company needs to have a regular processes, policies, and procedures to effectively manage its cyber security risk. If it does not, problems will surely surface. And like in Equifax, or AMCA or many others, those problems could turn catastrophic and cause directors to face liability for not requiring “a well-rehearsed plan.”

The ten-step plan above is a start, a baseline floor, with a lot of room overhead. Pick a framework (NIST CSF, ISO 27001, others) and embrace it. Embrace it fully. Yes, it will take time and resources, and a commitment for the long run. When it comes to cyber, inaction today gambles away your company’s future, its very existence. Your company’s cybersecurity doesn’t need to be perfect. Perfect is not what the law requires. Perfect should not get in the way of good. But you must attempt the good with reasonable efforts. There is no time to waste.

The post Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse! appeared first on The D&O Diary.

Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse! published first on

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simonconsultancypage · 5 years

Text

Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse!

Paul Ferrillo

Chris Veltsos

Ah, another article about cyber risk you say? Time for a late summer snooze? Or time for a serious chat post Labor Day? We think a serious chat is in order.

Paul has an expression for this new period we are in today: Cybersecurity 3.0 – “we really don’t trust you that much any more with our data. Step it up, or else!”

So what is the “or else?”

Rule 1: cyber risk is D&O risk. Rule 2: Under-appreciated cyber risk is major D&O risk, or even a bankruptcy-level risk. See AMCA Bankruptcy Filing in Wake of Breach Reveals Impact

So now what should directors do? Think? And how should they react? Aggressively!

Chris and I are planners. We are also educators. Here is our 10-step plan to help boards grapple with the increasingly ugly face of cyber risk:

What do those reports say? Are they metrics based? Or full of nerd speak?

Finally does the company have a practiced and test incident response, business communication and crisis communication plan? If not, why not? The NIST Framework suggests those at a minimum.

The post Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse! appeared first on The D&O Diary.

Guest Post: Time to Face the Music – Cyber Risk is D&O Risk – And Things Are Getting Worse! published first on http://simonconsultancypage.tumblr.com/

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