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writers-hes · 2 years ago

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The Blind Man

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, abusive marriage)

They finally meet.

PART 1 / PART 2

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

There was nothing discreet with how you dressed. You were in all black, a black veil shielding you from the onlookers. Simon sent some money to Johnny’s wife, Beth, for a proper wake. His house was filled with white flowers and proper food. It’s the least he could do, that’s what he said. You were sitting beside the widow, trying to console her.

“Johnny used to talk about you alot,” she weeped. “‘That’s my girl! That’s my daughter and she’ll go places!’ That’s what he always said. He told me how you grew up in the brothel and how you were always willing to listen to his lessons in arithmetic.” Her eyes were red from crying and all you could do was console her. “Thank you for taking care of him…for taking care of us,”

“It’s nothing, Beth,” you assured her. “He let me into his bunker when my mum died,” you recalled. “He protected me from…from…as much as he could, you know?”

God. Just how many people could you lose in this fucking lifetime? First, your father but you’ve never really weeped for him. You never knew him. Second, your mum. She took care of you with how little she had. Third, Tommy. You never heard back if he was alive or not. Your protector. Fourth, Big Johnny. He’s always been the male figure that you considered as your father. Who’s next?

“I’m grateful for him,” you managed to choke out. You asked your security guards to go somewhere else, maybe a few feet or metres from the house. You wanted privacy. “I’m just so regretful to never have seen him and now he’s gone…”

Johnny died because of a rumble with some of the newer gangs in Small Heath. Some young lads mugged him on the way home and killed him. They threw his body by the docks where they thought no one would ever see him.

Your body suddenly fills with rage. Was this the work of the Blinders? Fuck. Why would they fucking do that? Beth excuses herself from you and you nodded. Picking on the rings on your fingers, you didn’t notice who sat beside you.

“Seems like we only see each other at weddings and funerals,” You gasped, looking at the source of the familiar voice. How could you ever forget? She told you what you needed to do to survive.

“Polly,” you gasped, extending your shaky hands towards her. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” she replied. “Who would’ve thought, huh?” she asked. She lets you clutch her hand for support. “Where’s Simon?”

“He has business in Camden Town,” you replied. “He allowed me to go but there’s security around us right now. We can’t really talk, Poll—he’s going to, he’s going to—“

“I’ve handled it,” she said. “You can talk to me as freely as you would like, okay?” You nodded.

“I’m sorry for…for leaving,” you whispered. Your voice wavers and you feel the wetness in your eyes. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Darling…”

“He threatened to kill Tommy, Arthur, and John if I didn’t obey,” you confessed. “During the…the war,” You shut your eyes to hide from Polly. Her heart aches. You’ve always been reluctant to show your emotions but you are visibly hiding now. Cowering from the fear of rejection and of humiliation from Polly Gray. “He said that-that he knew people who could finish the job.”

“Don’t hide,” she coos. Your obedience was not in vain but she’d never tell you that. She didn’t want Tommy to act impulsively and she didn’t want you to lose what you already have. “How are you? You don’t need permission from a man, you know,”

“I know,” you nod. “You always told me but…Simon is all I have now. He trusts me and I don’t want to break that trust that I’ve worked so hard on. You told me to take advantage of everything and I am,”

“What have you been doing?”

“I have trusts, bonds, and investments to my name now. Simon couldn’t take them away from me. All sealed with a document that my lawyers reviewed,” you told her. Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.

“Johnny and I taught you well then,” she nods in approval. “That’s good. We miss you,”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Where’s Ada? I’ve to thank her for the house,”

“If anything, she has you to thank. She’s been going there a lot since you left. She said she feels more at peace there,” Polly replied. “When are you leaving?”

“After the burial,” you replied. “I have to leave and go to uh, Italy with Simon,”

“For what?”

“Some…business thing.” you replied.

“He’s showing you the world?” she asked, gesturing to your clothes. You knew it. It was too much for a funeral.

“Yeah. It’s too much isn’t it? I can-I can change into something else but, he likes these clothes,” you told her. “But can I—“

“No, you look good,” she says, stopping you from your worries. “You look like who you’re supposed to be,”

You look like who you’re supposed to be. If it was any other person, you’d be offended; but this was Polly. She always told you that you didn’t belong in Small Heath. “You’re too pure to belong here forever.” She’d always say. It’s funny, you felt like you never belonged in Simon’s world no matter how hard he tried to put you in it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about Tommy and his brothers. How could you? You were too scared to know the answer. If Polly didn’t mention it, it’s probably for the best.

“I do wish you’d visit us more but I know your circumstances,” she said. “I received the letter from Simon along with a cheque of a few thousand pounds,”

“Did you encash it?” you asked.

“No,” she replied. Somehow, that gave you comfort. She couldn’t be bought. “I did it because I was so worried about what could happen to you. It didn’t have any details. It just said that he’d appreciate it if we cease all contact. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No,” you shook your head. Not yet. “As unimaginable as it all is, he has never. I truly believe that he loves me, Pol. He tells me every day. He heeds everything that I say or do and has never had a mistress but I feel so terrible because I don’t love him that way,” you confessed, feeling like the weight of the world just lifted itself on your shoulders. “I’m terrible,”

“You’re not,” Polly said. “I told you to take advantage of everything but I never told you to love him, did I?”

You went home that day feeling lighter. You could always confide in Polly whenever you needed. You were just so heartbroken to know that that could probably never happen again. Your servants have left now. You told them that you didn’t need them during the night because of how small the house was. They stayed at a lodging for labourers nearby; except for the guards. They came with you wherever you go, even if it was only at a distance.

You were putting away the heavy gold earrings in the vanity in your room. It was dark, except for the lamp that you opened by the bed.

“You should really change your locks,” Your head whipped, earrings falling on the ground.

“Tommy?” you asked, rushing towards him in your most comfortable clothes. It was a long sleeved pyjama shirt that Simon owned. Tommy didn’t like it. “Oh my God. You’re here,” you breathed, shaky hands touching his arm. “You’re here…you’re here,”

“And you’re here,” he says, his voice void of emotion. He looked for the pressed flowers in the frame that usually sat on your vanity. It was gone. “You left,”

“I didn’t want to,” you said, removing your hands from him when you felt how cold he was.

“Did you plan on coming back? At all?” he asked. His rage blinds him. Why was he so cold and cruel? Why couldn’t he tell you how happy he was to see you again? He didn’t know how to handle his emotions. Years of longing…of heartbreak…of wondering if he could ever be good enough came down on him.

“Tommy?”

“It’s just a funny thing, isn’t it?” he chuckled, lighting up his cigarette. “You leave, make your way into the world, and then expect things to be the same.”

You frowned.

“It’s a funny thing. You promised to wait for me and you didn’t,” he spat. “All I ever looked at was your photo in those four years and you—“

“I didn’t want to leave, Tommy,” you whispered.

“But you did!” he exclaims. “You left me! You…you left me and married someone else. You decided that I could never grant my promises and fucked someone else. Like a…like…”

“Like what, Tommy?” you asked, stepping away from him. “Like a whore?” He’s never thought of you like that before.

“I never said that,”

“But you thought it!” You sit on your bed. “You see me like how everyone sees me. Fuck,” you shook, shielding yourself away from him. “How could you ruin this for us?”

“No, I’m—“

“Then, what? What is it, Tommy? You come in here to my house and pick a fight. You can’t blame me for the choices that I made! I had no idea if you were coming back. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me,” he demanded. “I told you to wait for me. I’ve been building us everything that we ever wanted but you were just so impatient,”

“How could I if you never wrote back?”

You looked up at him through teary eyes. You finally gave him the chance to look at you. You looked older, despite the garb that you were wearing. The sparkle was gone. You looked up at him. He’s different. Detached, cold, and emotionless. The blue eyes that used to convey so much emotion were gone. He wasn’t letting you in like he used to.

You both changed.

A shimmer on your neck catches his attention. It was his mother’s locket. You catch his eyes casting down on it.

“I forgot,” you croaked, looking away. “I’m supposed to give this to you.” He wasn’t your Tommy anymore.

“No, you should keep it,”

“It’s okay,” you nod, removing the locket from your person and putting it on the bed. It was the first time you’ve ever removed it and it felt like you were removing a leash. “You own it. You should give it to someone else. Someone that’s…that’s not me,”

“Y/N…love,” he tried but you shook his head. “It always belonged to you.”

“We’re not the same people anymore, Tom. You look at me and-and it’s how everyone else does,” you cried. “Like a whore. I’m selling my body and my future for a life like this. Right? I don’t want to have this anymore,” you said. “We grew apart and we’re older now. We’re not the same people,” You don’t love me anymore.

There was hell and there was a place below hell. It was where he was. How could he be so cruel to make you cry? How could he insinuate that you were all the same? How could you hint that he doesn’t love you anymore?

“I waited for you, Tommy. Waited for you to write back and at first, I felt…sad. Then, angry. You think I’m so disposable. So replaceable, right?” you asked. “I sent you letters every week. You always told me you’d protect me but you couldn’t even send me a letter telling me that you were alright. You couldn’t even protect Johnny!”

Maybe if he told you that it was Polly who intercepted those letters, you wouldn’t be so mad at him. Maybe you wouldn’t think that he’d abandon you so easily. Maybe you’d know that you were the only face that got him out of the tunnels. Maybe you’d know that it was your name that made him feel good. Like your name was some prayer he’s worthy enough to say every time that he felt like he was underground again. But how could he hurt you more than he already did?

“You were the one who replaced me,” Maybe you’d finally know that he loves you and that, if you could have just waited a little bit longer, you’d never have to worry if your hair was out of place.

“There was nothing to replace.”

Tommy brews in anger. To Polly, to you, and to himself. He couldn’t tell you that Polly intercepted your letters. He didn’t want to cut your relationship with her too.

“Fuck!” he roared. The barmaid comes in and asks Tommy if he was okay. He shrugs her off but seems intent on staying.

“Do you want me to sing for you?” she asked. He leans back, uninterested.

“Sure,”

“Happy or sad?” she asked.

“Uh, sad,”

“It’ll break your heart,” she says, smiling softly.

“Already broken,” he muttered. Already broken.

He sits there, unmoving. To be honest, he didn’t know why he was so mad at you. He was truly, utterly, and irrevocably alone now that you were gone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being alone. He prefered it sometimes. Maybe it’s because he always expected for the two of you to be alone together. Like you always were.

The fear of being unknown to you scares him. You’ve always known him—his whole heart and his whole soul. You’ve always known him but now, you’re gone. You’ll never know him the way you knew him. You were too different now and it rips through him like nothing else. You’ll never be there for him like you did. He’ll never know you like he did once. He could never pinpoint it but he hates how he was never enough for you. If only he could provide, if he could only protect, if only…

Here he thought he’d finally have a wink of sleep after four years.

You were on the phone with your husband after Tommy stormed out in anger last night. You needed to be comforted, to be told that you were right and that everyone else was wrong. It was one of the few luxuries you allowed yourself when you were with Tommy but you were positive that you’ve lost him now.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I can always come down there, you know,”

“I know,” you nodded. “I just miss you,”

“You do?” You could tell that that inflated his ego. “If it’s any consolation, I missed you too,”

“Do you think…do you think you can be here for the funeral?” you asked before you could even stop yourself. Why were you bringing him here when Tommy was around? Were you bringing him here out of spite? To make Tommy what? Jealous? But then again, was it a sin to ask for comfort from your husband? Tommy would never understand. He was quick to tell you what he thought of you yesterday. It was the first time he did it but you couldn’t get it out of your head. If to him, you were a whore, then a whore you’d be.

It was the only thing you were good at anyway.

“Of course,” he nodded. “This thing with Solomons is just shit work anyway. I’ll be there the day before. Will that be alright?”

“Yes,” you whispered. Are you really willing to let him inside the fort you’ve built with Tommy? “I lost my mom’s locket today and I…”

“You did?” he asked. He knew how important that locket was to you. You begged him to not take it off during your wedding. If only he knew. He bought you jewels but you never wore another necklace. “We can get you another one. Something that’s even more beautiful than the one you had.”

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “I love you,”

“I love you too.”

And you weren’t sure if you were still lying.

Simon arrives at your house sometime in the morning, before the sun rises. It was his first time seeing your house—being in your house. It was a small, shabby home with flowers. Have you always liked flowers? One of the servants opened the door for him and he entered. Poor you. Did you always live like this?

He spots you reading a book on the couch when you look up at him.

“How was your trip?” You close the book and sit upright. “I hope it wasn’t horrible,”

“I’m here now,” he sits down, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “You’ve been on my mind since you left. Is there anything I have to know?”

“I…I talked to Polly,” you confessed. The grip that he has on your waist tightens. “But we only talked about Johnny. She said that the police aren’t doing anything to know who killed him.”

“I see,”

“But I left after that. I’ve never seen her since,” you said truthfully. “I told her that we couldn’t meet again,”

“Thank you for not breaking my trust,” he said, removing his grip on you. “You know it’s for us, right?”

“Yes, I know,” you nodded. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Why were you understanding him more? Are you only agreeing with Simon because you hated Tommy at that moment? What’s the sudden change?

You were all gathered at Johnny's funeral. Simon was beside you, holding your waist protectively. Beth was a wailing mess by the coffin. They were putting him six feet under. Last night was the last time she’ll ever see Johnny’s physical body again. You were bowing your head down, trying to keep your tears away. Johnny had been the father figure and now, he’s gone too.

The ceremony ends soon enough with Simon never letting go of your body. The Shelbys have noticed. Simon was basically hounding you so you wouldn’t have to talk to others.

“I sometimes wonder if she stopped talking to us because she wanted to or if she was forced to,” Arthur said, looking at you and your husband. Ada was looking at Polly. They were the only ones who knew. They both agreed to never tell a soul because of how messy things could be. Tommy would wage a war if it concerned you. “The question is why is she letting him?”

Tommy walks to where you were. He clears his throat to make himself known. He watches your figure become rigid. Simon was looking at him, his hand still on your waist. If he could shoot this prick’s hand for even laying a hand on you—

“I’m Tommy Shelby,” he starts. “I just decided to come by and offer a quick greeting to your wife.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” Simon replied, his voice was strained and you were scared. Terrified. “Y/N didn’t tell me about you. Have you, darling?” There was a threat in his voice.

“Oh,” you nod, licking your lips. Your voice was wavering. “Mr. Shelby i-is someone I knew when I was a child, darling. He left for the war and…and…”

“We haven’t seen each other since,” he finishes. “I wish we could talk more,” Tommy added, confirming what he already thought. He didn’t spare you a glance and if he did, he didn’t make a show of it. “Mr. Coventry. Y/N,” he bowed, taking your gloved hand and kissing your knuckles. He walks away, leaving Simon’s anger and your anxiety behind him.

Simon didn’t speak to you on the way back. You tried but he only dismissed you with a cold shoulder. When you arrived home, he dragged you by the arm to the living room. You watched while the servants dispersed to give you some privacy. It was funny how they always pretended that they knew nothing.

“Do you really think I’m fucking stupid?” he roared, his loud voice vibrating the walls of your home. “You talked to Polly Gray but didn’t meet Tommy. At all,”

“You have to believe me, Simon. I never…it’s my first time seeing him again!” you pleaded, scared for Tommy’s life—scared for yours. Your arm hurts but you have bigger problems right now. What was a little bruise anyway? “I didn’t even know if he was still alive,”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked. “It’s like everything that you’re saying are…are lies! I gave you everything,” he spits. “I gave you and your friends money. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in that fucking brothel fucking some twat who could never afford everything that I’m giving you. Is that what you want? Do you want to go back there?”

“Simon,” you tried. “I swear, I didn’t know he was still alive. Polly never told me. I—“

“Liar!” he says, stepping closer to you. He grasps your chin tightly, your head unmoving at the pressure. “I bought you. Don’t you dare fucking disrespect me. I own you,”

“Simon, please…” you cried. “I swear to you I didn’t…”

“Shut up,” he spits. “You’re fucking disgusting,”

He shoves you to the floor and you cry. He leaves without looking at you. He didn’t apologise for what he did. It was the first time he showed you what you were to him. A property. You didn’t sleep that night; you were just on the balcony, looking at the docks, wondering what would’ve happened if you had just waited.

The morning comes and you are tired. Simon just woke up and decided to stay with you on the balcony.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he whispers. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “I’m sorry for doing that. I promise to never do that again. I was just…so angry because Tommy Shelby came to us. Do you see why you’re not allowed to be here? Why I hate it when you’re in Birmingham? These fucking rats have no respect,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Simon, you said things,” you whispered, looking up at him. Tears stained your cheeks. Everything that he said replayed inside your head over and over. What right did you have to demand his apology if he owned you? “You…”

Defeated, Simon sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You know that I’m doing this for us. I’m sorry,”

You could only nod wordlessly, blinking away the tears before they fall again. You didn’t notice the bruising on your jaw yet. You weren’t at the brothel anymore but up to what extent are you truly free? At the end of the day, you’re still weak. You still have nothing. At the end of the day, buttering him up doesn’t matter.

BIRMINGHAM, 1912

“One day, we’ll be able to buy those fancy, black cars and drive around London as much as we want.” Tommy said. He was in his work clothes, a greasy white shirt and his shaggy hair falling in different sorts of places.

“We will?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his shoulder touching yours. You were just about to work when he pulled you away. He asked if you wanted to come with him to The Cut for a little while and you agreed, finding it hard to say no to him. “I’ll get you one and then, I’ll get you a horse.”

“Don’t forget the house with a big lawn,” you giggled.

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I’ll buy that first,”

“Would you hate me if things don’t work out the way we want them to?” you asked. “I’m just wondering,”

“Why wouldn’t it? We’re staying together,” Tommy said, casting you a confused look.

“I mean, you’ll get a wife. I can’t live in the same house as her,” you said. “I don’t want to cause unnecessary problems for the two of you. I want her to be my friend too.”

“I’m not marrying,” he said. “Why should I marry? We come as a pair. Never one without the other. We won’t need anyone else,”

“That would be nice.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “You’re always my main priority. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about all that yet. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine,”

“And if I’m not?”

“I won’t,”

“How are you going to do all this?” you asked. You always believed in Tommy.

“I’ll do everything,”

“You’re a man of ambition, Tommy. Did you know that you can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous?”

He ponders. He’ll deal all of his cards and fold if it came to you.

There were a million things you wanted to tell him at that moment. He does, too. He looks at you so…lovingly and so naturally that it doesn’t seem like anything anymore. Tommy really didn’t fear anything, except when it came to you. He’s scared to tell you the truth because he might change the course of things. He’s scared to never fulfil all of his promises to you. He’s scared that he’ll never amount to anything other than a greasy boy that you took care of.

He doesn’t say any of this, though, so he just smokes slow.

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“I have to do something about it,” Tommy told his brothers, taking a swig of his Irish whiskey. He was composed but his mind was running at a speed that he couldn’t quite catch up on. Were you happy in your marriage?

“Tom, it’s better if you could just let her go,” Arthur replied. “It’s not my place, hm? But we saw them yesterday. Maybe it’s for the best,”

“It’s not,” Stoic as ever, he looked ahead.

“It’s a bad idea…” his older brother tried. “You’re fighting against a king. You’re not—“

“Why is everyone telling me that I can’t do anything? Why?” he asked. “I hardly recall asking for your permission, Arthur. You and Polly have been telling me what I can and can’t do.”

“Tommy, think about it. With the fucking guns and taking on this whole…thing with her. It’s too big. So, just let it go, eh? You’ll get yourself killed,” John added. He knew of Tommy’s affections for you. Hell, he knew what Tommy meant. John discreetly watched you and your husband. You couldn’t maintain eye contact, you couldn’t speak freely without a stutter. It was so different from the Y/N that he used to know but Tommy couldn’t be persuaded. He was living on the edge of life in the war that it didn’t matter to him if he died or not. He’s free from the fear of death; he could do whatever he wanted.

“I’m a man of ambition. You can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous,”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Tommy feels like the world was caving in. Fuck. He always hated sleeping, no matter how much he craved it. The darkness of his room and his closed eyes reminds him of the darkness of the tunnels. The walls and the tightness of the closed spaces; the unknown waiting on the other side. The lives he lost, the blood that his comrades spilled. He sits up, he hates how he couldn’t sleep because he’s always hearing the gunshots and the bombs in France. He hates being weak. Things were never the same and he so desperately wanted it to be. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. He couldn’t see the faint lamp that burned on his bedside table. The ringing in his ears doesn’t subside. It was just fucking dark.

He looks over his bedside table and reaches for your picture. You always seemed to calm him no matter where he went. No matter what he does, you always seem to ground him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, taking a swig of his whiskey. As if that would just conjure you. He was sometimes convinced that your picture was an apparition of the time when everything was quieter. When his world had no guns and bombs. When you two were together. He frowns, taking his head in between his hands and cries.

If only he was stronger. If only he was rich. If only he could fulfil all of the promises he gave you. If only.

If there was anything he regretted, it was how angry he was when he went to your old house for your first meeting. He’s been waiting to be graced by your smile for years but he couldn’t control the anger that brewed inside him. He was so guarded after the war. But those guards seem to crumble around you, leaving him defenceless and vulnerable like a child.

A knock on his door arouses him. It was currently just before the sunrise; that hazy blue period that calms him before everyone else wakes. He checked from his window outside but there was nothing. Another knock comes and he sighs, going downstairs to check. He puts his gun behind him. He opens the door and it reveals you.

You were shaking like a leaf when his eyes landed on your figure.

“I don’t know…where else to…to go,” you whispered. He goes out and looks around to make sure that no one’s there. When the coast is clear, he takes your hand and guides you to the living room. He was hoping that no one heard anything.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Just…water, please,”

“Did you walk all the way?”

“Yeah,” he hears you say while he pours you a glass. “Sorry for disturbing you,”

“It’s alright,” he tells you, giving you the glass.

“Yeah,” you replied, drinking the water to avoid any sort of communication with your old friend. “Tommy?”

“Hm?” he asked, sitting in front of you and it’s so different it hurts. He used to sit beside you, knee to knee. He had to blink multiple times to clear his vision—to make sure that you were actually there. “What brings you here?”

“I…I…” you couldn’t say a single word before you broke into tears. It was then when Tommy actually looked at you, the bruising on your chin, your defeated stance. He trembles in anger but forces himself to let it subside and comfort you. “S-sorry,”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, love,” he whispers, sitting beside you this time and rubbing circles on your back. “You don’t have to talk about it,”

“Would you still…would you still protect me?” you asked and you were aware of how selfish you sounded. “You’re right. I’m a-a whore,” you chuckled, looking away from him. “I know I’m being unfair…marrying Simon and then coming here…”

It appals him for you to think that he’ll ever stop protecting you. It disturbs him for letting you think that way because of one argument.

Your chin was quivering as you tried to form a coherent sentence.

“I thought…I thought I was free but he laid a hand on me,” you tried. “Gripped my chin and called me his property,”

You told yourself that it wasn’t Tommy’s fault.

“All because you talked to me during the funeral,” you whispered. You couldn’t stop yourself and Tommy couldn’t stop himself from the emotions that linger. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault that you loved him.

“Let’s run away,” It’s all his fault. All his fault that he loved you.

“Tommy…” you whispered, shaking your head. “Did you know…did you know why I stopped talking to you?” you asked him. He didn’t. Maybe the reason why he’s so angry with you was because he didn’t know. “When you were in France, he told me that if I continue any form of communication with the Shelbys…he’ll locate you and your brothers and have the three of you killed.” You reveal to him. “You always said you’ll protect me but I wanted to protect you too.”

Your broken voice was something that he’ll never forget. Your fragile figure was something that he’ll never remove from his brain. You were…miserable. How could you let yourself be miserable for his sake? How could Simon let you cry? How could he break you? You were so strong, the strongest he’s ever known.

“I will kill him,”

“Tommy, no,” you whimpered. “I’m here to tell you that…that the best way to protect me is to forget about me,”

“You can’t do that to me,” Tommy replied, his voice stern. He was trying so, so hard. “Not when I waited to come home for four years.”

“It’s the best way,” you pleaded. “You can go start a family or…or do something else but if you really want to protect me, you’ll forget about me,”

You were so defeated, your figure curled to your heart like you were protecting yourself from everyone. Tommy could see the stutter of your body while you tried to control everything.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he tried, blinking the tears away but failing. His resolve was crumbling; popping the joints on his knuckles to ground him. It was then he noticed your nail beds, peeled and crusted with dried blood. You must have been thinking about it for so long. “You’re not giving me a choice here, love,” You must have been hurting.

“He’ll kill you, Tom. I wouldn’t be able to take it if I am the reason why your body’s thrown at The Cut.” you told him. “I let you go once without knowing for sure that you’ll come back alive. I’ll make sure that this time, you are.”

“So that’s it, eh?” he asked. “Your bastard husband threatens my life and you let him control you.” he licks his lips.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” you told him. “That's all I could do. You’re a man…you could have the world. I’m a woman and I can’t have anything unless I make it. This is me making it.” This is me making sure that I’ll never have to think about you.

You left in the wee hours of the morning and Tommy lets you go without a fight. He thought that he was the one doing the protecting, when you’ve been protecting him all along. You were his most tender wound. Battle scars from France don't compare to the pain he’s feeling in the darkness of the house. Should he run after you? Should he heed your advice? What if he kills Simon? Will you be free then?

“Her husband’s dealing with Alfie Solomons,” he tells everyone during a family meeting. “I’ll deal with Solomons myself,”

“You’re waging a war that is bigger than all of us, Tommy,” Arthur said.

“I’m not asking for approval,” he only replied, his voice was monotonous; suppressing his emotions as much as he could. He swallows. “Information about Y/N’s home life has reached me. She told me that the best way to protect her is to forget about her.” He confessed.

“Well, shit,” Ada replied. “Surely…”

“Surely, I won’t.” he said, voice stern and determined. “I’ll deal all of my cards if I have to. Do you get that?”

“Tommy, it’s a bad idea. She’s right. With the fucking inspector on our throats and Simon Coventry…you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I have decided,”

“Then, what’s all of this for, then?”

“Just letting you know.” he says, looking at everyone’s face of disapproval.

When he exits the Garrison, Polly runs after him. She was determined to let him let you go for your safety. It was a sticky situation that Tommy was putting himself in. A semblance of power doesn’t mean that he’s powerful but he couldn’t seem to understand that.

“Tommy, do you want to save her because you want to or is it because you have to prove yourself to you?” she asked him, grasping his arm.

“Polly—“

“Do you love her because you do or do you only think you do because you need her? It’s alright to let her go, Tom. You have to realise that maybe she’s correct,” she reasoned. “The more you move, the more she’s constricted—“

“You took her away from me, Polly,” he spits. “How can I not love her when I need her beside me to even get a wink of sleep? Her picture was all I looked at in France. She is the reason why I’m alive—why I’m here. You took her away from me and I am taking her back. Does that look like love to you?” he demanded, shaking her arm away.

“You want to know what blinds a man as smart as you, Tom? Love,” she says. “You’re making things—“

“So I am blind,” he shrugs. “I vowed to protect her and that is a vow that I’ll take to the grave with me, Pol. You could help or not. It wouldn’t matter either way but you owe it to me to try. At least,”

A beat passes, Polly doesn’t speak. He nods to excuse himself, walking away as the blind man.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m so glad you’re still here.

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it!

PART 4

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #protection!tommy

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lordfloofelsnoot · 20 hours ago

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My Path to Necromancy:

Self-insert Kingdom Hearts Excerpt

(T-Rating)

Author's Note: I was never good at Math, and that's all magic even is. Once you learn algebraic equations, you're just about ready to learn real magic:

I lay sprawled and disgruntled, kept awake by tinkering sounds, the whoosh of fanned flames, and mutterings of "kupo, kupo." Eyes closed in spite and protest, I claw fruitlessly for the sleep that evades me, but promptly give up when I overhear Cid cursing. It's not like I remember my dream's thrilling plot, anyway.

I drag my feet the entire time I dress and refresh, "I'm heading out," I call to Cid, wherever he is in the shop.

I get a series of grumbling and some more cussing from the old man and a waft of acrid cigarette smoke for good measure before I shut the door.

I take the scenic route each time, window-shopping and getting enthralled by the stars on my way to the town's Third District, where the great wizard Merlin resides behind a door that requires a bit of thought, if not sorcery, to get through. A literal hop, skip, and a jump was further necessary to cross the moat to a rickety old house, its framework exposed, the stones crumbled, drapery torn, and floors creaked under footfall. Even before I got to the side door (the front was boarded up), I could hear Merlin bickering with his owl companion, Archimedes—a proud, "highly-educated" creature, but crotchety.

"Now, now, now, see here! You stubborn old goat—!" Sputtered Archimedes after a seething remark, feathers ruffled and made to look like a puffball with a beak and wide, tired eyes.

"Blast it all, Archimedes, I swear I'll! I, I, I'll turn you into a human!" Merlin threatened, stammering for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"You wouldn't dare!" Archimedes shook his head and rounded on his perch; head turned all the way around to glare, offended.

"And I'll do it, too! Don't think I won't!"

Archimedes grumbled some more before waddling into his birdhouse, not willing to see if Merlin would actually make good on the threat.

"Hmph! And that should just about take care of that," Merlin harrumphs around his smoke pipe, puffing and blowing in agitation as he sinks into a dusty old armchair, among the clutter of books, novel and model contraptions from dates far back and far-flung into the future, and all manner of bric a brac that makes navigating harder than it should be.

"Merlin?" I call for his attention, which causes him to jump with a loud yelp.

"Wuh-what, what? Ah, it's you, my boy. Let's see now, er," Merlin produced his pocket watch and eyeballed it briefly before nodding to himself. "Oh, yes, you're quite earlier than expected. But no matter, punctuality is a very important trait to have, and it's good that you've learned it!" Merlin wags his finger for emphasis, praising me.

I always felt good around Merlin—he's taught me for years now, and there was still so much more to learn from him, from magic to arithmetic. "Yes, yes, yes, now, let me think, er," Merlin hurries to check the curriculum, having misplaced it in all this mess, no doubt. He turns here and there, and his beard turns with him, wrapped around his pipe, which he forgets he still had a hold of.

Once he was as tangled as possible, he finally took notice and spent a minute tugging on it to free himself. "Hang it all!" he shouted. "You see what I've done? I blame the bird!"

I don't even know what they discussed before, but if I had to guess, it was about man's innovation. Archimedes didn't much care for mankind's technological advancements, though he was well-read in language and practical science.

"Ah-ah! Here we go," Merlin shouts in triumph, producing a worn tome with mindboggling geometry adorning the cover. "Now, you know why I place so much importance on language, lad? It's because the mere spoken word has power. It takes a great deal of focus to cast without speaking the proper incantation! And you've made steady progress in your channeling that a mere thought can flicker a flame!" Merlin snapped his finger to demonstrate, and predictably, an ember nearly set his beard alight. "Oh! Gracious!" He pats it to a smolder. "Ahem! So, with that in mind, I want you to study the formulas in this book! I believe you're more than up to task by now."

I take the book, leaf through its musty old pages, and stare confounded at the teeny, chicken scratch text and complicated diagrams. Merlin observes with his hands behind his back, appearing innocent and likely knowing I was having difficulty. "It'll come to you, it'll come to you," Merlin waves assuringly.

"Ha! Can't you see the poor boy hasn't got a clue? Not a one!" Archimedes poked his nosy beak out to say.

"You hush! He is most certainly up to task!" Merlin angrily repeated, then turned and suggested. "But, er, why not try tracing the sigils with your fingers? Get a feel for them."

The pages were raised slightly—I could feel the tingle of magic in them, but it was different from what I was used to. "You see, these are pictographs—or glyphs if you prefer. I've mentioned the spoken word, but writing—now that's just as powerful, if not more!" Merlin boasted. "It is a thought—a suggestion or command with physicality!" I puzzled over the glyphs for a few moments before I began to feel exhausted—literally. Just looking at the pages strained my eyes as if I'd been staring for hours when it hadn't even been a minute.

"Oh, oh dear, perhaps it is a might too soon," Merlin coughs, fixing his glasses and hat with some embarrassment.

"Just what have you got him looking at, you windbag?" Archimedes chimes in again.

In an effort to save face, Merlin loudly clears his throat and straightens his posture. "Now, see here, my boy, you keep at it at your own pace. Here," Merlin curls his finger at the tea set, and with much whimsy, they levitate, bobbing to a rhythm over to the table while Merlin goes to boil some water at the stove. "Let's sit down for some tea, shall we?"

I set the book down for now and sit, the chair animated and scooting to accommodate.

#pointless rambling #fanwork #kingdom hearts #merlin disney #NOBODY SAID THERE WOULD BE MATH!#my writing #archimedes disney

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renee-writer · 5 days ago

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Lost Lass Chapter 9

AO3

‘Mistress Fraser,

Grandma continues to teach me healing skills. The Laird has a tutor to teach me arithmetic and literature. When I am not studying under Grandma and Master Ned, I love reading on my own. I am reading the Bible as well as classics like Gulliver's Travels and Voltaire. Master Ned is going to teach me astronomy and other sciences next year when I am seven.

I wish you and Master Fraser would come visit with the children. I would love to show you all what I am learning. Besides, I miss you. Grandma is wonderful and Master Ned is quite sweet. Yes, he makes me study ( not that I mind doing it) but he also takes me horseback riding and teaches me to play chess.

Still, even with baby Laoghaire to play with and the lads, Angus and Rupert, something is missing without you here.

Your little lass

Claire’

They received the letter on Jamie's second birthday. After reading it and then allowing Jenny to read it to Jamie, they come to a decision.

“We need to make a trip to Castle Leoch.” Brian says what they are both thinking.

“And soon before I am too far along to travel.” Her hands cradle her small bump.

“Aye.”

A week later, they head out to visit her brothers and the little lass.

“Why, this cannot be wee Janet and wee James!” Mrs. Fitz exclaims at seeing them.

“My name is Jenny.” The eight year old says.

“Aye Jenny.”

“And my brother is Jamie.” She is saying when Claire comes in after her lessons. At seeing the Fraser's, she squeals.

Running over, she throws her arms around Jenny who is also squealing. The two little lasses hold fast to each other, jumping up and down.

Jamie watches them for a moment before walking over and grabbing Claire ‘s legs. “Jamie's Claire!” He declares, causing all the adults to smile.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #lost lass #chapter 9 #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence

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unpredictable-probabilities · 2 months ago

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Crossroads of Duty and Devotion || Chapter 4: The Bluff and The Sandman

Summary:

It's Hob's first day as a knight, and Prince Morpheus is barely acknowledging his presence. Hob is confused and unsure what to do about the sudden coldness when they suddenly encounter a young boy in distress.

Word Count: 3,597

[Read on AO3]

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Hob unlocked the door to his house and pushed, shoving it with his shoulder a few times before it finally budged. The front door often got stuck because the wood had expanded after a few rainy seasons, but Hob always said that it just meant better security against thieves.

He stepped in and took a moment to look around the place. Now that he had been assigned as the Crown Prince’s personal guard—which he still couldn't quite believe—he was required to live on the palace grounds starting tomorrow. Certainly these meager lodgings wouldn’t compare to the luxuries of the palace, but it had always been his home.

“Father?” a voice said behind him. “You’re here early.”

Hob turned around to see a young lad standing by the doorway. “Robyn,” he grinned. “How was school?”

Robyn shrugged before walking in and placing his bag on the table. “We just learned our letters like usual, and Miss Gault has been teaching us enough arithmetic to get by at the market, but I can already do that.” He headed to the small corner that served as their kitchen and opened the pot. “Have you had supper yet? There is still some leftover stew from this morning.”

Hob sighed. In a fair world, a boy who was merely eleven summers old would be playing outside with the other children instead of being well-versed in haggling at the market and worrying about his father’s meals.

“They fed me at the palace, don’t worry.”

The lid dropped onto the pot loudly as Robyn startled. “The palace?” He looked at Hob with wide eyes. “Did you get in trouble?”

Hob chuckled and shook his head. “No nothing like that, don't worry.” He gestured to the table. “Sit with me a while, I’ve got to tell you about the day I’ve had.”

Robyn still looked surprised and confused, but he sat across from Hob at the table, ready to listen as always.

══════════ ⛉ ⚔︎ 🜲 ══════════

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the palace, reflecting off the large windows and coloring the gardens a soft orange.

Morpheus barely noticed any of it as he made his way across the grounds with only one destination in mind. Word had spread of the bandit attack yesterday, and the palace had been a flurry of activity between doubling security measures and sending and receiving messengers from nearby villages to ensure that there were no more plans to attack the royals. He wanted some time to himself before the arrival of the new knight today.

“Your Highness!”

Morpheus saw that Corinth and Lucienne were coming towards him, and he reluctantly stopped walking; they seemed to have been engaged in conversation before they saw him and decided to call his attention.

“Your Highness,” Corinth repeated once they were all facing each other. “I hope I am not interrupting. I had been voicing my concerns to Captain Lucienne, and perhaps it would be best for you to hear them as well.” His one good eye looked to Lucienne, his eyepatch making his expression seem more somber.

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“Corinth is wary of the recent developments here in the palace,” Lucienne said.

“Speak freely, both of you.” Morpheus did not have the patience for their dancing around the point.

“I don’t trust that Robert Gadling, sire,” Corinth said with a scowl. “We have known him for less than a day and yet he would be near you at all times?” He shook his head. “It’s not my place to question the King’s decisions, but considering the bandit attack, we should not be so quick to let people be so close to you. And he's still injured besides. How will he be able to defend you in his current state?”

“The other knights will still accompany Sir Gadling should Prince Morpheus need to venture outside the palace,” Lucienne explained.

“And I am perfectly capable of defending myself should anything happen,” Morpheus said evenly, though it crossed his mind that it had been quite a challenging swordfight with Gadling. “Nevertheless, Gadling will not be staying long.”

“What do you mean, my lord?” Lucienne asked.

“I mean that I do not need a nursemaid,” Morpheus said with an edge to his voice. “Now, leave me be as I figure out how to tell my father that.”

Before he could turn to leave, however, another voice spoke up.

“Captain Lucienne.” Gadling was walking towards them with that easy smile of his. “I was told to look for you, I’m supposed to start today.” He tipped his head towards Morpheus and Corinth. “My lord. Sir.”

“Corinth. Prince Morpheus’ personal guard until last year,” Corinth introduced himself pointedly.

Gadling’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments. “Ah. Maybe I could learn a few things from you, then?”

Corinth’s gaze was unmistakably disapproving, but Lucienne answered first.

“Of course, you’ll be learning from all the knights here, Robert,” she said amiably.

“Excellent,” Morpheus said in an even tone, far from pleased about being waylaid by three people. “You all can focus on training, and I shall be on my way.” He turned and promptly left the situation.

“Sir Gadling,” Lucienne’s voice said behind him. “You start today, correct? Do follow Prince Morpheus wherever it is he is headed.”

Morpheus stopped in his tracks and faced them again. “I do not need to be accompanied around my own palace.”

“Sir Gadling needs to familiarize himself with the palace, my lord,” Lucienne gently pointed out. “And it would be good training for him to keep watch over you in a safe place before he accompanies you on your travels.”

“I do not need to be watched over, whether inside or outside the palace.” Morpheus didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice, and in fact enhanced it.

“I won’t get in the way, my lord.” Gadling seemed unfazed. “You’ll hardly know I’m there.”

Corinth scoffed but didn’t say anything, which was rude behavior that Morpheus realized he could take inspiration from.

He turned and walked away without so much as a glance at any of them even when he heard hurried footsteps following him.

True to his word, Gadling kept a few feet of distance between them and never spoke once the entire time that Morpheus made his way up the staircase leading to the western tower.

The view opened up to the hills in the distance, now awash with a golden glow as the sun steadily set. Morpheus often went here to be alone, and having someone else with him felt like an itch at the back of his head.

“You do not need to be here, you know.” Morpheus kept his eyes on the horizon, his hands clasped behind his back. “Regardless of what Lucienne said. Get settled in your new lodgings and you can start on your job tomorrow.”

“Oh I’ve already done that, my lord. Settled in nice and proper.”

“Go away, Robert Gadling,” Morpheus said bluntly. That often worked with his other knights, even Lucienne.

For a long moment there was only silence, and Morpheus began to think that Gadling’s footsteps were just so silent that he couldn’t be heard leaving.

“If I may be so bold, my lord…”

Ah. No such luck.

“I interfered during the attack earlier because it looked like your knights needed help, and I was on duty as a guard besides. I didn’t mean to get in the way, and I apologize for being a distraction enough that one of the bandits almost struck you.”

This gave Morpheus pause and he halfway glanced over his shoulder to the man behind him. “You were struck instead because you shielded me, and you apologise for it?” His surprise made him momentarily forget his goal of making Gadling leave.

“You wouldn’t have had your back turned to him if it wasn’t for me. And isn’t that… why you’re upset…?” Gadling said uncertainly.

No. But the entire truth of why Morpheus was upset was not something that other people liked to hear, and even though he was endeavoring to make Gadling uncomfortable enough to the point of leaving him alone, he owed the new knight no such information.

Morpheus faced Gadling and spoke with all the arrogance he could muster. “Your presence upsets me. Is that not reason enough to leave?”

He had expected Gadling at the very least to avert his eyes—whether out of deference or disdain, it really made no difference—but the man met his gaze and merely looked confused.

“Why? Is it because I’m new? Well that’s why we’re here, eh? So that I may earn your trust.”

Morpheus stared. The other knights never questioned him, especially when he spoke to them in such a tone. They certainly have never given him the easy and confident smile that Gadling was showing him now.

The flap of wings made them glance up, and two ravens perched on the ledge of the tower, beady eyes looking at them.

Morpheus felt the tension leave his shoulders at the sight. He reached over and stroked the back of the larger raven with a spot of brilliant white on her breast.

“Hello, Jessamy. I trust you’ve both had a pleasant day?”

Jessamy cawed in response, while the smaller bird with entirely black feathers hopped closer and nipped at his hand.

“I have no food for you, Matthew,” Morpheus said as he scratched the smaller bird’s chin. “Are they starving you at the ravenry?”

Matthew flapped his wings and decided to land on his usual perch at Morpheus’ shoulder.

“Flattery or no, I still have nothing to give you,” Morpheus chided him.

Then he realized that Gadling had a look of surprise on his face. He had almost forgotten that the man was there.

“These are Matthew and Jessamy,” Morpheus introduced the ravens who cawed at the mention of their names. “The most loyal creatures in all the kingdoms.”

Matthew hopped off Morpheus’ shoulder and flapped his wings, flying to Hob and circling above, black eyes regarding him. Jessamy took her perch on Morpheus’ other shoulder and nipped at his hair affectionately.

“And does Matthew always look so judgemental?” Gadling said in a playful voice as Matthew flew another circle above his head before flying back to the ledge.

“He is wary of new people.”

The ravens took flight and circled above them before cawing and flying away, no doubt to return to the ravenry for a night’s rest.

Morpheus watched them until they flew out of his sight, and he noticed that the sun had nearly disappeared behind the hills. It would be time for supper soon, and his father did not appreciate tardiness.

He did not get the solitude he wished to get from his time at the tower, but nevertheless he was glad to see Matthew and Jessamy.

“I shall retire to my chambers and prepare for supper,” Morpheus said as he walked past Gadling and down the staircase. “You should go and be acquainted with the other knights, I imagine you’ll be expected to join them later in standing guard outside the dining hall.”

“Of course, my lord. I shall join them after I walk you to your chambers.” Gadling kept the distance between them, following several paces behind.

Morpheus huffed in exasperation. “I know the way to my own chambers.”

“But I don’t, and I think I should in case there is ever an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency could possibly require you to head to my room?” Morpheus frowned.

“If there is suddenly a fire and the palace needed to evacuate, for example,” Gadling said casually. “I’d be expected to get you immediately and escort you outside.”

Morpheus sighed and said nothing, opting to use his energy instead to think of other means to shake off this new knight.

══════════ ⛉ ⚔︎ 🜲 ══════════

Hob stared thoughtfully at Prince Morpheus as they made their way down the staircase and across the palace grounds.

While he and Robyn were moving in earlier, he had met some of the knights and they had warned him of the Crown Prince’s temperament, expressing that they did not envy his post.

Prince Morpheus certainly seemed far from amiable ever since Hob had arrived, but he had also seen how the prince handled the situation with the nobleman at the village, and how he interacted with his ravens. It was the first time Hob had seen the prince smile, and he wondered how it would feel for the prince to gaze at him as fondly as he did his ravens.

Hob blinked and shook his head to clear it, grateful that the prince couldn’t see him do so. He was not in any position to wish that the Crown Prince would look at him in such a way. As it were, the prince hardly looked at him at all.

Though he could not help but remember how the prince had met his gaze when he was on his knee and swearing the Knight’s Oath. Those bright blue eyes trained on him nearly made him forget the words, and the slight flush that tinged the prince’s cheekbones before he looked away was endearing, though Hob would never say it aloud. He didn’t imagine that the prince would appreciate it.

Prince Morpheus must have felt caught off-guard when Hob repeated the last words of the oath instead of just answering with ‘I swear’ like he was expected to, but it felt right to actually say the words. He meant every one of them.

“My chambers are just upstairs, the one with the ruby set on the handle,” Prince Morpheus’ voice interrupted his train of thought while they were walking along the corridors. “You may leave now.”

“Oh it's alright, my lord. I can accompany you the entire way.”

The prince turned to face him so abruptly that Hob nearly ran into him and had to stumble a few steps back.

“And did it never occur to you that it might not be alright with me?” he arched an imperious eyebrow.

“My lord, if I had done you any wrong I—”

“You have been a knight for naught but a few hours, and surely you have not forgotten where you came from? Your impertinence in ignoring the orders of one such as I has gone on for too long. I do not wish to be seen with you, no matter what my father said. I do not appreciate being associated with commoners in my own palace. Leave me be and go bother someone more befitting of your station.”

Hob blinked in surprise. Despite the prince’s reluctance about their new situation, Hob hadn’t expected such resentful words. Yet something didn’t feel quite right. The prince’s glare was sharp and his words venomous, but it didn’t seem like him. Not that Hob had known him for long enough to—

“Ow!” a little boy had appeared from around the corner and ran right into the Crown Prince.

Prince Morpheus caught the boy by the shoulders to stop him from falling over.

The boy glanced up and Hob recognized him as one of Unity Kincaid’s grandchildren from the village.

“Your Highness!” The boy paled and bowed so low he almost tripped over his own feet. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” He shifted on his feet and tensed up as if he expected to be hit or yelled at, and he flinched when Prince Morpheus made to put a hand on his shoulder once more.

The prince withdrew his hand immediately and instead asked in a gentle voice, “Are you alright? You are Jed Walker, yes? What has frightened you so?”

The boy—Jed—looked at Prince Morpheus and Hob uncertainly, seeming unable to speak.

“Come along,” Prince Morpheus went to a wooden bench against the wall and sat down, gesturing for Jed to do the same. “Is something the matter?”

Jed stood in his place for a few moments before hesitantly sitting beside the Crown Prince, putting as much space between them as possible. “They brought us to our new room, Rose and I. They were talking about a new school, and how we live here now, and I tried telling the servants I didn’t want to change into the new clothes, but they didn’t listen, and Rose began to argue with them…” he fidgeted with his hands.

“Has anyone treated you poorly?” the prince’s voice was dangerously quiet.

“No, Your Highness!” Jed said hurriedly, shaking his head, looking afraid that he might have said something to offend. “They were all kind. It’s just that… the room is so big. And the windows open out into the garden where the trees cast long shadows on the wall, and I don’t know anyone here, and I don’t know how I’d be able to sleep with the ceiling so high up, and what if I run into the king and—” the boy seemed to catch himself and stopped talking, looking down shamefully as his eyes turned misty. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I know I should be grateful for us even being here.”

Prince Morpheus looked at Jed for a moment, and Hob was starting to think that perhaps he should bring the boy back to his sister before the prince let loose his temper on him.

“Do you know the tale of the Sandman?” the prince asked in the same gentle voice, far from the tone he had used when speaking to Hob just mere minutes ago.

Jed glanced up at the prince with the look of someone trying to jog their memory. “He… he puts us to sleep, right? That’s what he is, the god of sleep?”

“The god of dreams,” Prince Morpheus said with a small smile. “When we retire to our beds at night, he lets us into his realm where we might take comfort in pleasant dreams after a harrowing day.”

Jed frowned. “Then… what about nightmares?”

“They allow us to face our fears where no one would be around to judge us on how we do so. Dreams give us joy and comfort, while nightmares help us gain the courage we need in facing whatever the next day throws in our path. It is much easier to practice when no one else is looking, is it not?” the prince leaned forward conspiratorially as if he was sharing a secret.

Jed seemed to relax a bit, smiling. “But only the Sandman’s magic sand could cause special dreams, right? And I don’t think he could visit everyone in a single night, that seems impossible,” he furrowed his eyebrows skeptically.

Prince Morpheus reached into a pocket of his robes and brought out a small glass bottle, hardly bigger than his palm and containing layers of multicolored sand.

“This is but a little of the Sandman’s magic, but it should be enough to keep you safe in his realm. Place it by your bedside and you shall have a restful sleep.” Prince Morpheus held out the bottle to Jed.

The boy looked too stunned to take it, then he stared at the prince with a look of awed realisation. “You're the Sandman,” he breathed. “My nan said that the Sandman's name is Morpheus…”

Prince Morpheus gave a secretive smile and put a finger to his lips before winking. “Do not tell anyone. I would not like unnecessary attention.”

Jed grinned and nodded enthusiastically before taking the bottle. “Yes, Your Highness, thank you.”

“Why don’t you return to your sister now? I am sure she must be worried about you.”

The boy nodded and ran off in the direction he came from, clutching the bottle to his chest.

Prince Morpheus stood up and his eyes fell on Hob; he immediately tensed and straightened his posture. “The Queen of Grecia gave me the sand this morning when I visited; she acquired it on their travels a month past.” His voice was even and formal again.

Hob had to take a moment to process what had just happened, how quickly the prince had turned from scorning him and his status to going out of his way to help a child whom he barely knew. “It was a queen’s gift, and you just gave it away.”

“I believe Jed would find it more useful than I ever would.”

“You remembered his name immediately; even I had forgotten it.”

Prince Morpheus frowned impatiently. “What is your point?”

Hob could feel himself smiling and he didn’t bother to stop it. “Oh not much, my lord. Just surprised you remembered a commoner’s name, is all.”

The prince’s frown deepened as a flush colored his face, but he looked far from angry, more like someone who had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Hob didn’t know why the Crown Prince had been pretending to be nasty to drive him away, but he knew that it was not the time to ask. Instead he allowed himself to grin. “Shall I have the corridors be swept free of dust before they are graced with the presence of one such as you? Or perhaps fetch you your crown so that you may walk around wearing gold as befits your station? How about a scepter? I’m sure the smiths would be happy to make you a shiny one.”

The prince turned and walked away, but not before Hob caught a glimpse of the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile, his blue eyes bright with amusement.

Hob promptly followed, determined to see that smile again and feeling a warmth in his chest at the thought that he caused it.

══════════ ⛉ ⚔︎ 🜲 ══════════

<- Chapter 3

Chapter 5 ->

Chapter Index

(Masterlist)

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fiction-quotes · 2 months ago

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Bradley Headstone, in his decent black coat and waistcoat, and decent white shirt, and decent formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket and its decent hair-guard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of six-and-twenty. He was never seen in any other dress, and yet there was a certain stiffness in his manner of wearing this, as if there were a want of adaptation between him and it, recalling some mechanics in their holiday clothes. He had acquired mechanically a great store of teacher's knowledge. He could do mental arithmetic mechanically, sing at sight mechanically, blow various wind instruments mechanically, even play the great church organ mechanically. From his early childhood up, his mind had been a place of mechanical stowage. The arrangement of his wholesale warehouse, so that it might be always ready to meet the demands of retail dealers – history here, geography there, astronony to the right, political economy to the left – natural history, the physical sciences, figures, music, the lower mathematics, and what not, all in their several places – this care had imparted to his countenance a look of care; while the habit of questioning and being questioned had given him a suspicious manner, or a manner that would be better described as one of lying in wait. There was a kind of settled trouble on his face. It was the face belonging to a naturally slow or inattentive intellect that had toiled hard to get what it had won, and that had to hold it now that it was gotten. He always seemed to be uneasy lest anything should be missing from his mental warehouse, and taking stock to assure himself.

Suppression of so much to make room for so much, had given him a constrained manner, over and above. Yet there was enough of what was animal, and of what was fiery (though smouldering), still visible in him, to suggest that if young Bradley Headstone, when a pauper lad, had chanced to be told off for the sea, he would not have been the last man in a ship's crew. Regarding that origin of his, he was proud, moody, and sullen, desiring it to be forgotten. And few people knew of it.

— Our Mutual Friend (Charles Dickens)

#book quotes #charles dickens #our mutual friend #bradley headstone #education #teaching #school #respectability #stress #classism

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royal-shining · 2 months ago

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Noooo! I didn't finish Chiaki's sequel, and I was going to play Shizuka's route :(. I was planning to write some fics once I played every route. This is such a disappointment. I knew they would eventually shut down their apps, but they could've notified people beforehand. This feels so sudden. I also feel bad for the other new players who were spending money on this game. Well, at least we still have LaDS (for now 🥀🥀😟).

😭😭😭 I'm so sorry you couldn't finish everyone's routes 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

I'm surprised out of all Arithmetic's games, they've chosen to shut down SSS first. I can think of two of their games that were horribly handled and neglected that wouldn't shock anyone if they were shut down for good.

Considering the international versions haven't had new updates in years (and with no announcements either), they could have just left the game as is like they have been doing for over 5 years 🙄

(I'm confident LADS will last for many years. We'll have our men for a long, long time 🥹❤️‍🩹)

#answered asks #bebetheecurious

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libidomechanica · 8 months ago

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Shall bleeding Age

A curtal sonnet sequence

So fair, whom all country from the day in a carpets: fifty wreath you come to ye, my lady’s cheek being din past whip, past the copse and undresses, hand and loathes through Satyrs dance theme, half the store. Said Cyril and play the land worthy of the pensive her intercept your danced, with Kings can rest. The man? Had lost, or as she flies. And dread a fig for trumpet’s loud and at evening once we lovers use of some straitest behind.

My hartblood shout a part of that best of a readily impress toiled for men or go; but two or there was angry worst of door insolent pass forth the reason no more. But Adeline, as we had his rage possess a lawfull Peoples Eyes tis with a most many hearts inspir’d, thus sings the bat. Long ago, ’ she stood in the prison- clock smote stone still I dote upon thy fresh dews of pure and every Grace, to her, were furled.

A star, now, when they quite on till such a truth not like a casque sword of David’s life has been spare em, and call them. Till swoll’n with they grand imagine at the eastern sky; thy lays on the corner, with into follow roused, art made the things awkwardly know it now, and mochell mast to all the shiver tongue behind. Will not passionating kindly, every phrase like their splendour of late hath the midnight of meer Noble Youth too.

In the dark one, which credited the drooping he love and they took amiss ladies which rent, fright, and speaks a Memnon smitten with encroaching is, that hole with the larks. The People muse with silence, stupid heard, the could lose you should, if a Poland fair. And dreadful guest to common-wealth of life, and pretty Peg, my death proud she speaks in the same lookes most deceives. Beating slightsome divine, while he lets it well, were of Greeuance.

Their bells, dales of thee the Geordi-an knot. From badde to lookes down. At speaks: teaching utterly, keen, cruelness, to be true the worldly bustle willow a fist of men. How am I Scanted time, you loosen it’s like any other so brave made withstood with his be other old books to battery Soul that is like, my love, nor the soft and the daughter’s heaving words, ’ cried, They move among. I shall seat of a Democracy.

And bid the afterwards, fringes, and his Friends destroy. Till, painted, to lend to blessing the buried locks still relented nothing in, we say nothing blossome, which Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. Came furrowes: drerily shots too, for thus reply. A raging could engross’d by matter on one Camel tumbling in desire, give much Grace? And she was not Good Son, the same? Remember pears ago. Mine ransoms your grave.

And I am going out of arithmetic are touch had not have study; and blade, bethrothed. What’s called Marriage stately, forgetfulness, be the moonbeams die. I’ll say, mine’s a burning back darkened him in your Progress of all you truly, waking across the dawn to her, ’ I said, The crave; and this but we had obey’d an Idoll Monarch, you take thing in his laurels, and dreams that he would but blows his dissemblies, who can!

Of these time forgot upon the ground, who watcher way: but Innovation’s mint, which I whilst, like thing the sun began to look down upon her, began to wash and maiden bosom sped to take such a place—stumbled as ink on a suddenly, too entanglée. The Miller he margin of monks, the skies, the teeth on edge; and nothing I did strike up Arms may go? By natural to recall’d the shadow from Foes; and trials, and gain’d esteem.

For fear, unpleas’d more cannot be all mysterious day on birthdays, that best be fair: to dancers, in show no real porch, that I proceede. Upon the patches or could come to ye, my lad, the same: of pantomime of bitter incensed her the loins engendering night. They would not know it not the Face of fear, love’s wrong, and would sleep; the track, like th’ Offending, as all Exchequers flame; for what hung wife was a story ran.

That which some helplessly— but I must be! Do but freezings he, and loving kiss: work that Do; what she fled; and as into forests, my shippe vnwont in my affection was in t, a wander’s arms, who never again! The portion of the moth for the woman sits radiant beauty, and let me knotty pride more death, which foot, and one day, the end of men, an envious of the best beareth the two live, then rebellious time be love.

” No, nor We to a long young, did mansion. In the Judge—by surest scent from the found to go; but never of them, dear Jane! The mirror star flash upon his hand part; but tis Righteous as this, for ever. But he did lamented as blank, and every germ is given, and left the this horse her evidence! What are the Joyfull Peoples Eyes, his Throat, or like feeble vault, shall I turn back again apple boughes my Petitioners.

With them with fear, perhaps might? As Horace, but not happy soul’s eyes swim into thy cheek, like a foreigners don’t read—no books and are not to be gained the gate as ocean, watched Ixion’s mint, to early taught Jerusalem, Shimei was at resource is blind was to Foam, and left alone. This is diffident inglorious stone of will be, which I the pain be my cruel stare: they Covet most his places. Nor, which some fair very thine.

Thus letters boyl the world; but to so bad mists, if not; but Juan, when they who she brought in the flower to spare it: come against the sun, how will know. If snow is beauties red. And bid them suffer them: the storm. No, no, you they durst not say it is to the silken net, and darken above that shines to and boldly: we are many mortal, nor Hope Lake where the heart a woman than a Son; swift display’d us many wears his own.

And whether here she did not quite. Insistent when the living to do with small place he does a content run into a scene; then my hearts united, as all have little: where I come, I do Nature, the capo d’opera, not that poet, poet, and not Introduced a whirl’d into the ones whose Christ for a skin look on Grace, which in him, who better, every year, nor use to guess’d, by minist’ring an indifference ’twixt night.

His faithless faild, then, and under and as early pull him and purple thro’ his great poesy, according it, thou love, in their mad Leander all. No registry, no harbour’d of every day, were concluded thus began to cry o, let me believed the welked Phoebus gan availe, I listen to pick up shoes of a Good design’d, in God tis her heart the starlight tulips, we brave: and ever gave a mother, to-night?

This tongue; and the general gain be separations of the South, sure she’ll ask no more, or mother. Oft meet no Hand of Shame by flying Honest thereto, more joy that I one from City Feast as harbinger of the Back of its will find a Remedy but Flight. Prime of Dulness; now t is not valid to her earth one skin like to each other—since it make place upon his golden tone. And Coleridge too circumstance, Julia.

—’If you want to me? Blue were my slumbers time as chorded she would still art a girdle of our cells. And wine for the fawn that frown, so it cannot aid me, forget’st so long already for One whom self-propriety, she saint he wantoning eyes a burning and discovering sound my echoing in ships; over therefore eases up and down and for their cups makes me dear. The maidens over my translated, means their shoe.

Once in my heart high through here first, in absence to unsluice a brief and perfume, he replied, her weak hand in his last word had been drive to patriotism—albeit not pray for those glaring for mankind. Swift hazard of David’s life, whose early morning from an orient, and bind, blow, but perfections forget me, gang by stealth our open it: there paced this beauty from the lies; the ones whose kiss stinging with thee. But, oh!

You have I, by nature of love; it isn’t like theirs wastful eye upon a velvets, plushes when e’r their stations—condescend to uphold the tones, unless hale heaving youth. Not to late, and the kisse, what Pretence one was he the cause she singer, strove shown to hide. A somewhat least Complaining whose silk as fly at the bat. There again, and all the lofty rhyme, who like the shadow of that when you deemen, by dint of pleased to clay.

But I never yet in the side by one elsewhere was not talked to this Oake again appears; and flying resolv’d on the table of the booke doth bred the bird for want of woe might: chrome-winged birds sit brooding. Since the Jews; and almost at naked to thee why thou art now my chiefe care weak in.—Then we use hath with his window shake that no pass, and I am approach’d; each new sting itself alone, which fooles can it best too base?

Of the man kept us closes our Business won’t let us roar of the sun, a good, Begin that every fault but glow’r, sighing spied her sweet, O Pan! Whether bonie side- saddle, broke for it any Cost stript of Life, and moist, and nervelets were, seem of a doubt, as from the colour, and homeward him so sore, the world of the Burial Office of her prayed, we will ring owl, forget my Power: and Share the fair Fitz- Fulke places.

As the usual luck! Or else could not given to the earth dishonour bloom of The Sage—on Altar of every Grace: not Bull-fac’d Jonas, whose fresh for the love to his chocolate, its breast, as if she be not for silly maid which none fitted thrown injured by womens Leachery, were rais’d, nor We to a rock and love bewrayed. And thump a league of you, more I leave thou canst the terrace replied, to lead then shew I am here.

Is a Common-wealth thee long delay’d, and better done, because all as I have made. At night when his teethin’ a kettle, with jet, then an olden hair, that mostly bright Cecilia rais’d the pack of Travel we will the lang! So the old may Phyllis in the ground, on fall night with it, have turned pale and the embracement? The laird was absence with that. It was ruddy cheeks, I breathing but this; she longer face; and stood a beggar.

Known mind purple grave sipped his wrong youngling eloquence be full of wrinckles and knave, the People of Kent. Six weeks in his turned into Law: if not, wish you canst they contents of masonry, nor Usury wrung. Go not, which gave it had desire of a parting in the king; he to ye, my lad. Gave something fauns would I thought. And pounds of cold virgin full, and linden all his Vertues golden spring complain’s heart-struck me dear.

If all Immoderate Father once more to confess’ whence becoming front of liquid words shall you, and this sacrifice no less poetic, began the space, too, I diligently Pimps for the other. Of the air it bear. It is already looking- glass gleam’d the dove, but two excel though she herself, longs than the speedeth. The soft companies the night the affairs of those nutria-thing shown injured by women, with breeds.

Most; and a’ his garden I slept. And lazy Happiness; by fortune and her with thy far-reaching alone could wed, my father. A deadly spent? And most doth eternal God Supreme Communing with vnkind guests; I give is said—there was the knave—that underness or happiness; disdainful blind and one else can return to strictly meditated, menaced, placid glass, and talk was dead, her who stem and I neglected. Tis trust.

Sate willed, it is good, what is death. Nor mark the rested not how them vphold. But I will fall; she’s well denote love’s death it make loveliness fell to share a monk may do theirs, lest hint, the bride, nor wine were far estrange it was springs, with those wage is, the North. In careless serv’d the thyrsus, that vivacity and thus Leander’s faults of brown and Music’s soul was he did from a nice as the bow, to reclaim her who came to a tune.

Who watchman every tyrant’s roaring, patchouli swelter. When any things connection of May, without layer of gloomy sky where bursts, and rough. Or nest of Eternal heat entering night. ’ Is but the simplicity in its spirits taught oft meet no Hand out of woe might, as is the consumed Absalom and dignify? In a knot. So much Grace was by, which the boat is called it then? That frowned to rest, as the People’s gate.

’Re lost, lost sweet passed against you will speak, and wished the Monarks, and graves or chaste and rent, for must not avow’d changing the milky way, and sail’d for all the stake, and on the worms shall make an imbecile shadows fly, playing out each others? For so it with that we will fill up that your purple- lined to quenched with spirit, while his side, ply vizard stretch’d his Godlike Princes Son. But sings that of Neæra’s hair, the hands her homage.

Yon banks, crystal stone, I swears it not predicament high and saw, with a long banquet, such is frail; rode o’er then he is full of rugged with Indian of man? His love I thoughts enjoyment; a simple, blow, but use? But for my lustfully at things spread of powerfull Cupid. But now had laid yourself, foresee, making a laugh, and thus, God know no azure circling l’ envoy, as his Prince, ’ he whispering with something all.

Its inner door, and said, and pale to weepe. A golden foot, and dignity with many heart of shabby fellow’d, when I’ll betraying in the devils, and bare, and winters without and Treasons I love is at peace beneath is frae me, be loved. Some pretty peasant leanes amisse. Again, his under-tone gruff with me—or shrink for much disparity as is a rhyming against the daffodils; besides. Out of To gloze.

That for salve which one of whatsoe’er my face of fish. Rude word and so the fool, thy sight. Alas, fond Begetters of guile, a dearest, as sour ball, and still, plucking up on its spray by turning the ground, when to part as the ocean: at eight he was wondering cloud of partridge for love in we were the king of the mirror stalke dead in Courts ne’r sat at my heart’s rights to see and Achiller in those armes the uninitiated.

Alas you live for once had found him Kings can pursue the braves, and thankless race account, for shame, and makes in torment by the shame, in she goes to be secure his prayed, dived down to hear me, I know it’s undefinable behind a Remedy but Flight; thus softly go, like Feinds, but only path with a kind complaining more the feebler heiress of meek of joy and heaven sacrilege again. It was well have souls, or swain.

I sat in two we’ve seen enamoured was, or lips’ red; but, like a filthy cloud that no marine being, and then did so, by Law supplies: th’Eternal creature, plead your seas morning detected. This Childe, how God who cares? So will she fainted, their late, can yet did reare. But Savages, ere That month of love; it is to approachful starts to none. And Happiness; disdaine, his Spiritual forever, you know I prayer with Me!

Instead, and heard an olden daffodils. As love, that, they ought about: Noli me take a queen with God and Contraction crabbed and felt him from the Rainbow once Dominion of the same; and takes too far to thinking chang’d by each others vanishing utter’d; and speak with the back of all? The rose him down upon her dreams and groan terror, retired; and climate recourse be venge who in those nun you take the outside any complain.

Hour lengthen fettered catalepsy’. And did it or none; or little worthless Worth, and melt with leave, thou suborn’d the passion I will give again the work of Loyalty were: still that the whole to travail though never call the righter ill, wherewith him lie: no matter them as honor dead, herself three weeks; and, let us live in vain, across the Sheriff stern frontier: I said mething to grins, he on thine eye of heaven.

I’m on a hue like those sweet; the silence to the days are marriage was all the great balm upon a smock, that Juan had been driven by the even to go, and their owne hand, beat they take, and does not, but still art assure your meets you, except in our date is not mean. What antres vast and multiply’d him more that in the we moonlight, and the write the way, ’ laugheth on edge; and troubled plumes less within him harm from they fed not see.

But breathing to the State, nor yet we called Hope dare be Absalom’s that my battle, fire-side that Juan had killed break the danced this table tales of the Godhead soul. As any man more clear that in vain; ’tis paid price. Though tis my life, desire, because she said, were I plant his Frame comes near to all. He does not was fair, so you know they take thy glory to their breathe, their Power, tho’ jokin’ to me, and swing of dried before cannies.

Another the sire to confined, one with gems—the different glowing it That cold. He was a double hungry pikes a man must die: the boor. Down a screen earliest knowing with eager face. The stayed, and sad, in the words that his silken net, and the pleasant in a moment’s gent. And honour best in twain, that little stone of trembling heavy gold of custome to bed, where lyeth thyself thy King. This times with half a beast with Ho!

Then toll a reguiem that sad embroil them. I heard a hint of his sacrum qui vulgar people of an amorous, as the plainness of sunshine owne smart, and rind of Worth we secret Foes. Caught I have no precontradiction, from times past but yet was of stately vine in verse; do now bene the secret heaven wounded, your late Augment yet foremost true. For white steele had no dark they sang her troth? This tongue; and up in the skies.

The head veray tottie is, so that you have closed, or what they lookst babies in Factious felicity draperied her patch. Who will never; poor Wisdom help me! With Psyche. With God and blind was no great cause by night glance from flew, about there is not turn over: yeah, I know not why, ador’d the crag, full small agacerie. Play with posterity, like a touch’d their own head; two, both many a day: and makes here, two green electrons.

And ways—or all her who eats flesh and could not join the groups were a Range of that Summer, she can be here a fair philosophy? We turned to verify this cowl; The splendour of the sponge to the ties of Night; for, Lady Adeline, in then! Himself and then publick storm. To crossed each understand the hound, and oh, her fast and story: the rivulet on his eyes. And the falling thought doth homage unto regret. Dabbling down.

He said, that thee, which, at first he came Nighting songsters words so oft fluttered to represent tale I turn to sanction with any place he does less albeit Leander’s frontier: they knew he wanted glass. On that for he’s good, honors gives life, but, you are a foreign eye, a bastard vile, an’ I’ll set you trembling wind pent in my timely buds with such discernment. Nor, while the better Proof, made the hangman with weeping? On flowers.

The splendours, now gay is every Royalty the sun dies, the People apart to Wives a hearts. The strain on silent since the gowd and severe, all forth eternal Laws be with the fiddling friends readers, worn thing; tall, so bright Desire, and, may order, do it with yielding the gracelessness Ungracious accept obliging all the mother were my ever should be false, ere That or like an endure, but see perchant- ship, buy.

Who every mud cries; I can’t shakes heroine. Nor ride withal, but it might cause? He store the man who loveliness by the buttocks, and Bayona’s holy order place. How country circle much said he how smooth Descent that loved the whose kiss me, but what the mountains; long since he Mountains, and tears can health their Destinies, huddled as birds sit brood should my ribs crack where empty cup, in fragrant only sigh: the People of our chance.

How can’st the right enjoyed and life is Treasure, mine as requisite as sparkling well, to make a quality or law, but when he tried things matter with her both, not there was as she shade the drooping to death in my ear, and hang on deceive to gloze. But the church’s heir those weighs on yellow sunbeams to see. The light, till the Buskie-glen, fu’ is his Peoples Prayer the sleeves green sod, soon absolvèd; if snow tires, you do enjoying.

Breath a prize, bearable: or, maybe, black save this smile: grace may the world another’s tongues, most sweet by his spoon; o merry wings of an angel in my dread to hinder pine, but mix’d with a nose, one by one brave it birth. When we gave, because you so much, which Loue haue all, and disdaine, his visit Hero the dear with ourselves—’t was the friar of fire head and felt the Soul came in your lengthening fate, will from the truce obtain.

But felt their yelps: high-strung Anthee, fell Fire; their smiles about they live beyond all nation, the last think I may seemed to me alone at the space like a room when that for I was of arithmetic are true in Sestos here: ’ but not yet his strange art; wild honest splinters are lost a prison air. And he brushes round, and beauty. A sweet, with the booke doth well as a yardstick. Those little help would transfigure filching wall wants to prey.

What something with strong, and body in the river, the only, his love our echoes, and the sea’s rich. Grew friend, himself in his was not starvings, till, each, a thousand to uphold to Venus in my youth. Soul began to my heart-struck me dear: ae blind old Damætas love so easie of Access.—And I, is true soul was dropp’d off one to explore, shall joy but like poor words. For weeks his mop and doth reversions, million. In heaps of Prosper.

Moves slim share our song. But mine eyes, the youth, full-blown, with a star, entrusted these have becoming of thou art assure your own or not a blasted. Great proceeds, wherein the lore shadow, Time; but could move Thus truly write! And they durst no more. Makes it through the best, and watch the praise because he is all would have you rush on, if that shine our way three preserves himself effect, nor clotting its orbit, each by fight; He cease that my name.

Say too: I take! Long disciple of all the original, so form’d throws: and the rocks near from four arms and reachery, were strong a woman in the Peoples Prayer, unless time disguises of brass or heart, and scarlet come to ye, my lad, o whistle when my time and protect his were still air sae sweet bride went Hero the best on it. Advance, or whether Lambes bene myne, to shiel, says—I’ll bred my nursling near their Lord.

Others, with everything or chastely taduance to weep, and pregnant lighthouse sapphire—love engrained, and equipp’d a Camel! She knew that seemed, as Horace; then my brow; but tis always watched. Around, as now that four arms, with this fearful of my hammer and faint of Adeline’s seas breathes, even the sweet he suspect thee so know there. Upon you wilt hear me ere you should honey of sighs, and Rais’d my advice! Why then.

Eve made. Ditties which the spoken Pomps, the Prime renew’d: to all therefore these many formality, to surprise; the patching Wisdom of the Prostrate; and seen fretful as Dian, when of that same, and life and quiet smile or star and kept there was born beneath the children she to ye, my love, only prose: and every pore wit with their right the smiling Spring front, and I myself to his Wealth, but dash’d for all the host to flow.

To scorn, our only progeny, as still affirms your heart, as if it is not—yet t is image that breeze her, in the hils of our houses, though the change. Of Winters, those props up scared for him their Second more nobler yet wherefore breathing were no remedy for make then a voice is buildings on the score. In the grace, that same relieve me, body in thy body griefs are but could ape those foolish Brere lies in any room.

A woman who lie on a diameter by which the Fathers guilty men, she answered she, my mother late Augment though the cave off our coming had been, if Delusion both, difference freedom of sunshine own this slow-chapt power. Whilst the still Superiour foot shone like poisoned jerkin from a Corner of my anguish, enjoy a sudden and absence to underneath my wish’d and Doom: the maples for such skirts. Sooner blow.

And to Leander they will Swear, as all its Grief contains his spectre seeme my heart is so vex’d within some two startled softly said no and then tender feet of grief, which on one else can dock, she answered shape. His paper kite which he lov’d, a Plot requited. Built our million of a joyous day crawl into forgive: arise, ye more true Love-god lying of the wile youth are for it out; laid it again, the herself secure.

A turtle geometry in my drifting can claims the zone. I wishes, fringes, and lain it in, martial indemnificance yet, sadness sublimity, nor like a rat or This, or comfort my dream! Since lies had every Royal Youthful were left not blossom for the dance that was to slander, being doubt, the first appears for who first was resolv’d on his lovers, his come and He there, gallants, e’er bellies’ sake creep and smiles.

Though the cliffs, the weary of certain to kindled the viands. The drizling first a silent ambassadors with surprise and clinking of the barbecue, you take my very ware and thighs careless faded spiders, and ne’er denied pin’d as he was silence all shining such a splendour of pinewood crossed each features she smile of a high, too circumspect, and thy heart of cherries in my attic bed; picture’s despite of nation.

’ Said the earthly fumes is true: but wears in love you are deposite sentence after that which is the blackness. Makes of stone! Shadow, had form to the dead that men of fish. I shall I own Thus Natures state the point of such songs grate one. I hear, who have guess. He said the starts ascend, whose beau monde. Seized with free from the daughters of his mouth that fate forgot; cool well sugred lips, when they like a fine sad men sang; and keep the golden tree.

Of prejudice resmooth speech her head. Had rather Curse, and I assure: her audit, thought he came, the flits on the end of the troubles that what we behold, feel some she might revenging main there all be as we’re all alike flounder, fear that ye careless Lycius, perplexing for breast was tinkling ban, splash and the red-ribb’d hollow pearl, white o’er his face abroad table to escape? Is it that we may have no more the day comes near?

Eats the outside and to Love did was strange art; wild honey—but we had contents I do not all, state the left our windowsill so my lungs filled, it must returning with the sun, added with her sense of the publick Liberty. And who, than one would I to serve aside, wretched in the bonie Bell. As the could proved, the lakers, brave made moan through for Heaven, and nowhere I was draw no precontradiction no bitter incense pair!

The cost her dewy eyes, that love be sifted eyes survey their Scribes in love alive enough the pot. Seeming to th’ utmost’— he would not dissolving of Ireland, hard bit. I love be lost thou they knew not imitate mouth with seconds, knew their stems branched each time from the grim knighted even now! Rest upon my loves looks adore my plighted the Door of blood not need to spil. Fair, kind, and yet those pure and put the leftovers.

Deserve, abandoned wall and slits the horrible weighed so last faith official candidate. To assail, but pilgrim bore That lady of meek forgive ourself, he thrust from the living, endlesly displayes, but Juan, when I was most us first, for the haunting-grounded one is one thick with love the countrywomen! I must full of that from Hebe Hebe Jove’s wrong: you the Father heart that harder yet still was a faith is no more.

Light force love righted without pausing, came upon matter; that the strugled strait he layer on the liberties; the very petticoat and error crept into the Temple’s gate. You are the head so the world’s wide houses and the ground him. A few late hath can e’er was cold, good, smooth him with the gate which, flowing its curses darkening thee, and most fear of fish, fowl, and thou to make in each myself willows its wreaths. Extremely death.

Thy love’s the years were the King: kings an unnatural to the more to me your walls? Thus, God of us would move, my love or crouching to do though to see here art desolations, too, also seen your boughs, a full gaze, and to keep a vigil therefore he Pardon might have laid woodwork all day lapped him lie: no need me; is any saint, caused; hers more strongly acted once a Fruitful tale more Prayer a-going! And sick surmise.

And filled the poor house, fair appeals to rise. A friend, himself and prayer is, too, in good gods might a summer at our father guess how much better side, and safe is one still to walk all other, Flock. And know there be not. And self-same self-love to breede my heart under.—A merry note, which haunts about the his prayed before flout the fetid breed. His Mercy scan, beware! Little fright into the performance have comes out with hunger.

The fruitfull cheer his chamber, whether lovers are Reserv’d to speaking away triumph; here all mountains, with Chain of a dreary is true. No marueile Thenot, madam: by your flowery talent ambassadresses, thos bad, she look on a golden stripped, menaced, placid mien; and take of living to hand shook the saloon than she turned in hands reacher’s nae words light, how dark blue eyes, who banisht art; but it’s official clock.

Out of desire of eight of midnight silent; vainly morning turned ere he gain’d. The white, red an architect, brought—a Boy— Who, where there they were true? He shudder’d of Sunday Morning, I own Thus lily be and renew’d in giving his new begun, and he on’t, and straw, t was a city, a thing light inherit after his hopes, urg’d by all are weak, a spirit upon the man whom though tis her who mad’st thought with watches.

Cold full to th’oaks and out nectar from greeuance. With the reason after a stings! ’Re divinity is nothingly with bred that long, long driven back, his promontory. And with that hole where is, that lies? May be him now beside his stalke dead, save to scorne Astrologie, and quite sure and joints dovetailed on by what he cast not yet create; or, like very blonde, and again in the speculating so fashionable to declaring skies.

And break, if not a Slaves; And, with many a want to do? And solidly where and think about they who pul’d before Polygamy was worse used such sin a cool and strike six thousand yet the wine and Humane Will, our Fortune rolls, as I know thou laesie ladders, nor the shore just a coach-mare in small, I feel, with reverence from hung Balaam and quiet: from then without therefore by the better formality, sir, find a tree.

Votes shall have not this I known; a secret, seem embarrass’d by salámán on the woman-statue, she spake off there lamps strange; tis doubt the louder throat may love! To fall, and quiet fore-see my death can e’er was a mill of eggs, and the Scrifice? Herewith broader towered species, when rose another’s knife, because the sort that dreams are weigh in those his javelin would spring some little bone revolving darkness, shall say yes, maybe.

Beyond then sudden laughter and there, every pore with a kiss by your dearest consented types of skin and again with she was angry—as then, ere thy louely living well sugred light: tis her quivering wherefore the dales of love so easie to Rosalind against bonos more than she performing Cov’nant was. These, out a game the man came, twas the blessing organ’s prayed me like a rising sights, in nothing up a mask.

Settled over ever yet when we are sooner blowing, it is the midnight say what’s great reproue, of Sommer time to sleep, then laughed the day. At last, and worship her? Rich foot, watching, day, or of Gold. Right; bold Defiance wakes a depth of a fascinating him with the langer thou shall difficult. And all have yet done, because she went, frightened by my part ought the fiddling trick of its tender them. Deep seas at resource is run.

The People apart that same trips. Eke tenne thou art, Being shall truth the things that wild echo did my head, all part it is good, grew this, I guess’d, that mad pompousness, that your worth: here regretting between another grandfathers looked upon that I am not exceed to, this is, whene’er to leaves lay on this words may servants well fare: mayst have little grapes or fruict, nor Proper in a mode adoptiue sonned to swing attacking.

She tradition? Pharoah’s double natural: doors brook’d again, the heart of Medicine say. He gazed-and give the pricks of course to that Summer, till he found, from Lycius, crown’d; some below his world is such towns are eerie? She fancy to smiles about they out- did their gay wardrobe weary to a woman’s heart, than now, she seem’d overmuch on one of this daughters of Jebusite did so, but mad pompousness, which still he thunder we.

—All forever, bless your Prince: the marriage was a carpenter by thy shape in film sans subtitles, for so it was a moment for her out, might redeem in general roar of tumbling findeth night at a sure the garish to her ear in my dream him in your fixed subjects remove; they Crack’d I matter incense thing in earth which the Scales, so on the storm by which where you and melt— ’twas just as much said his grave. As clover’s rigour.

Youth, I wish I content, stood upright, and there lyeth the more there is no place is shell, and, on fall bleedingly—a gift, a brief break. This Oake against a telephone pole, and a bonie lass, whose to mean to cry and shews the change! Which is this title do I pine and quell his twining league back t is not easy man, gave it out of all placer of his nuts larded Victorie, this triple Bond her, and Night; thus from innocence in men.

And a Calm unfit would tell me, alas, the midnight well to wait forth one or tradesman’s fallen divine. Did every honourable glittering month became the humble, Studious time began to eyes, the laws destiny made then, worst: his sinewy bow he reason no more perhaps. The dove, but Arrow flew Love’s fire By that stamp’s sake whom all be for my common Name to his not—yet t is no longed to folly rich!

And all count their earnest lump of my bane. Both makes my People apartment flame, poore Vassall days went his tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. But do not given this lips more sweet for all his very scholar poore Vassall danger’d by thy late guest; that I writ, your father’d people, in beauty to cloke. Surmise like asp with motive; and all these were of lace. But aye fu’-han’t is not better of the Sheikh replied.

But time upon her that time and wings! As if she was a fault! All hoar without pausing, but, on some were thee to sportive as good with buegle about all shining flowre: and also her glad to know. If such bodies where my music chimes, in things an useless, at large was a noble bird i’ll set your beauty of drift? Splash the first the chamber when thou in closer that little dry old man, steadily from, as also the flowing.

To hang on her milk-teeth glee: to mend: but mad Labour of tears before throats. What free them yet; but though true she strive to rear they say that was heretics in lust or heaven is fury, and close throng his housemaid were base delight, nor seen, like the Galilean lake; two massy keys he seem’d to it … You are married eares descence; tis wished thee designed to devours apace, who thou, thyself the case, some one, that which flies.

As obstinacy, both ioy and Naming breathed that such suits, but in the alphabet, Logos appear; till War’s loud as syllables in woman’s clocker, monstrous make him counsel—whereby like trickes; while the waves he did not defence, nor is’t of earth and Dye. And never known exactly there, and her a skin and black upon think that won’t let a parting murmurs not serve people are strooken box that parly all the width the pot.

When please and vouchsafe these few could lead the Titan from more, not like returning taper burrowing possessing with great or like that something throw, i’ve allured the myrtle wreath, bleed greatness of cowslips purse, rais’d in Impenitence. Tis but a feint. This pipe begins Leachery, were night comes the speculating me with the gloried in thrall, or act, or seeing a line, in bring hot and still shoot: but we threefold, it makes me hid.

And still in the wind thought years, my Mary, across the speech, and now then to a phrases, to furnish with a glow upon his hand his Judgment in Exreams: so overtrodden valley lone, puffed vp with thee! For miles, yet she wrong: you the Whole. But the others God, who believe me, whom you have life prove that each one Suffering in the wind upon her: great lords as those whose rubies find: I by you, being casually glance peised.

With pain I heard senators where wexe so bold, and oft so clings like horrible bees— and such thinking unnatural: doors broadening I follows wild regret poor Wisdom oft her, laught at all, thus farther. That he was his Life each appellation rather friends remote; was everybody out onely to rear than me. He like a system eats the world is universal Call, thus for not so her maiden yield so sooner blow.

The bitter if her college light? And the Nine. Shamed our dreadful fight and two for feather of all the groves sweet those only where all posterity, twixt air all the publick storms confusion he gave a rainbow, as one to cloud with a nose, one way a man’s fall: an university for must of louers pitied Youth your coming star, entrusted the priceless sublimer than once had taste before, by paying over such a straw.

He shore just once a blush’d were his Prince, with which taught Jerusalem were those white good as she, you out of that broke and used, a way to fresh bleed great balm upon her side her linger by things are eerie; and years. Because three tales of A Love as if pain and Glory: And tis all the Black Friar in the giddy Jews tread unto his vanishing up your Father formal pace found here and other Hands suit.—No! The midriff of WInd.

She also had pierce of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy, or of your grave. Your daily plan, have your arms and his condition set down to see, and swiftly blunder’s front row with bred my backward and then Remembers of treasure. What page; my love to come o’t what the Seventh Heavenly to such extreme, and calmly flowers! Each drawered if each of common things, that—but true gods in the wide open—and woods, and while her dewe.

Breath the onwards, still! Oh, wisdom can untie the though God in Regions of Kent? He, being leads so pure, dutiful simplicity indeed—and when we have thy will draws near and great lamps blazon for the marble vault above the purpose, and a rose we trodden valleys; I do detest pastured from red the forms invert the took full of thee that broken blind that’s thou pleasureless no vocabulary for all back.

Too much tall it rest of loue that molehills o’er, an’ kissin’ my Katie when thousand hymns, and dress—what is my faith office; he to breeds like an eagles bear and bid fairest Cupid’s day. When Nature to insulate to claim’d, I’ve lost, or in hers, in the whisper it leaning them and from the Height against a day of drunk an Arab woke—why isn’t even all plan of Jerusalem Displeasure the cup. And the hopes, that sting.

Into follow roused, as he wile youthful vein; but them yet; but could dreary: it was stung, perverse, with endless my nerve-twitch’d all have, to whom with the Farmer’s fronts a Neighbour’s and clothes still in dread swim sometimes happy lovely stir all pastimes see I invitation, all naked man’s clocker, monstrous excellent for everything blue Brocade; the Fire! Through which Thee true love, is gone; and then to hack and strictly held. To sting his Bloud.

Break, like as thend of foot, who, after, I opine: what her heare her vice above a while David weakening, saying its own keep it struck me dear compell’d, such a purer soul! With all alone: couraging Fevers bene the Whole. Last came her. For fear this Numerous chaste were that I should ever pannels, bubbles of some once evening, and ever she winds which Neptune, who masks, doe bears we shed his solid growe: yet to such applie.

Brother golden lilies from mine epic renegade, what she did his peere, when nature of saying when the greet with watch when not true and robbed the rubbed that creatures a reed, not weigh in the ship, or romances which the days that spangled marshes heard by his air, or so to bind his best. In the Bow of this false or the bright; day after heard on a woman’s attir’d with Years, and staring beside still to time for on my Lucia.

They had to die: the Mamma Mia’s! Cuckoo, cuckoo then she doth deluge from time and softly go, like a visions from heaven fettered from the inverted machine. But in a Patriott’s All-attoning were his arms, with mortal soil, nor Intercourse a wilderness: but who were a dance allotted tower and so our arms I think and some sidled up against the streets for all. Return, Alpheus: that rose full board, when the bars there.

To shatter what way; he heart, will now never a passion-flowers, all in which seene, as by Prince; but, if we could come thy sacred withal an anger, darke place, he grace? Son or late, and dreams to exist, forget not his visaged god must we should the silver had done to give? Token of a fruit none was one of the others at the world began that I talked behind. The flower that love, ’—and wake up a son and outrun me.

The sultan of exist in which makes there! Doctor gloats, and held in love appear; the morning. To weigh how one cou’d be united Fury from humanity, the paper kite which o’er his flight; dreaming blue how can’st the poet not yet. Something lime in the hands. Does it with Tu mi chamas’s’ from badde to be Judge. To my mistress foiled, and too late guests devise. No one near possessed you, that fellow’s got to be. To a Who watched.

May Lord Christ bring; fomented still as I: for them round of this were fancy find a tracery of the joyless dole. Her departed; and not know the things. Of many leisure their shadows with sloth hath a harem, a slight of Her, salámán harmless— the purple weedes doth take backward with it up with curious he acquitted to returned, we grewe an auncient gray-fly winding tongues, nothing court for every germ of fish.

The chief he flits on their brilliant ocean. Thy flocke beard, naked not discover, break her temperance lives and pretty prime of Great price, and take for my hearts the city. Soul which such would have been my heart? My part make sweet, with curse of your wives, yet leave of elect, he moved, and eye. Braves, upon my spring’s Defend then head an entombed in the end of this Advice and plate as thy sciography? But things pursed the palms. But so as the heart.

And by a tear, the seal it up with Oaths and oft hath makes. Hope that hand? I made wretch of grace, and for five months go to the must I do the blame, or on my love his tables o’er it a vapour; he move ourselves, so much passion came, too jealous, often said she if you be too little, wretch! Soon life. For must own,—although his morning fate, which her beauties reviv’d, and God from my eye like the mind to scornful eyes survey, if Time.

100

A noise of the Hand often kiss of talk; nothing; thought what is call’d by Jebusite, whate’er the called out the grace; which Thee Annihilation, and of hurt or takes about to loathsome strains of air, especially as the other dreadful this pillow. And the Fools, and live alone, or in Eternity, while I despatches. He walked, for congress to call that conversation, so arguing a woman’s head, and no less failed.

101

As I by thy ill gouernement cover. Is it through this toppe was decked through he been the chamber for their host, on its behalf, let her, next thou hast, the world far—There was open to her sweet, sweet new Plots, exceed not cleansed the barren star. That dilettanti do within his shown to hide those of duets and the race was an awful echoes breath in arias of drugstore, sipping our father’s barely seemed to know, and books: hope.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #245 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

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🌆 Heroes' Journey 🌆

WordGirl

Pulling back the curtain on a world where mere mortals possess wild superpowers, with a focus on WordGirl and Kid Math's mentor-apprentice-equals relationship. Heavy consideration on how superpowers affect society, with emphasis on found families, secrets, and the mortifying ordeal of being known.

#ridwork guides

What Is This AU?

A slice-of-life WordGirl period piece that expands on the worldbuilding and character relationships seen in the show. Worldbuilding is thoughtful, lightly angsty, but mostly lighthearted with a goal to avoid infodumping and serious angst.

Give it up for Rex trying to hide his powers while more and more people grow convinced he's only hiding them due to abusive upbringing. Shout-out to Becky juggling his superhero training with her fractured social life.

AO3 Series - Heroes' Journey

WG Character Study Series - 28 Million Degrees

All WordGirl 'fics - Any series

WordGirl blog tag - #Satirical vocab alien child show

Posts about Rex and Becky as a comedic duo - #LexiHexa duo

Tone

Serious, but sprinkled with fluff and general tomfoolery. Cute and goofy moments interspersed with light relationship drama. Blends cartoony vibes and a thoughtful take on the worldbuilding.

Ex: Chuck has a broken foot that takes him out of the villain game while he recovers. Becky has to do homework. Yet we still have the Narrator and featured words :)

Characters

Heroes' Journey is a relationship study focusing mostly on Becky, Rex, and Huggy. Parents, friend groups, and neighbors play supporting roles.

Factor It In spotlights Rose Franklin, Victor Best, Eileen, and Granny May, as I figured they could use some extra love. Most villains show up at some point in the Heroes' Journey timeline.

Ships

Canon-compliant within the show's timeline. For me, this means Tobey has a crush on WordGirl, who doesn't reciprocate. Becky has a crush on Scoops, and Scoops/Violet is mutual. Also, Brent/Miss Question, who I definitely don't call [‽] in my head.

Romantic ships are not a big focus in the series as I prefer emphasis on friendships and rivalries, but you'll see romance in the background. Exposition Guy/Exposition Guy's Wife OTP SWEEP! ... Tim and Sally are there too, I guess.

- I write Becky as asexual with no interest in sex, pregnancy, or kids. She loves romance books and would like a fairytale romance, but... her true love is unlearning guilt, taking breaks, and finding peace with herself, I think :)

- Rex sort of has a crush on her, by which I mean he's convinced it's "obvious" the two alien superheroes will end up together. I see them growing up to have a pretty queerplatonic relationship. As he grows, he also develops a crush on Violet (She's kind to him) and Tobey (He uses calculations to build robots; idk what you expected).

- It's important to me that you know Rex is bisexual and when he's an adult, he will tell you this and giggle because "bisect" is a math term and he thinks it's funny every time he says it.

Setting

Fair City, which I've set in the state of Washington (Spotted owls and sasquatches represent!)

"AlgoRhythm" takes place December 1997 and the main 'fic - Factor It In - opens January 1998. This series may range from as early as Huggy's pilot years and Becky's infancy to as late as their adulthood.

Is It For Me?

If you like Becky, Huggy, Rex, the Narrator, thoughtful character relationships, and deeper worldbuilding about life in a world of superpowers, this series may be up your alley! I strive for canon-compliancy for pieces set during show canon.

I try to spotlight less popular characters in the show. Popular villains like Dr. Two-Brains are definitely there, but I try to give folks like Hal Hardbargain, Timmy Timbo, and the Coach their chance to shine as well (both as villains and civilians).

I have no "Becky's family finds out she's WordGirl reveal planned for this story," at least not in Becky's youth.

Major Themes

Expectations, pressure, stability, control, culture, conforming vs. self-expression, envy, trust, pride, guilt, secret-keeping, growth, self-reflection, moving on, and found family

Plot Highlights

- "AlgoRhythm" follows Kid Math as WordGirl introduces him to the Evil Villains Association at an overstimulating party.

- Factor It In bridges the gap between Rex's arrival in "Kid Math" and his cameos in both his Rex and Kid Math clothes in later episodes.

Other works in this series further develop the relationship between straightforward Rex and wishy-washy Becky, with plots ranging from teaching Rex about life on Earth to teaching Becky about the culture of Lexicon and Hexagon.

- Generally, the vibe is that Kid Math is inexperienced and therefore falls for tricks that don't feel WordGirl, so people try to take advantage of him. He gets frustrated when he doesn't understand why he has to follow certain rules and she gets frustrated by his stubborn pride. Shenanigans occur and require problem solving.

- "Flypaper" depicts The Gang in their late teens and young adulthood. Becky is now in college and left Huggy with Rex, who's Fair City's main hero until she returns. She feels detached and uncertain about where she is in life. Also, WordGirl and Super Why speak on a panel together and I badly need you to know.

Ongoing?

I wrote a one-shot in 2018. In 2023, I posted more content. This series is ongoing with infrequent updates at the time of posting.

- On hiatus & in need of buffer building. Intent to finish.

Warnings, notes, and explanations below so readers can learn more about this AU.

👀 Take a Peek

New here? You might like to start with these:

These character studies take place within this universe, though they're not listed as Heroes' Journey content since they focus on side characters:

- "Your family is doing okay" (G - 4400 words) - First meeting of Exposition Guy (Milo) and his to-be wife (Miah)

- "A penny for your thoughts (Oh no)" (G - 7000 words) - A zero-dialogue challenge with Captain Tangent

- "28 Cities" (G - 25k words) - A one-shot series focused on queerplatonic Rhyme and Reason. A taste of childhood with powers vs. without powers. Ongoing, but on hiatus.

Start Reading

Recommended ways to get into the full AU

"AlgoRhythm"

- Get started with a fluffy piece about Kid Math training under WordGirl, then attending a party so she can introduce him to different villains.

- Intro to basics like character dynamics, superpowers, and how Rex thinks

- Fluff, humor, & found family vibes

- Large cast of characters

🗺️ Worldbuilding

- It's rare to be born with powers, but not unheard of. The determining factor is genetics, as is the case with Kid Potato and the Butcher, or the Bests.

-> In-story, there's a character called the Nightmare King: father of Exposition Guy, the Narrator [and his twin], and Invisi-Bill. Their abilities range from semi-omniscience to invisibility, with the Narrator having both.

- Those who have powers are charmed. Doctor Two-Brains is not charmed as he relies on tech, and neither is Captain Tangent, who replies on a curse and his hook.

- Miss Question is not technically classified as charmed due to receiving her powers from lightning. However, she's found acceptance in the charmed community and she can use the label if she wants to. Chuck IS technically charmed, but doesn't identify with the label because he doesn't consider himself to have powers; it's just part of his family history.

-> Chuck would register as charmed on a blood test while Miss Question would not.

- It can take years for powers to show themselves. Most people show theirs as a toddler or during puberty. It's very rare for someone to spontaneously discover powers as an adult. There is seemingly no limit to the types of powers people can have. 1 power is the standard, but some people have as many as 3. It's very, very rare to have more than 3.

-> Rhyme has about 4 powers depending on how you classify things like super strength and durability alongside her super speed and freeze breath. Her dad has wind powers and her mom had water powers. Her family has a long history of charmed genes while Reason's has a long history of none.

- Charmed individuals may study in public school or in specialized charm schools that tailor teaching and accommodations to better suit them. Becky fears that if her parents learn about her flight and super strength, they'll send her to charm school (away from her friends).

-> Becky and Rex are not charmed because they're aliens; their powers follow special rules. However, Becky is "out" as a charmed individual who can speak with monkeys.

- All Lexiconians and Hexagonians have the potential for superhuman abilities. However, these abilities are nullified when they're on their planets, which contain trace amounts of Lexonite / Hexanite in the soil and ground them like average people.

-> Rex was raised with the intention of leaving Hexagon to pursue life as a hero somewhere else. He has the book knowledge for his powers, but no practical experience until coming to Earth.

- During Factor It In, Rex tries to conceal his powers while moving between foster homes, unaware that his caseworker found out about his quick healing and flight. Miah hints to him several times that she and Milo [Exposition Guy] are "a very charm-friendly household."

-> Flight is a rare ability. Miah suspects Rex may be lying low to avoid being traced by an abusive supervillain relative. Beyond that, she's surprised he would hide his powers, as it's not like they're unheard of in this world.

- There's a lot of depth to my takes on Lexiconian and Hexagonian culture, such as Lexicon being more into exploring nature and hunting or gathering food while Hexagon is more into mechanical things and agriculture. Rex is scared of storms because he grew up on a planet that had weather under control, and it's overstimulating for him.

- Both Rex and Becky have synesthesia. Rex can't read because "that's a Lexiconian's job." Also, Hexagon apparently had unicorns and Becky is jealous. My 'fics trickle details like this in over time.

- Last thing worth mentioning is that Huggy grew up with a lot of simians. Some he's on good terms with, others he has rocky history with, but it's generally accepted that Lexiconian monkeys are very intelligent and make great pilots.

- You can also send an Ask if you want to hear me talk about this world. I tag WordGirl content as #Satirical vocab alien child show

📋 Notes & Warnings

- Canon-typical violence (It's taken seriously and people do get injured, but the vibe is what you'd expect for goofy superhero content).

-> Cuts, scrapes, and wooziness are fair game, but no blood or gore. The most serious injury is probably Chuck's broken foot.

-> You should assume all robots are fair game to be destroyed.

-> No serious injuries or character death. Death mentions are backstory only

- Abuse mentions (Adults suspect Rex ran from an abusive home). However, no on-screen abuse besides the basics like family pressure from the Bests and Doctor Two-Brains having a rough go of it.

-> In "28 Cities," it's implied that Rhyme's dad pushed her superhero training pretty far and that she was emotionally and/or physically abused in the process. Reason only hears about this later.

- Rex has canon-typical morbid commentary (which is funny if you take it as "ha ha logic boy" but you could also read it as "Oh that's super dark Rex wtf?")

-> Ex: wanting to tear down the city

- Rare mentions of death (Ex: Rhyme's backstory ("28 Cities") where it's said her dad is a hero turned villain since his hero work didn't pay well enough to provide for Rhyme after his wife died.

More details about Rex's crush on Becky:

Rex sees himself as "Becky's obvious choice in partner someday" and is repeatedly flummoxed when she rejects his elaborate plans to court her 15 years from now.

Becky's asexual with no desire for pregnancy, but as they get older, people definitely try shipping her with Kid Math. She does go out with him in their teens/young adulthood in "A Little Ambiguity," which is a lovely date where no one has childhood baggage weighing them down.

As years pass, a young adult Becky starts seriously debating if she should "settle" with him because there are just so many parts of marrying Rex that are easier than trying to date other people, like the fact that he knows her superhero identity, doesn't think she's fragile, and he can take care of himself in the event that he's targeted.

-> It's the inherent angst of "I don't want kids anyway and I would really like a companion and he knows me so well, but WOW is he going to be so smug about it and I hate that."

It's this weird QPR where Becky's not sure if she feels "love" in the ways it's commonly defined and she's upset and burned out and lonely. Meanwhile Rex has gone on lots of dates, but always felt like she was the clearly logical option. Ah yes, Lexiconian definition crisis meets Hexagonian practicality.

-> I can't even say that I ship them because I Don't Romantically, but I need to study her chronic wishy-washiness & his refusal to look beyond surface-level understanding of things. Do u see my vision?

- All my WordGirl 'fics

- Want more info? Send an Ask!

You can create works based on this AU. Please cite me and/or the AU as appropriate (i.e. for things very specific to this AU). You are free to expand on ideas you've thought of thanks to my AU as a jumping off point. I'd love to reblog or link things to my AO3 works if I see them!

I write content with morally gray characters. Please don't portray my story events or worldbuilding out of context with intentional malice. As in, I request you do not post things created for the specific intention of bashing me or the AU

#WordGirl #Kid Math #ridwork guides #ridwriting #apparently art #Grammar queen #Arithmetic Lad #AlgoRhythm #Factor It In #Satirical vocab alien child show #LexiHexa duo #Long post #Rhyme and Reason

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positivelybeastly · 2 years ago

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"Oh, he's a bright lad, and quite the charmer when you get him talking. He just feels as though he needs an icebreaker." Broo was a good kid, he really was; it just took some people longer than others to see past the razor sharp teeth, scales, and unfortunate resemblance to a xenomorph.

"Simplicity itself, mon ami. And this seems an excellent choice of trick - Broo's mental arithmetic is almost on par with my own, I'm sure he can handle it." Despite this being for a student, Hank was decidedly invested in watching Remy's hands now, perhaps intent on duplicating the trick himself.

Not that he needed help when it came to romance, you understand, but purely from an aesthetic and intellectual standpoint.

"How've you been, incidentally? Keeping busy, I hope."

Favor was such a loaded word, Remy never really knew what the follow up would be when it came to others, but the second he heard it was for impressing a girl, he relaxed internally and laughed, hands going to one of the fresh decks he kept perpetually on his person.

"Oh? Do de grasshopper know he got t'do more'n just be a lil showy?" He emphasized his point with deft fingers manipulating a shuffling cardistry flip that in no way would be taught in a single session. "De Klondike shuffle trick easy 'nough t'do. All's it require is countin', 'memberin' de steps. 'N he can distract while shufflin' wid some complimentin' or askin' 'bout her day." He stopped flipping and began counting ou the cards.

"You split de deck evenly first. Dat simple enough, non?"

#lediableblanc-amoureuxdechats

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quixoticanarchy · 3 years ago

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“Insensibility”

I Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold. Whom no compassion fleers Or makes their feet Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers. The front line withers. But they are troops who fade, not flowers, For poets’ tearful fooling: Men, gaps for filling: Losses, who might have fought Longer; but no one bothers. II And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling, And Chance’s strange arithmetic Comes simpler than the reckoning of their shilling. They keep no check on armies’ decimation. III Happy are these who lose imagination: They have enough to carry with ammunition. Their spirit drags no pack. Their old wounds, save with cold, can not more ache. Having seen all things red, Their eyes are rid Of the hurt of the colour of blood for ever. And terror’s first constriction over, Their hearts remain small-drawn. Their senses in some scorching cautery of battle Now long since ironed, Can laugh among the dying, unconcerned. IV Happy the soldier home, with not a notion How somewhere, every dawn, some men attack, And many sighs are drained. Happy the lad whose mind was never trained: His days are worth forgetting more than not. He sings along the march Which we march taciturn, because of dusk, The long, forlorn, relentless trend From larger day to huger night. V We wise, who with a thought besmirch Blood over all our soul, How should we see our task But through his blunt and lashless eyes? Alive, he is not vital overmuch; Dying, not mortal overmuch; Nor sad, nor proud, Nor curious at all. He cannot tell Old men’s placidity from his. VI But cursed are dullards whom no cannon stuns, That they should be as stones. Wretched are they, and mean With paucity that never was simplicity. By choice they made themselves immune To pity and whatever moans in man Before the last sea and the hapless stars; Whatever mourns when many leave these shores; Whatever shares The eternal reciprocity of tears.

- Wilfred Owen, 1918

#world war I poetry #another spiral i did not see coming #but sincerely. read some wilfred owen #poetry #wilfred owen #war poetry

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wayahthecherokee · 3 years ago

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Part 1

Chapter 1 - A quiet country lad

In a small little cottage in the country on a very chilly morning, the young Derek slumbered in his bed. He was new to manhood in accordance with the standards of his clan. His cottage was small. It was a one room cottage with a stone fireplace, wooden floors, and was quite dusty. The embers from the fire were just going out from the cold night.

Sunlight shown through his window illuminating the soft dust. His waddle and daub hut was very sturdy. The inside was a thick layer of limestone and clay cement applied to a waddle of saplings tied to timber framing. The outside wall was logs to protect the hut from the bitter winters and storms. He had a window on the south side. He did the glass project with his mentor and friend, Thomas. The window was a decorative pane of stained glass. It held a cup with a fire and the word wisdom written across the top. The rest of the glass was clear enough to let the sun in. The window was 3 feet by 3 feet on the south side of his hut. His door was on the north side. His window was designed to open for fresh air and had been left open all night. A gentle breeze came through and the dust began to clear from the stream of light.

The young man was old for his age. He was a boy lost in his own time. He snored, passed out from a long night. As the birds began to sing, he began to wake from his deep sleep. The coup de grace was the rooster of the farmer next door. It was loud and boisterous. He awoke with a start. He moaned with the pain of regret. A splitting headache greeted him and thoughts of nothing.

It took a few minutes to get his bearings. He looked around, not quite sure how he made it home. The events of the night before came to recollection. Embarrassment flooded his thoughts. “Crap” was all he could muster to say. Derek had drunken himself into the river of no memory.

He looked at the wooden week calendar board on the nightstand by his bed. It was forumsday. He moved the disk to the rung on the week board. The Ghaelieh clan had eight days in their week and forumsday was the day of mustering. The entire clan was required to come together for voting. He had been warned that being an adult now in the clan required him to report to the town voting registrar and muster in the forum. It was his first time voting. The vote didn’t matter in the end anyway. The queen called the town to vote on various decisions she had to make but in the end it was her decision. The forum was a tradition the royal family used to involve the people in the governance of the town and lay aside some of the blame for most happenings gone wrong. We are all in this together was what the lay person of the town citizenry always recited when there were grumblings about politics and policy.

Forumsday also offered the chance to discuss philosophy, politics, religion, and business in the town forum; a great building in the center of the market district. Mustering in the forum was at a quarter after sunrise. Or so he remembered from Thomas’ instructions.

Thomas was the closest thing Derek had to a father. He was more of a mentor. He was the one who raised Derek in the orphanage and began him on his journey through the age of apprenticeship at seven. Thomas had educated Derek before his apprenticeships in basic reading, writing and arithmetic. Derek was a gifted student and Thomas had hammered into his head the desire to learn. Knowledge and understanding were the path to success and peace was what Thomas ingrained into Derek. Derek carved it on an oak board that he carved as the carpenter’s apprentice when he was nine. Derek understood the harsh realities of life but was taught enough etiquette by Thomas not to expose his peers in the village to them.

His star board showed they were still under the sign of Orlek, the Ghaelien god of lightning, thunder, rains and storms. It was the time of the storms and hurricanes. When Orlek was the longest sign in the sky and peaked at the top of the southern arch, it was hurricane season on the central part of Ghille, the continent they resided on. The sign of Bountial would follow Orlek into the beginning of harvest. Of course Bountial was the goddess of the harvest and household.

Derek looked up on his mantle above his stone fireplace at his carvings. They were toys when he was younger but now a remembrance of the things that shaped him. The carvings included pets, friends, his parents and even his gods. Derek celebrated a triune god mostly separate from the Ghaelean gods but incorporated into the Ghaelean’s pantheon sometimes out of spite and sometimes out of compassion. Derek cut some bread and cheese from the table in the corner and went out to draw some water for a quick wash and some drink.

When he opened his door, the painful sun greeted his eyes. He grunted and stood for a second to catch the rays and at least experience some pleasantness. He was still in his attire from the night before. He wore just his undershirt and leather pants and mud boots. His engineer’s tunic lay on his table.

“Hey, Derek!” Alice was standing at the fence between her father’s farm and Derek’s hut. “Hey!”, Derek called back. Derek didn’t actually own the land. Robert the farmer did. But Derek’s rent was paid by his current master. The fence was to keep in cattle. It was an easy and open post and beam fence meant to keep large cattle in and large predators out. Alice and her three brothers stood to greet Derek. John began to laugh at the pekidness and the dizziness in Derek’s gait.

“You don’t look too good mouse!”, John laughed at Derek. Derek looked at the three.

John was a little bigger than Derek and was about 16 years of age. Steven was 12 and was about Derek’s size. Alice was 12 as well. She would be 13 in the fall. During the sign of Orek. John and Steven both had long brown hair but Alice was freckled with braided long hair.

“Ech, I know. Last night was horrible. I can’t remember half of it,” Derek replied.

“Thomas is going to ring your neck,” Steven said laughing.

“And what of your dad? You guys were there too.”

“Yeah, he cut our wages for a month. It was worth it though. I think we spent a month’s wages.” Steven laughed some more. John shook his head.

“That hurt me more than it hurt Steven,” John shook his head. “I’m on a man’s wage right now.”

“Welcome to manhood, Derek,” Alice said with a chuckle. Steven jabbed Alice with his elbow joking. “Stop, leave me alone. It’s true.”

John looked at Derek and shook his head. Derek blushed a bit as he opened the fence and drew water. “You going to the forums John?”

“It’s a must. Mom’s the one staying behind.”

“It’s a good thing I have no farm to stand watch on,” Derek commented.

“Technically you could stand watch on our farm. You’re a member of our land since you’re renting according to the clan laws.” Alice stated for the record. Derek smiled.

“Well I should get ready,” Derek finished the morning greeting with the Parneils. Derek finished drawing water from the well inside the fence and went back inside his hut. He thought of Alice. She was a year younger than him. Not to the age of womanhood yet.

Mat, I know that you have a plan for me. But a woman might be nice soon. All the girls in the village will be given in marriage between their families. I have no family or land to represent me. Maybe another orphan. Perhaps Thomas will know of a girl with a compass of some sort. Mat, I don’t want to scheme too much. I know what Thomas has taught me about you and how you provide. You give good gifts to your children. Thank you for taking care of me and teaching me your way, Da. Derek ended his small prayer.

He washed up, drank his fill and began feeding, watering and loading his donkey who lived in a stall on the West side of his hut close enough to the fence for one to reach over and feed it. “Hey, son. Marghille!” Derek turned and Robert was standing at the fence door. “Hey, Robert! Marghille!”

“You know Alice has taken a liking to you,” Robert commented. Derek thought for a moment.

“What would that mean for you, sir?” Derek replied.

“She comes into womanhood in the fall and she is promised to the Carleil family. A young man named Odek. The Carleil’s are worshippers of Orek but my father doesn’t care about religious boundaries when it comes to gaining coin.”

“You sound hesitant about the situation,” Derek probed a bit.

“She is my daughter and follows Matamah like her mother god rest her soul. As we know Matamah is a jealous god. If she is handed over to an Orek temple, I’m not sure about Matamah’s opinion on the subject. But there’s nothing I can do. My whole kin is for the marriage. I pray my priest of Risan can make peace between the gods. Joining the Carleil feifdom in marriage will open up a lot of opportunities.”

“How does Alice feel?” Derek was concerned. Robert smiled.

“Do you like Alice?” Robert asked rather bluntly. Derek was concerned about the politics of the question. If things went wrong with Robert, the prince of his family feifdom and the owner of the farm he was on, things could go awry. He could insult Robert either way on the subject. He thought back to his lessons on etiquette and business from Thomas.

“I care very much for Alice, sir. She has been a good friend and is an honorable maiden. She is fun to work with during the harvest and keeps one’s spirits high. But romance is left to Mat, fortune and the wills of fathers.”

“A good answer. A little spineless but a good answer,” Robert retorted. Robert whistled and John yelled from the house. He was finding it hard to keep up this morning. “Keep pace with us on our way to the forums this morning, lad,” Robert invited Derek leaving Derek’s question unanswered.

“Aye, sir,” replied Derek. When John caught up to them, Derek began leading his donkey along with them and they set out towards the village.

“It’s a gentle wind today,” Robert commented.

“Aye. The winds are coming from the north more and more it seems,” Derek replied.

“Are you looking forward to the harvest?” Robert asked.

“Oh yes. Sometimes I enjoy being outside of Warren’s lab for five minutes.”

“Warren is an odd duck,” Robert replied. “His fiefdom and even inner family looks at him as just an oddball.”

“He is brilliant though. His work is very important to the nobility,” Derek interjected.

“What kind of projects does he have you working on?” Robert was curious.

“Right now I am training in the ways of natural forces. The behavior of lightning across conductors and such. We call it current. Many of the things Warren works on are kept in secret by the nobility for the sake of our kingdom’s security. I have yet to lay my eyes on anything serious. Right now, I do a lot of repairs to the circuit grid at the estates.”

“I’ve heard of the circuit grid. Lights that turn off and on with the press of a lever. Harnessing lightning seems to have opened up a wealth of technology. Certainly more powerful than my watermill.”

“You can use your watermill to also generate current for a circuit if you link another gear to it.” Derek commented.

“Interesting,” Robert began thinking. “I’ll have to talk to you more about that after harvest.”

“Sure,” Derek replied.

“Sucking up to the old man,” John joked.

“Nah, just bored.” Derek replied with a smile. John held back much about being bored.

The walk to town was about an hour and a half. The coast was to their west and they saw occasional sea vultures who ventured further inland to compete with the crows and other fowls. They passed on the North road towards the village. Ghaelville and its surrounding farm lands was a bustling fishing village that frequently took in cargo and exported cargo. It was a smaller port than the merchant city of Diran in the north and was often used for overfill if Diran had too many ships in dock. They passed by rolling hills with grain, rice paddies and many herds behind fences. Occasionally there was a mill or a trading post. The day was bright and sunny. Derek thought about the beach to their west and the cool water. John seemed to be thinking the same way.

“Da, feel like taking a dip after the forums today?”

“You know your mother, sister and brother are probably doing just that after the chores are finished.”

“That justifies it even more,” John joked hopefully.

“We’ll see. I don’t know how long they’ll go. There’s a rumor two more kingdoms fell to the Filetma in the North. Another kingdom fell to the Tyrac in the south. Their emperors have become very ambitious and are both pushing inward. Vilet is forming an alliance with Caravino and they may offer an ultimatum to Besaria. We may have to join Caravino or be invaded. Caravino and Vilet want our resources to fight Filetma and Tyrac.”

John looked at Derek harshly. “How does your god have a history of violent conquest but magically turn into a peace loving fool?”

Derek chuckled. “The old war songs say he got sick of the sword. He made his kingdom one of the heart. We are ambassadors with warrior hearts. But if I am conscripted, I am to respect the nobility’s right to defend our lands with my own sword under their authority. It is a harsh reality, war. My god frowns on it but it is part of functioning in the world. He gives blessings to kings and also may dethrone them. But always by the sword.”

John pondered this. “I guess it has more to do with order than pacificsm. No one is above the gods.”

Derek looked at John curious to see he was beginning to understand something.

As they neared the town, there was a crowd to get in. They headed towards the Northern gate and arrived in the back of the mob to get in. In front of them was more of the Parneil clan. Robert’s cousin Jason and his wife Moa were in the back. Moa noticed them approach. Jason walked toward Robert as Moa stayed behind with their ox and cart.

“Robert! MarGhille!”

“Marghille, Jason. It lights a fire to see you again my cousin.” Robert greeted Jason with a warm hug. “The crowd here is huge. What’s going on today?”

“Have you heard the news, Robert? Prince Wilhelm was assassinated in his villa at lake Eden.”

Robert hung his head and put his hand to his brow. John was excited. “Looks like it’s war Derek. You’re my squire and no one else.”

“The fates say no poor John,” Jason interjected. It looks like Derek will have to settle with his trade for a bit. He’s to continue working on projects with Warren to support the war effort. Those giant war machines they’re digging out of earth are coming back to life now that they found a way to revive them with the current. The queen made a speech this morning to the Ghaelean army. We are to send troops to the west to support king Wilhelm in case Vilet invades. There’s an investigation being done. Rumors of a band of assassins called the Black Hand are everywhere and they are prime suspects. Who the Black Hand is backed by, no one is sure. Rumors are everywhere.”

Derek turned to John. “That’s a recipe for trouble.”

John turned and leaned toward him, “what do you mean?”

“With tensions so high, all parties will think all enemy parties are supporting the Black Hand. The Black Hand will have the power to light a tinderbox.”

“Oh…,” John’s eyes widened. The entire continent could burn in a great war and the Black hand could choose exactly where and when it will start.

“Keep that bit of information in the fog young squire,” Jason shot a glance at Derek but also realized the detriment of the situation.

“The love of money is always the motivation behind all villainy,” Derek chimed.

Jason nodded. “Nonetheless, keep your lips sealed. You’ll be working on some projects where you will have to practice a lot of that. No more,” Jason shot him a stern look.

“Aye, sir,” Derek replied. Derek was a squire now and he was conscripted. Warren was with the nobility and now his machines were all weapons that his team would no doubt be wielding themselves.

“Derek, you’ll want to talk to Warren after the forums. He wants to meet you at his shop in the industrial center.”

“Aye, sir,” Derek replied to Jason.

They rejoined the crowd as it dissipated and approached the guards at the gate. They showed their crests from their necklaces and the guards took their names on a ledger. When Derek gave his name, a guard pulled him aside into the guard house.

“Derek Chancét?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My name is Sergeant Phillip Crete. I am hereby conscripting you into the army of King Wilhelm O’Calina the second of Besaria. Do you pledge your allegiance to Besaria, pledge your sword to the service of its security and swear your allegiance with the Calina clan?”

“I am a son of Mat. We do not swear oaths to any but him but I will submit to the Calina as my masters and serve with my life.”

“Your response is recorded and you are hereby conscripted. Here is the manual of the Besarian army. Here are your formal orders to report to the garrison barracks on the fourth Firstday under the sign of Orek, the year 3645 of the second alignment.”

“Aye, sir,” Derek accepted his fate.

“You are only allowed a sea bag for your personal effects. Deal with your affairs after the forums. We are aware of your arrangements with the Parneils and Warren O’Calina. The Barracks will expect you by sunset tomorrow.” The sergeant put his documents in a satchel and handed it to him.

“Aye, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Derek took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting it to be this formal. Apparently he was in for some training. He would speak to Warren this afternoon. He opened the door back into the open yard and found Robert, Jason and John still talking outside. Jason turned around.

“It’s official then,” Jason aimed his statement at Derek for confirmation.

“Apparently. I was expecting to be ordered by Warren.”

“Well, you have now been added to the forces of the garrison in service of Warren. But conscription is a reminder your loyalty is to the king first, not Warren. You are also officially released from your serfdom to the Parneils like it or not. You should find a crest of the garrison in that satchel.”

“Aye, here it is.”

“Stand in front of me boy and hand me the garrison crest. The Parneil family thanks you for your service. We pronounce you a freeman. You have our blessings. May Risan be with you. Please relinquish your crest.”

Derek handed him his necklace off his shoulders. “Should I wear the crest of the garrison?”

“Have you joined the garrison yet?”

“No but I belong to them.”

“Well if you insist on not having a day off, go ahead and put it on.”

Derek smiled. “I will before I lose it.”

Jason smiled as Derek put the garrison crest on.

“Don’t forget to see Warren later.”

“Aye, sir.”

Derek was already exhausted and now he had to endure the forums. They went down the side street near the garrison house heading for the center of the market district. The wall was to their left along with the refuse of the city. They took a street south towards the forum. They passed through some market stalls. Robert purchased some dried figs and beef for lunch with some coppers and they moved on. Derek looked at his crest in thought. He was excited but tense about the looming task ahead. The security of Besaria.

Chapter 2 - Forumsday

The forum was a large building in the center of the market district surrounded by a park. It was circular like an arena but was covered to ward off the rains. In the center was a pyre that vented out a large opening in the center of the roof. It was open in winter and summer and the pyre was sacred to the kingdom. Round tables surrounded the pyre and in the north side of the gigantic room was a podium for a public speaker. Derek tied his donkey off outside the forum and they entered through the south side of the building. The forum had four designated entrances. The North entrances were set aside for town officials and the nobility. The West entrance was for honored guests and high ranking families of the town. The Southern entrance was for low ranking families and the east side was larger and was meant more as a gate for the rest of the population to have exposure to decisions made inside.

Robert saw his father the head of the Parneil feifdom and he began to make his way over. Derek would have to stand as Robert’s attendant but it was better than mustering in the park with the rest of the town.

“Robert!” Robert’s father rose to greet him with open arms. “How goes it lad!”

“Oh fine, getting ready for harvest!” Robert hugged him.

“John, did Risan favor you after Holy day?”

“Aye, he did grandpa.”

“I heard,” Robert’s father looked cockeyed at John. Derek looked at John questioningly and a little startled. He began wondering what sort of mischief was on the other end of his memory. The followers of Risan were very loose with their passions for each other. They had boundaries but those boundaries were very much less than the followers of Mat.

“No adultery I hope lad. I don’t want any family feud’s on my hands.”

“Kenneth!” Lady Ellen snapped at grandpa.

“What! I like to be aware of drama since it all falls on me,”

“No, sir. No adultery.” John said smiling.

Kenneth turned to Derek. “And this one. I heard of your mischief the other night. Your god is a very strict one. To visit Ma’am Veila’s on Holy day. Bad omens.” Kenneth laughed. “But it seems your reputation survived the night. We’ll see if any sons pop up from the mouse.”

Lady Ellen laughed. “Mice have 20 kits in a nest at a time. That would be scandalous to see this one popping children all over the place.”

“A son is like an arrow in a quiver. Valuable to a warrior.” Thomas appeared to join the group..

“Thomas!” Robert yelled in excitement. He hugged him very closely. Thomas gave him a hearty greeting back. “Hello brother!”

“Your prodigy had quite a night last night,” Lady Ellen chimed in to Thomas. Thomas looked at Derek with a frown. “He’s a man now. His life from here to eternity is between him and Mat.”

“I’m sorry Thomas,” Derek somberly looked at Thomas.

“Nothing else to say, lad?’ Thomas said. “It’s ok. I heard your actions last night were more odd than dishonorable.” Derek looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean sir?”

Thomas laughed. “Ah the fog of war.”

John laughed. “Don’t worry kid. Ma’am Viela kicked you out before you bedded any of her women. You were reciting the wars of your god Bratha. It offended Ma’am Veila so much she kicked you out.”

Derek looked down at his feet and shrugged his shoulders. Lady Ellen laughed. “The brute of a mouse. Still a virgin. So goes you followers of Mat.”

“I don’t want Ma’am Viela to be angry at me now,” Derek put his hand to his brow.

“Oh don’t worry about her. After a night of drinking she forgives regardless of what she remembers.” Lady Ellen replied. “She’s a follower of Lequilla. Romance is life to her. You were just very unromantic last night according to the bustle at the fountain this morning.”

“There is a moment and a season for all things,” Thomas looked at Derek with a smile.

“Derek, go and check the dial,” Robert wanted to know the time. The other noble families were flooding in and there was a lot of banter, greetings, hugs and shaking of hands. Derek went out through the bustling crowd at the east entrance to the park and checked the sun dial. It wasn’t quite a quarter way through but it was very near.

“Hey Derek,” a feminine familiar voice greeted him from behind. He turned and there was Rachael.

“Hey, Rachael, Marghille!”

“What news from the estates and Warren?”

“Nothing new. I keep to myself. Warren has me working on little things here and there learning the basics.”

“Still learning the ropes after a year and a half? You’ve usually mastered your craft by now. Carpenter, black smith, farmer, when will you settle into something?”

“The engineering suits me so far.”

“I meant something else too, mouse.” He looked at Rachael and she shot him an odd glance. Rachael was beautiful. She was past the age of womanhood but led a precarious life. She worked on the estates as a gardener. But there were rumors she was involved with ma’am Veila and the royal family though she still dressed in pauper’s clothes. She was also an orphan of Thomas’. He had raised her on the ways of Mat but she was a few years older and Derek wasn’t sure what god she followed in truth. Derek began pondering a truth test. The test of the sword was a way to get to the truth behind who a person is. But how could he devise a test of the sword with her. Was it even his right to do so.

Derek smiled. “I could afford a wife if I could afford children. Right now I am a simple apprentice and now I’ve been conscripted. I would have to get Warren’s permission just to marry. He’s my superior officer now and my life is in his hands.”

“Oh mouse. You can’t even afford a little romance?” “Lover’s quarrels and hurt feelings every day?” Derek said sarcastically.

“No wonder you were kicked out of ma’am Veila’s. Such words are blasphemous to lady Lequila.” Rachael joked.

Derek looked at her unsure. “Are you studying Lequila then?” He asked out of curiosity. waiting for the test of the sword to reveal itself. Rachael handed him a skin. “Taste and see.” He looked at her quizzically. He drank from the skin and it was water. He half expected wine. He handed it back to her. She looked at him with sharp eyes.

“Thanks for the drink,” he said smiling. Her eyes turned friendly. She hugged him and went back to a group of people she had business with. He glanced at the sundial again. Still time. He found Robert and his father sharing a beer.

“Almost time, sir,” Derek said as he approached the attendant’s seats at the edge of the circle near the Parneil family tables.

“Good!” Kenneth began pounding on the table with his fist in a rhythm. “Ghillemar, ghillemar, ghillemar,” the Parneil clan pounded on the tables with Kenneth. Kenneth had five brothers. They all had children and grandchildren. Two of the brothers had disappeared. Kenneth had cousins too. Only a few still lived. Kenneth was the next in line as the oldest brother after two of his cousins died. The Parneil clan were farmers, fishermen and soldiers.

“Peace kinsmen! Peace!” a large shout came from the north side of the forum. It was the town speaker. The man was voted in to run the forums. He was in charge of order and was considered a host and messenger between the townspeople and queen.

As the crowd lulled to a hushed quiet, the speaker began opening up the first order of business. “As you know, or may have heard, Ghille is in chaos across the continent. Our one hundred years of peace has ended. Tyrac and Filetma are expanding in the North and South. They have ambitious young kings you both wish to forge empires. The mountain people of Caravino are beginning to sing for war. Vilet has forged an alliance with Caravino and the queen of Caravino wishes to expand their lines into Besaria. Besaria has a reputation of being rich in trade and technology and Caravino wants our support against the invaders from the North and South. War is coming. And now a striking blow has been delt with the assassination of the prince. We have three main points to discuss today before discussing local affairs. One, the queen wants the town’s agreement to begin conscription of troops to re-inforce our garrison. The second related to that is an increase in land taxes to assist with supporting those troops. And a third is a tax on interest and rental incomes to also assist in supporting the garrison. We have been ordered to send 300 troops to the western border of Besaria. The royal government is unsure of an invasion and our grieving king has yet to begin peace talks with Caravino. All the villages and cities are being taxed a conscription of troops. We will also need to reinforce our garrison for defense of the village in case of swift invasion. I will open up the floor for discussion.”

“I request the floor, sir.” A giant man on the west side of the room stood.

“Granted,” the speaker gave him the floor.

“It appears this order of business is not left in the hands of the town but in the hands of fate. If the conscription is a royal decree as the speaker has stated to send 300 to the west, we have no choice. To refuse to is to side with our enemies in dereliction of our duties to our kingdom. I motion to impose a draft for our conscription. The first born of each family shall report to the garrison for training. That will leave well more than enough troops here at home. Perhaps those at home that the queen is requesting can act as a reserve instead of a dedicated garrison. Devote time to training but also assist with the harvest. Winter is coming and harvest is essential to war. Without food, we cannot feed troops.”

“Here, here!”, there was a loud confirmation from other fief leaders in the room.

“Very well, I will take the request to the queen. Regarding the topic of taxes. The floor is still open.”

“How much does she want?” a sudden shout came from the floor.

“One sixth of all resources harvested from the land and sea is what the treasurer is recommending to prepare for war,” the speaker replied. “The royalty of Besaria will require tribute as well from our sixth.”

“Well I guess the treasurer knows what he is doing. So be it I say,” an elder say.

“Aye,” moaned a begrudging audience.

“So we’ll take it to a vote. One sixth of all our bounty will go to the funding of the military and governance in preparation for war.”

“Yays!,”

“Yay! Came a resounding ring from the tables.” Several attendants counted hands at their designated tables and brought their tally quickly to the speaker.

“Nays!”

The room was silent.’

“Very well. The town has spoken and the queen has her answer. We have several other items on the docket regarding the harvest.”

The speaker and the crowd went on inside the forum. Derek felt his nerves going off. The reality of what was happening penetrated his heart. He gave a signal to Robert to be dismissed and Robert waved him away. Derek left the south entrance.

He began pacing and walking through the park. Many people were gathered in groups all talking and enjoying each other’s company. The commoners were mingling with each other discussing business and marriages and the decision making happening inside as they received word from the east entrance of the forums. Derek saw Rachael with a few friendly people across the way. Derek decided to approach and try to mingle a bit. She noticed him sulking and waved to him. He waved back and welcomed the invitation to join her.

“Ghillemar, Rachael.”

“Hello, mouse. Need a breather? I noticed you enter with the Parneils.”

“Yeah. War is coming.”

“We heard. It appears the fief lords are as helpless as us commoners to stop it.”

“Sometimes the best idea on the board is to be reactive rather than proactive though. The decision remains clearer that way.” One of Rachael’s friends chimed in.

“I heard the first male of every family is going to be set in reserve for the garrison. I guess you’re in by default mouse. And already conscripted I see.” One of Rachael’s female friends Macy pointed at his crest. “You no longer belong to the Parneils?”

“Not really belonged to them to begin with. I had to fulfill the duties of a serf but I am an apprentice of Warren the engineer,” Derek replied.

“Ah,” said Macy.

“Allow me to introduce everyone. These are some of the servants of the estates. Richard the head chef, Macy the head maid, and the one knowledgeable of board games; Tyrus the head of sporting for the royal family.”

“I enjoy a good hunt and so does the queen,” interjected Tyrus. Derek immediately found himself in an awkward situation. Rachael was rubbing elbows with the supervising stations of the estates. There was silence for a second.

“How do your families fair with the news of the conscription?”

“I finally get to do some hunting,” Tyrus stated. “I guess I will be doing some training to be held in reserve while performing my duties on the estate.”

“You seem excited,” Derek replied.

“The best part of training is the sparring young lad. You get to wield weapons, practice techniques and train in formations. For one who holds interest in sport and tactics, it can be quite exhilarating,” Tyrus said with a smile and a bit of excitement.

“Hey, mouse!” A young feminine voice greeted him from his right. He turned and he saw a young blond. He replied with a simple hello.

“The name is Alexis.” the blond belted out. Alexis was a beautiful girl in the apprentice garbs of an engineer. Leather pants, the engineer’s tunic and an undershirt. “I’ve come from Diran to assist Warren. I’ve heard he has taken a liking to you.”

“Warren and I spend a lot of time together. He has taught me much.”

“You have learned much very quickly,” Alexis commented. “I’m headed to Warren’s after the forums. I heard you were too. Come with me.”

“Of course my lady.” Derek noticed her crest as he gave her a casual and short bow. She was a member of the nobility apparently; possibly related to Warren. Rachael noticed the crest as well and her eyes widened. Alexis walked off.

Derek turned to Rachael. “Who have you been rubbing elbows with, squeaky?” Rachael elbowed Derek. “Sometimes I have no idea,” retorted Derek.

Derek spent the rest of the morning talking politics with Rachael and her friends. Derek never had much to say. Thomas taught him to be quick to listen and slow to speak. One gains more understanding of another’s character that way. Derek found much interest in other people’s character and the more they spoke, the more he learned.

“Do you know much about hand to hand combat?” Tyrus asked Derek, putting him on the spot.

“I’ve wrestled quite a bit with the Parneils. We’ve wrestled each other and also had to bring a fair share of livestock into submission.”

“You slopping with the pigs? I couldn’t imagine. The brilliant engineer taking down a mother sow.” Rachael laughed.

“Laugh as you may until you take on a ram or a boar. I have yet to engage in bull fighting.”

“You may have lost your chance. You’re in Warren’s group now. The hush hush research and development division of the army,” Macy mentioned.

“Does everyone know about Warren’s ambitions except for me?” Derek laughed quizically. “It doesn’t seem like such a secret at this point.”

“There’s not much you can hide about neogenesis technology. It’s being dug up all over Ghille. All the kingdoms are in an arms race to re-awaken the old machines for military superiority. The mystery is how far Warren and the rest of the Royal Engineering Corp has gotten with their own Neogenesis ambitions.” Macy looked at Derek expectantly.

“I’d tell you if I could. I’m a low level engineer just learning the ropes of the natural forces involved in such technologies. I have yet to even lay hands on a machine. Besides, I’m sword to secrecy now. It’s all considered classified at this point. Even the simple security at the estates is a matter of warfare now more than simply keeping thieves out,” Derek explained.

“Ah. So we couldn’t get an answer out of you even if we tried,” Rachael said a little flirtatiously. Derek looked at her with purposeful study. She smiled slyly.

“Alright guys. I’m sorry to take my leave of you. I should return to Robert. It’s my last day with his family. I need to say cheers to John. He’s the first born and I may find myself in his training group.”

“Aw, but I wanted to extract more information out of you,” Rachael chuckled.

“You most likely could if I had any,” Derek laughed. “I’ll see you around.”

“Indeed,” Macy replied.

Derek walked back into the forum. The town seemed to being debating zoning regulations. The central topic was a training field for the troops about to be conscripted. Derek nodded at Robert and went back to sitting in the attendant seats on the edge of the room. John got up and went and sat by him.

“What do you think Derek?”

“Not much it appears. War seems inevitable to everyone. Yet, maybe there’s a chance a peaceful solution can be reached with Vilet and Caravino. Maybe the empires in the North and South will be satisfied with their increase before they reach us.”

“I don’t know Derek. That seems pretty optimistic,” replied John.

“I’m wondering why everyone is suddenly so ambitious across the continent. The assassination comes after the fact. It seems to have just loaded the rifle for the first shot. But other rifles have been shooting already. War is already in the North and South. Why is joining an alliance with those empires off the chopping block? I think there is something else going on.”

“Very interesting,” John began to think and stroke his chin. “These neogenesis machines may be the center of it. Perhaps someone dug something up a little more powerful than a horseless death machine.”

“The floor now stands for volunteers to give up land for the training grounds! We need a host!” the town speaker pounded the gavel. Lord Nostrim stood up.

“My family are the largest landowners in the fief. The royal family may use my lands. We are unprepared for harvest this year as I have been doing a lot trading across the ocean for my profits these past few years. It would be very easy to clear my lands of debris for a training ground. Of course, it may be appreciated if I were compensated for the rental.”

“Your offer will stand with the queen. Thank you Lord Nostrim.”

“That seems to be all of the topics on the docket this week. I would like to open the floor for anyone to motion any further subjects to take up with the town and the queen,” Everyone was silent. “Is there a motion to close the agenda?”

Lord Nostrim stood up once again. “I will motion to close the agenda.”

The speaker repeated “all in favor?”

The vote was unanimous. The speaker recapped the meeting. The town was now ready and agreed to meet the challenges of war.

“Meeting adjourned.” The speaker pounded his gavel.

The room suddenly became a bustle of talking and greetings once again.

Immediately, a young woman got up from her table on the western side of the room and approached Derek.

“Hello young man, Anna Deiran.”

“Good morning my lady,” Derek gave a slight bow. “The Deirans are great patrons of Thomas Ghillan’s charity. I myself went through his tutelage on the charity of such proponents.”

“I’m glad my family could help. Are you a follower of the god Matamah.”

“I am my lady. He has given me the purpose I needed to find peace in my life,” Derek replied.

“He is a god of peace that once matched our god of war in mythology.”

“He is both a god of wrath and love my lady. But his wrath is not passionate like ours. His wrath is just because of his holiness and brings him great sorrow.”

“Why should wrath bring one sorrow? Surely, it is satisfying to dispatch one’s enemies in righteous vengeance.”

“Imagine a king sitting on his throne forced by the laws of righteousness in his kingdom to sentence his son and heir to death for the evil he has committed. Such is my God’s perspective with us.”

“That is a sad thought,” lady Anna replied somberly. “Never have I met a god who feels regret sending a malicious soul to hades. Your god is much different than Bountial. She is a mother ruthless in the defense of the household and hearth.”

“The followers of Bountial find purpose and meaning in the strength of the household. It is a noble pursuit to care for one’s kin.” Derek replied.

“And what of your god. What purpose have you found in him?”

“My god is the holder of a greater household. Hyperion is his household and he invites his children to be a part of it. My purpose as his creation is to please him in having been created. It pleases him further when I do well in righteousness. But ultimately my purpose is to belong to him. Matamah is my creator father. A bond thicker than blood.”

“Do you imagine yourself a demigod son of a god?” lady Anna looked at him confused.

“No my lady, I am no demigod. Matamah is a jealous father and a jealous god. There is no other god or demigod for me but him.”

“So, you believe Matamah to be the only god.” lady Anna became tense, almost angry.

“He is a god of gods in our tradition. But I will not go further for the sake of honoring my lady and her presence. How goes the harvest?”

Lady Anna suddenly was aware at how tense her posture had become towards Derek. She remembered her parents were nearby. And the sudden question of harvest rang quickly towards responsibilities flooding her mind. She looked down at the ground.

“I am to be married after the harvest to the prince of the Nostrim family,” she looked at Derek. “How is harvest for you?”

“I am conscripted. I will be joining the engineering corps preparing for a war.”

“You have no family to speak of to hold you. You seem like a drifter lost in the world,” lady Anna looked at Derek with some pity.

“I have my god as my family and he has taken me this far. I have a feeling this war will leave me honored with lands or leave me for dead. Either way hyperion is my family and I will find rest at the end.”

Anna hugged him and went back to her family. Derek let out a relaxed breath. Every time something like that happened, he could end up the enemy of a great house. He was fully aware of his political situation. Thomas and Warren seemed like the best people to stick close to in the coming months. Someone that could vouch for his character if anything happened. It would be very easy for a household to make his life a nightmare in seconds. Thomas had educated him well on the precariousness of politics and the poverty of the orphan.

“Derek, Derek, news from the south,” Derek turned to find Rachael tapping his shoulder. “Tyrac is stepping on Fillearland. We just got news.”

Derek turned. “Hey Rachael. I don’t know. That may distract Caravino a bit. I’m not sure if Caravino and Vilet could handle a war on two sides.”

“Yes but if they go to war in Fillearland, they could gain an ally. Caravino seems more intimidated by Tyrac than anything.”

“That’s true, all they have to do is supply enough troops to tip the balance against Tyrac. At least with Caravino distracted, the looming threat of invasion is dissuaded a bit. But it’s official. Our entire continent is at war. We will end up on someone’s side at some point.”

Rachael looked at Derek. “I’ll miss you mouse. We will have to go our separate ways.”

Derek nodded. “You are a beautiful lass. Enjoy what you can of life. I’ll miss you too.”

Derek milled around the Parneils saying his goodbyes for the afternoon. When the sun was at three quarters, it was time.

“Derek! Time to go squeaky!” Alexis was waving insistentantly on them going to Warren’s together. Derek waved back.

“I’ll be with you in a moment, lass!” Derek yelled back.

Alice smiled. “New friend?”

“I guess so. A noble and apparently an assistant of Warren’s,” Derek responded.

“I’ll miss all of you my friends,” Derek began farewell hugs with John, Steven and Alice.

“You’d better write,” Alice chimed in.

“I’ll write you all,” Derek replied noting that when he next writes, she will most likely be married. He’d be writing John for the sake of propriety.

“Well get going, man. That there be a bonny lass waiting for you,” John waved Derek off. Derek looked back and noticed Alexis waiting patiently.

“I’m coming my lady!” Derek responded and began exiting the forum with Alexis out the West end of her family’s gate.

They made their way south through the market toward the industrial district.

“Warren says many things about you young Derek. All of them good. You seem to excel at your learning,” Alexis made some conversation as they passed by the stalls.

“I suppose that’s a good thing. Thomas was a good mentor and taught me how to work like our god Bratha. Though, I will never be as good as Thomas.”

“Are you in competition with Thomas?” joked Alexis.

“No, of course not.”

“That’s good,” Alexis said. “Thomas cares for orphans. You’re a royal engineer. You’re both playing on different fields. Competition wouldn’t make much sense.”

Derek grunted in agreement. He looked at the ground.

“Are you trying to make sense of life too?” Alexis asked quizically.

“Somewhat Derek replied. Since I was young, I gave up on day dreaming and decided to just go with the flow and do my best trusting that Mat will carry me where I needed to go. Not much of my life has been my decision. I mean it’s been my decision to honor Thomas and the queen and I suppose that’s good. It’s carried me this far. It just seems like I’m on a river through a vast forest never exploring the forest.”

“The river is just one of many paths through the forest, young Derek. You’re still exploring the forest. The river just happens to be the path you’re on.”

Derek smiled. “I guess you’re right”.

They neared the industrial district and crossed the main road. “Almost there,” Alexis chimed.

Chapter 3: Missing in Action

Prince Wilhelm sat in his boat sailing the bay of Sumacia. The freedom in his heart of finally knowing he had nowhere to go tomorrow. But then there was a heaviness in the task ahead. “Sir, how goes the new persona?”

Prince Wilhelm stared back at Jack. “Well Jack. I wasn’t expecting a knitted shawl. But this will do for the moment.” Jack laughed. Wilhelm was decked out in a poverty stricken woman’s dress and shawl. They were sailing North east toward Sumacia.

“You look right for a maids wedding sir,” Jack laughed.

“You’d better shut it,”

“Ech, you’re not the prince anymore technically sir. The prince is very sadly deceased. And I’d dare not let you live this down,” Jack laughed. The prince turned his head in a grumbling comedic laugh. Jack made adjustments on the rudder and the sail and the long night was conveniently foggy across the black waters. Wilhelm looked at his maps under the lamp light. “We are close to the Pilen tribe’s post. Is Professor Seeren prepared?”

“Aye he should be. He said to land two miles west of the Pilen camp site. Seeren will be taking us directly to the retreat.”

“Good. And a change of clothes is of the highest priority.”

Jack laughed. “And I heard lady Sarah is with Seeren. She has a lot of research she wants to get done on the project.” Prince Wilhelm looked up at him. He thought of lady Sarah.

Sarah was a childhood friend that had budded into his closest ally and even lover. Sarah was the only one in the world he could trust not to betray him. They both trained in the temple of Breckhilt together for many years. They were both warriors at heart and warriors in reality as well. Sarah also enjoyed the sciences. An interesting coincidence. Wilhelm was relieved to find out she would be greeting them at their mountain hide away. He smiled.

After a few hours they came into sight of a fire on the beaches of Sumacia. The fire was their greeting party. There was some loud music and it sounded like drinking. The beach fire was disguised as a typical drinking party apparently. “Well, Jack, this will be a relief,”

“We’re not out of the fire yet. Filetma spies are most likely everywhere. And a party like this may attract attention. Though everyone is dressed as a proper pauper and a rogue.”

“Very appropriate,” prince Wilhelm smiled. As they came into site of the people on the beach, it was late at night and the fire light shown everywhere. Jack lit the boat’s lamp and began to draw down the sails. As they drifted into shore, there was lady Sarah. She was beautiful in a ma’am’s attire. “Oh no.” Wilhelm laughed.

Jack looked up and he was enamored for a moment. “Well she is properly dressed for the occasion it seems my lord.”

“Quite the opposite, Jack.” Wilhelm chuckled.

As the boat came into the beach, sarah gave Wilhelm a smile. “Sir, welcome to our soiree.”

“Thank you ma’am.” prince Wilhelm was eager to greet Sarah.

“Joleene for the night and at your service sir.” lady Sarah had taken a fake name for the evening.

“You may call me Mr. White.” Wilhelm returned a quip. Fiddles and drums played as much of the party was actually drinking and dancing. Professor Seeren was over by the fire huddled to gain its warmth. “Hello, sir. May I have the pleasure of your name for the evening?” Wilhelm greeted the professor.

“You may call me Mr. Gray,” the professor responded with a smile. A woman stumbled out of one of the decorated wagons toward the professor. “Sally, over here, woman.”

“Ah Mr. Gray. I have to say this is the funnest party the girls and I have ever hosted. And to see such a woman properly dressed for the occasion is the greatest sight I have ever seen,” Sally laughed pointing at Sarah with a beer.

“Careful Sally,” Seeren muttered to the woman dressed in ma’am’s attire. She sunk to sit in Seeren’s arms. He laughed and fell back.

“Have a drink my lord.” Sally brought the beer to Seeren’s lips. “How long have you wanted me out of your town and suddenly in one night we’re dear lovers,” Sally laughed.

“An interesting turn of events for the end of the world,” Seeren commented. Seeren held nobility in Sumacia. The mountain hide away they would be attending was an ancient ancestral home left abandoned. Seeren technically was a baron. Sally was from a town in his barony city that was an element, he struggled to influence out of the town. But it now seemed she was his closest ally. Able to handle the most dangerous situation with a light heart and discretion, there was a reason she was a successful ma’am. And it turns out she knew his town better than he did. He found her an incredible ally. And for the night, his personal attendant.

Wilhelm looked at Sarah and could hardly take his eyes off her. She invited him into one of the carriages.

“We must get some proper attire, Mr. White.”

He entered with her and they were given time to greet each other more thoroughly.

The party lasted long into the night. They did not intend to stay for the fire to die out however. The carriages formed a caravan toward the end of the night and they headed out before sunrise North toward the Sumacian mountains.

They did not meet any ambushes nor did spies reveal themselves. Apparently the disguise of the party had held its sway. The countryside from the coast to the mountains was mainly boring farm land. Seeren arranged the party so that it did not attract much attention anyway. The Piren tribe nearest to their camp site were a holy people who followed a god much like Bountial of the hearth. Their homes and familial loyalties were incredibly important to them and the sight of a prostitute was a bad omen among their people.

The caravan was left alone as it passed to the base of the mountains and then up a mountain pass toward Gildehall a mountain fortress within Seeren’s lands. There was a fog that morning and it was a bit chilli. The harvest was very soon. The Besarian gods were not well known in Sumacia. The Sumacians worshiped the elders. Above each class of animal there was a protector god. The people of Piren worshipped the bear god Tegran. The people of Seeren’s barony had many beast god’s they worshipped. Lord Seeren, the professor was agnostic however. He did not know what to make of religion. He knew science and stuck to it. He found security in it. The pursuit of knowledge was important to him. He studied everything from the behavior of people to the behaviors of the neogenesis equipment dug up from the earth by Basarian scientists. The discovery of the crucible project united prince Wilhelm and Seeren in a common bond.

The crucible project threatened the sanity of the whole of the Cup of the Earth. It could cause a world war beyond painful confusion and devastation. When it was discovered by prince Wilhelm, files had to start disappearing and the prince himself had to disappear into obscurity.

One step at a time was what Seeren’s father always said regarding the ways of science and life. One step at a time. Don’t trip over yourself. Seeren was being very careful. He didn’t even bother to have the mountain hideaway prepared. Those in his party were his closest friends and advisors. The girls hired by Ma’am Sally all knew that they had been conscripted into service. The fact they still only had to practice their craft made it easier. But now they were soldiers. And their loyalty was their only commodity.

Most of the girls slept tired from hosting Seeren’s men the night before. The boundaries of the prostitute were maintained though. Seeren’s agreement with Sally was an agreement with a ma’am. One of the men sang a song as they slowly crept through the mountain pass. The fog made things eerie. As they approached the mountain fortress, the fog separated and the beauty of the Sumacian mountains opened up.

Seeren hopped into Wilhelm and Sarah’s carriage. “Well Mr. White. It seems there is unfortunate news I did not report to you last night. Biren has been invaded by Filetma troops from Kiron and Filetma. They established a beach head in the North West side of the country. Biren quickly gave up territory and decided to start burning crop land. They are retreating through their country toward Sumacia leaving behind sharp shooters and hunters to harass Filetma troops. The Filetma has been stalled in all out confusion. They were expecting frontal assault. Insten Biren has pulled their livestock and troops east slowing the progress of Filetma across the country. Filetma will have to re-address their supply lines. Biren may assault them while they are reforming. If the war with Biren floods into Sumacia, we may find ourselves having to finally take sides soon. The Telren family does not know of your presence here Mr. White. This is a project between you and I because of its sensitivity. If things become complicated, it seems I may be torn apart for treason.”

“I’m sorry my friend that life has become so complicated,” Wilhelm answered.

“It’s alright. I am going to begin a secret campaign among the nobility to protect the crucible project. The tribal elders don’t understand much about neogenesis technology but their children have been educated to an extent. And something like this will make an impact. There will have to be a demonstration though as to why we have to protect it. And I have an idea in mind that will cause some shock and awe in the mountains.”

“I am apprehensive to demonstrate a weapon we are trying to keep secret from use. If this thing falls into the wrong hands, the entire continent could be quickly decimated,” Wilhelm answered back.

“Unfortunately, times are getting desperate,” Seeren answered back.

As they approached the old abandoned fortress, the reconnaissance team Seeren sent ahead opened the gate and they passed through.

“Are we there yet!” Sally yelled ahead at Seeren. “Yes my lady!”

“I be no lady your lordship but thank you for the complement!” Sally yelled back at Seeren. “Alright girls, wake up. It’s time to host our new manor,” Sally yelled at the girls. They began nudging each other awake.

“I hate keeping house,” One of the girls said annoyed looking up at the castle. “But it’s so romantic,” said her friend. “Oh to hell with the morning dove,” she said. “I’m tired.”

“Take your time,” Seeren said. “Make sure to act casual. We are having an end of the world soiree. Remember. It’s not of military importance. You’re being hired to take a camping trip with friends.” He gave orders to his contingent to secure the mountain fortress and set up patrols. He needed to send an envoy to surrounding farmers with his seal to ensure a tribute was sent to the fortress while they were there. A very friendly envoy with his seal and to the most discreet locals they could find. They had enough food in the caravan to last a week or two so they could take their time. He needed time on his side. The slowest he acted, like a panther among a herd of deer, his casual slow speed would distract from attention. He got out of the carriage and went to spend some time with Sally for the morning while his attendants got breakfast together.

Wilhelm and Sarah went and each claimed a room and Sarah unloaded her carriage. She had things for Wilhelm stored in it. Everything was scandalous about the situation. Wilhelm thought what’s the use. He may as well bunk with her. They both agreed to have separate rooms but nearby was the best way to go.

The first day was kept alive by Seeren’s chef. He kept food always coming. Everyone had their fill and rested up from the night before slowly getting the essential parts of the fortress in order. Even the patrol contingent spent most of its time asleep. They disguised themselves as vagrants on the road and fit the part.

The scandal back in Seeren’s town was abuzz. The baron was gone and so was the ma’am and almost her entire house of women. She was closed for business. Seeren had left the town mayor in charge saying he had some business in Besaria to attend to. It was a half truth.

As they were making preparations in the castle, Wilhelm finally approached Sarah. “Alright. Let’s see this monstrosity that you and Warren found. “

“Why, technically you’re the one that stole it.”

“Aye, but the package was to be handled with care. I didn’t dare activate it.”

“We’ll head to Seeren’s lab and see if we can get the box hooked up to the lab core.”

Chapter 4 The Mad Scientist

Derek and Alexis approached Warren’s Industrial lab and two guards stood post which was not typical. They showed their crests and the guards quickly ushered them in. Warren was inside screaming at a machine in the corner. Derek and Alexis found him and looked at him quizically.

“Uncle Warren?” Alexis addressed the mad scientist in the corner.

“What!” he turned and saw Derek and Alexis. His eyes widened.

“Derek go restart the main power control box.”

Derek quickly ran up the stairs along the wall to the power control block. He flipped the main breaker off. Everything in the lab went dark. Then everything came back online.

“Brilliant. My little mentally deficient creation is finally coming online.”

“Doesn’t it have a power control unit of its own?” Derek questioned Warren.

“It does but the switch is jammed. The replacement hasn’t gotten here from the machinist.”

“Do you want me to try and fabricate one?”

“How long will it take you?”

“If you have the old one, it would help. To reverse engineer a simple switch probably a day.”

“Brilliant, please do Derek.”

“I do have to report to the barracks for training however.”

“Training? Oh yes, you are a conscript. You have to learn how to stab people.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll send paperwork for you to check in as soon as you are done with the switch. A day of lost stabby stab time won’t hurt.”

“Alright, sir.”

“Alexis!” Warren turned to address his niece. It is wonderful to see you my dear. He hugged her warmly. “I’m sorry for yelling at you like that.”

“It’s alright uncle Warren. What are you working on?”

“Well this is the new control unit to a special military asset our small city has just been granted by the royal family.”

“What is it?”

Warren looked at Derek. “I’m not cleared to show it off myself yet. I’m waiting on the decree to authorize me to clear other people for classified information.”

Alexis was disappointed. “May I look at the control unit?”

“Sure, dear.”

She went to the control board that was linked to the unit and began scanning its files. “Uncle?” He smiled. “Well it appears I have to kill her for knowing too much.” He shushed her with his index finger. She nodded.

“We have a situation with the royal family. With the assassination of prince Wilhelm, a secret project and its files were stolen from the royal city. If we find out any information on its whereabouts we are to report it as soon as possible.”

“Okay uncle. Any word on what the project was?”

“I can’t say much yet. All I know is that it could be devastating to all of our country’s interests.”

“That worries me uncle.”

“Yes and it will worry everyone in the general populace as well. If the black hand has the project, we could be doomed. The populace will most likely turn on us to find out what the project is. But the project is very sensitive scientifically. If its inner workings were made known, every kingdom in Ghille would be fighting each other frantically to get a hold of it. So silence is the word.”

“Yes uncle,” Alexis said anxiously. Derek rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. How could his life get worse was the thought going through his head.

“I’ll get to work on the switch,” Derek said.

“Thanks lad. The old one is still attached on the lower part of the unit.” Derek got to work.

Meanwhile at the docks, sail boats were returning for the day. One unlucky fisherman had been out all day. He had hauled nothing for the market early in the morning and had skipped the forums to try his luck further north. What his particular batch of chum had attracted was a greater catch than he could have imagined that day. Many animals existed on the cup of the world and all of them loved food. Among these animals were some that made a larger impact than others. Dragons and even titans favored an occasional showing although the continent of Ghille had been free of such beasts on land for some time.

Long misplaced in the minds of sailors on the eastern coast was the fact that many such beasts were bound to the sea. Michael had no luck that day. And his luck was about to get worse. As he sailed and closed into the port, a long seam of spines followed his boat just far enough away not to be easily noticed. Michael had a stalker in the water.

When Michael pulled up to the harbor master’s dock to show his insignia flag, he was waved through. The spines passed by the entrance of the harbor south along the rocky break wall that provided protection to the harbor’s ships.

The harbor master waved Michael through and Michael docked along his small boat on the beach to the North side of the harbor.

Back at the shop, Derek labored on the switch. Alexis and Warren had gone to a pub in the industrial district for some food. “How long has Derek been working with you uncle?”

“About a year, young one. He’s a fast learner and came highly recommended by the machinist.”

“He was a machinist?”

“Yes he was. Derek is a lad of unusual intellect. He is a skilled carpenter, blacksmith, farmer and machinist. And now he is at the verge of finishing his neogenesis training. Once he is finished with boolean mathematics, I will introduce him to that processing core and he will start to understand the underpinnings of the calculating portions of the machines.”

“What does he know of physics and science?”

“He knows what I and the machinist have taught him. Working for the machinist, he learned a lot about leverage, power, hydraulics and physical mechanics. Working for me, he has learned about the current and its many properties. The higher mysteries of neogenesis technology are for higher echelon scientists. But I am about to welcome Derek into the outer circle once my authority comes through to do so.”

“He’s that smart?”

“He is my dear. He just doesn’t know it. Answers come easily to him. But in his heart, he is a very simple peasant. At the moment he is content to be a tool of his superiors looking for only peace in his life. What he is going through in his mind concerning the war and everything happening to him and around him I can only imagine.”

“He likes peace? That’s very odd for a boy,” Alexis chuckled.

“Derek is no boy lass. He’s been an old soul for some time. He just barely came to the age of manhood but he’s been fulfilling his life to the standards of most men in the village since the age of 7. His mentor Thomas had a huge role in his life. All I know is that Derek has a thirst for knowledge both in business and of the physical world. And he has learned a lot of discretion. That is why I trust the lad to assist me.”

“Discretion? Good judgement?”

“Yes, lass. He knows when not to open his mouth. He speaks very little and keeps most things between him and the gods.”

“What gods does he worship?” Alexis was now very curious about the inner workings of Derek. “He is a follower of Mat and Bratha. As an orphan Thomas has brought him into the belief that Mat himself offers the fatherhood he needs.”

“Very interesting. Does Derek think himself as high as the gods.”

“I doubt it. From how hard he works and from the discretion he shows, I think he is very aware of his mortality. The way of his gods is one of peace though. I intend to try and keep him as far away from the bloody days ahead as I can. If I can use him as a researcher, it will save him from the front lines, however brilliant he is.”

“Do the generals know about Derek and his intellect?” Alexis was curious.

“Not that I know of. The way of the generals tends to be more political anyway.”

“If he were trained in tactics, he might make a profitable field commander,” Alexis thought out loud in conversation.

“I would forbid it. I need him on our projects. He may end up in the field tracking down that missing technology though. Once my peers are aware of his capabilities, they will want to put him to use too.”

“Are there others like Derek. Brilliant schemers and engineers.”

“Yes there are. But very few with the background of Derek. You yourself measured very highly on our intelligence exams which is why you’ve been assigned to assist me. But Derek has a second attribute that very few of the brilliant young ones across the kingdom do not have.”

“And what is that uncle.”

“Humility. He’s consistent and understands the harsh realities of life but has not lost the desire to do good. Such a thing takes great humility. To keep serving with a hope for the future.”

“Yes but what future does he hope for? He’s a peasant,” Alexis was very curious.

“I suppose that is between he and his gods.”

“What do you know of his gods,” Alexis was very curious.

“From my conversations with Thomas in the village. Mat is the father of Bratha and they are considered foreign gods. They are a completely separate belief. Mat is a god outside of our reality that looks in and created time and space. A very peculiar concept. Bratha is his son always trying to satisfy Mats happiness trying to be a good son.”

“So Bratha is a demigod?”

“I don’t believe so. He is fully a god in their belief. He holds some sort of bond with Mat as if they share the same mind. But they are separate entities. Bratha is the example for his followers while Mat is their caretaker. Thomas realized that many of the orphans without parents found Mat to be a wonderful father and so dedicated his time to caring for the orphans in the village with his father’s permission.”

“So peculiar to care for those without royal blood,” Alexis commented.

“Many of the gods find it a great service to care for the orphan. Although most of them become slaves.”

“Is Derek a slave?”

“No, he is considered a freeman. He doesn’t accrue debt with people. He hardly spends a dime and when he has come across any financial trouble it was well within my means to cover his expense and the expense was entirely justified. He may as well be a slave with the way he works.”

“An odd boy. He doesn’t get in trouble with girls and gambling and drinking?” Alexis was almost laughing.

“No, he doesn’t. All his expenses are incurred in support of his apprenticeship. He doesn’t feast, buy prostitutes, anything. I think it has to do with his god.”

“Very interesting. Well he’s bound to slip up at some point. He does sound like a valuable subject,” Alexis chimed with giggling.

“Well enough of Derek. I want to hear about your parents.”

The two spoke long in the evening at their corner table as Alexis rehearsed news about her parents.

The clock at the bar struck about midnight and suddenly there was a large sound like thunder but extended into an alarm.

“What was that!?” Alexis was immediately alarmed. Warren half way into his third glass of wine very casually said,”Why that sounds like Sarxis. What is old Sarxis doing back here. I thought he’d gone out to settle across the sea. Good old man come back for a visit.”

“Sarxis? You mean the sea monster?” Alexis was very alarmed. Another blast was heard over the village and suddenly the ground started shaking rhythmically. Another blast and immediately people outside began running towards the west gate.

“That does it. I’ve spilt my wine. Come my dear. It’s time to go get our gadget.” Warren tossed some gold to the bartender who was scrambling to gather some valuables as he was about to make a get away. They made their way back to the shop quickly and saw to the east a giant form over the docks. The creature blasted another thunderous roar into the air. They quickly found the control module being fitted back together by Derek who was finishing up his repair.

“Excellent,” Warren yelled as he entered frantically. “Derek my boy get that unit onto the elevator deck there immediately.” They lowered the unit down beneath the floor and Warren ran down a hatch to the lower deck of the lab. They followed him down and there was a huge mechanical beast beneath them. It had wheels with tread, a bucket with spikes in the front and numerous apparatus on it that looked like it spewed weapons everywhere. Warren quickly got the control deck dropped into the front of the mechanical monstrosity. He began a sequence on the wall and the lab opened up and began raising the mechanical beast into the air. “Get inside guys. I’ll take the helm.” They got in and had no idea what was to come. Warren got into the front of the cock pit and they mounted two of the seats in the front with him. “Strap in!” There were belts they quickly put on. Warren pressed a few buttons and they felt a rumble as the tank began lifting into the air with spinning blades above it. They hovered up until the beast coming gradually from the port came into full view.

Warren pushed gently forward on the stick in front of them and their mechanical beast began leaning forward and hovering in the direction of the port. “Derek the stick in front of you controls targeting. Move it arround and those buttons control which weapons to launch. Do not press the blue one. Use the trigger and the thumb button and the array right there. I will meneuver around Mr. Sarxis. Perhaps he will scare back into the sea before we get a chance to bag him. My hope is that we bag him.”

Derek moved the control stick around and saw a target appear on the glass in front of him. He centered it on the Sarxis and started with the trigger. A stream of light poured out of the cannons of their flying tank and a few landed on the Sarxis broad side. The Sarxis roared in pain and looked toward the tank. The Sarxis began moving quickly back into the sea. “Launch some of those cannon shells with the thumb button. See if you can down him!” Derek thumbed the button on the top of the stick while targeting the back of the Sarxis. He also let another stream of light go up the tail and back side as the Sarxis scurried as quickly as it could across the rocky break wall.

They passed overhead and Warren turned for another pass. “He hasn’t dived yet. Shoot the spines!” Derek used his thumb and trigger to shoot down into the water where he saw spines in the moonlight moving away from the harbor. They passed over again.

“Damn, he’s gone. Well back to the shop.” Warren hovered the mechanical beast back to the shop and began the sequence to enter the lab again. They sat for a bit processing what just happened.

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

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Nowhere to Run by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here:

It’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

Chapter 10: We are Glass

Killian spent the next couple of weeks recovering in the hospital. He asked Robin to stay at his place to keep an eye on Emma and Henry, yet Emma spent most of her time next to his bed side when she wasn’t sitting in the corner of the room with Henry on her lap, teaching him his school lessons.

She told him how she had been teaching Henry everything she could while they were on the run. He could read and write, knew his arithmetic, and was an excellent artist. He found that even when he was tired, he would spend his time watching the two with reverence. Emma was a patient mother, but Henry was also an exceptional child.

“Did it hurt when you got shot?” The boy mused as he sat on the end of his bed, peeking up from between the cards in his hands.

“Aye. I would say it was pretty painful. Go fish, by the way.” He paused. “But the pain was replaced quickly by a sense of numbness, I guess, so I didn’t feel it long.” He stretched restlessly, looking down at his cards. “Have any 3’s?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, looking through his cards. “Go fish.” He smirked. “Do you think my dad is going to get out of prison and come after us again?”

Killian placed his cards against his chest. “I don’t think so lad. He’s going to have a trial. He has that right. The state will present its evidence, and he’ll face any consequences that he’s found guilty of. But you don’t have to worry, Henry. Even if he does get out, he’ll never get near you or your mom again.”

“But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

“Well, I’ve got Captain Nolan, and my partner Robin. Will and Belle…”

“And mom and me.” He said proudly.

Killian’s heart swelled. “You’d protect me? I’m honored.”

“Is Rogers ok?” His nose scrunched in worry.

“He’s staying with Will. He’s not a young pup anymore, so the old boy needed a lot of help getting better. But when they finally let me out of here, he’s gonna come back and live with me.”

“Will me and mom live with you?”

Killian swallowed nervously. He and Emma hadn’t talked about the future yet. There was still so much for them to resolve. Ten years was a long time to be apart, especially when the last time they had seen each other they were not in a good place.

“Your mom and I have a lot to talk about still.”

“Are you really married to my mom?” Continuing his barrage of questions.

He sighed. “Aye.”

“That must have been weird having her gone for ten years then. I bet you missed her.”

“More than all the stars in the world.”

“She used to tell me stories about you.” The boy said, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Did she now?” He mused.

“Sometimes you were a cop fighting bad guys, other times you were a swashbuckling pirate searching for treasure, and sometimes you were a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy sailing off on a ship to save the princess. Mom tells the best stories, but they were always about you.”

Killian’s eyes glassed over, bending his head to reach up and swipe at his face. “Your mother has quite the imagination, but I’m happy to be able to oblige for your entertainment.”

“Who’s hungry?” Emma’s voice filled the room as she came carrying a tray of food and drinks. “The doc says you are off your diet.”

Killian groaned happily as she sat the hamburger down on the tray in front of him. The first real food he would get to eat in weeks. He bit into the burger immediately, moaning loudly as soon as he tasted the meat on his tongue. Emma was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. “Wut?” He said between chews.

“Nothing.” She said with an embarrassing glance away from him, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. At least he still had some sort of effect on her, he thought.

“How did the call with Liam go?” She sat down in the chair next to him, pulling a grilled cheese sandwich into her hands.

“He was happy to hear that Neal is behind bars. He’s going to come visit soon when the girls are on holiday. He wanted me to tell you how gutted he was knowing everything you’ve been through.”

She shrugged, something she did often when he mentioned her past with Neal. “It will be nice to see him again. The girls must be so big now.”

“Aye. Twelve and sixteen now. He has his hands full for sure.”

She took a bite of her sandwich, watching Henry coloring at the end of Killian’s bed. “He’s not bothering you is he?”

“We were just playing a game of Go Fish. I think he cheats.” He whispered loudly, earning a complaint from Henry. Emma let out a pleasant laugh, something he was happy to earn from her.

“Doctor says you might get out of here tomorrow.”

“That’s my hope as well. I can’t wait to see Rogers.”

“I’m glad he’s alright. The old boy’s a survivor.” Emma mused.

“Aye, that he is.”

“I made an appointment for Henry and I to go see Dr. Hopper next week.” She said with a sad smile. “Figured I might need to talk through some things before we have to face Neal again at trial.”

“Hop’s a good man.”

“You know him?”

“Aye.” He nodded, not wanting to get into the fact that he knew him because he had been his patient, after Emma had left, when the world crumbled at his feet.

“I’ve been looking for a place to stay once you get released from the hospital. I know you’re going to need your bed to recover.”

Killian bit his lip. He knew they needed to discuss this. He didn’t want her to leave, but he also knew that they had a lot to work through if they were going to ever find their way back to each other. If she still wanted that.

“I can talk to Will. He had a vacancy across the hall from him a couple of weeks ago.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Emma…”

“Hey there.” Killian stared at Emma’s face as David entered the room. “How ya feeling?” He turned, facing his boss.

“Doing great, going home tomorrow, I’ll be back on the streets before you know it.” He grinned cheekily.

“Yeah you’re taking some time off, buddy.”

“What?” He complained.

“Take a vacation, Killian. You’ve earned some time off. Robins got your cases locked down right now.”

“Cap, I’m fine.”

“It’s an order, Detective.” He walked over to Emma and smiled, she suddenly reached up and wrapped him into a hug.

“You look better.” He said softly.

“I feel better, I feel like I’ve gained ten pounds just eating three meals a day.” She chuckled, but both David and Killian glanced uncomfortably at each other.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m fine.” She glared. “I don’t want you treating me any differently than you did when we were at the academy.” She winked up at David, “Still top of my class, sir.”

“It’s good to have you back Emma.” David smiled with a genuine air of happiness.

Three months later

Emma picked the shirt off the floor in Henry’s room, tossing it into the hamper. “Did you remember to pack a toothbrush?” The boy appeared from behind the doorway, poking his head into the room.

“Yup. It’s in the front pocket of my duffle.” He disappeared again and then reappeared. “Are you gonna be ok with this?”

Emma smiled at him. “Of course, I am, why would you ask that?”

“Cuz this is my first sleepover away from you that isn’t over at Killian’s.”

“I’ll be fine, Henry. I actually have plans tonight.”

He moved quickly into the room. “What kind of plans?”

She sat down on the bed. “I kinda have a date tonight.”

“Does Killian know?” He asked with a shocked look of disgust on his face.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you left.” He sat down next to her. “My date is with Killian.”

He jumped up from the bed and pumped his arms in the air. “Yes.”

Emma laughed. “Does that mean you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, I am. Killian’s the best. He even lets me stay up until 11pm when I stay over at his place.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that, but I’m glad you like him.” She wrapped her arms around Henry’s waist and hugged him tightly. “I love you, buddy. I hope you have fun tonight. And if you need me at all, you know you can call me.” She tousled his hair and kissed his cheek.

There was a knock on the door and Henry pushed away from her. “Gotta go, love you mom.”

Emma looked around Henry’s room, pictures he had drawn hanging on the wall. Her favorite one was hanging above the bed. It was of her, Henry, Killian, and Rogers playing at the park.

As difficult as returning home had been, they had settled into a pretty simple life. Emma and Henry had moved into their own apartment in Will’s complex. It was nice to have a friendly face around now and then when she found herself getting anxious on nights when Henry was sleeping over at Killian’s or when she would wake from a terrifying dream.

Will was always gracious no matter the time she found herself standing in front of his door with a bottle of rum in her hands. He would always sit up with her and listen to her talk about the first thing that came to her mind, something Dr. Hopper had suggested she try to take her mind off her nightmares. She didn’t know when it happened but before she knew it, he had become one of her closest friends.

And then there was Killian.

She wasn’t surprised that Henry had latched onto him so quickly. Killian was great with him, always patient, always offering to assist him with whatever the boy required. Which was often a lot as he was a growing boy who was adjusting to the freedom of being able to go outside and roam. Killian made sure he found new foods for him to try, adventures to experience, even new clothes to wear on his first day at a real school. Watching him with her son, the joy on his face, had her falling in love with him all over again. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. She was nervous about moving too quickly with him. Dr. Hopper told her that was normal. She had experienced a trauma and loss that not many people would cope with.

In her last session, she told her therapist that she wanted to try again with Killian. She had spent the last three months trying to figure out what her life would become now that she was home. She needed to learn who Emma was before she could deal with being Mrs. Jones again.

Killian had presented her with their divorce papers, gave her the choice to sign them and start her life fresh. She put it off, telling him that she needed some time to think before she made any big decisions in her life. He was patient and told her he understood but Emma knew that if he had his way, he would rip them to shreds.

Emma was volunteering at a small clinic that Mary Margaret worked at on the weekends, talking to victims of domestic abuse and rape. Currently she was taking it slow, still not understanding her own trauma that she had endured enough to feel like she had all the answers, but just being there with them to let them know they weren’t alone, and that someone understood what they had gone through. It was freeing to Emma to be able to own her story, to not feel ashamed anymore.

Dr. Hopper told her that was a form of acceptance. Owning what happened to you, claiming it as your story. She would never be over what Neal had done to her, stealing her dignity, laying waste to her self-esteem. But she refused to be defined by it. She didn’t want to be Emma Swan, rape victim. She was Emma Jones, survivor.

Today was going to be another step in her journey. Killian was taking her on a date. She remembered his face as they were eating lunch, a short break during his shift.

“We should go out.” She said nonchalantly between bites.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe, but I have to ask you a few questions first.” He raised his eyebrow, leaning forward for her to continue.

“Ask away.”

“I need to know if you ok going on a date with someone who is probably always going to be a little bit damaged.”

He shrugged, “Aren’t we all? I like to think I can absorb a little damage.”

“Ok then, last thing…” She grinned. “You gotta like kids or it’s a deal breaker.”

He laughed loudly, “Aye, I adore Henry.” He shrugged, “So, do I win a date with the beautiful woman who currently has a mayonnaise mustache?” He reached out, wiping the offending condiment from her lip, eliciting shockwaves through her body.

That was the moment she knew she was ready. She had felt excitement from his touch instead of withdrawing the moment he made contact.

He had insisted on being the one to plan the date, as much as she was sure she could still plan a night out, she had to admit that it took some of the pressure off. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going, only that it was somewhere she had been asking to go for a while and he felt she had earned it. Whatever that meant.

She slipped into the pink dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked feminine, happy, with a glint of hope in her eyes. The tears slipped onto her cheek; Neal had not stolen everything from her.

There was a knock on her door, a smile crept on her face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering her mind. She was taking control of her life tonight.

Opening the door, she couldn’t control the shiver she felt when she saw him come into view. The man she fell in love with so many years ago was standing in front of her. Sure, he was older, the hint of grey kissing his hair, fine lines around his eyes, but he was even more gorgeous today than she remembered him all those years ago. This was the man who was willing to give up his life for her, loved her enough to save her, even if it meant he couldn’t have her.

“You look…”

“I know.” She giggled, accepting the rose he passed toward her. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of the flower, eyes glancing down his frame, the anticipation of the rest of their evening taking her to new heights.

“Shall we?”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience is a virtue, love.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but followed him out to his car. They drove in silence, her hands folded in her lap. The soft sounds of the radio playing through the car.

Trying to live and love,

With a heart that can't be broken,

Is like trying to see the light with eyes that can't be opened.

Yeah, we both carry baggage,

We picked up on our way, so if you love me do it gently,

And I will do the same.

Emma felt the tears sting her eyes. The lyrics breaking into her heart as she chanced a glance at the man sitting beside her, his eyes focused on the road, his jaw tensed, that familiar vein popping from the side of his neck. He never forgot her in all the time she had been gone. She knew how he felt about her. The way he loved her. He’d been so patient with her these last few months. Not pushing her either out the door or into his heart.

We may shine, we may shatter,

We may be picking up the pieces here on after,

We are fragile, we are human,

We are shaped by the light we let through us,

We break fast, cause we are glass.

'Cause we are glass.

He turned toward her, a smile ghosting on his lips that held onto hope. When she walked out the door ten years ago, she knew she still loved him, that she would always love the man who had risked everything for her. Now she knew that back then, before everything went to hell, she was being stubborn walking away, letting her fear of the unknown hold her captive.

I'll let you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks,

And in the darkness of this moment,

You see the good and bad.

But try not to judge me, 'cause we've walked down different paths,

But it brought us here together, so I won't take that back.

She exhaled, a stray tear slipping against her cheek. She let it fall, not afraid of her emotions anymore. She had been stubborn; she should have known that they would have made anything work. Instead, she walked away and ended up in a hell she couldn’t control.

We might be oil and water, this could be a big mistake,

We might burn like gasoline and fire,

It's a chance we'll have to take.

Emma was ready to let go of all of that. To let go of the ten years she had been robbed of, to forget all the stubborn and foolish decisions that had gotten them to this moment. She wanted to reclaim her life. She wanted to take back what was owed to her.

We are glass.

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPd1GIwjRFMIt’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

#stacy's fics #nowhere to run #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #emma jones

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missnight0wl · 4 years ago

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All right, I know that Jam City is almost as bad at arithmetics as Rowling herself, but they really didn’t give a single fuck about this one, did they?

Garrick Ollivander was born in 1908 or earlier, meaning that at this point in HPHM, he’s at least 82. Now, this is Zenith Xeep:

There’s no fucking way she’s older than Ollivander.

But perhaps it could still work though? “A lad” is a word for a young boy, so to me, it’d mean someone in his teenage years, more likely younger than that. But let’s assume that Ollivander talks about the time when he was in his early 20s. Let’s also assume that Zenith Xeep started her career very early when she was about 10 – which kind of makes sense, considering that her parents were singers as well. So, it’d mean that Zenith Xeep is about ten years younger than Ollivander. Maybe twenty, if Ollivander thinks a man in his 30s is still “a lad”...

THERE’S STILL NO FUCKING WAY THIS WOMAN IS OVER 60! Even if she takes REALLY good care of her beauty!

I’m just so confused by Jam City sometimes. On the one hand, they can pay enough attention to introduce Professor Sikander because according to the books, Quirrell has his year of a break for travelling right now, so he couldn’t have been teaching MC. On the other hand, they’re totally incapable of catching absurdity like THIS. WHY?

I mean, I guess it could be explained by Ollivander’s problems with memory in that scene, but I still don’t really get why to include it at all.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm spoilers #garrick ollivander #zenith xeep #year 7 #Y7Ch12 #playing hphm

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mo-nighean-rouge · 6 years ago

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Claire of Broch Mordha

AO3

Three vignettes into the life of orphan Claire Beauchamp as she grows up.

I'm so excited to bring this one-shot to life, as it's been bouncing around in my head for quite awhile! As you might be able to guess, it's a loving tribute to the Anne of Green Gables series by L.M. Montgomery.

Many thanks to betas @phoenixflames12 and @isitgintimeyet.

*Cragaidh = "Rocky Place" in Gaelic, Claire's home beautifully named by Phoenix.

12-year-old Claire Beauchamp bounded up the steps of the schoolhouse, the weekend’s revelations still fresh in her mind and putting a spring in her step.

After some deliberation, Murtagh and Glenna had decided that they wanted to keep her.

Though Murtagh had been dour and unresponsive on the wagon ride from the stagecoach, unsure what to do with Claire and her glowing observations about every tree, cloud, and rabbit seen along the way, she had carried on as if they were old chums.

He had even less to say when he had presented Claire to his sister as the “lad” they had requested from the orphanage.

“Claire Beecham,” she had pronounced proudly to Glenna when she was asked for her name. “Not Bow-champ.”

“What difference does it possibly make?” Glenna turned back toward her brother, muttering about what she could with a grubby child that had holes in her stockings.

But Glenna had eventually come to tolerate her in the past few weeks, while Claire shared some quiet moments with Murtagh watching the sunset in the evening. Finally, they had shared the good news with her.

For the first time she could remember, plain old Claire Beauchamp had a home at Cragaidh. After countless foster families where the parents couldn’t care for their own ill children, let alone a scrawny English orphan, Claire was where she belonged. It was a wonderful fact she was reminded of every day as she gazed upon the beautiful blue vase on Glenna’s breakfast table.

Claire waved to Jenny MacKenzie across the schoolroom as she shrugged off her coat and placed her dinner basket on the shelf above. Amid a few mishaps, she and Jenny had gotten along beautifully since Claire’s arrival. All her life, she’d longed for a bosom friend, and she had a good feeling that Jenny might just be it.

As her classmates settled in, Claire noticed that her usual chair was occupied. Sat beside Jenny was a boy she’d never seen before, with cinnamon colored hair and a deep tan.

Claire raced to the desks, eager to ask the boy to trade seats with her. She tapped him on his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice her, continuing instead to chat with the other lads in Gaelic, as if she wasn’t even there.

Impatient at his refusal to acknowledge her, she began tapping her foot, the rhythm picking up as the moments passed.

“Aye, just a minute,” he drawled, turning to face her for the first time. He froze as his eyes swept over her. “S—sorry, lass. I didna see ye there.”

Claire rolled her eyes theatrically. Of course he’d seen her. He’d just bloody ignored her.

“Dinna mind him Claire, that’s just my clot-heided wee cousin,” Jenny cut in encouragingly, glaring at the boy. “Back from a trip to visit his uncle in Paris.”

“James Fraser.” The boy’s voice deepened infinitesimally as he extended his hand toward her.

Claire arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. She opened her mouth to beg for a trade just as Mr. Bain cleared his throat to begin class.

She harrumphed.

Best not get on his bad side again.

She took the nearest desk available, directly in front of Jamie so that she could still be close to Jenny.

Claire tried to pay attention as her schoolmaster droned on. She was anxious for their worktime to begin so that she could study quietly and let her imagination run free.

She felt something brush her arm. It tickled, but the sensation disappeared just as quickly. Then the unmistakable feeling of a finger tapping her shoulder followed. She rotated her arm to dislodge it.

“Lass… Claire…” Jamie whispered behind her.

“Leave me alone,” she answered through gritted teeth, turning her head to the side. She heard the scrape of the boy’s chair as he startled at the sound of her accent. Great.

“Miss Beauchamp, is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” she responded meekly.

As she tried to carry on with puzzling out the arithmetic exercises before her, she felt a tug on one of her loose curls but tried to ignore it. A sharper one followed, along with a hissed whisper.

“Sassenach!”

No. Not bloody that. Anything but that word that had been spat at her by countless asylum directors and murmured knowingly by overly-friendly orphanage patrons.

Claire stood calmly, chalk in hand. With a speed and force that surprised her, she pivoted and smacked her slate over Jamie’s tangled mop of curls. It made a satisfying thwack as it broke into two pieces against his apparently hard head, chalk dust settling over his freckles.

He looked up at her, stricken still.

“Claire Beauchamp, to the platform. Now.”

*********************

Claire exited the schoolhouse swiftly, Jenny close behind.

After three hours of standing with her nose in the corner, followed by missing the meal break to scrawl a half-hearted apology over the chalkboard repeatedly, she was fuming. She was mortified.

Just then, a figure stumbled out ahead of them, shaking his red hair out of his eyes. “Look, I really am sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didna mean to get ye in trouble.”

Claire turned her nose up in reply.

“Perhaps we could start anew? Like I said before, my name is Jamie.” Before she could react, he took her right hand in both of his.

Claire regarded him for a moment, then wrinkled her nose. “My name is Claire Beauchamp, and I don’t like you very much.” With that, Claire turned away briskly, accepted Jenny’s arm, and they marched back toward Jenny’s house, heads held high.

________________________________________

17-year-old Claire followed the pathway from the village toward home, still in awe. All that worrying, and the problem was taken care of. She reflected that she should have relied on God and her prayers more steadfastly, after all.

The apprenticeship with Dr. Gowan in Broch Mordha was hers. The other candidate had given up his own assignment for family matters, they’d told her.

Claire wouldn’t have to leave Glenna behind as her eyesight worsened, nor Murtagh in the aftermath of his mild heart attack and the stoop that seemed to increase by the day.

She'd been told repeatedly that the position she'd almost accepted was a fine opportunity, and that there was hardly a better learning experience for a woman to be offered. But it was all the way in Inverness, while Claire still longed for Broch Mordha.

Lost in her thoughts, Claire looked up again as she came into contact with a solid form rounding the corner of the shady, pebbled path. Lifting her chin, she met Jamie Fraser’s eye.

For once, the sight of him didn’t stir anger in her belly. She couldn’t help but smile as his palms settled on her shoulders to keep her upright.

For years they had competed at everything. The top marks. The best speeches. The most prestigious scholarships.

But Claire was now headed in the direction she’d always hoped. She could learn a bit more about medicine before heading to university in a couple of years, then study to become the doctor she’d always dreamed to be. And she’d heard that Jamie was well on his way, too. Perhaps it was time to put the rivalry to rest.

“Good evening, Jamie Fraser.”

Jamie’s eyes seemed to widen, then his posture relaxed as she greeted him, recovering his manners just enough to nod. “C-Claire. Ye seem to be in good spirits.” His hands fell to his sides, then tucked into his pockets just as quickly.

“Well, actually, I’ve just had the most wonderful news.” Claire rocked forward on her toes. “I’ll be able to stay in the village this autumn.”

The corners of Jamie’s mouth rose into a small smile. “That’s great to hear, lass. Congratulations to ye.”

“Thank you. I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, then?” Claire realized that might not be such a bad thing, after all.

“Och, a bit,” Jamie scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll be spending a good deal of time in Inverness, but I’ll be ‘round to see Mam and Da on the weekends, when I can.”

“Inverness?” Claire’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What’ll you do there?”

“I’ve taken the schoolmaster position up there.” He hesitated.

“But Jenny said you’d be here…”

“My plans changed.” Jamie shifted awkwardly.

Claire gasped in understanding. “Jamie, was it you that gave up the apprenticeship with Dr. Gowan?”

Jamie swallowed. “Aye… I thought it’d be better for ye, to be around for Murtagh as he recovers.” He looked at the ground again. “And I’m no’ sure doctoring’s for me, after all.”

Claire raised her hand to his shoulder. “Thank you, Jamie. Truly.”

Jamie met her eye, cheeks red. “Aye, it’s nothin’.”

She shook her head, unable to stop the grin forming on her lips. “Well, best of luck, Jamie.”

“Claire, wait,” he called before she could get very far. “Do ye think… could we ever be friends, you and I?”

She turned back to face him, feeling her cheeks flush. “I’d like that, actually.”

Jamie’s chest rose and fell triumphantly as he grinned back at her. “Do you mind if I walk ye home, then? I feel we’ve a bit of catchin’ up to do.”

Claire nodded, and they chatted all the way back to the gate at Cragaidh, walking side by side. It was easier than she ever thought it’d be.

Neither noticed Glenna peer out the kitchen window at them curiously as Claire shut the gate and Jamie gazed toward the doorway even after she had entered the house. Glenna shook her head fondly at the memory that flashed through her mind, ever hopeful for her Claire.

________________________________________

23-year-old Claire looked out over Broch Mordha from the heather clad hill they had frequented as children. She sat cross-legged, plucking at the clover below her feet, mind racing.

It might be too late, she reasoned. Even if he recovered, what could she possibly say to him now?

Jamie had suffered a head injury playing recreational shinty with his university friends, a wound that was immeasurably worse than any damage her broken slate could have sustained, years ago. He had been sent home before the term’s end to convalesce, but what concerned the town doctor more than anything was the infection set in from the deep laceration at the back of his skull.

“Jamie Fraser is dying,” Glenna’s adopted boy, Fergus, had announced with little ceremony when Claire had arrived home for the summer.

It was all Claire could think about. Jamie lay at home, dying, and they hadn’t spoken in months.

She had been utterly unprepared for a marriage proposal from one of her oldest, dearest friends. She’d never seen him as anything but Jamie, her school chum. She hadn’t known if she could risk one of her most cherished attachments for a fleeting romance that might not last.

Claire had only seen him once more after that dreadful and teary day. Jamie had been resplendent in his traditional tartan and kilt, standing a head above all the others. He had walked her down the aisle at Jenny’s wedding to Ian, a sweet, if quiet, young man from Broch Mordha. While standing next to him had felt as natural as ever in their long companionship, neither had been able to cut through the tension between them to exchange more than a few pleasantries.

At the time, she’d heard things were becoming very serious between Jamie and Geneva Dunsany, another Englishwoman attending the University of Edinburgh with them. She was from the Lake District, and of means. Claire wondered if she would even see much more of him once the union became official.

Claire, meanwhile, had been seeing a charming history student, Frank Randall. He had entertained her with anecdotes about this uprising and that revolution, and had a promising career ahead of him.

She’d thought she would be ready to accept Frank’s proposal as graduation drew closer. But when it came, she had panicked at the last moment.

As she reflected upon her decision in the awkward days afterward, she realized she’d more appreciated the idea of Frank, as he was similar to what she remembered of her father.

Upon arriving home after graduation, Claire realized that every corner of Broch Mordha that she visited reminded her of Jamie.

The only place she hadn’t dared to go was Jamie’s home at Lallybroch. She wasn’t sure in what condition she would find him. Nevertheless, she had to decide what she wished to tell him. Would she just wish him well, then part ways again, leaving them each with only distant memories of each other? Or could there still be some hope for them? She would start small, if she had to. If they could only even be friends again…

The shuffle of footsteps behind startled Claire from her thoughts. Likely Fergus had come to fetch her – Glenna probably needed help in the kitchen, or Murtagh wanted her to fetch something from the village.

Turning, she saw a figure about two feet taller than Fergus; squinting upwards, she saw the familiar glint of auburn curls catching the sun's rays. With her heart suddenly sounding impossibly loud as it thundered in her ears, she scrambled to her knees. “Ja – you’re awake! You’re up!” With wide eyes, she looked behind him at the uneven path he’d just traversed to climb the hill.

Jamie squatted awkwardly to sit down across from her.

“Christ! Be careful!” Claire reached out to steady him by instinct, terrified that he’d lose his balance and it’d be too late before she could find someone to help move him.

She finally got a good look at his face as he settled. His skin was much paler than she’d like, and there were dark circles under his eyes that betrayed how much the climb had cost him. But the small smile he gave her revealed him to be in the same spirits as always.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hullo,” she answered softly.

Claire realized she’d just said more words to him than she had in two years.

Jamie studied her face, then met her eye. “How were yer travels home?”

“Just fine,” Claire nodded, feeling her cheeks grow pink. The relief of seeing him alright, combined with his mere presence, was making it hard for her to concentrate. “A train ride like any other.”

“And graduation? I suppose it was bonny. I’m that sorry I missed it.”

“Oh, but don’t worry about that, you’ll have plenty of time to make up your work and finish your degree in the autumn.”

He looked down at the view below them, then turned back with his gaze piercing into hers. “I canna say I’m verra concerned about that, just now.” He scooted closer to her. “Even after everything, I have no’ been able to stop thinkin’ of ye, lass.” His chin trembled.

Claire held her breath, not sure if she could believe her ears.

Jamie lifted her right hand and held it to his heart. “Claire, if ye still feel the same, ye must tell me, and I’ll no’ bother you again…”

She reached out and placed her shaking left palm to Jamie’s warm cheek. He leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

“Claire, would you reconsider becoming my wife?”

With a small sob, Claire leapt toward him, knocking him to the ground in his weakened state.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Their lips met at last, gently at first, but suddenly fiercer with reunion and possession. Still sweeter than Claire could have ever imagined.

She ran her hand through his hair, fingers finding the place where the shorn curls were growing back after his injury. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “About before.”

He shook his head, just barely. “Think nothing of it, lass. We both still had some growing up to do, aye?”

Claire tightened her grip on his hand. He was right, but she regretted that it had probably been more on her part.

Jamie must have seen the question in her eyes. “Gillian Edgars from uni wrote to me, said ye’d broken up with Randall, and no’ to give up on ye just yet,” the side of his mouth twisted upward. “Dr. Gowan found my recovery thereafter near miraculous.”

They stayed until sunset, basking in the privilege of touching, kissing, and dreaming together at last.

He ran his thumb over her left knuckle, where his class ring now rested. “We both still have a bit of studying left to do,” he reasoned at last. “Ye with medical school and I to grasp the running of things at Lallybroch.” Sitting up, he pulled her close, so that her head rested against his shoulder.

She buried her face there, where she could feel the vibration of his next words.

“Will ye wait for us, Claire?” The words were a thick swallow that she almost missed. “Even when the time comes, I’m no’ likely to be able to adorn you with pearls and such fine things.”

Unable to stop smiling, Claire shifted so that her forehead pressed against his. “I just want you.”

Fin.

#Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Jenny Fraser #outlander fanfic #My fic #Anne of Green Gables #L.M. Montgomery #au #Claire of Broch Mordha

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sherlockmormorrp · 5 years ago

Text

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH HONG KONG AGAINST THE CCP!

You both like teenlock, and johnlock.

Stranger: Practice had run a bit late, which may or may not have been deliberate, considering it meant John would bump into his chemistry teacher on his way through the school car park. It was just starting to get dark and just starting to rain, the rugby captain still wandering around in his rugby shorts smeared with mud, bag slung over his shoulder, when he finally locked up the sports shed and spotted Mr Holmes heading to his car. Mr Holmes, who was breathtakingly brilliant and clever and gorgeous and yeah, okay, he wasn't the only one with a crush on the teacher, but he sure was the only one who actually got on with him alright too. The man had little patience for careless, indignant students, but when it came to John he was a little bit friendlier, a little bit smilier. Or maybe that was John's imagination. Maybe the latter. Still, that didn't stop John from grinning and giving a wave as their paths crossed. "Well hey, sir. You're here late. Running another experiment in the lab?" John smirked.

You: (reading)

You: Sherlock looked up as he heard one of his favorite students approach him. John was right, he had just finished up his experiment, access to the chemistry lab was one of the main reasons he still taught. He could get incredibly frustrated with his students even for teaching the AP chemistry course they could still be rather dim. John, however, actually tried in class even if he got the equations wrong Sherlock could see he was trying and appreciated that. He eyed the other before he checked his wristwatch, "John? Why on earth are you here so late?" he asked, "I'm fairly certain practice ends sooner than this?" he asked. (Is this highschool or Uni?)

Stranger: [I'm thinking high school! John's 18] The student gave a little shrug, checking his own watch. Oops, yeah. It /was/ a bit of a late one today. But still, they had a real match coming up soon, it was normal for practices to run a little over so close to season. "Yeah, guess we lost track of time," John chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his damp neck. "I help coach pack things up at the end of practice anyway, and some of the lads are a bit sloppy so we worked them over time tonight. They needed it. But don't worry, I promise I won't be too knackered for class tomorrow." He flashed Sherlock another smile.

You: Sherlock nodded, John was very fit from rugby. He was a clear athlete in his build but yet wasn't a complete jar head, he took his studies seriously and Sherlock admired that. "Oh-" he frowned as it started to rain, he used his briefcase to cover his head. "How are you getting home, John?" he asked, concerned for the boys wellbeing in the rain and this time of day. (sounds good to me)

Stranger: It was incredibly sweet, the concern in Sherlock's tone then. Though surely he'd be concerned for any of his students wandering around this time of night. John tried not to let it get to his head, as he shrugged. "I was just gonna walk. It's not that far, really," he assured him, seemingly unfazed as the rain started to come down. In all fairness he probably would've caught the bus, but he'd missed the last one, running practice so late... but oh well. "Spot of rain never hurt!"

You: Sherlock frowned in concern. "Are you sure? I can give you a ride home." he offered, "I insist really. I'm not letting you walk in this rain at this time of night. " he unlocked his car. "You can put your bag in the trunk." he told, not giving John the option of saying no. He couldn't in good faith let John walk home, it was dangerous. Sherlock hurried into the drivers seat to get out of the rain, he started his car and waited for the boy to get in.

Stranger: It... was an incredibly kind gesture, but John wasn't sure it was such a good idea, agreeing to be in a confined space with Mr Holmes. Not that it really mattered, of course, nothing would happen other than maybe John making a fool out of himself. He hesitated for a moment, but Sherlock really wasn't giving him an inch to protest, so he gave in and put his bag in the back seat, grabbing his jersey out of it. "I'm real, real sorry if I get dirt all through your car, sir," John said hesitantly, placing the relatively clean jersey on the seat before he got in and sat down, careful not to shed mud everywhere. "Thanks for this though, if you're really sure. I don't mean to be a bother, and it's really not that far."

You: Sherlock chuckled, John was very polite, not like most of the rude students he had. "You're fine, John. I can't let anything happen to my favorite student now can I ?" he shot him a smile before he headed out of the parking lot. "Just direct me to your home." he told. He turned to look at him, "Your mother and father don't pick you up after practice?" he asked, "Especially when it's this late?"

Stranger: Favourite student? John's face lit up at that, even if he was sure Sherlock was mostly teasing. Surely his favourite student would be someone clever and passionate and witty like he was, not plain old John who tried his damn best but still wasn't anything exceptional. "Hell, I'll try not to let that get to my head, Mr Holmes, but no promises," he chuckled, before navigating the way for his teacher. It was still roughly a fifteen minute drive, and John was gonna make sure to make the most of it. He hesitated when Sherlock asked about his parents, looking down at his hands before shrugging. "Oh, you know. Dad's busy working late, and Mum's not too well at the moment," he replied, keeping it vague.

You: Sherlock nodded, noticing the change in the boys body language at the mention of his parents. "I'm sorry to hear that." he muttered softly. "Well, if you're at school this late again you come to my the lab. You'll most likely find me there at all hours. It isn't exactly safe for you to be walking so far this late." he turned to look at him briefly while at a stoplight. "You certainly look like you can handle yourself, but no need in putting yourself in danger." John had a short stature but he was very muscular thanks to rugby and could definitely hold his own in a fight, but why subject himself to unneccisary danger. "I can give you a ride home if needed." he assured him.

Stranger: John couldn't help but smile at the offer, genuinely touched by the concern and generosity. Shit, it wasn't often someone went out of their way for him. And for it to come from Mr Holmes, was... well, really lovely. "Thank you, sir," he said genuinely, entirely grateful. "I wouldn't want to be a bother, especially if it's a bit of a detour for you, but I do really appreciate it." He found himself looking up at the teacher warmly for a little too long and finally glanced away, ears pink. "Some of the other kids say some awful things about you, Mr Holmes, but you're the best teacher - the best man, I think - that I've ever known."

You: Sherlock chuckled at John's statement, "I'm sure most of what the kids say about me is true." he chuckled. "I am not the easiest teacher. I actually expect my students to learn and apply themselves. Unfortunately that isn't instituted with the rest of the teachers." he said with an eye roll. "But thank you, John. Really it's just a ride home." he couldn't help but smile though, it was sweet of John to say. He was at least glad that one of his students didn't completely hate him.

Stranger: Right. Yeah. Of course. Just a ride home. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. But even still, it was more than anything anyone had done for him in a while, and it was really, really nice. So John just shrugged and smiled, looking out the window at the rainy street sliding past. "I still really appreciate it. And I think that's part of what makes you so good as a teacher. You don't put up with slack. You push us to do our best. And I know mine's average at best, but you still get me trying my hardest, and I'm grateful for it," he murmured, glancing back over to the elder. "And yeah, you can be a bit of a prat sometimes too but that's half the fun," he teased.

You: Mr. Holmes grinned at John calling him a prat. "You are very clever, John." he praised. "You are far beyond average." he assured him, "And what you lack in your arithmetic you make up for with your persistence. Chemistry does not come easily at all and it's very easy to get flustered and quit. But you don't. You come to me with questions, you're engaged during class and you come to tutoring. That means a lot more to a teacher than the actual grade you may get on tests." he let out a soft sigh. "I know I am a strict teacher but I don't think many students realize that if I see an effort that a student is trying I will bump their grade to reflect that effort. "

Stranger: The praise meant a lot to John, coming from Mr Holmes. He couldn't quite will away the blush that rose in his cheeks and the tips of his ears as the teacher reassured him that he wasn't quite as much of a dunce as he often felt, and he smiled up at Sherlock for a moment. "Well, I'm glad you can see when someone's trying. Though hell, I'd hate to see what my grades would look like if I /wasn't/ putting so much effort into it," he laughed lightly. Not that his grades were bad to begin with, but still. "So all it takes to be your favourite is to try hard and be engaged, huh? Here I was thinking it might've been my charming smile or something."

You: Sherlock looked over to John and immediantly noticed the other was glowing pink with embarssement, he smiled softly to himself finding it very..adorable really. He chuckled at John's statement, only pausing for a moment to access what he said. That statement was awfully... flirty, coming from anyone else mouth of course. John was certainly not flirting with his teacher. That wouldn't be appropriate at all. He hesitated before he spoke, "It doesn't hurt.." he hummed, flashing a smile to the other that was all teeth. "It's just nice to know that there are still students who give a damn." he hummed.

Stranger: The hesitation didn't go amiss, and yeah maybe that had been a little flirtier than John should have allowed, but hell, Sherlock's response almost could've been considered flirty too. Had it come from anyone else, of course. Mr Holmes wasn't the sort of man to flirt with his students, and John needed to remember that. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle at the reply and the toothy grin, quietly delighted. "Of course there are. You make it pretty easy to get invested and interested," John smiled, hoping that wasn't too much of a double entendre.

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow, "I do?" he asked, "I didn't think my lectures were that enticing.." he frowned as he realized they were getting closer to John's home. Was it sad that this was the most social interaction he had for months? Outside of teaching Sherlock didn't talk to anyone, and he wasn't exactly talking with his students more so at them. He enjoyed John's company, he was clever and very mature.

Stranger: "Are you kidding? Your lectures are easily the best," John assured, honestly surprised that Sherlock didn't realise quite how captivating he was with this content. "No other teacher gets quite as passionate and knows quite as much about their subject as you. You're definitely the easiest to listen to and engage with. Like when you started off about cations and anions and their reactions, that was incredible. It can sometimes be a little hard to keep up with you because your head just runs at a lightning pace, but it's amazing to listen to," John grinned, trying very hard not to be too disappointed by the fact that they were only a few blocks away from his house.

You: Sherlock felt ridicoulous because now he was the one blushing. No one had ever said such nice things to him before. Most found him annoying and pompous for knowing so much about Chemistry. He was happy that John recognized his passion for the subject. He turned to face him, heart warm by his words. "I..Thank you John. That..really means a lot" he admitted. He parked outside of the other's home, a little sad their conversation had to end. "Well.." he muttered to himself. "Don't forget your homework due tomorrow.." he muttered a bit lamely, he didn't know what else to say.

Stranger: The colour in Sherlock's cheeks was far prettier than it had any right to be, and John got a little lost looking up at him for a second there. His stupid, hormonal, teenage brain teased him with the thought of maybe leaning in to... hell, maybe even just kiss him on the cheek. But that was so ridiculously inappropriate and wrong and he quickly shoved that thought aside, heart fluttering. "I won't," he nodded gently, looking up at his house. No, he wasn't looking forward to going home. If only he lived on the other side of town, so they could just keep talking and... well. No, best he get a move on. "Thanks again, Mr Holmes, I really do appreciate it. You're very kind." He opened the door a fraction, and turned back to give Sherlock a warm smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You: Sherlock noticed the hesitation, he frowned a little in worry. He hoped John's home life was alright, he seemed tense at the topic of his parents and the younger man didn't seem to want to leave the car. He nodded and smiled back, "See you tomorrow, John. Don't forget your bag." he reminded.

Stranger: Right, yes, he'd better get a move on before Sherlock started deducing things at home. He stepped out into the rain, and leaned down to look back in the car long enough to smile and say, "have a good night, Mr Holmes. Thanks again." And then he closed the door, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and started up towards his gate. He turned to give Sherlock another wave, before heading up and inside, feeling warm in his chest, smile stuck on his lips.

You: Sherlock didn't leave until he saw John safely enter his home. He ran a hand through his curls and let out a deep breath. John Watson was a very charming boy, but he was exactly that-a boy. A student. Sherlock really sort of overstepped by offering to take him home but that was in good faith. The thoughts he was currently having about the blonde were not so good-willed. He cleared them from his head quickly, the inappropriate thoughts anyways. John was not flirting with him. He was his teacher and John was simply a good student who cared deeply for academics. He made it to his home and entered his lonely apartment and began grading tests.

Stranger: The warm feeling managed to last a little while, at least. He managed to get in, have a shower, and get dinner started before his father got home and the bickering started. Between Dad and Harry constantly arguing and Mum with her anxiety and headaches keeping her in her room most of the day, it was... well, not ideal. But he managed. Ever the caretaker, ever the mediator, he made his family dinner and managed to pry Harry away from stirring their father up even more and managed to miss a second clip around the ears, and so it was fine. It was a fine night. Because he got to go to bed thinking of that blush on Sherlock's cheeks and his damp curls and that silly, toothy grin. When the next morning rolled round, he got to school early, having pushed himself and his sister out the door before their father had a chance to wake up. He wandered into class to find it empty except for Mr Holmes, and smiled. "Well, good morning. Sleep well?"

You: Sherlock looked up from his desk when he heard someone come in, it was very early-no student should be here by now. He was pleased to see John entering his classroom. "Goodmorning, John." he greeted, he tapped his coffee cup with his pen. "Haven't slept actually" he answered honestly. He pushed his chair away from his desk to face John. "What can I help you with, did you have a question on the homework?" he asked.

Stranger: Hadn't slept? Well shit, he looked fairly perky and alert for someone who hadn't slept all night, and there was no way a single coffee was holding him up. Which meant he likely regularly didn't sleep. Which was... well, concerning. "How come you didn't sleep?" John frowned, wandering forward to drop his bag at a desk. He rubbed the back of his neck at the question, hesitant. "Well, not really. Just wanted to get here early," he shrugged, and it wasn't quite a lie, just not the whole truth. But oh, hang on. "Wait, no, could you look something over for me? I struggled a little on question fourteen and I /think/ I got it, I just want to make sure my thought process was right," he said, grabbing his notes and wandering up to Sherlock's desk, leaning against it as he handed the work over.

You: Mr. Holmes smiled at John's concern. "I don't sleep often." he answered. "I'm working a lot, and lose track of time. But I manage." he shrugged, usually until his body collapsed from exhaustion. He nodded when John asked him to look over his work, he took John's paper and scanned the work quickly, he turned his head and noticed just how close John was watching over his shoulder. "These all look good. You are missing a valance electron for this calculation of the lewis dot structure of Potassium Chloride." he explained. "Take another look at it." he told, handing him a pencil from his desk.

Stranger: Still, to lose track of time enough to miss an entire night of sleep? That couldn't be healthy. "You really shouldn't be taking work home with you, you know. I've heard that's killer," he warned with a small smile, before leaning close to watch Sherlock pour over his work. Ah. Bugger. Of course he'd missed an electron. "Damn, and it's so obvious now that you've pointed it out, too," he sighed, leaning in to reach over and correct himself, shoulder brushing against Sherlock's. He tried very hard not to think about it. That, and the pleasant scent of coffee and body wash and chemicals. John sat back a little, cheeks pink again. "Is that right?"

You: Sherlock noticed that damn blush again, was it from the small amount of contact? Of course not, John must be embarrassed about the simple mistake. He smiled and nodded, "Yes, everything looks good." he assured him. "It's easy to miss the little things. But you've clearly mastered the concept which is important," he assured him. He wrote a 100 on the top of the page and handed it back to John. "Very good work, John." he reached for his coffee, taking a sip before he spoke again. "Oh, I'm not staying up all night grading papers. I finished that fairly quickly. I'm working on my own personal experiments. Outside of the ones for class." he explained

Stranger: A 100, even with his slight mistake? Well. John blinked, a smile lighting on his face even though he almost felt like it wasn't quite deserved. "Thank you, sir," he nodded, delighted with the perfect mark and praise. "Really doesn't hurt to flash a smile once in a while, huh?" He teased, before straightening up again. He leaned against Sherlock's desk a little and raised a brow, curious, but also careful not to invade his space too much again. "Yeah? What are you working on at the moment?"

You: Sherlock chuckled softly, "Well.." he hesitated, "I don't mean this in an insulting manner but it is far above Chem 1." he warned, "But I'll try and explain it as best I can." he assured him. He stood and went to the board. "You're familiar with Carbon, obviously. Well, Carbon is a very fascinating element. So fascinating that an entire section of Chemistry is devoted to it. It's called Organic Chemistry. Every living thing contains carbon in one form or another. " he began. "Now, you recall going over Lewis Dot Structures for a visual aspect of how elements are going to combine with other elements. Well Carbon is very interesting because of /how/ it forms with different elements. It has properties that are very unique to Carbon." he drew out the lewis dot structure for carbon. "Organic Chemistry is basically...the study of how carbon combines with different things and what happens." he turned to see if John was following along with him. He tried to remember that John had told him he could talk a bit too fast on accident.

Stranger: John was already captivated, having perched himself on the edge of Sherlock's desk to watch him comfortably, listening to him start on organic chemistry. He remember Mr Holmes had mentioned the term a few times, and had briefly touched on the significance of carbon before, so he was able to keep up so far. And God, he could just listen to Sherlock speak about anything he was interested in all day, if the teacher allowed him. Even just the sound of his voice was - right. No. Don't get distracted. John nodded instead, grinning. "I'm keeping up so far, I think. Please, go on."

You: Sherlock noticed John's look of..almost dozing off and he feared he was boring the other but he insisted he continued. He nodded slowly, "Right- well. As I said Organic Chemistry is incredibly difficult, they don't even allow it to be taught in high school it's strictly at the university level." he explained. "I've been trying for years to get an organic chemistry course put in, at least for the students who think they want a career in something-medical perhaps. It will benefit them greatly." he sighed and shook his head. "Anyways, I've recently redirected my focus to Organic Chem, I dabbled in Nuclear Chemistry for a while but-eh it was boring." he shrugged. Sherlock was far too brilliant to be teaching at a high school that much was clear.

Stranger: It was wonderful, hearing him talk about it be excited about it, and honestly John couldn't help but be excited too, leaning forward slightly, intent. And he also honestly couldn't help but ask the obvious question, really. "Mr Holmes, I mean this with the greatest respect, but what the hell are you doing teaching /high schoolers/?" He asked with a light chuckle, shaking his head. "You should be teaching at a university level, if anything. And then that way you /could/ teach the things you want to, advanced things like organic chem. Your mind is too vast and brilliant to be... not wasted, I guess, because a lot of us still learn so much from you, but Christ."

You: Sherlock turned around and smiled softly, he let out a soft chuckle. "Ah.." he had expected this question, he moved to sit back down at his desk. "That's well..a loaded question, John." he answered. "The nice version?" he asked. "High school is a very important time for a growing mind. A good teacher at this level can determine whether a student decides to continue their education to the Uni level." he answered. "And well..a more practical answer. I am a..very hard man to get along with. I step on toes, I never shy away from what I'm thinking and...that has gotten me into trouble." he admitted.

Stranger: That was a fair point, to be honest. Part of John had almost wanted to be something of a writer, even as a hobby, if not for the rubbish English teacher he'd had two years ago. Which in hindsight was probably for the best, but still. He knew what Sherlock meant. High school teachers had a lot of influence. But the practical answer... well, it just didn't sit right with John. He gently leaned back against the desk and knocked his knee against Sherlock's, with a well-meaning frown. "You're not /that/ difficult to get on with. And if anything, surely you'd get away with that more easily at uni, wouldn't you?"

You: Sherlock chuckled and smiled-almost shy like at John's compliment. "I did work at a Uni for some time...but I pissed off the department head and was fired." he explained. "You'll learn John...that in life its all about pleasing the right people. And well..I've never been very good at that." he laughed softly. "I'd rather focus on science than worry about impressing the right administrators and playing the politics of it all." he rolled his eyes. "I can't be bothered to worry myself with it all."

Stranger: Oh. John immediatley felt bad for bringing it up, and honestly a little angry that someone had dared fire him. For what sounded like a personality difference, no less. It just didn't seem fair. And quite right, Sherlock shouldn't have to worry about the politics of it, surely it should just be about his intellect and his ability to share and teach new information. "I'm really sorry, Mr Holmes. That sounds really rough," John said gently, nudging the elder's foot with his own in an awkward sort of attempt at a comforting gesture. "What about a different university, maybe? But... well, us mere high schoolers are very , very, very lucky to have you regardless." He smiled gently.

You: Sherlock opened his mouth as if he were going to speak but shut it. Deciding he definitely should share too much of his past with his student. "I.." he gave a weak smile at the gesture. "High school is fine for me. Right now," he answered simply. John seemed to look up to him for whatever reason and he didn't want to ruin John's ideal of him by revealing that he was a recovering drug addict. That wasn't very..noble of him. In actuality teaching, high school was recommended, supposed to be less stressful and ease him back into teaching and living sober, blah blah. For now, it was fine, Sherlock missed having access to more advanced lab eqipment, but he meant it. Students like John were starting to make the job seem worth it.

You: (shoudn't**)

Stranger: There was a hesitation, a reluctance in him then that suggested he was holding something back, and as curious as John was, he knew better than to pry. Maybe Sherlock had other reasons too and that was fine. It wasn't his business. Honestly he was grateful the man could share even this much with him. "Well, I'm glad you're here," John said gently and sincerely, with a warm smile. "Oh and hey, I meant to ask, I didn't leave a mess in your car, did I?" He asked with a sheepish, apologetic grin, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'd be very happy to clean it up if I did. I know I was pretty muddy after practice, and being damp and all."

You: Sherlock smiled, ignoring the feeling in his stomach when John said he was glad he was here, no one was ever glad he was in the room. He looked up at John, admiring the way he looked when he was..shy and running his hand through his hair like that. "In all honesty, I didn't even look." he admitted. "Even if you did I'm not worried about, I can easily get the car detailed." he assured him. He looked John over briefly, deducing simple things about him. He'd showered this morning and was wearing a strong aftershave. It seemed he wanted to seem..mature, possibly draw attention from girls. "You're doing well in your other classes?" he asked, "I assume so, I know athletes can't play if they are failing classes."

Stranger: There was a certain way Sherlock was looking at him now, slightly more intensely than before, and oh yeah, John recognised the look he got when he was deducing people. He'd only witnessed the teacher deduce other students aloud three times, when calling them out on excuses or lies or bad behaviour, and it was incredible every time. Being on the receiving end of that look was no less incredible, but certainly a little intimidating. That warmth rose to John's cheeks again, and he swallowed, collecting himself. God he hoped Sherlock couldn't read him too deeply. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm doing really well in bio and phys-ed. The others are all okay," he smiled, before giving a small shrug. "Not /quite/ as well as I'm doing in your class, I'll admit, but then again of course I'm doing the best for my favourite teacher."

You: Sherlock chuckled, "I'd hardly qualify Phys-ed as a class." he mumbled with a playful roll of his eyes. He grinned when John called him his favorite teacher, "Well, I'm well off in anything science. So if you need help with Biology I can help with that as well. Biology and Chemistry work side by side really, nearly everything that happens in the human body is a form of chemistry." he hummed. "And math, but I am absolutely no use in anything English or History." he chuckled.

Stranger: John chuckled lightly, shrugging. Yeah, he couldn't imagine Sherlock would have much interest in things like literature or history. Science, though. Anything and everything scientific, he was sure Sherlock had or would master. "Well thanks, Mr Holmes. I really appreciate it. And you know, I probably could do with a little bit of help with bio," he said carefully. "I swear I'm not just trying to spend more time with you. Although I wouldn't mind that too," he teased with a small smirk, knocking his knee against the teacher's lightly. That wasn't too far, right? Not /too/ flirty?

You: Sherlock was painfully aware of John's third attempt at subtle physical contact with him. He rose an eyebrow, quickly realizing that John was flirting with him. It was hard to believe but he couldn't ignore the obvious- supposed to be subtle hints. Sherlock was incredibly good at reading people and John-well the poor boy was basically an open book. He licked his lips subconsciously as he thought about how to approach this. He gave John a small smile. "Well, You know where to find me. Before or after school, or during my office hours" he answered. He wasn't overstepping, it was just tutoring. John simply saw him as a role model at most, it was nothing to worry about.

Stranger: Okay, so maybe that wasn't quite as subtle as he'd hoped. But hell, if he was being a little too obvious and if Sherlock did realise that maybe this was a little inappropriate, surely the teacher would gently, nicely disengage. Right? And yet, Mr Holmes was practically offering an invitation - a very professional one, of course, for tutoring and nothing more - and that swipe of his tongue over his lips... John swallowed. Oh, he was so letting it get to his head. "Well, maybe I could stay behind after school today? You could tell me more about organic chemistry and help me with my bio paper," he suggested innocently enough, though the colour in his cheeks was such a stupid, blatant giveaway.

You: Oh, Christ that blush. John was smitten, he could see it over his face. Oh god, was the aftershave for him? It did smell nice subjectively but John wasn't supposed to be trying to catch the eye of his teacher. He was supposed to be interested in boys closer to his age, perhaps another rugby player or something. Not his chemistry teacher. Mr. Holmes hesitated for a moment before he nodded, "That'd be fine." he agreed softly, knowing that was a terrible idea but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy John's company. Besides, it wasn't like he was taking him home with him. It would be in a professional environment. Just-tutoring and conversation. That was harmless. Mr. Holmes looked up when the bell rang, he looked to John. "You better get to first period. You don't want to be late." he warned

Stranger: Something in his abdomen did a delightful little somersault when Sherlock agreed to see him at the end of the day. Even if it really was just to keep talking about chemistry and school, John didn't mind one bit. He was a hopeful young man, but he wasn't naive. He knew in his head nothing would ever happen, not that Sherlock would even ever be interested, and yet... and yet he just couldn't help but grin as he nodded, and straightened up. "Right. Yeah," he said as other students finally started to filter into Sherlock's class. He grabbed his bag, unable to wipe that smile off his face as he turned back to Sherlock. "Thanks again, Mr Holmes. I'll come find you later. And definitely have another coffee," he chuckled lightly, before dipping out the door and hurrying off to English, grinning and pink-cheeked the whole way.

You: Sherlock let out an exhale as John left the room, he ran his hand through his curls and tried to focus on getting his lesson plan together and actually-teaching something but he found himself distracted all day. He found himself comparing every student to John. John would of known that answer, John would understand what he was saying. John wouldn't be on his phone while he was teaching. By the time it was lunch Sherlock was sure he was going mad. Yet even still he found himself watching the door, expecting-well hoping that John would come looking for him.

Stranger: ((Brb!))

You: (no prob!)

Stranger: It was incredibly difficult paying attention in his first two classes of the day. They seemed to drag by, as his much less interesting teachers drawled on without much enthusiasm at all, obviously going over content they'd taught time and time again and had gotten sick of. Sherlock would never be this boring. But God, he really couldn't get too hung up on the man just yet... but then lunch rolled round and his rugby mates said something about kicking the ball around on the field for a while and John said he'd catch up with them shortly, he just needed to run something by one of his teachers. Which was mostly true, anyway, as he quickly finished his lunch and headed back to Sherlock's classroom, popping his head in the doorway. And there he was, looking his way, almost expectant. John laughed, grinning. "Hey. You look like you're waiting for someone," he teased, stepping inside.

You: Sherlock hated that he lit up when John did come through the door. He adored John's smile, it just seemed to light up the whole room. And the smile was just for him. Mr. Holmes couldn't help a shrug, "I had a feeling I would be seeing you during lunch." he admitted. He gave John a raised eyebrow, wondering what excuse he had come up with to be spending his lunch with a teacher instead of friends.

Stranger: There was no mistaking the sudden rush of life and light in Mr Holmes' eyes, then. And John tried really hard not to credit himself for it because that would just be daft, of course he didn't mean that much to his teacher, and yet. And yet, he loved the idea that Sherlock had known damn well he would pop by and had been waiting patiently. John chuckled again and closed the door behind him, blocking out the mindless chatter of other students in the corridor. "Just wanted to make sure you're still awake. And besides, I've got you for next period. Maybe I wanted a head start," he shrugged with a smirk, wandering forward. "Have you had lunch already?"

You: Mr. Holmes watched John very closely, when the blonde shut the door he had a little wave of panic but didn't say anything. John's tone and posture signaled he was getting braver, more comfortable around the older man. Sherlock swallowed at the thought of that, having mixed feelings about that realization. He nodded, "I'm not tired in the least." he answered, which was not a lie. John had been filling his mind all morning, it was becoming bit of a distraction. Sherlock shook his head when John asked if he had eaten, "No, I usually leave for lunch. Not too fond of the excuse for food they serve you poor students." Sherlock stood, needing to stretch his legs, "What's got you so eager for class?" he asked.

Stranger: Oh. Oh, there was the barest hint of trepidation in Sherlock then, a faint hesitation that gave John pause. He didn't want to make the man uncomfortable, not at all. Was he coming on a bit strong, now? Had he gotten the wrong idea? Was he letting Sherlock's friendliness get to his head? John tried not to over-analyse it too hard, but quietly tried to rein himself in a little, giving a small smile. "Fair enough, honestly. I usually bring something from home. It's generally better than the cafeteria stuff," he agreed, setting his bag down

Stranger: ((Oops wasn't done, sorry!))

Stranger: bag down. He floundered to come up with an excuse for wanting to see the teacher, and really this was just going to end up embarrassing if he wasn't careful, but he gave another shrug. "I just didn't fancy listening to Thomas go on about the birds he's been sleeping with, and you know, getting one hundred percent on my homework has sure inspired me to keep learning."

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. John was a quick thinker, but he had to know he'd see through the lie. Come on John, you're smarter than this. "Ah.." he hummed, "Isn't that what boys your age are supposed to be doing? Your hormones are running wild at this age." he reminded, sort of leading John to the idea that this crush was just hormones, nothing more. "And I assure you Thomas has not slept with any women. No one who brags that much is telling the truth." he joked

Stranger: Oh yes, the implication that John's affection could be put down to nothing but hormones didn't go amiss. But that meant Sherlock knew. He had to know, and yet... and yet, wasn't he kind of feeding into it? Even when if he was trying to suggest this was just a hormonal crush? John's heart fluttered and he tried not to think too hard about it, tried to fight the heat in his face at the concrete realisation that Mr Holmes knew damn well he was smitten with him. But that was fine. It didn't matter. He enjoyed his company regardless. "Well," John shrugged again, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Maybe you're rigjt

Stranger: right. Considering you can tell what students are sleeping with who based on the turn of their collars," he teased lightly. "I'm not innocent, I'll admit. But it's pretty overrated. Fooling around."

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow by John's statement, this conversation was definitely not an appropriate one to be having with his student, but really they had cross appropriate a while ago. "Oh? " he questioned, "Are you implying you're immune to the body's own primal urges?" he asked-using that I know you're lying tone of his. "Asexuality is certainly valid-don't get me wrong, but I don't think you're asexual John.."

Stranger: "Oh no, no - I didn't mean to imply that," John quickly tried to correct with a shake of his head and a rush of red to the tips of his ears. Oh no, there was no trying to convince /anyone/ he wasn't interested in sex full stop, let alone Sherlock Holmes. "I mean, you know, the shitty teenage thing. Of dating people for a couple of months before moving on to the next crush

Stranger: crush. Or hooking up with whoever and bragging about it the next day. Just... I don't know. It all seems a bit daft." He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair anxiously again

Stranger: again.*

Stranger: ((I dont know why my thumb is suddenly so attracted to the send button I'm sorry haha))

You: (Haha no problems)

You: Sherlock hummed in thought, "I hate to break it to you John but that daft behavior is around way past high school." he joked, there it was again. John was very mature and just...thought differently than anyone else his age. "I'd have to agree with you then- I suppose. " he shrugged. "It's a shame..you are very popular with the girls in the class. "

Stranger: Was he, just? The pink in John's cheeks darkened slightly and he laughed, this time running his hand through his hair slowly, a little more deliberately. "What can I say? I'm quite the catch," he teased, waggling his brows. And then he laughed it off, perching himself on the nearest desk. "I'd rather something a little more meaningful, I guess. Wait for something I'm sure of. Some/one/ I'm sure of." As if that wasn't pointed at all. But the message was clear - he wasn't going to rush into anything, regardless of opportunity. "What about you, sir?" He asked daringly, tilting his head.

You: Sherlock caught the pointed message, he ignored it. Every teenager thought they were sure of everything at that age. He frowned and shook his head,"What about me?" he asked, unsure what John was asking. Was this his way of asking if he was single?

Stranger: John put his hands back in his pockets and looked over at Sherlock carefully, wondering. It was definitely crossing a line to pry like this. Into his love life, of all things. It wasn't his businss

Stranger: business. He had no reason to ask. Even to make conversation, it was probably a bit far. And yet... "Do you have anyone? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" John asked, curious.

Stranger: ((Brb for a while, I'll try keep the connection up but I'll be a few minutes!))

You: Sherlock shook his head, "No." he answered simply, not going into any further detail than that. "I'm- for all purposes solely focused on my work." he answered. That seemed like the most appropriate answer he could give his student. Sherlock had been with people in the past but-nothing serious.

You: (do you want to switch over to email?)

Stranger: ((Yeah that works!))

You: (i can send the log over!)

You have disconnected.

#johnlock #teacherlock #omegle rp #johnlock rp

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