#though i think the most interesting path to take here is the test tube two verison of the au bc of their separate dynamics

[wheucto]

no.1 fan au > test tube two about to be absolutely silly

[gospelofme]

47 Thoughts While Watching Part 1 of The Bad Batch season finale (spoilers ahead!!!!!)

“They’ll still come for you”. Ugh that sounds so sad. He’s confident about it too.

How did Echo get so good at ship repairs? Unless basic ship crap is mandatory for sudden repairs. Which I guess if you hang with Skywalker, that’s a requirement.

Aaahhh, the Kamino theme is memorable.

So I wonder if Rampart planned to leave Crosshair on Kamino all along?

I love the fact the Kaminoans kept secrets from the Republic/Empire. Like using their credits to fund their own projects.

I wonder how Omega knew about that platform….I didn’t think she’d ever left Kamino. Unless she went there with Nala Se for whatever.

Damn, I’d hate always getting wet when I go outside.

So the pad and lift are proximity sensor based. Not weight.

So the tubes aren’t documented on any schematics. So none of the blueprints that Tech has access to have them on there. That means one of two things:

- there are “official” and “unofficial” blueprints. Like some the Republic were given and the actual plans.

- Nala Se had the tube system built specifically for her.

Private research lab doesn’t mean secret…but still, why did she get a private one? Was it just to create the enhanced clones? Or was it used for more “off the records” projects?

And if there are other tubes that run throughout Kamino, and they’re all secret, WHY!? Like why do they exist? Surely the Kaminoans know they can just go wherever they want whenever they want because they fucking live there. Unless….they became prisoners in their own home….

About how uncomfortable Omega is having to go to the lab…

“why would I be?” He sounded like he rolled his eyes there.

The amount of salt that is being sprinkled by Crosshair right now.

“We didn’t have a choice?”

“And I did?”

Okay so when I first watched this episode, I thought that meant he no longer had his chip. But now I see it as Crosshair not having a choice because Hunter had committed treason by what his orders were telling him.

Also, I love the colors used in the control room. Idk why. They just all work. I think it’s because the rest of that place is so blinding with white light.

So how did they build the tubes under water….

“Most in Tipoca City don’t know about it.” So some do.

Omega sounds so sad. Honestly since I’m certain there were more than just five enhanced clones, since Nala Se said that that was all that remained, I wonder if Omega saw the clones that didn’t survive the experimentation.

About how Tech always looks like he’s texting. I’m waiting for him to take a selfie with Echo or something.

About Hunter still trying to convince Crosshair that this is all influenced by his chip. I think Crosshair knows he’s being used, but he (like the others in Clone Force 99) want some sense of normalcy. Like Echo said earlier, “we’re soldiers, what other path is there?”

Okay the alarm reminds me of the purge siren.

And the indoor alarm sounds like an airport alert.

About Echo taking charge, although I think he naturally is the next in command rank-wise. Do we even know the rank of Tech and Wrecker? What was Crosshair’s rank before?

Omega should’ve gone and tattled on them to Rex. Like “and then they just ditched me!! Again!! I know I have no combat training but still…”

Its pretty clear that Crosshair knows how the team is going to act. Like what tactics they’d use and decisions they’d make. Like on Bracca, Crosshair knew immediately the scanner frequencies were being jammed, because he had seen Tech use that trick before.

“We’re running out of time Commander” I have enjoyed that guy’s voice. It’s soothing.

The way Crosshair spits out “the Republic” makes me think there is something more than just the inhibitor chip at play. I wonder if he’s always harbored ill feelings towards the Republic. Cut had issues with the war that were so strong, he deserted. I wonder if Crosshair had similar feelings.

Wow he is really hurt about being left behind. And I can understand that. But Hunter did have a responsibility to Omega, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech too. He couldn’t risk them being shot and killed while trying to reason with someone who is shooting at him. Of course maybe if he had made more of an effort to get Crosshair to come with them…..of course I do think the Empire has done some brainwashing of Crosshair as well.

“I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you, what you never gave me. A chance.”

I think there is more to this than face value. It could very well mean he’s giving them a chance to join the Empire. But that whole conversion always used the term “choice”, not “chance”. “Chance” is used more as “an opportunity to do something”. That “do something” could be making a decision though. Like “I’m going to give you a chance to join the Empire.” But it could be “I’m going to give you a chance to get out of here.” Hunter didn’t give Crosshair a chance to prove he was loyal to them either. Plus the way the rest of Crosshair’s team reacted tells me they weren’t aware of their Commander’s intentions.

I love how Tech, Wrecker, and Echo are standing there like 😐

I thought it was interesting Crosshair decided to send Omega on a shuttle off world. Of course where would that have been? Just pick some random coordinates and say “good luck”? How would that be received by Rampart? Of course I don’t think he cared about Omega. That was just Nala Se and Lama Su really. And honestly, Crosshair was sounding like he’d actually thought about this. Like if Hunter wants to keep Omega safe, then he needs to realize that she won’t be safe with them. Especially if they’re being hunted. However there may have been an ulterior motive here too. With Omega out of the way, It will be like “old times” when it was just them. He probably feels like he was replaced by a kid.

The change in music though. The emotional, sweeping theme dropping down to a more sinister theme when Crosshair mentions their superiority over regular troopers.

“This is what we were made for.” What if, and hear me out…what if the enhanced clones were created specifically for the Empire. Their deployment during the Clone Wars could’ve been a testing phase. They may not have been prepared for the chance the inhibitor chips didn’t work. Crosshair had mentioned that Hunter couldn’t see the bigger picture. What if that is the bigger picture. That all of them were created to serve the Empire. Not the Republic. Which would explain Crosshair’s sudden disgust with it.

That reflection shot of Tech staring into the mirror. I like that shot. That’s really beautifully animated.

I have a feeling Crosshair knew his new squad wouldn’t listen to him. The “stand down” sounded like he was just saying it to say it. I don’t think he ever had respect for them, not after what happened with Saw’s fighters. They weren’t following him out of loyalty, but fear. And loyalty is a big deal to Crosshair. Honestly I think he had planned all along to kill his new squad. Like from the beginning. Which is why he was trying so hard to get his old squad members. The sooner he got them and convinced them to come to his side, the sooner he could shoot his new squad.

I have a feeling Crosshair know’s the reason why they were all created. Granted that could be brainwashing by the Empire to gain his compliance and loyalty. But something tells me that they were created specifically to become an elite squad for the Emperor.

Crosshair has some serious Anakin vibes when he’s telling Hunter to not become his enemy. And Hunter has some Obiwan vibes with the whole “we never were” line.

I do enjoy the weight they give Crosshair when Hunter flips him. Like the sound of him hitting the floor. He’s heavier than he looks.

Lmao that one TK trooper like “nope, imma get the fuck out of here.”

“Let the clones die together.” Yeah that bitch always intended to leave Crosshair on Kamino. Rampart never actually considered him important since he was the one that pitched the idea of an all conscripted trooper squad. He only had Crosshair as a part of it because Admiral Tarkin still liked the idea of clones. I think Rampart is going to try to climb over Tarkin on that Empire ladder. He didn’t mention to Tarkin that Crosshair was still on Kamino.

Aaahhh now the subject of the chip. Does he or doesn’t he? I think he does. The Empire wouldn’t remove it and take that risk of losing that compliance and blind loyalty. Plus the “does it really matter?” tells me he doesn’t know when, which he would if it was recent. He did have it in the first episode though. It showed up on the scanner and he did the whole “good soldiers follow orders.”

So I don’t think he was going to shoot Hunter. I think he feigned movement to make Hunter shoot him. He may not have thought Hunter’s blaster was sent to stun even. He may have intended to have Hunter kill him.

I do like how Hunter doesn’t hesitate to not bring Crosshair this time.

Damn the shots of the empty facility kills me.

Okay, so I know this was sad BUT the bombardment of Kamino was beautifully animated. Honestly. The underwater shots of the bolts hitting the support pillars. And it reminds me…Omega asked Tech about these the war was like and now she kinda knows. She’s never seen explosions like that.

Get ready for part 2

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @escapedthesarlacc @halzore @eyecandyeoz

[paper-cloud]

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side. 

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?" 

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between. 

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

[niall-is-my-dream]

Something Beautiful - Epilogue

So, this was something that I started writing ages ago and has been on hiatus. I've had this epilogue sitting in my drafts for a year! I was going to write a chapter to go before this but it hasn't happened so I've decided to post this and end the fic.

I hope you like it! Catch up on the link below.

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/615170836129808384/something-beautiful-masterlist

Thanks

Em x

8 years later

Standing at the kitchen island you chopped away at the ingredients you needed for dinner later. You were having a bbq so you prepped all the salad and got the meat marinating in the fridge. It was early afternoon and the sun was blazing in through the patio doors that were open and welcoming in the warmth of the summer.

From here you could see Monty hiding from the sun under the patio table and chairs where it was shady and cool. He was getting on a bit now, just turned ten years old, still lively like he was as a pup but lazy like an old man to.

From this position you could also see your greatest achievement, your six year old twins Jack and Izzy. You may have carried them for 34 weeks before they were born early, but they were the spitting image of their father. Izzy in particular had eyes that were identical to Niall's, her book obsession however she got from you.

Both were obviously musical like their father, but Jack had excelled in football and you'd spent the morning watching him run around the local football pitch.

Wiping your hands on a cloth you made your way out to the garden, Jack was at the end of the garden practicing some kick ups and Izzy was busy bouncing around on the trampoline.

"Hey you two, shall we take Monty out in a bit when the weather has cooled down?"

"Yeah, when is Dad back with Grandad and Aoife?" Jack called back to you.

 "Not sure, game won't finish for maybe another hour and it depends on if they can get through the crowds quickly, and if your Dad chooses to stop and talk to everyone he knows!" You replied smiling.

Niall had gone to watch Derby play at Chelsea today with his Dad Bobby and his partner Aoife. Checking your watch you saw that the game would probably just be starting the second half so you had plenty of time to walk Monty and be back to start cooking.

Just over an hour later and you were all walking towards Wandsworth Common. When you and Niall had first starting discussing buying your first house together there had been no doubt that you wanted to stay close to where both your flats were. With easy access to the tube and shops you had also decided you didn't want to be far from the Common.

It was there on a cold February day that you had tripped over Monty's lead and Niall had spoken to you for the first time. Sadly the pub you first laid eyes on each other in was closed now and was going to be turned into a hairdressers of all things.

But the Common held a special place in both your hearts.

It was where you would go in the early stages of your relationship, where you would spend ages walking around together with Monty getting to know everything you could about one another.

It was where you'd come with Monty that beautiful spring day when you'd found out you were pregnant while Niall was away touring his third album. You'd gone there to gather your thoughts about how to break the news to him that after almost a year of trying you had finally got a positive pregnancy test. It was also the place you'd both gone together to digest the information that it was twins.

And just last year it was the place that you had both taught Jack and Izzy to ride their bikes without stabilizers, while Monty chased the stupid ducks by the pond.

It was your special place and somewhere you came everyday when you were in the UK. When the twins were younger and before they started school you would spend a good amount of time in the U.S. at the L.A. home, but now Niall only went over there when he needed to and would only spend leisure time there if you were all with him.

He hates being apart from you all and it had devastated him at first when he toured last year and the twins had been at school for a lot of it. But Niall had gained what he had always hoped for, a long successful career with dedicated fans who had embraced you, Monty and the children.

You stood watching the twins scooter around the path with Monty bounding beside them, but then you had an overwhelming feeling that you were being watched. You had come to learn this feeling well in the first few years of your relationship. Knowing that Niall was a public figure and you were in a relationship meant you were also of interest. People took your photo without permission quite often, particularly here on the Common.

Looking behind you cautiously you saw Niall walking across the bridge with his Dad Bobby and his partner Aoife walking behind him. He still gave you butterflies in your tummy even after nine years together. He smiled and gave you a wave as they made their way over to you. Monty was next to spot him and he gave up on aggravating the ducks to race over to him. Jack was next, followed by Izzy and they sped over calling out to their Dad and Grandad.

"Hey stalker." You said to Niall as he came over to kiss you.

"Not stalking, you text me to tell me you were going to be here!" He smirked.

You looked over to see Izzy in deep conversation with Aoife. "And I did my writing homework but I left my school book as I wanted to read it with you."

"I'm sure we can look at that together, just make sure we help out with dinner and stuff for your Mum first though, ok?" Aoife replied.

As Bobby and Aoife finally reached you after being practically mauled by the twins they greeted you with a hug and a kiss each.

"I've prepped most of dinner while you were out, just need Pops to start up the bbq when we get back." You said looking at Bobby.

"I think I can manage that." He said rubbing his hands together. "I'm in a good mood after our win, think I'll have a couple of beers to celebrate. Speaking of football how did you do this morning Jack?"

"Really good and I scored a goal!" Jack said with a massive smile on his face.

He hadn't been happy about missing the game with Niall, but you'd only just managed to get him a slot on the football team after being on the waiting list for months. Niall had insisted that there would be other games he could take him to in the future that didn't clash with his practice. 

"The Common always looks amazing on a summer afternoon doesn't it?" Aoife said as she leant down to give Monty some attention.

"It does, this place has always been something beautiful." Niall replied smiling as he looked at you, taking your hand in his.

[the--sad--hatter]

Mischief, Meet Your Match - Chapter Two (Loki x reader)

WARNINGS: Violence, Swearing, Smut, Loki

SUMMARY: 

Sam would say your liking for bad boys has gone too far.

Tony would kill the God of Mischief with his bare hands.

Steve would lock you in your room and never let you out.

Natasha would probably just throw you off the roof.

But there's just something about Loki that draws you to him, and you couldn't help it even if you wanted to.

Read Part One Here

The last time The Avengers had put Loki in a cage, it had been exactly where he had wanted to be. This time they were more careful. Loki was safely ensconced in a glass cube that had been enchanted by Dr Strange to contain the tricksters magic. The cube itself was in an empty, bland warehouse that was highly guarded and miles away from civilisation and the Avengers themselves.

 It was dull for the first few days until what he guessed was around mid afternoon on the fourth day when the camera’s in every corner of the room that were pointed at his cell all simultaneously beeped and switched off. He looked around the room with curiosity but for at least ten minutes nothing happened.

 “Hey Mischief.”

 Loki stilled before he finally, slowly craned his neck to see you casually perched on the top of his cell, wiggling your wingers as you waved happily at him.

 “Ever notice how they always put the attractive bad guys in glass prisons?” You asked, smirking down at the dark god who looked remarkably unimpressed by your presence.

“Have you come to gloat? To taunt me?” He asked coldly.

 “Nope, I’m here to entertain you.” You said jovially, hopping down to the ground gracefully and holding up a book for him to see before you carefully slid it into the slot where his meal trays were delivered.

 “Without the permission of your teammates I see.” He noted, looking pointedly at the camera’s and ignoring the novel.

 “Better tell them you do whatever the hell you want than ask permission.” You shrugged as you settled on the floor in front of his cell, ignoring the way he towered sinisterly over you through the glass.

 “Ah, a woman after my own heart.” He teased.

 “It’s not your heart I’m interested in Mischief.” You rebutted, winking at him.

 For a brief moment he looked kind of delighted by your quick response, even going so far as to shoot you a blinding smile.

 You pulled  a deck of cards from your pocket shuffled them.

 “What are you doing?” He asked and you looked up to see him frowning down at you.

 “Entertaining you… My options are limited what with you being in a cell and all.” You told him, dealing the cards and slotting his into the metal rim that ran along the edges of the cage, keeping the cube intact.

 The backs of the cards were facing you so he could see what they were but you couldn’t.

 “I could think of ways you could… entertain me.” He said in a low voice and you laughed.

 “Well beggars can’t be choosers. Ace cards can be one or eleven, it’s up to you. Face cards are ten. The goal is to make 21 without going over, go over and you’re bust, you lose. Hit or stick… Want another card or are you happy with what you got?” You gave him the most basic explanation.

 “I’m happy with what I have.” He said.

 You shrugged and checked your own cards, managing to make 19 with your Queen of Spades and 9 of diamonds. You turned your cards over first before checking his. King of Spades and Ace of Hearts.

 “Son of a… did you use your magic?” You demanded.

 “My magic is contained by this cell.” He reminded you.

 “Sure Jan.” You muttered under your breath.

 You got a mischievous smirk on your face and reshuffled the cards.

 “My magic is intact thankfully… wanna see?” You asked him.

 “By all means… Impress me.” He smirked down at you like you were a silly child he couldn’t even be bothered placating.

 “Pick a card, any card but don’t tell me which one you pick.” You ordered, splaying the deck for him to see.

 He nodded once curtly to show he’d made his decision. You theatrically shuffled the cards one last time before tapping them and revealing the card with a flourish.

 “Is this your card?” You asked smugly.

 “No.”

 Your grin faltered.

 “Ok fine, Is this… your card?”

 “No.” He sighed, looking less than impressed.

 “Come on! Are you lying?” You asked him with a disappointed look.

 “A fair assumption but again, no. I chose The King Of Hearts. You failed to produce my card twice, so you lose.” He taunted.

 “It’s your stupid cell, it’s playing havoc with my magic.” You huffed in annoyance and shoved the cards back into your pockets.

 “Then perhaps you should let me out? We could go somewhere with no interference and make some magic together.” He offered.

 “I’m not easy Mischief.” You scoffed.

 “My mistake, I can see how I should have known you were a lady of strong character and morals.” He sassed.

 The corners of your lips twitched and you leant back on your elbows, sizing him up through the glass.

 “Why did your friend call you Kitten?” He asked abruptly.

 “I was this adorable stray that was brought back from a mission and never left. The Avengers adopted me.” You explained with a fond smile.

 Loki cocked his head, obviously expecting more information so you sighed and gave it to him, remembering the life changing event that had led to you being an Avenger.

 “The serum that made you into a god amongst men is in your blood. This serum we have developed will allow a test subjects body to absorb the characteristics of your blood… if they survive.” The Doctor explained, his clear excitement for the subject bubbling through.

 It made Steve feel sick. He pulled at the restraints pinning him to the operating table but they were strong and he was weak from blood loss as his blood was currently being extracted. He shouldn’t have gotten pulled into this situation but he’d only been given half the information. What was supposed to be a simple rescue mission had blown up in their faces because of secrets he hadn’t been privy to.

 “Bring in Patient Zero.” The Doctor ordered.

 You were dragged in by two dark suited, burly agents, a third trailing behind you with his gun drawn. One of the agents had a split lip and the other had scratch marks on his cheek.

 “Unhand me you fiends!” Yu demanded.

 “The sedatives didn’t calm her down, they just made her loopier.” One of the agents snarled.

 “It matters little, she will likely be dead soon but her corpse will provide us with information about how the serum works when combined with the Captains blood.” The scientist said giddily.

 The second you’d been dragged in, Steve had redoubled his efforts to break free and at the mention of his name your attention was drawn to him.

 “Pleasure to meet you Cap, shame about the circumstances.” You crowed loudly as you were manhandled onto a table like his.

 “Let her go! You don’t have to kill innocents to do this!” Steve yelled.

 “We won’t be using this formula on our people until it’s safer so she should be honoured. Her death will pave the path to a brave new world.” The scientist.

 “Psst, Cap.” You stage whispered.

 Steve turned to look at you.

 “Do all bad guys really talk like B-Movie villains?” You asked.

 “Enough.” The scientist hissed, slapping you across the face.

 “Oh buddy, if I survive this I swear to god I’m going to use the super strength to punch you in the dick.” You vowed.

 “Don’t worr, it is far more likely you will die, this is only a first attempt after all.” He sneered.

 “Captain, if I die punch this guy in the dick for me.” You ordered, twisting your neck so you could look him in the eye.

 There was a tick in his clenched jaw as he regarded you with a stormy gaze before he looked at the tubes that were rapidly pulling his blood from his body. He nodded once, decisively.

 “Yes ma’am.” He agreed to your request.

 What else could he say, he couldn’t promise you would survive or tell you that it was all going to be ok. All he could do was promise that you would be Avenged. You appreciated the assurance.

 “You were made into the Captains image through experimental science?” Loki asked with a frown.

 “Not his image exactly, but internally… kinda. The blood in my veins is the same blood that runs through Steve Rogers veins. He still gets ruffled if I call him dad though.” You sniggered.

 Loki seemed to take the information in blankly, his face impassive but you could see the way his eyes were looking at you in a new light, reassessing you speculatively.

 “Of course evil scientists don’t really know their stuff because they failed, epically. I would have died but Dr Banner managed to manipulate the enhanced healing aspect of the serum before I died.  I can heal anything short of a life threatening injury pretty easily.” You explained.

 “So when I hit you hard enough to discombobulate you…” Loki trailed off.

 “You’d have to hit me a hell of a lot harder to keep me down.” You scoffed.

 “Noted.” He said dryly.

 “Aw Mischief, I thought we were getting along? After I brought you books and games and everything.” You pouted.

 “If we were truly friends you wouldn’t be keeping me in a cage.” He pointed out.

 You stood up and smirked at him, leaning into the glass.

 “I like you Mischief, doesn’t mean I trust you.”

 “Wise decision Kitten, I may like you more than most of your race but I will not hesitate to kill you when I escape.” He told you, his words venomous but his tone pleasant, friendly, almost respectful.

 The camera’s beeped and you backed away from the cell.

 “I suggest you kill me first Mischief, because if you don’t I will take you down again.” You vowed and with a short running start you leapt back onto the top of the cell with ease and disappeared through a panel in the ceiling, seconds before the camera’s came back on.

 It was hours after you left when he finally grew bored enough to flip open the novel you’d brought. Something fluttered from the pages and he caught it deftly, flipping it over in his hand with an awestruck expression. There hidden in the pages of the book you’d given him before you played your failed card trick was The King Of Hearts. He dropped the book on the ground, discarding it as he turned the playing card in his hands.

 “Well played Kitten.” He muttered to himself, his lips twitching in amusement.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N – Fun fact, In my story Asgard is still there, Odin’s alive (ugh) and Hela hasn’t been freed.Ragnarok, Infinty War and Endgame don’t apply to my Marvelverse!

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[jjkpls]

The Freaks (m) (Harry Potter!AU #4)

> genre : filth, fluff

> pairing : jung hoseok x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warning : unprotected sex (stay safe kids, but they’re wizards so u know they take care of those things), derogatory terms

> Jung Hoseok (Hufflepuff, 7th yr) is a freak and a pervert. He spends his whole time in Hogwarts between intensive sexcapades with you, his girlfriend, and intensive research in magic to find new ways to spice up said sexcapades. (public sex, use of magical sex toy, anal, mention of cum play...)

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

It's Tuesday morning, 9am just clocked in and most students struggle to keep their eyes and ears opened. Professor Edgecomb had just finished going through the reminder of the last lessons, introducing the three new potions they will be working on for the month ahead and after having wasted a good fifteen minutes waiting for someone to raise their hand to either ask a question or answer to one of his, he's decided he had enough of standing in front of those dumbfounded gaping mouths staring at him like he was some kind of intellectual performance their tiny brains could not grasp. Therefore, he deemed it was time to just let them be.

Assigning them to different cauldrons they'll share by pair, he proceeded to summarize, once again, the whole procedure to make a successful Wiggenweld potion -they were supposed to master it the year prior, but he's not that gullible anymore-. Besides being a healing potion, it's also one useful to reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught and he hopes, secretly, that the vapours the room will be filled in soon enough will have some effect on those apparent sleep-deprived teenagers.

And then and there, the lesson becomes more pleasant. It's sad to admit, but him staying at his own desk, manipulating his own sets of jars and test tubes and mess of recipe sheets, sorting them out and organizing them, has become way more fulfilling than attempting to teach anything to these kids. He's realized quite soon after the beginning of his career as Professor of Potions in Hogwarts that youngsters were simply not interested in this art. Because it is a form of art. It requires patience, talent, delicacy and respect for the elements and ingredients, none of those butchers could find within themselves. And it's a hard discipline too. Not given to the first moron that wants to try a shot at it.

The students, in Hogwarts, fancy Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration classes. Which he can understand. The satisfaction is way more immediate and proactive in the execution of strong and decisive wand shakings. He also heard about how successful History classes -both Magic and Muggle- are and this, he deems the incoming of career orientation is responsible for. Because those lessons open so many doors, especially within the Ministry of Magic which a lot of young wizards seek a position in.

Potions, on the other hand, leads to a path, ambushed, full-life-committed, long and complexed that, inevitably, is not met with a glorious and profitable life. Alchemists spend their existence enclosed in dangerous fume-filled labs, they hardly leave to introduce a new invention once in a very long while -because those discoveries take time, and some actually waste their whole life away not finding any. As useful ground-breaking potions and spells tend to be owned in a way or another by the Ministry of Magic, they don't make much money out of them. If one desires to make a living out of making potions, they shall commit to producing mass love potions and everklena* ones. It's hard to cope with: lowering yourself to make those miserable preparations when you dream of grandeur and wonderful historical discoveries. Therefore, yes, he is become a professor in Hogwarts teaching a subject that rises very low interest.

Sometimes, Professor Edgecomb gets a glimpse of hope and joy from teaching. It's when he, exceptionally, has to teach one of the first years to cover another's professor lesson that they can't attend to. They're too young and inexperienced, so eager to be blown away to have any opinion on Potion making yet and it's terrific, he feels like a miracle maker, floating around the room, spreading herbs and mythical animals' claws in the air, in front of those wide shiny eyes. There's also the lessons he gives to the late-year Ravenclaw wizards. Most of them, like most of their peers, couldn't care less about his lessons but the ones that do, really, really do. They listen, ask questions and even share opinions on methods or big names in the Potion history. They're interested. As opposed to all those Slytherin slackers and Hufflepuffs morons.

Professor Edgecomb, fortunately for him, doesn't know to what extent he is right. How uninterested some of you are. He thinks the group of girls chatting away about the latest Quidditch game, or the loud pair of energumens too close to his own desk are obnoxious and disrespectful. But he would probably lose his marbles if he were to notice the young couple, occupying the last row of desks.

Hoseok's mouth is attached to your neck, lapping and sucking hard, biting where he knows the bruised skin to already feel tingly from prior ministrations. He's chuckling against your ear when he hears you whimper, your hand sprayed on his crotch clenching his hidden hard member in its grip. “Babe, you need to be quiet.”

Except if you'd like to get caught. And honestly, the thought is so tempting you can feel a gush of arousal soaking your panties.

But it's not your boyfriend's plan for the day. Maybe he'll want to do it on your last day at Hogwarts. How salacious would that be, you think with a grin painting your lips. You'll have to mention this to him. He'd probably say yes. You know your Hobi not to be good at denying any of your resquests.

But for today, he rules as he is the one who came up with the very elaborate spell allowing you two to mess around during class without nobody noticing. More than noticing, they can't actually see you. Two perfectly conform copies of you are standing at your desk, seemingly working on your cauldron, obliterating your real bodies. They hide what's to see but not what's to hear. Hoseok didn't master that just yet. Apparently, the whole screen thing behind which you're hiding is very complexed. It's a sort of a hallucinatory cloud. Anyone who would attempt to look your way would be met with this cloud that would distort their perception into interpreting precisely what they're expecting to see: Hoseok and you, chatting away while working on your potion. Certainly not him devouring your neck and collarbones, squeezing you hard against him for your ass to grind on his cock.

It feels hot. So dirty and bad, it should make your head spin and your pussy dripping gallons. But it doesn't. You're hot and bothered because it's Hoseok, he's always been excellent at toying you into becoming a powerless rag doll. But this whole trick is not enough. It's great but you already want more. You wish they could see you. You wish they'd see how Hoseok is treating you, how harsh his fingers are owning your cunt and how red and gaping he's letting it each time he's pulling back. You wish you could raise your eyes and meet the pair of someone else's, staring right back and ogling shamefully at you two.

Until you do. You meet those eyes. They're Do Kyungsoo's. He's watching you from two tables away, his big round eyes wide and mouth agape. He doesn't seem embarrassed though. His dark bushy eyebrows are frown and he looks about to interject.

And here, the thought of you two getting caught by the whole room actually hits you. You realize maybe it's not a good idea. For the last day, yes, but definitely not now, only two months in when you'll have to spend the rest of the year looked over by all of those same peers. If you even get to stay and don't get expelled for the worst case of public indecency to ever take place in Hogwarts. “Hoseok, he can see us.”

Mistaking your claim for role-playing, the tension in your tone simply flying over his head, he mutters hotly in your ear, “You love that, don't you? My little minx gets so w-”

“No, I mean, he can actually see us. We're not invisible.”

“What?” Hoseok turns around, so fast his hair flaps audibly on his forehead, to witness their classmate, obnoxiously watching you. In the swiftest of movement, he slips out of your panties -making you wince when his fingers sting a bit by the haste- and sits properly, adjusting his robe and pretending like nothing has happened, as if his crimson cheeks were not telling enough.

After some time, Kyungsoo, smiling like the little shit everybody knows him to be, turns around and gets back to his own duty.

“What happened to the spell?”

“I don't know.” His eyebrows drop sadly when he finally looks at you again. His mouth is shaped in an upset pout you have to look away to not place a bit smooch on. He caresses your thigh gently. “I'm really sorry, baby girl...” You're frowning too now. You were so close. So close. You're sure if you were to open your robe for the air to hit your clit, you might actually come. “We'll finish later.”

You gasp aloud.

Probably too dramatic.

Some heads turn around, throwing you a curious gaze to which you simply smile, waving a friendly hand until they're all back to their conversations.

There's the clock on the wall, stating 9:39. There's still an hour and a half to go. There is no way you're not having your release now. “Hoseok, I can't wait.”

“You'll have to, babe.” His voice is strained and his back stiff. He's not mad. You can tell he's just frustrated and probably feels guilty for having fucked up, resulting in that guy seeing you in this position. You want to make him feel better, along with yourself. That's your reasoning behind your hand slipping discreetly under the table, and sneaking under your skirt uniform.

The thick wooden table will hide you, if you're stealthy enough, you're sure you'll be fine. When it comes to sex -and especially sex with your boyfriend- you know what you want. You know what to grant yourself. And he knows it too. Therefore, when he takes a glimpse at you, checking to ask you about an ingredient he thinks he's never heard of -even though he did, as it was the one used in all of his fourth year recipes-, he's not surprised to see you hunch slightly over, smiling mischievously at him, with your clothing shaking obnoxiously over where your hand is working.

His pink tongue swipes over his grin, the tip stopping on the edge of his canine. He doesn't really know how to keep his composure. You're incredibly hot, like that, acting like a slut in the middle of class after having been caught; looking at him this way, with that familiar spark winking at him, you're so hot and so sweet, when he knows it's not even to tease him but so you can share with him a likeliness of release. You're so dirty and you're his. He wants to lean over and swallow you whole.

It doesn't take long for you to reach your climax. Grinding on your chair, like a bitch in heat, he can tell when you really hit it from how hard it's become for you to minimize your movements. Through the haze of your blurry gaze, you can see his lovesome eyes and bright smile. God, is he handsome.

“You're crazy.” He lets out behind his hand, concealing the blatant grin he can't withhold. You grab the said hand, dragging it and sneaking it between your legs for him to touch and feel the mess he's responsible for. When he brings the hand back to his face, he kisses the fingertips, pink tongue peeking out, tasting with utter pleasure your nectar like a pollinating bee.

“Wow.” She sounds unenthusiastic. Blank and fairly bored. Half of your face scrunched up by the hand holding your head up from hitting the top of the table, you stare with a wondering eye. “You're so whipped for... this guy's dick.” She notes, pointing with a lean finger at your textbook.

The book is opened on the index page, messed up on the corners with traces of ink here and there, scribbles of pieces of information concerning the lessons to be found ahead. You're not responsible for those. Your personal touch consists of little drawings of penises and pointy noses and slender hands gathered here and there. Your quill stops mid-movement when you realize that you're drawing one of those shafts again.

Maybe you're a bit obsessed with him, yeah.

“By 'this guy' you mean my boyfriend?” Your best friend rolls her eyes before bringing a hand to her mouth and feign to stick two fingers in to make herself throw up. You're the one rolling your eyes now. She's always been dramatic. Icy queen pretending anything more or less romance-related irks her to no end. She tries so hard though, you're sure she hides something.

The thing is your best friend is not, necessarily, the sweetest of soul. She's actually very far from it. So as much as the questions have been piling up in the back of your mind -especially when you see her disappear for hours on end to then come back to you, with a new glint in her eyes, throwing suspicious glances to this one younger Slytherin guy who always seems to be sulking- you decide to let them just where they are, not ready to be lashed out by the furious dragon she can turn herself into. If she wants to open up about it, probably she will. It's complicated sometimes to be friends with someone so secretive. But you chose her.

“D'you have some gold?” She asks. Her attention is not on you. It's focused on something or someone else, far behind you. You're tempted to look but you're not sure, given the expression on her face -it's the one look she harbours when she's up to mess with someone. You're still frustrated from this morning virtual blue balls. You're planning on getting Hoseok's glorious dick in three hours time, and it's all that fucking matters right now. Hence the bunch of precum beads winking at you from the top of your doodled cocks. Would he think those representations are accurate? Maybe you should ask him to pose for you. All naked. Damn. “Do you?”

For good measures, you ask, knowing you won't get involved in anything today, no matter what her response happens to be, “What for?”

“I'd like to send someone a letter.”

Oh?

“That's nice!” You clap your hands quite loudly, handing her generously more than she needs to purchase a magical card and even pay the fee to send it away as happy as you are that she's doing something sweet for a change.

“It is nice.” She smiles at you in a way you don't like. Eyes dark, grin resembling a wolf hungry snarl. She's more Slytherin than most. Way more than you. You sigh, deeply.

“Miss, I'd appreciate if you would quiet it down a bit. It might not be your case, but some students here have a future they would like to study for.” Your friend is staring at you with a smirk biting her lips. You raise your face, smiling the most honey-coated beam you own at Mr Filch. He's not happy about you. Which you can understand. You tend to be loud and obnoxious. But you don't even remember being loud just now. It is "study hours" but you are in the Great Hall, not in the fucking library. Still, you know better than to upset the old man so you excuse yourself smoothly leaving him to mumble and grumble away between his teeth.

“He's right. Look at you drawing all those mushrooms,” You chuckle loudly at that. “-instead of thinking about your future-” “I thought about my future for your information. I'm planning on becoming the biggest legend of Quidditch's bitch for the rest of my life. Isn't it great?”

“Wow. Sounds phenomenal.” The sarcasm is dripping from her very breath.

“It is! You know, Muggles, they have this thing called sugar daddy and I've decided that Hoseok will be mine.”

“You know I hate Muggles. Stop talking to me about the weird shits that they do.”

“It's not weird!”

“MISS Y/N!” Yells Mr Filch from the other end of the Great Hall. And when you see him lumping furiously through the whole room, expression looking like he's ready to grab you and throw you in one of his alleged torture basements, you pack your things in a rush, waving goodbye to your friend who's cackling her ass off on top of her parchments.

When Hoseok walks in through the door, you're waiting for him, your fingers prepared in the air, ready to catch his ear in a crab-like hold. Catching sight of you, he loses too much time startling and is left with not enough to avoid your attack, therefore, you seize him and pulling hard on your prey.

“Aa-ah-aah-” He screeches, voice loud and high, trying to follow your movement to limit the pain but you're mad and make it so that it hurts as much as possible.

“Where were you? I've been waiting for you forever!”

“The team had- AAAH” Your nails dig in the sensitive flesh. Irritating. This stupid team. You do want him to become the next Quidditch legend of the wizarding world, sure. But you know he's already good enough to become it. He doesn't need extra training, unlike those lame asses that compose the rest of the team. He's been carrying the team and its victories for years, since the very first game he's played, five years ago. Why they drag him through never-ending extra practices is beyond you.

Usually, you wouldn't be scorching his ear but the rest of the Slytherin team's. It has happened before when he's come back to his or your dorm at fucking ridiculous hours of the night, sometimes hurt because that's how bad his team players are. But you're not in the mood today. The three hours you thought you had to wait for your boyfriend to come back to you and spoil you the way you need, turned into seven. It's not anyone else's fault but his now.

“You made me wait all fucking day, Hoseok.” You're a sulking mess, now. Letting your grip go, you walk backwards for him to witness the pouty lip, the sad puppy eye.

Massaging his red ear mindlessly, he breathes out, “I'm sorry, baby.” Shoulders shrug dismissively -he's here now- allowing at the same time your robe to slide along your arms to reveal your naked form. Your skin is shimmering slightly from the body lotion you've applied carefully earlier while waiting for him and he catches sight of it immediately, smiling softly.

You lie on your back, watching him trying to undress so fast, he almost knocks his own forehead on the bed frame when he tries to rip his left foot free from his pants. His face is all cute frowns, funny grimaces and corny winks; his voice all overwrought groans, adorable whines, he's biting on his lip, savouring with his eyes what his mouth can't feast on just yet. You're overwhelmed by excitation. It's your Hoseok and you're about to have him all for your own. You're delighted.

“Are you that hard from me pinching your ear, Hobi?” He flushes, minuscule dimples poking at the corner of his silky mouth, eyes darting to the straight, hard haft waving your way.

“You know how hot you look when you're mad.” He climbs over you, predatory gaze melting with the mirror of its own. His mouth smashes against yours as his hips do yours, one set of slender fingers wrapping around your neck. He's grinding insistently, ending in you panting already, mouth wide open for his tongue to lap inside.

“Fuck, Hobi...” He falls down from your gaping lips, teeth grazing your neck hard enough to turn the skin red while your fingers deep in his mop of satiny chestnut hair, scratching his scalp, pulling at the strand to make him grind harder, groan and breath louder.

“You smell so good...” You grin to yourself. You deserve a tap on the back for the choice of lotion you've made. It was new and expensive as hell, as tend to be Muggles' cosmetics, but it was worth it from the way he's lapping at your skin with such eagerness, inhaling obscenely, his pretty eyes reflecting the shimmer recovering your body. “Uhm. Should I eat you out?”

“No...” A harsh bite, a whimper. “Later. Once you've filled me up.”

His chest constricts, letting the loud and notably high in pitch laughter of your boyfriend bursts in your ear, rendering you deaf for a second. When he relatively succeeds to calm down, Hoseok raises on his arms, taking a good look at your inquiring expression.

“You're so fucking nasty, baby girl...” He thrusts downward, his tip grazes precisely where you need him and you decide you are done waiting. Pushing him away for you to turn around, getting on all fours, ass shaking for his greatest enjoyement.

“Hobi, I've waited so long, please, I'm ready.” And maybe you sound a bit desperate, look a bit obscene with your ass straight in the air, shaking for the sole purpose of making his determination to take his time waver and just fuck you already. You just don't like to wait. If your little sexcapade from this morning tells anything about you, it's how impatient you are, how spoiled you like yourself to be, especially by your boyfriend. He has another rhythm in mind but no matter how exciting it feels to have his big hands spread on your ass cheeks, squeezing and parting so he can see you better, no matter how nice the idea of his gaze burning your sex, his heavy breath hitting the wetness you're covered in, it's not enough and you don't want it now. “Baby, please. I deserve it.”

“You do, baby girl. I'm gonna give it to you.” He is so hard, tip an angry crimson and balls tight as hell but he can't help but lean over to bite the flesh of one of your cheeks and place a sloppy kiss on the other. Merlin, he hopes he'll have more time later to indulge in his urges to eat your ass until he makes you tear up enough for you to be able to taste the salty yet sweet pearls on your lip.

The first thrust feels painful for the both of you. You're so wet he just slides in but the sensation of being filled up again, so nice, so full, by Hoseok makes your walls hug him roughly; and he can feel you, hugging, compressing him too many times, he doesn't know if it's simple projection from his dick but he found it harder for him to breathe.

You're getting used to him progressively and soon enough he's able to back all the way out to slam back in, even further than he had before. “I've missed you, ___.” He chokes out, mouth pressed to your shoulder blade, kissing pure love that aims and shoots directly in your heart.

You're buried in the pillows, mumbling, “Missed you too. So much.” It's been less than a week, actually, since the last time you were able to get in bed and have him buried deep in your cunt. Fucking school assignments, fucking Quidditch practices and matches, fucking ridiculous new dormitory policies, and fucking uncooperative housemates. The past week had been a bitch.

Your relationship is based on way more than sex -even if this is how it actually started, with you walking on a certain freaky Hufflepuff rubbing one-off in the middle of the little pool-like bathtub of the prefects' bathroom-. Hoseok is hilarious, dorky and exuberant. You match, carrying around the same riotus energy and you two are each other's ideal crowd. Also Hoseok, when he needs to be, can be the sweetest, most tender shoulder to lean on. He is easy to talk to, about anything. He's funny, he's soft, he's so good, benevolent, and you're in love, so deeply in love with this boy. That being said his dick is a piece of art and works a magic none of the biggest wizards of this world could ever attempt to master. And, when you don't get to feel it, not only do you miss it but feel an upsetting emotion constantly troubling your mood. I guess your best friend is right: You're pretty whipped for the guy's cock.

You know you're not the only one feeling this way though. The way he melts into you, showering your back with kisses and bites, hands digging everywhere, trying to tattoo your skin with his love, he misses you as much as you miss him.

When he's done being so overwhelmed by finally feeling you the way he craved to for days, he can tear his chest away from you to stand straight and tall on his knees, allowing himself to pound into you the way you both love. It feels amazing, you like to think that it's the idea of being with you again that helps him reach new hidden resources the four hours he's passed on a field playing Quidditch with a bunch of losers did not manage to dry out.

Hoseok sucks his thumb in his own mouth, soaking it in saliva before he's pressing it between your ass cheeks, circling tentatively on your surprisingly not so tight ring. He chuckles to himself. Because it's always like that. He's not complaining, he knows -and he can feel it as he moves his finger in and out, at a terribly slow path as opposed to the hard one followed by his hips- that you did not overdo it. You always make sure to prep yourself to not waste any fun time, not too much though so to guarantee the lovely stretch will still be here. It's once he's fit three fingers in that he squeals, “I almost forgot! Babe, I've made something!”

He gets fidgety behind you, reaching out for something you can't see, as you sigh, struggling to contain your impatience. He's thoughtful enough to hold your hips still with one hand, either it is for your comfort or by fear of his dick catching a cold, you're not quite sure. “You're gonna love it.” He prophesizes once his attention is back on you, leaning on his heels to have you relax on his lap.

His voice turns low, focused on each syllables as he enounces a bunch of different words you never would fit together, so close, in the same sentence; pronouncing a self-made spell you know won't ever appear in one of Hogwart's textbooks -which is probably for the best.

There's a warmth finding itself and spreading around your empty hole and slowly, something seems to grow from nothingness, progressively filling your ass up entirely. It's bigger than Hoseok's lean fingers, hotter, wetter, soft like the silky skin of his cock, rather than the rougher one of his hands. It starts moving in and out slowly, and you assume Hoseok has grabbed the end of it and is now testing it apprehensively. “I've been working on it for weeks.”

“Fuck, Hobi-” You choke out between pants and whines, back bending always further, desperate to get the most of the experience.

“How does it feel?” Ugh. “Wait, there's more!” He's picking up his wand again, shaking it in the air and mumbling more words that this time, brain so fucked up and intoxicated, you can't even decipher. Not that you really try.

Suddenly, there's a little buzz. You hear it before you feel it because it wavers, it faints away and comes back but never quite strong enough to be shaking you from the inside. Observing you from up there, he giggles, “From now on, please refer to me as Genius- Genhobi? Hobi-brai- Hobrain? That sounds a bit off but-”

That's when you burst out in a fit of laughter, so strong it shakes you up more than his spell did and makes his cock slip out of you. Hoseok grins in return. With a quick gesture of his wand, he turns his spell off. Leaning over your back, he brushes the hair out of the way to get a good look at the hilarity rolling down your cheek, fondness burning painfully his heart.

“It's not-” A wheeze. He's all ears, mouth stretched from one ear to the other. “It exists already. Muggles created this decades ago, probably a century even...” His face falls, mouth in a button and big wide eyes sceptical hanging under a set of terribly sad-looking droopy eyebrows. “What?” He asks quietly.

“It's called a vibrator. They make it and sell it in sex shops and-” You're mid-cackle when his whole demeanour, slopping down miserably on himself, eyes shiny with so much disappointment, you suspect he might actually start crying. You stop right away, turning around and reaching for his neck you wrap your arms lovingly around, pressing his face to your breast. “Oh, baby... It's okay.”

“I thought-”

“I know, it's fine. I appreciate you trying, hm? That's really cute.” He groans, nose scrunching up. “You're cute. Come on!” Getting back on all fours, you smile brightly at him. “It's whatever! Don't you wanna come? Cause I do...” Hoseok grabs you by the thighs, dragging you hard enough for you to lose balance and fall flat on your stomach, before he flips you over and leans in between your legs, mouth pressing to yours on reflex when his face is close enough.

“It's your fault. If you didn't know all those Muggles' stupid shits-”

“I grew up as a Muggle, dickhead.”

“And then why-” He hisses when he finally slips back in the comfort of your sex. “-did you not bring one of those for us?”

“To have my dad find it during one of his impromptu friskings through my stuff?”

“Fair-” His hips stutter at a particularly unforgiving squeeze of your walls around him, he groans loud mouth pressed hard to your ear, “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good. You fill me up so well, Hobi.” He does. He'll never know, no matter how many times you say it, how much you mean it. How perfect he fits in you as if your walls were craved for his cock only. And he fucks you so good. Hips rolling expertly against your pelvis to make sure your clit is taken care of, brushed over and pressed hard between you two as he's just started doing, knowing the both of you are not that far from finishing. You love when he does that. It's harsh, ruthless and stimulates you just right but it always leaves you red and abused and stinging a little for the hours and sometimes days to come. You love that. With Hogwarts' decency policies, you can't even wear a few purple marks on your neck as a reminder of who owns you and how well he's treated you. That sting is sometimes all you have to do so, to distract you when sitting in History of Magic class you wonder why the hell you're still wasting your fucking time with all those informations you couldn't care less about.

“Hobi, m'gonna come.”

“Come for me, baby. Come with me-” He's panting against your face, sweat droplets threatening to fall on it from how hard he is beating his hips against yours.

“Fuck! I need-”

Of course, Hoseok knows exactly what you need, therefore he hastens to growl, “Iloveyou- fuck, Iloveyou! Comewith-” The ball of light that has been growing inside both your bellies burst, blinding you both for a few seconds, rendering you deaf to the earsplitting, probably embarrassing, screams and earthshaking moans. You can feel him, coating your walls, as they clench repeatedly and smother him entirely, milking him out of every last drop he has to offer.

“Fucking Merlin...” Hoseok mumbles, body melting into yours as you tighten your grasp around him. You're stuck in a blur, barely conscious it seems, actively trying not to cry for some reason. It's Hoseok's lively laughter that brings you back from how far you've gone. “How come you're so nasty but you only get there when you're reminded how much I love you? You big baby.”

You're already too hot and red-cheeked to flush at his teasing, but your ego bruises a little bit. Not much though as you know how right he is. And how alike you two are anyway.

“Isn't your mouth supposed to be doing something else right now?” Hoseok shoots you his glorious grin before he's sliding down along your body, disappearing from your sight, eager to give you what you asked for earlier.

[awfully-sadistic]

The enemy of my... wait.

“If someone told me I’d be working together with you, I would have laughed.” Dot’s tone didn’t give any indication that there had been any laughter behind her statement and the bite following caused Ada Wong’s hands to still in her task. But it was only a flicker of a moment because deft fingers worked to attach the muted mine onto concrete and Ada hurried back, taking Dot by the shoulders to usher her a safe distance away before it exploded.

“And told them they were stupid. And to stop talking to me ‘cause I hate liars.  But we promised to save some kids and that’s the only reason why I’m doing this--!” Dot was still talking as Ada placed her arms around Dot’s petite shoulders, curling herself over the younger woman to ensure nothing touched her when the mine activated, spouting debris everywhere. There was a timer ticking a countdown and something amazing soon happened afterwards. But the next thing Dot realized was that there was a hole in the wall and sound coming back to her ears.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, looking up at Ada. Then, realizing the other woman’s closeness, Dot began to shake her off her shoulders. Ada didn’t seem to mind, instead opting to answer Dot’s question.

“It’s a mute charge,” she whispered, turning back to the hole in the wall which the mine had cleared. She stuck her head out and looked up and down the darkened halls to ensure that no one was coming to give them any more trouble. “I manged to swipe some of the military tech lying around the facility and figured it would be useful.” It definitely did prove to be useful since there had been a wall standing in their path between here and the children. “We don’t want to draw anymore attention to ourselves and had agreed to let Leon do the heavy lifting, but we needed to get through. It emits a vibration-dampening field and mutes the noises of gunfire and explosions.” Once Ada saw and heard that no one had been alerted to their position, she turned to give Dot a smile. “Pretty useful, huh?”

Dot folded her arms and muttered something under her breath like, “I guess.” There was no way she was giving Ada any props or the satisfaction that things were going pretty well... considering the dangerous environment they were in and the fact that anyone could start shooting at them at any minute. And though Dot didn’t like to admit it, she had preferred prowling and stealthily moving around as opposed to standing around in a fire fight. Leon and Monica seemed to have that front covered as much as she worried about the two and as much as she would rather be with them at the moment helping in any way she could, she was with Ada. But she couldn’t deny that that stealth and cover was going to be needed to evacuate a dozen or so kids from the building.

It was somewhat by choice, too. That was what frustrated Dot the most. Once everyone had heard there were children being held captive in the building, finding out that they were being experimented on, Dot had already knew where she was heading. She knew where she was needed and there was no changing her mind no matter how much Leon protested they get rid of the bigger threat first. But Dot’s heart had always been with children (especially those in need!) and there was no guarantee that the children would have been safe to see this entire thing through. There were so many perils in this underground facility, Dot didn’t want to be around it another minute. She can only imagine what those kids were going through.

“I’ll go with her,” Ada had compromised. It had shocked Dot to hear that Ada was volunteering on doing something selfless and for children, no less. 

“I’m surprised you want to do anything to help anyone.” Dot couldn’t help the snarky response that flew from her mouth despite being vaguely grateful for the help to persuade Leon to let them go. If it bothered Ada, she didn’t let it show. She was used to the hostilities Leon’s partner and girlfriend harbored for her. Something about not treating Leon right? Instead, she gave Dot a fairly confident smile bordering on smug that Dot wanted to pop her one in the mouth and smear that red lipstick she wore so perfectly applied all over her face.

“I never said I was coming along to help the kids.”

Dot’s gaze narrowed and she frowned deeply. It figured she had some ulterior motive and one she wasn’t too keen on sharing since she didn’t elaborate on it. Leon looked helpless switching his gaze between the two women and Monica, who was awkwardly shuffling on her feet and looking anywhere else but in front of her, didn’t ask any further. The both of them were supposed to provide Leon Kennedy the backup he needed and running into Ada was just, yet again, another inconvenience. Dot wanted to argue but Ada was the only one who volunteered to go.

“Sorry, Dottie, I have one half of the EMP resonator Leon needs to install. I’d go with you but...”

“That’s alright, love,” Dot said, turning her gaze to give her best friend an encouraging smile. “Ada and I will go rescue the kids. You just need to give us a time frame to work with, we’d need the extra time to escape with them as well as an escape route before all the power cuts out and we get trapped somewhere stupid.”

Leon looked pensive as he thought the situation over. He was iffy about letting his girlfriend and Ada Wong, a rather un-trustful person, go off on their own. But he understood Dot’s worry. And he also cared about the fate of these children as well. There was proof they were still alive and caged in another part of the compound but...

“Splitting up is always a bad idea...” He finally said, raising his worried gaze to Dot. They weren’t setting off a bomb, but they were shutting off all the power to the compound as a means to hinder the private military company using and even trading B.O.W.’s around the globe. Experimenting on these children had produced faster, smaller, and deadlier B.O.W’s as much as it broke Dot’s heart to hear it. However, this EMP will also incapacitate the power on safety measures, shutting down or locking down some areas and restricting the exit points they could use as a means to escape. That was why it was so important Dot and Ada find a couple of reliable escape routes for their side mission. Their main goal had been to shut down any B.O.W.’s in production, stalling them in their test tubes and cryo-chambers. Leon had no doubt they’d get this task done but he did not know exactly what entails from shutting the entire place down. However, from his experience in things like this, it usually means it opens gates for bigger and larger obstacles. That was what scared him the most, being separated from Dot during one of those times.

“But right now, it’s the only option we have.” Dot pointed out. She agreed with Leon that splitting up was a terrible, terrible idea and she also knew the importance of this mission, but since there were four of them, it’d be no problem to focus their efforts on this one little thing. It was probably safer from actually doing the main mission.

“You’re right,” Leon stated, shaking the hair out of his eyes. He sighed deeply and settled his gaze on Dot. She could see the worry still etched on his face, the way he looked troubled at the turn of events and then finally having to make a decision to send his beloved girlfriend off to go through unknown elements but knowing they must do anything they could for those children, too. “they have to be saved and I can’t think of a better person to help them.”

Dot beamed proudly, reaching down to give Leon’s hand a squeeze; one he immediately returned. Leon and Dot were too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other that they missed Ada’s curious glance between the two, it had almost went unnoticed. Monica rubbed the back of her neck, wondering if Ada knew that she was openly staring, wondered if Ada realized she wasn’t as great at keeping a poker face as she had thought. There was blatant jealousy in the way her gaze lingered over their linked hands and Dot’s soft expression, her happy smile, and the minute Ada turned her gaze to lock with Monica’s, her facade was back up. That mask was on again. Monica gave the other woman a nervous smile and looked down at the handgun in her hand suddenly finding it much more interesting. It wasn’t like she could say anything about what she just saw. 

“How about if we...” Dot settled the map down on a nearby crate and Ada and Leon stood hunched over a map for the next half hour, going through all the escape points the girls could go through that’d support the escape of a dozen kids. They took into account how the children might not be at their best, either, weak and malnourished until they finally came up with a plan.

That was what brought the events up to now. Dot was still struggling to get along with Ada but she couldn’t help but notice something was different about the other woman when it was just the two of them. Ada seemed a lot more relaxed, not quite as cocky as when Leon was around. And Ada never addressed Dot in that same cocky tone she would use on Leon, either. Dot was open about her distaste about the woman but Ada never showed her the same treatment. It was almost enough for Dot to feel guilty about how hostile she was treating Ada when it seemed she was doing nothing wrong... but she has been around Ada for many years now, been privy to her attitude whenever she and Leon ran into her. Not to mention the many times she’s double-crossed them or done something to suit her own ulterior motives. 

Augh. That reminded her.

“What did you want, anyway? You don’t even want to help the kids, it’s clearly something you’re after. So what is it?” Dot brought up the question that was left hanging in the air from the small enclosure they had been in several minutes ago. Ada stood on the other side of the hole made by the mute mine, holding a hand out while the other supported herself on the wall as she leaned in towards Dot. 

“What did I want?” Ada asked, puzzled. When she saw that Dot was staring at her hand, she wiggled her fingers enticingly. “Come on, I just want to help you over.”

“Wha--” Dot blinked, “I can do it...” she argued a little confused. Dot wasn’t the type that was usually stubborn when it came to things like this. People helping her, extending hands to place in theirs. But this was Ada and she didn’t trust her.

Ada didn’t say anything but she didn’t retract her hand, either. She did, however, watch as Dot stepped over huge piles of concrete and rubble, stopping just before crossing over. Ada’s hand was still extended and she glanced down at it, still perplexed. Why???

Hesitantly, Dot did take Ada’s hand. If Ada wanted to help her across, fine. That’s her thing. Dot wasn’t going to be hearing about this later when Ada turned it around and made her look the bad guy for this--

“Wuh!” Ada had pulled Dot across the concrete barrier and was apparently a lot stronger than Dot had anticipated. She now stood IN Ada’s space, pressed against the other woman’s front, head craned back having to look UP at her.

Was Ada always this tall? No, it had to be the high heels, right? Yeah. That’s it. High heels.

Ada had that stupid smug grin on her face again and Dot made to move away, to push herself away, but she didn’t move anywhere. Ada’s other hand snaked around her back, her waist, holding her close.

“Were you asking what I wanted?” she asked. Her gaze roamed Dot’s face, taking in the way her lip curled, the obvious distrust, maybe even hate on display, for all to see. Ada couldn’t blame Dot. She has screwed Leon over many times. She just couldn’t help if Leon brought his girlfriend with him and she got caught up in things. It wasn’t what Ada wanted, well, for Dot anyway. She didn’t give a care for Leon S. Kennedy. if anything, he was like an annoying little brother who kept popping up and trying to get into her business. But Dot.

You know how sisters get crushes on their brother’s friends? It was something like that. 

Ada Wong had never been attracted to men yet they found her attractive and she used that against them; wasn’t it their own fault for being so gullible? So easy? She thought she could use it against someone like Leon when she had first met him but Leon jumping in front of her to save her many times and his selfless nature changed her mind and genuinely allowed her to see the man as nothing more than a good guy; one of the real ones out there. For as much as she deceived Leon, she also cast a helping hand too, and she felt like a big sister trying to guide a dumb puppy of a brother from getting himself seriously harmed. But when Leon started to bring his girlfriend around, it was like the world stopped for a moment as she settled her eyes on Dot Dreadful. Perhaps she was a little more cruel to Leon in those times when Dot was around because she was jealous.

Dot was a very attractive woman and Ada could find herself in the shoes of all the men she had deceived in the past if Dot had wanted to turn the tables on Ada one day.

Dot may have been asking what Ada wanted but Ada was never one for straight answers. But, like Leon, perhaps she’d cast a line to help Dot understand on her own. Slowly, she slid her arm out from Dot’s curvy hips yet taking the time to savor the feel of her in her arms.

“Its true what I said back then. I didn’t come along because I’m helping the children.” she paused before she turned around, starting to walk off to lead Dot to where she wanted to go. “I’m doing this because I’d rather help you.”

[atamascolily]

A Natural History of Tatooine, part 27/?

In which Luke and Tor get outfitted and make their way into the Jundland Wastes on foot. Fortunately, long walks are a great opportunity for personal disclosures and musings on Ben Kenobi.

(Previous installments)

"Now what do we do?" Luke asked, as they made their way back to rock cliffs where he'd sheltered the <i>Destiny</i>.

"We walk," Tor said, gesturing with her remote for the ship's gangplank to come down. "I'll be in the cargo hold if you need me, getting our supplies together."

"Wait a minute--we're <i>walking</i>?"

"Unless you have a better option," she said, and sauntered up into the ship ahead of him.

He stared after for her for a moment in incredulous silence, before he shook his head and followed her aboard. He ought to have known something like this was coming. There was no way a ship the size of the <i>Destiny</i> could fit in the tight, rimrock canyons of the Jundland, and they had no other means of transport.

"We should have stopped in town for a speeder," he said when he caught up with her in the cargo hold, kneeling over two military-grade backpacks in a neutral khakhi color that would have served for the armed forces--official and otherwise--on a hundred major worlds. As a starfighter pilot in the Alliance, he'd never spent much time with the gear of the ground troops, but he was familiar with the general principles.

Tor shrugged and went back to fumbling with the fastenings. "Too narrow for a speeder in there. Besides, it would attract unwanted attention."

"From--?"

"Help me with this strap, would you?"

He abandoned the argument and held the proferred strap while she tightened it to her satisfaction. It was a foolish question, anyway. Most of the wildlife on Tatooine was a nuisance at best and lethal at worse, and  all of it would be disturbed by the noise and hum of a speeder in their domain. And then there were the Sand People to consider--

His old XP-37 speeder certainly hadn't been protected when he'd driven it into the Jundland after Artoo. If they were trying to avoid attacting the Sand Peoples' attention, it would be better to go quietly on foot, as Ben Kenobi had done all those years ago.

He took another look at the backpacks. Up close, they were clearly smuggler's knockoffs of an old Imperial style, but of surprisingly good quality. The upper section of the packs had been modified to include a bulky mechanical device wired into the top of the frame, with a clear tube with an attached mouthpiece meant to curve around the wearer's head. He had to squint at the contraption for a moment before he recognized it.

"A portable vaporator?"

"Of course. How else do you drink in the desert?"

"How do the trees manage it?"

She rolled her eyes, refusing to take the bait. "It's at least a day's walk from here to where the trees are. If you don't want any water between now and then--or you've grown roots--let me know, and I'll take yours off."  

"No, no, it's fine," Luke said quickly. "I've never seen anyone bother with anything this small, that's all, even for personal use. It's so heavy, it's awkward to carry--and water weighs a <i>lot</i>."

"It's not a particularly efficient arrangement, but it'll keep us alive and reasonably well-hydrated until we get there," Tor conceded. "Unless you think your Jedi powers can handle it--"

"No, it's fine," he said firmly, hoisting his pack up and slinging the straps over his shoulder to test the balance. "Not much maneuverability with the vaporator attached, but I'll manage. What else is in here?"

"Odds and ends," Tor said, as she wrapped her face and neck with a tan scarf. Luke caught a glimpse of her green rakusu tucked under her coveralls before she pulled a cloak over herself for an additional layer of protection. "Ration bars, emergency medkits, a portable shelter... anything I thought might be useful. There are goggles and extra protective gear in the side pouches we need them. I'm also bringing my field kit, so we can take cuttings when we get there."

Luke smiled. She was so confident there would be trees, and he still didn't have the heart to argue with her. Once they'd gotten to this mysterious place, she'd see for herself that it was a dead end, and then they'd--

Well. He wouldn't worry about what would happen after that. For now, it was enough to be far away from the academy and all the accompanying problems of his personal life. He could deal with everything else later.

The pack had a hip-belt to help balance the weight and he snapped the buckles of it into place, making sure that his lightsaber was easily accessible underneath the folds of his brown Jedi robes. It was probably overkill to have so much gear, and he wasn't sure they really <i>needed</i> it, but it was better to be prepared for the worst, just in case.  

<i>Ready or not, here we come</i>.  

***

Before they left, Tor insisted on putting a camo-cover over the <>Destiny</i> to protect it from sandstorms and especially ambitious scavengers. Luke had used camo-cover from time to time for his X-wing, but even with two people, locking and tying a cover on a ship the size of the <i>Destiny</i> was a pain. All the work seemed excessive for two days out in the canyons, but it was Tor's ship and he respected her protectiveness of it.

Still, as he stepped back to view the results of their efforts, he had to admit they were impressive. With the ship powered down and hidden behind the khaki cover, it was impossible to see its outline unless you knew it was there. Any Tuskens, if they were still out there and looking for something to scavenge, would be gravely disappointed.

"Tell me about the watchers you saw at Kenobi's place," Tor said as they set off across the dunes towards the imposing rock canyons that marked the beginning of the Jundland Wastes. She had brought her staff of tulki wood along, and was using it to help her make her way through the shifting sands.

The heat of the two suns beat down on them, so thick and intense he could almost see it, rising off the sand and rippling in the piercing light. The sooner they made it to the shelter of the dunes, the better.

"Oh, the Sand People? I don't know that much about them," Luke said. "Nobody does."

"Really? <i>Nobody</i>?"

"The Outer Rim doesn't attract many anthropologists and the Sand People aren't exactly friendly towards outsiders," he said. "A hundred years ago, a group of mostly human settlers founded Fort Tusken on the northern edge of the Jundland, about a hundred klicks from here. It was raided and destroyed by a horde of Sand People after three years of pitched battles, and everyone inside the fort was killed. There were no survivors. That's why the Sand People are also known as 'Tusken Raiders' in these parts."

"Is that typical behavior for them?" Tor asked.  

"Yes and no. Yes, because they <i>do</i> attack occasionally, but nobody really knows what triggers it. They can pass by a settlement for years without problems, only to strike without any warning and kill everyone and everything they can. And they don't seem interested in conversation or peaceful exchanges on those rare occasions when someone tries to negotiate before the shooting starts."

"Maybe they have other priorities," she suggested.  

"I guess," Luke said. "You see a lot of bands in the Dune Sea, and when I was a kid, they would occasionally come out as far as the Great Chott. But the Jundland Wastes have always been Tusken territory for as long as there have been human settlers on Tatooine. As far as I know, the Fort Tusken massacre was the last time anybody tried to stake a claim out here, except for Ben Kenobi. We always thought he was crazy, living that far out from town, alone and unprotected."

"Not so unprotected, as it turns out."  

"Well, I didn't know that at the time.... but I'm sure he must have had some dealings with them. He ran a whole pack off me when I came out here after Artoo ran away from my uncle's farm. I still don't know how he did that. I got knocked unconscious in their first attack, and when I came to, he was leaning over me, asking me if I was all right."

"Huh," Tor said.

"He knew a lot about their ways. He knew right away when we found the wreckage of the Jawa sandcrawler that had sold us Artoo and Threepio that it wasn't the Sand People who had attacked them. The Empire tried to cover it up, but they had the banthas in a group and Ben knew that Sand People always ride single file."

"Being on good terms with your neighbors is a sound strategy, particularly if they keep prying eyes away," she said. "It wouldn't surprise me if Kenobi made an arrangement with them. What do these Sand People look like?"  

"They're humanoid, but they always wear masks, brown bandages with metal holes for their eyes and mouth. If anyone's ever seen what they look like under the masks, they've never survived long enough to share it with anyone. Like the Jawas, the Sand People were here when the first Republic settlers arrived a few generations ago, but they never took well to the presence of off-worlders the way the Jawas did. They like the tech well enough, though. They use blasters and slugthrowers if they can get them, but their favorite weapon is a gaderiffi-- sort of like your staff," he said, gesturing to the one she held in her hands.  

"And you thought the ones you saw at Kenobi's place wouldn't harm us?"

"Those ones didn't," Luke said. "At least not at that moment. But I don't know what would happen if our paths cross again. I'm usually good at sensing danger before it happens, but--"

"I know. No substituion for caution."

Tor looked up towards the canyons that loomed up over them as they approached, as if scanning for dangers on the ridgeline above them. But there was nothing there that Luke could detect with any of his senses. Everything was quiet and still in the buzzy heat of the approaching noon. Everything with sense was curled up in the shade, waiting for cooler hours to go about their business, and he hoped that was true for any nearby Tuskens as well.  

***

The glare of the suns eased as they entered the shelter of the canyons, but even in the shade, the heat was intense. The vaporator in his pack slid against the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck and he had to stop several times to adjust it before it no longer shifted when he moved. When he was thirsty, he sucked at the tube by his mouth and sweet water slaked his thirst. Every time he drank, the vaporator hummed quietly and began the slow work of re-filling the storage tank again.  

Tor led the way pausing every now and then to consult the glowing navigational sphere in her hand before pressing on again. Luke envied her certainty and sureness of purpose in the maze of meandering passages that stretched out in every direction before them. Ever since Mara and Callista had left, he'd done nothing but drift in the current, unable to summon the energy to do anything else except what was directly in front of him. At least out here with Tor, he had a direction and a destination, even if the whole thing was nothing more than a wild bantha chase.

He had to admit it was a beautiful one, though. As they walked, the colors of the rock around them changed from an endless dull brown to a pale red-rose punctuated at intervals by other shades and textures marking millennia of geological upheaval and change. Tor traced the rise and fall of rivers and oceans as lines in the walls around them, as they moved through ancient riverbeds and endless sand dunes transmutated into stone through the intense pressure of grinding continents. Now and then, there were fossils in the rocks, tiny spiraling snails and shells forced back into the light after millions of years underground, weathered by rushing waters long since evaporated by the endless heat of twin suns.

"I had such a crush on Obi-wan Kenobi when I was younger," Tor said in the midst of one of these geological sililoquies.

"What?" Luke said, jolted by the unexpected change in the subject.

"I must have been fifteen or so. This was right before the Clone Wars. He was <i>famous</i> then - a general in the Republic, a war hero, and very, very handsome. There was a whole group of us in school who adored him, much to the chagrin of the proper Sawarran matrons running the place. We watched every holo and newsreel of him we could get our hands on."

"You had a crush on <i>Ben</i>?" he repeated, still dazed by her revelation. On his last trip to Tatooine, he'd seen a vision of the younger Kenboi with his pupil Anakin Skywalker--but it was hard to reconcile that image and those he'd pieced together out of the surviving records with the aged hermit Luke had known.

"He was too old for me," Tor said, as if that explained everything. "But I especially liked that he wasn't Sawarran - it made him seem so exotic and forbidden to someone who'd never even been off-planet before, especially in a place as insular as Sawarra. But then I went away to university, and the political situation in the Republic deteriorated and I got distracted with the movement protesting the widespread corruption of the Galactic Senate. Then Palpatine declared himself Emperor, the pro-Imperial faction on Sawarran staged a coup and declared all of us enemies of the state and I went into hiding at Akkan-ji. And now here I am, walking in Obi-wan's footsteps with his final student. It's funny how life works, that's all."

Luke nodded. He'd had similar thoughts over the course of his strange and varied career.

"Do you know why he came here in the first place?" Tor asked after a while.

"Me, I think," Luke said. "He dropped me off with my aunt and uncle when I was a baby--to keep me hidden from Vader--and stuck around to watch over me. He was waiting for when I was old enough to train as a Jedi, but Uncle Owen never let him talk to me. Got real mad whenever his name even came up and I never knew why until the day I left Tatooine for good. Once my friend Windy and I went out on his pet dewback and got stuck in a sandstorm and Ben rescued us and made sure we got home safe. I thought Uncle Owen was going to have a heart attack when he saw me with him. Nearly ran him off our place with his slugthrower."

"Why did Owen hate him so much?"

Luke had wondered this himself, off and on over the years. "I think he blamed him for what happened to Anakin," he said carefully. "I don't know if he knew about Vader or the Force--but I think he believed that Ben was responsible for my father's death. From a certain point of view, that's exactly what happened."

"Was he really Anakin's brother?" Tor asked. "Or was that another way in which Kenobi stretched the truth?"

"I always thought they were related, but I don't know for sure. It--wasn't something he and Aunt Beru ever wanted to talk about, and I gave up asking after a while because I knew they didn't like it. But they did tell me that my mother was an off-worlder, who had died giving birth to me, and Anakin had grown up here before he left to become a pilot."

"Have you thought about a gene test, then?" she said.

"I mean, yes--but it doesn't really matter now, does it? They <i>were</i> my family, when it counted--they raised me and took care of me and treated me as if I were their own son. And even if I was interested, there isn't much material left to test. The Empire took care of that when they razed the farm to the ground."

"Do you have any other relatives?"

"Not that I know of. Aunt Beru had some cousins over near Bestine, but I never knew them very well--she always went alone to visit them."

But what if that was a lie, too? There was so much he'd taken for granted that had been swept away from him over the years, revelation after revelation after revelation. There was so much he didn't know, and Tor's questions were bringing all of that ignorance into sharp relief.

Leia always said it didn't matter who your blood relatives were, it was the family you <i>chose</i> that mattered--but Leia had grown up on Alderaan, with its complicated family ties and vast network of social connections, with a complex language that required the speakers to establish exactly how they were related before any conversation could proceed.

Once, perhaps, he would have been jealous of Leia's upbringing, so different from the lonely isolation of his own childhood in the desert. But now--after they'd both lost so much--it didn't seem important. They'd built a new family together with the people they cared about.

The thought of Leia sent a pang through him. They hadn't talked since that last conversation before the practice period, and it had been far, far, too long. He should call her when he got back to the <i>Destiny</i> and let her know what he was up to--

But then he'd have to tell her about Callista. About Mara. It was impossible to hide anything from Leia. As soon as she'd saw his face, she'd know something was wrong. And he wasn't sure he was ready for that quite yet.

Despite the fact that she'd named her youngest son after him, Leia was agressively uninterested in exploring Anakin Skywalker's genealogy. He couldn't imagine her enthusiasm if he pursued this path, even though it was probably better to know the truth than to remain ignorant--

"I'll think about a gene test," he said into the silence. "Maybe Ghent or someone can dredge up some records somewhere and we can see. I don't expect to find anything, but--I never expected Vader to be my father or Leia to be my sister. Like you said, it's funny how life works out."

They continued on through the canyons in silence.

[peacekeeper-xiv]

Honest Q&A: Round 3! Table

By the Twelve! You’re all back!? I mean… um… welcome back, all. Yes. *Cough* Well, as much as it pains me to admit it, I am rather surprised you all accepted my invitation a third time. Excluding mister Mordenson who has… um... graciously chosen to join us despite lacking an invitation… Let’s begin with the obvious question. As usual, we will go around the table.

What is it that prompts you to answer these questions?

Lloire: “I suppose for myself, it’s that I have been through a lot lately. Answering these helps me better understand that man I was and who he is and who he is becoming. The more you learn about me, the more I learn about myself.”

Beta: “That… was surprisingly honest and introspective. Um… We have to be honest right? I’m mostly here to learn more about that guy and to make snarky comments.”

Chadrick: “Aye, ye do seem t’ ‘ave a chip on yer shoulder with ‘Scars’ there lad. Fer me? Ye offered me tha’ hefty pouch o’ gi—O’… too ‘onest ye say? As ye like.”

Aasifa: “The winds blow Aasifa here. You must ask them if you are wanting to know this thing, yes?”

K’risa: “Wait, I thought this was some kinda counseling thing? You’re not just some weirdo asking random questions are you?”

Benedict: “Master Peace there has the right of it. To know oneself is to know the gods.”

Chance: “Good fucking question. Hells if I know.”

Felix: *Laughs* “Master… Peace. Hah. I was bored.”

 Alright. Well, now that we have that settled, let’s get into the list of questions our readers have, yes? Great.

Imagine a future point in your life where all your dreams come true. It's the greatest moment in your life and you get to experience it with -one- person. Who's standing next to you?

Lloire: “…I… Well… I have no idea. It depends on the path I take I suppose. We defeat the empire, it’s Ikara or Soren. I manage to uncover all the lost magicks of the world and start a new school of magick, probably Yuti. I… retire and settle down to cook and live with a family… Some unknown person I’ve not met yet or a child I suppose. Choosing one person is too difficult I fear.”

Beta: “No it’s not. Watch. Ikara.” *Eyes Lloire suspiciously*

Chadrick: “Ah’m with tha lad truthfully. But maybe tha’s just us and ye ‘ave way more close friends than we. Fer me though, Aislyn.”

Aasifa: “Hmm, if Aasifa’s dreams are coming true, he is likely alone but he is rathering companion Rahya is with him, yes?”

K’risa: “Rathering is not a word. Where are you from anyways? Oh, I, uh, sorry I asked. Anyways, I don’t know enough people and I’m not all that close to anyone anymore so, I can’t say. Maybe the kid there. He’s adorable and snarky and would probably make whatever it was all the more fun.”

Benedict: “Sunny would be with me. This much I know.”

Chance: “Helfyre.”

Felix: “Oh, you’d all be witness to it.” *cackles* “But only Aya would be standing beside me.”

 On an average day, what can be found in your pockets?

Lloire: “Hmm, crystals, jewels, a knife, a few vials perhaps. Some gil obviously. On average.”

Beta: “Gears, wires, bolts, screws, tube of grease, tools, crystals, some nuts and berries maybe. Paper, pen. Um… tape, maybe some choco- oh, that’s enough Sure.”

Chadrick: “A wee bit o’ gil Ah suppose. Most e’erythin else is in me pack instead. Ah prefer t’ keep light on me feet.”

Aasifa: “Hmm, let Aasifa be seeing, yes?” *Starts emptying out pockets on the table* “Pepper shaker, feather of big fluffy dragon with hard to say name, someone else’s grocery list, wishbone of Dodo bird. Hmm… Ball of yarn, playing card, ball from Moogle Paw game. A shell from a snail. A pair of broken spectacles, a frog. Hmm, this is where garlean rubber band ball went. Wait… where is Aasifa’s cotton bolls?”

K’risa: “H-how did, did, you, fit?” *rubs her eyes* “Anyways! Sewing needle, thread, gil, measuring tape, that kinda stuff.”

Benedict: “Gil, as the others have noted… save for Lord Taqalid there. I also keep pamphlets for those interested in learning more of the Twelve as well as marks for each of them. Would anyone here like a pamphlet, no? Alright…”

Chance: “Gil. Knife.”

Felix: “Hmm, herb, poisons, bones, stones, vial of various bloods. What’s with the look? Oh please… fine.”

 What’s a body part that you wouldn’t mind losing?

Lloire: “Do we get to live without it? If so, I’d happily remove my heart.”

Beta: “Wow…. Just wow. That… yea.. um… I’d say… Maybe a leg? I could build a magitek one to replace mine. Maybe build a firearm inside it. One of those small ones that pops out in a bind. That would be neat, right?”

Chadrick: “Right… Ye both ‘ave given this thought before Ah see… Ah’d pick, feck… me little finger on me nay dominant ‘and Ah suppose. Cannay imagine losing me ability t’ see tha beauty o’ tha world, or smell good food some lass cooked, or hear ‘er beautiful singing or… well, ye get tha idea.”

Aasifa: “Aasifa is picking his appendix, yes?”

K’risa: “Your what now? I almost wanna swap seats again. I’d lose, an ear I guess? I could always wear hats to hide it.”

Benedict: “Hmm, I need my legs and arms to pray, perhaps an eye. Even if I lost both, Sunny leads us where we need to go anyways.”

Chance: “None. What? He said ‘mind’. I’d mind losing anything. You’re all freaks for not minding.”

Felix: “You know what an appendix is?” *eyes Aasifa* “I mean, that -is- the best answer, but mine is anything except my head. Whatever it is can be grown back.”

 What are three labels that you identify with?

Lloire: “Mage, survivor, guilty.”

Beta: “Yup… that sounds about right. You prolly should’a added Martyr first though. For me, Engineer, Inventor, and… Young.”

Chadrick: “Well shyte… ‘ero, dashin’, an’ expert.”

Aasifa: “What is label meaning? Oh! This thing! Aasifa is called vagrant, vagabond, and drifter, yes?”

K’risa: “Sure, Chad, sure. So glad you didn’t add humble. I guess for me it would be miqo’te, seamstress, excitable.”

Benedict: “This is an easy question. Faithful, devout, and friend”

Chance: “Merc, wolf, practical.”

Felix: “Manipulative, cunning, shadow.”

 Do you believe in soulmates?

Lloire: “… I did.”

Beta: “…not touching that one. Um, yes. I do.”

Chadrick: “Look, ye can test tha’ souls are real. Ye can also force two souls t’ bind t’gether. It’s nay ‘bout belief. It’s tha science o’ animas. But t’ answer tha question yer actually posing, nay. There be nay two people perfectly matched fer one another. Believin’ so will break yer ‘eart. There’s struggles an’ pain an’ shyte t’ work through to make things work, aye?”

Aasifa: “Aasifa is disagreeing. There is someone perfect for you, they are just not perfect person, yes?”

K’risa: “I’m with Lloire.”

Benedict: “Divine is their will. I cannot say that Nymeia’s hand does not guide two threads together in the forming of a beautiful tapestry.”

Chance: “No. Shit’s dumb. I’m with snowylocks there. You find someone you wanna be with and you work with them to make it. It isn’t some meant to be thing that doesn’t take hard work.”

Felix: “Hmm, actually. Yes. I do.”

 What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?

Lloire: “This may sound morbid… but the calamity. It was horrifying, terrifying, yet, beautiful it its raw destructive power. Bahamut is a terrible creature. Terrible, yet beautiful.”

Beta: “That… you are just full of surprises today. Anyroad… I saw some sketches of the inner workings of Alexander while speaking with some goblins in Idyllshire. They were the most… um. I mean Ikara. Yup! Definitely Ikara.”

Chadrick: “Tha’ was tha worst save in tha ‘istory o’ lads sayin’ dumb shyte tha’ might get back t’ their lasses e’er boyo. Ye need some practice. Ah can give ye a few pointers if ye like later. As fer me? Me ma’s smile.”

Aasifa: “Friend Chadrick is sweet person at times, yes? The lights of golden saucer from afar are prettiest thing Aasifa is thinking of.”

K’risa: “Chadrick! Don’t you dare corrupt that sweet, innocent, pure boy!” *Huffs* “Oh, right… umm… Snowfields. They just look so pure. Even if it’s cold as heck.”

Benedict: “The Sanctum of the Twelve is a beautiful place if you have not been.”

Chance: “Get the feeling ‘Scars’ there would disagree Benny. Sunrise. Means you made it through the night.”

Felix: “There was this Alagan princess…”

 Moving on!

What single act are you most ashamed of?

Lloire: “Trying to kill myself.”

Beta: “Good! You should be! But um… I’m glad you realized that… so um… that’s good. Uh… Oh! I know. Um, when I upset Ikara by not knowing what she meant about liking me and an awkward first kiss and yea… I felt like a warped tool.”

Chadrick: “Stealin’ from an old woman. Ah mean, she di’nay know ‘ow dangerous wha’ she ‘ad was… an’ it was fer ‘er own good… but still, it felt nasty, aye?”

Aasifa: “Aasifa let someone he was close to take her own life, yes? He did not see how miserable she had become and did not make better. This is greatest failure.”

K’risa: “That’s, really sad. Um. For me, failing for a hero.”

Benedict: “I think those thoughts are best left for confession with one’s gods.”

Chance: “Nothing wrong with falling for a hero. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done. I wouldn’t change things.”

Felix: “What I put my daughter through.”

 Everyone has disdain for something or someone.  Who or what do you consider yourself to be “above”?

Lloire: “If I’m to be honest… those who the Imperials subjugate. The ones who work for them after they have been conquered. I have to fight off those feelings.”

Beta: “Yea, not everyone is a stupidly stubborn as you. Um… I guess… if I have to say… brutish people who only solve things with violence?”

Chadrick: “Primals. Nasty buggers. Nay ‘ave any respect fer somethin’ tha’ enslaves its followers.”

Aasifa: “The dirt? For now, yes.”

K’risa: “That’s not what they--. Nevermind. Um, I’m with Chad on this one. Fuck Ifrit and his followers.”

Benedict: “I am a lowly man in service to the Gods. No one is below me.”

Chance: “Cowards.”

Felix: “It’s better for all of your prides that I simply pass on this one.”

 What do you wish you had more time for?

Lloire: “Fishing.”

Beta: “Spending time with Ikara. I should make more time.”

Chadrick: “E’erything. There are nay enough ‘ours in tha’ day t’ get e’erythin accomplished.”

Aasifa: “Living, Aasifa is thinking, yes?”

K’risa: “To keep track of J’ahama and P’arunru and to just hang out with them.”

Benedict: “I would like to have more time devoted to do things Sunny enjoys doing. She gets bored with my reading and prayers and I would want to spend more time letting her have fun.”

Chance: “I’m kept busy enough. I’m good, thanks.”

Felix: “I have all the time in the world.”

 What are some skills that you think everyone should learn?

Lloire: “Sewing and cooking. You can get though a lot of things that way. People tend to be more agreeable on a full stomach. Knowing how to close a wound with a needle can save a life.”

Beta: “I… think you’re the only person that took up sewing to learn to apply it to flesh. I think everyone should know the basics of magitek operation. It’s not going anywhere guys, even if the Empire crumbles.”

Chadrick: “E’eryone should learn t’ play an instrument. Music can soothe tha savage beast as they say. Whether it’s an actual beast or yer beast within.”

Aasifa: “Aasifa is thinking everyone is needing to know how to defend selves, yes? Hmm, he is wondering how friend L’ania has been now.”

K’risa: “The brooding handsome over there already gave my answer, but for me, you never know when your clothes will catch a snag or rip and its way better to travel through Ishgard or the desert without torn clothing.”

Benedict: “Navigation! I am awful at it and would be lost without my guide. I really must offer Llymlaen more prayers.”

Chance: “Basic shit. How to light a fire without aether, pitch a tent, gather firewood, survival in the wilderness kind of things. Seen a lot of corpses out in the wild just dead to the elements.”

Felix: “Alchemy. You’d be surprised at what can be accomplished through it.”

 How good of a dancer are you?

Lloire: “Decent. Better when it’s a slow dance with a partner. I’m not terribly great at the solo dances unless they are more ritualistic or tribal in nature.”

Beta: “Yea, no. I’ve got two left feet. I’m really bad at dancing.”

Chadrick: “Step dance, slow dance, dance at a ball. Ye name it, Ah’ll manage it. Lu’ made sure o’ tha’.”

Aasifa: “Yes. Aasifa is thinking he can dance well.”

K’risa: “I haven’t had much chance to learn. -Someone- was still pouting about his ex and her dancing.”

Benedict: “I… do not dance. Sunny does though! She is very good at it.”

Chance: “Do I -look- like I dance?”

Felix: “No, not really wolf-boy, but neither does Lloire there, so... Myself? I was forced to learn eventually. Been a few dozen years since I’ve needed to though.”

 Do you have any good luck charms or rituals?

Lloire: “Aye, I have a Gagaroon luck-die that Soren gave me a while back. I never travel without the thing. I’m still alive despite my best efforts, so I imagine the thing works.”

Beta: “Yea, if that thing is to blame, we all could use one. Um, I have a lucky wrench? I guess that counts?”

Chadrick: “Psh! Me blood is lucky. An’ Ah’ve all tha charm Ah’ll e’er need.” *Laughs* “Jestin’ aside, nay Ah di’nay carry around any sort o’ lucky charms.”

Aasifa: “Aasifa has pendant that is for this purpose, yes? He is loaning to friend to keep safe.”

K’risa: “Nope. I’m all full up on luck and charms, thanks.”

Benedict: “Nymeia is favored by those who seek luck. Having her with me at all times should suffice.”

Chance: “Fools that trust to luck wind up dead.”

Felix: “You, mister wolf, are no fun. I have one of our companions old coins. He was the embodiment of luck.”

 Worst injury you have had?

Lloire: “Assuming we’re not going with self-inflicted, it would be the repeated beatings to my face that left me half blind.”

Beta: “Oh, not counting self-inflicted. That took out half of yours, huh? Um… I guess the small burn I got when that ceruleum tank caught fire?”

Chadrick: “Ah ‘ad this ‘ead injury, made me forget who Ah was fer a time.”

Aasifa: “Aasifa was stabbed through stomach once. Very painful! Yes.”

K’risa: “I’ve been lucky enough not to get hurt too bad yet.”

Benedict: “As have I.”

Chance: “Took an arrow to my heel once. That brought me down awhile.”

Felix: “Just one? I remember I took about fifteen or so once. Blood everywhere.”

 Who influenced your personality growing up?

Lloire: “My ma’ and Aliya later.”

Beta: “Um… Lucilus I suppose.”

Chadrick: “Lad, yer still growin’ up. Fer me it was definitely me ma an’ me da. Both in their own way.”

Aasifa: “The Commander of the Guard.”

K’risa: “My father.”

Benedict: “Halone largely, but also my aunt.”

Chance: “Myself.”

Felix: “Nettle’s family.”

 If you could remove one emotion from your life, which would you choose?

Lloire: “Guilt most likely.”

Beta: “I’d get rid of bitterness. I hate that feeling.”

Chadrick: “Nay a damned one. There’s too much o’ life in each. Ye get rid o’ sadness an’ ye lose sight o’ wha’ it means ‘ be ‘appy. Ye lose guilt per say, an’ wha’ is there t’ make ye learn t’ nay ‘urt others?”

Aasifa: “Fear. Aasifa would be fearless!”

K’risa: “Jealousy. It’s a nasty nasty emotion.”

Benedict: *turns a shade of red* “Desire.”

Chance: “I think that’s just call lust Benny. And oddball, fear is important, keeps you alive. I’m kinda with snowylocks. You need all of them to be effective.”

Felix: “No, no. I like Lloire’s answer for once. Guilt weighs too much.”

 Well, thank you for your answers. Will I see you all again next time?

Lloire: “Most likely.”

Beta: “Sure. It’s interesting to see what you come up with to ask us.”

Chadrick: “S’long as ye keep up our agreement, aye.”

Aasifa: “If the winds blow Aasifa this way.”

K’risa: “Why not?”

Benedict: “Twelve willing.”

Chance: “…”

Felix: “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

Tagged by: Uh, I made this one. So @me?

Tagging: @wicked-virtue @yutikyis @waitingrose @susukosuko @hedgearcher @hana-xiv @devil-you-know @nebula1984 and anyone I might have left off or forgotten.

[starc00kie]

Lucimano Soulmate AU

A/N: Tell me if you want an angsty sequel!

For years we've grown up seeing different coloured hearts floating over every person's head. Whoever shares the same shade as you is supposedly your soulmate, I can't be the one to tell you because no one knows what colour my heart is, not even me. If people become tainted with negative emotions the centre of the heart turns black, and mine's too broken for you to see anything BUT the centre. I guess it's my fault isn't it? I let myself become envious, sad, and maybe a little bit angry. My grandpa preferred my brother and put me up for adoption, and everyone continued to prefer my brother and dislike me... it's always the same. He even found his "soulmate" with a lime green heart over his head. I don't like him, he scares me, not only is he all my brother talks about now and takes all his time, but our grandpa died from a doctor trying to rush his procedure, I think you can guess who's dad that was.

I don't know if I'm actually just jealous, but those are the reason's I don't like him and I can't come to trust him with my little brother. Feliciano is... always at his soulmate's house, he barely comes home to see me anymore. I overheard his friend/third-wheel Kiku telling some other kid that my brother was even planning to move in with his soulmate. Sometimes I can't help but wonder, would I care so much if I had a soulmate of my own? A ruler smacks down in front of me, sending a harsh ringing careening through my ears, "Mr.Vargas! Are you looking to get sent to the principal's office?" Our teacher, Mrs.Marabella growled, clearly angry that I've fallen asleep in her boring ass math class for the fourth time today. "N-No Mrs, it won't happen again." She shot me another glare, but my statement somehow seemed to satisfy her as I'd answered the equations correct both the second and third time. I just sat there and stared at the ticking clock as everyone around me whispered about how lazy I am, I want the bell to ring.

It's finally over, my last class of the day. I don't even bother to look for Feli this time and just head straight home, not letting anything distract me from my path. That was a lie, I can deny it as much as I want but I can't ignore how easily I'm distracted. This time though, it was something incredibly eye-catching for me. A cute little shop with a wooden sign that spelled out the words, 'H E A R T  S M I T H' across the roof of the shop. I know it's dumb, but I didn't even hesitate before entering the shop. Almost everything inside was either white or lavender, from the carpet to the lights overhead. There was a chemist sitting at his desk, peering into some test tubes with a cracked lavender heart slightly tinged with black in the centre floating above his head. "U-Um... c-ciao." The words came out of my mouth flat and awkward, great introduction Lavino, bravo. The man looked up at me and quickly tried to change his comfortable posture. 

"Ah! Ciao, my name is Flavio, how can I help you~?" He smiled softly at me and held his hand out to shake. "L-Lavino, I was wondering if me heart is... repairable." I shook his hand limply, looking at the ground as to not meet his gaze.He grimaced as he peered up at the remains above my head. "Do you mind if I... take a closer look at it?" He asked, cupping his hands carefully. I nodded my head and pulled the heart from above my head and shifted it over to let it float over his hands. He pulled out a mini telescope from his breast pocket and closely examined the broken heart. "I can fix it... but it will cause you severe depression while it's being repaired, do you have anyone you can stay with during the procedure?" He asked, I shook my head miserably, looking down, I didn't even notice when the hot tears fell down my face. He looked at me pitifully before looking back at my heart. "I, have a brother who probably wouldn't mind staying with you, would that be okay?"

He handed me his number, and gave me a quick hug before setting my heart on his desk. "I'll start on it as soon as you call to let me know you're home alright?" His eyes were soft as he gave me a rainbow lollipop from the pot on his desk, I hesitantly took it, which he seemed to be happy about, and nodded my head one last time before turning around and exiting the small shop. I had a spring in my step all the way back to our shared house. I called the chemist known as Flavio to let him know that I had reached home and was prepared for the procedure to begin. Flavio said okay and began to cut into the piece of heart on his desk, causing me to drop the phone and fall to my knees sobbing in pain and misery. After a while, the feeling dulled as I got used to it, which meant that Flavio wasn't cutting anymore. "Lavino? Lavino are you there?" Flavio's voice practically echoed throughout the room from the phone. "Y-Yeah, I am." He wasn't sobbing anymore.

"Well... You know how I told you about my brother, right?" He asked, "his heart is the same colour as yours." My eyes widened, his brother was my soulmate? I couldn't believe it, all I could do was gasp, which apparently was enough for Flavio. "I told him, he's on his way over, he'll look after you until I'm done, okay?" Flavio asked me and waited until I agreed before he hung up. I guess it was just because the store was in town, but I was still nervous when I heard the door open and close softly. "Hey, I'm Luciano, Flavio's brother." a velvety voice slid through the air as if it were silk. I couldn't see him, but I heard his approaching footsteps, and felt the warmth as he pulled me into his lap. "I know this probably isn't the ideal way to meet your soulmate, but he said you were undergoing drastic heart remodelling so... I wanted to be here to... y'know" He mumbled, getting more quiet as he spoke. "No, I don't know, enlighten me." My voice came out sassy and slightly hostile, not even the way I meant for them to sound, but Luciano only giggled.

"Most people undergoing remodelling become suicidal once what is left has been severed and attached to new parts, I'm... basically supposed to stay with lonely patients to make sure they don't do anything stupid." He gave me a half smile, not gonna lie it was the dorkiest smile I have ever seen, but it was still somehow beautiful to me. we ended up staying up all night, he'd just talk to me on and on until Flavio finally called to tell me that the procedure was over. Luciano asked if he could spend the night with me, and of course the older brother happily obliged. I learned a lot about Luciano that night, from his schizophrenia, to his love of sweets, and shared interests with me. He seemed really happy to meet me, but there's only one thing I can't shake off, he had a sort of guilt behind his eyes, I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he told me it was nothing until I attempted to move on and asked the one unfortunate question. "So... does Flavio have a soulmate?"

The sadness took over his eyes as he slowly shook his head, subconsciously reaching for my hand for comfort. "They found each other online and planned to go on a date. Flavio got there early and waited, only to see his soulmate get hit by a car... his name was apparently Mani, he only got to see what she looked like for a split second. He doesn't want to heal his heart because... he's afraid that he'll forget about her." He was crying now, and for once I understood his guilt. Yes, he was happy to find his soulmate, but knowing his brother didn't have one anymore made his heart heavy. "It's okay, he's happy for you... and no matter what happens he's still have unconditional love even without a soulmate..." I trailed off, I didn't know what else to say, and I feared it was only making his pain worse. Luciano looked at me, confused, until the words sunk in and his eyes went wide. "Y-Yeah, I won't leave him... I hope he knows that." Luciano was smiling again, holding his soulmates hand and trying to decipher his expression.

"Thank you." He said softly, pulling me into a hug. I shook my head, but I didn't pull away, I didn't want to. it took about half an hour until we reverted back to normal and were able to talk about other topics, but we did, can't say we separated from each other though. I told Luciano all about my brother and my upbringing, while he told me how Flavio raised him and his younger brother after their father passed away due to liver failure. He had a lot of funny stories to tell, and for once I wanted to listen. We ended up going out and buying four whole tubs of ice cream around midnight and returning home to binge watch a show that we both enjoy. He wasn't as far into the season as I was, but I didn't mind rewatching a couple episodes in order for him to catch up. I don't think we slept at all that night, we just kept binging shows and having long drawn-out conversations. It was great to be honest, I even got up the courage to show him my sketchbook. I continued my self deprecating habit, but Luciano stopped me saying he can't draw a stick figure. 

I jokingly told him to prove it and flipped to a blank page, rolling a pencil over to him. He seemed nervous, but it still kept a smile on his face as he took the pencil in his left hand and setting the tip to this paper. I watched as he brought his hand straight down, but he ended up making a diagonal squiggly line. Next was the head, which turned out to be an incomplete oval. Two more squiggly lines and he was done his jelly-looking stick figure. He put down the pencil and stared at his creation. I was planning to put my hand on his shoulder and comfort him as I know how frustrating it can be to see something you drew as a failure, that was, until he started laughing his ass off. I have to say that his laughter is incredibly contagious, in seconds I was laughing too, doubling over in laughter beside him. I guess even if I'm not as good as Feliciano at art, at least I'm not quite as bad as my soulmate. 

The next morning I walked Luciano to the shop his brother owned. It was Saturday so I didn't need to go to school today. When we walked in, Flavio was looking sadly at a crying girl with green hair and a shattered sea-foam heart floating above her head. "I'm sorry, I can change your heart's colour or sew the cracks, but you'll lose your love for them." Flavio said softly, gently setting his hand on top of the girl's head, she didn't even look at him, just continued to sob louder. Luciano looked uncomfortable, especially when Flavio gave him some sort of... hand signal? Luciano slowly nodded, before going behind the desk, grabbing something from underneath it, and approaching the girl. He pulled a syringe out of his sleeve and injected it into her neck and lowering her to the ground. Flavio went over and took the girl's heart, laying it on the desk and brandishing his sewing needle... until Luciano put another syringe in his neck, leaving him slumped at his desk with his needle in hand. 

"I have an idea." Luciano grinned, turning to me and motioning for me to come over. I did as he asked and watched as he removed his brother's heart and set it next to the girl's before grabbing a sea-foam liquid. "If the sea-foam spreads slowly when he's awake it'll look natural!" He practically cheered, "I don't know what will happen after I tamper with fate, but I just... hope this works..." He was a heart chemist apprentice, so I couldn't really tell him what was wrong or right, but something little nipped at the back of my mind. "Hey... doesn't colour only drip when the heart is over the person's head?" Luciano turned around quickly and nodded as if he had forgotten it. He grabbed a white liquid, and injected all of it into his brother's heart, "this is to make sure the colours don't mix, I've seen fratello do this hundreds of times." he mumbled as he worked, he then asked me to put the heart back over Flavio's head as his hands were covered in lavender. I did so and watched as he injected green into the heart without it changing the colour.  

He then sat Flavio up into his original position and walked over to the place where he was originally standing, I fallowed suit. It didn't take long for Flavio to awaken, same with the girl but Luciano put her back asleep. Flavio lifted the girl's heart again and stitched up the wounds before walking over to the girl and putting it over her head. Luciano feigned a gasp, "fratello! Your heart changed colour!" Flavio's eyes widened and he frantically reached up to look at his heart. Sure enough, his heart was now sea-foam green like the girl's. Flavio was blushing and shaking slightly, and Luciano had to hug him just to keep him standing. The girl woke up right that moment and stared at Flavio, I wasn't sure if it's just because he's right in front of her or it was the sudden love towards him, but I did see a faint blush across her cheeks. I didn't know what was in store, but for now, I'm happy, for the first time in a decade.

[urbanadventureleague]

Portland is about 70 miles from the Pacific Ocean, at least “as the crow flies”. Close enough that we all know its there,* but still just far enough away that it’s not the easiest place to get to regularly. By car it’s a 90-120 minute drive. By bus, maybe three hours. By bike? At bare minimum, one long day of a ride.

And anyone who lives in Portland and bike tours hears the clarion call of the waves at least once a year. So plans to “go to the Coast”** are made. Now, one can take a couple different buses with bike in tow to get out there, but there’s that itch that can’t be scratched, called “biking to the coast”.

As I said, at bare minimum it will take you the better part of a day to get out there, and if you want to take it easy, two. The big problem is there is no great route to the coast. The most direct ways are the most busy, so to avoid them, you’re either doing something circuitous, or hard, or both. Some people go for the Advanced Studies of figuring out an all-gravel route over the Coast Range using the tangle of unmarked logging roads criss-crossing the slopes. While rewarding in its own badassitude (and solitude), it’s not for the faint of heart or those without good GPS units.

The weekend of May 20 was turning out pretty nice in Portland, which was really nice after such a damn long winter. Several days in a row without rain? Sign me up! Originally I was going to have a “three day weekend” starting Sunday the 21st, but at the eleventh hour it remarkably turned into a four-day one starting Saturday! Pack the bags, it’s time for a mini-tour!

With four days to play with, I had the time to take a two day ride out to the coast, and even ride back if I wanted to. There were many different options, but I decided to go with this one: Ride from my house over the St Johns Bridge and north on US 30 to Scappoose, then take the Crown Zellerbach Trail over the Nehalem Divide, then follow the Nehalem out to the ocean at Nehalem Bay. I’ve only done the Crown Zellerbach once before in 2014, so I was ready for another expedition. I had never been down the Nehalem all the way, though I almost did in 2013.

I got a late start on Saturday, pretty typical. The ride through North Portland and over St Johns Bridge was pretty smooth for a weekend day. US 30 was okay for a bit, but Dirty Thirty lived up to its name, as a piece of metal pierced my rear tire outside of Scappoose. Ugh. Yeah, I don’t know if I’m feeling the supple tire action for these conditions. I replaced the tube with my spare and soldiered on.

The Crown Zellerbach Trail was tougher than I thought it would be! It’s an old logging railroad, mostly unpaved, and used for years as a logging truck road. I had to get my loaded bike over a downed tree in the first couple miles and worried that this would be a regular occurrence. Thankfully that was the only one, at least on the section of trail I completed. The rest of the trail alternated between peaceful and sublime moments interspersed with steep climbs and mud. I reached the top of the Nehalem Divide, saw the “trail closed ahead” sign (most likely because of logging activity, but I heard afterwards there’s more downed trees on this section), and decided to descend on the paved Scappoose-Vernonia Hwy instead.

I ended the night at Anderson Park in Vernonia, almost fifty miles in.*** The nice thing about this park is it’s right on the edge of this small town, so all those conveniences are readily available. I ate dinner at a nice Mediterranean place, and in the morning had breakfast at the cafe. And…there was another bike tourist at the campground! Robyn was heading from Portland out to the coast, but instead of going to Nehalam, she was planning a 90 mile day using the Westport Ferry across the Columbia and then eventually to Astoria! It was tempting to join her, but I didnt’ feel like a 90 mile day**** and really wanted to check out the Nehalem. (But man, I do need to get to Astoria at some point!)

The road ahead was mostly peaceful, as I was following a river down to the sea. The route (OR 47 to 202 to 103) was mostly quiet too, though there was a vehicle at least every couple minutes. The “store”***** at Birkenfeld was open, which was surprising, as it’s often closed. I had a nice cold lager, which was so refreshing at that point. I took a break at the store in Elsie (junction of 103 and US 26), then grit my teeth for a couple miles of 26 until the turnoff for the fabled Lower Nehalem River Road.

This road is a secret back door to the coast, not well known and lightly trafficked. It was closed for a few years due to a washed out bridge, but another reason why it’s off the beaten path is because about 20 miles of it is gravel. The first five miles from 26 were paved, and brought me to Spruce Run Campground. The campground was pretty nice and besides the Nehalem. I was already 50 miles in and considered staying, but fuck it! I really wanted to see the ocean tonight! So I pressed on. Also, since I haven’t ridden a real long distance for a real long time, I wanted to push myself and see if I was still capable for the long haul.

The first section of the gravel was actually pretty nice and level, which lulled me into complacency. However, when I crossed into Tillamook County by the Salmonberry River crossing, things changed. The gravel got chunkier, and there were several small but very steep hills that sapped my energy. Plus, I saw signs for a road closure at Wolf Creek. Am I on Wolf Creek Road? I don’t think so, but nothing is well signed here and damn, I haven’t seen a car coming in quite some time. So then I started to panic, and push on harder. A road closure would mean the promise of the coast would be denied, and I would have to turn around and come back the way I came.****** I was not in a good mental state. Eventually, a car approached from the opposite direction and I flagged it down to ask the question. Yep, the road goes through to the coast! My mood was lifted for a bit…until I noticed my front end getting squishy. Damn. Slow leak? I hate them, since sometimes you can’t find the leak. And I had no spare tube. (I typically repair the damaged tube at camp, but I had forgotten that the tube I pulled out the rear had sealant in it. No go.) Plus, getting the tire on and off the rear was a total pain. Would the front be the same?

I put some air into the front. It seemed to hold, so I pushed on. Thankfully, the pavement began back up, so I didn’t have to worry about another rock causing a pinch flat or something. I rolled into the town of Nehalem around 7 pm, and found myself at a pizza place where I devoured a small pie. Then I rode the couple miles to Nehalem Bay State Park and dumped bike and gear at the hiker/biker campsite. I ran over to the beach, where I just missed the sunset. But it was still great to see the Pacific Ocean in all its glory!

There were people camped in the hiker/biker campsite, but no one was present or awake, which gave the place an eerie presence in the twilight as I set up camp. Exhausted after an 80 mile day, I slept good that night.

I awoke Monday morning, May 22, with no real plans. I knew I wasn’t going to ride all the way back to Portland, so I just needed to be in Tillamook by 1 PM on Tuesday to get home on time. I could stay here at Nehalem Bay for another night, but I decided I wanted to explore. First things first: fix the front flat. Thankfully, the front tire was easier to remove and mount, and the leak was obvious. I patched it and I was good to go.

First I biked the couple miles into nearby Manzanita, a cute li’l beach town, where I got some supplies and got an underwhelming lunch. (My preferred option was closed.) I rode south along US 101 for about 20 miles to get to my destination for the night, Barview Jetty. Oh sure, I could have ridden another 25 miles to my favorite campsite on the coast, Cape Lookout. But I felt like taking it easy, and I had never been to Barview. Barview was a real nice campground, but expensive! I’m used to the state park hiker/biker sites costing $5 to $6 a night. But Barview is a Tillamook County park, and the site was $20! Yeeps! Still, I was really close to the beach, and I had a good sunset.

Tuesday morning I packed up camp, rode about 13 miles south on 101 to Tillamook and caught the bus home. My coast mini-tour was done.

All in all, it was a decent trip. But the ride to the coast was longer and tougher than I planned, at just about 130 miles. Since I hadn’t ridden anything that long in a long time, it felt harder. But it was nice to know that I could push myself to do this, especially with some good touring plans on the horizon. As it was, this was the first time I had camped two or more consecutive nights since my Vancouver Island-San Juans Tour in September/October. I had only done two consecutive nights then, so this trip was a good test of my touring setup and my ability to get a decent nights’ sleep on the road. And I did, at least after the first night. This shakedown gave me the confidence to go out on a longer tour soon.

And man oh man, I love the coast! It’s been too long, Pacific Ocean. At certain points in my life I was quite the “beach rat” and got to know some beaches on the Atlantic coast. The Pacific is more awesome in many ways, except for the fact I can’t swim in it. And I realize that I need to get out to the coast more often. Will I bike out the next time? Probably not. I’ll load my bike onto one of the buses to bring me most of the way, but the ride to the coast makes me realize how much I just want to be on the coast. The way out is nice at times, but there’s nothing spectacular, few points of interest. And there’s no perfect way. Yet.

They are working on the Salmonberry Corridor Trail, a path that would follow the abandoned Port of Tillamook Bay Railroad from Banks to Nehalem. This would mean a car-free way to the coast on a gentle rail grade. I’m really looking forward to its completion, though it’s going to take a few years. In the meantime, Washington State has the Willapa Hills Trail, and I need to get back there at some point. I can dream…

*Which is good for people like me who have never lived more than 70 miles from any ocean.

**If you say you’re “going to the shore” or “going to the beach”, everyone will know you’re from out of town.

***It would have been easier and more logical to end at Big Eddy Park, as going to Vernonia requires back-tracking. But Big Eddy was closed so I had to go with what was available. I passed by Scaponia Park on the way in, which I thought was closed, but it looked like it might be open.

****Of course, I ended up doing 80 miles as it was…

*****When I first visited it in 2001, it truly was a country store. Now it is basically a roadhouse/bar/music venue.

******Yeah, I could turn onto 26, but that road is too busy and narrow, and features some serious climbs.

A tour to the coast: May 20-23 2017 Portland is about 70 miles from the Pacific Ocean, at least "as the crow flies". Close enough that we all know its there,* but still just far enough away that it's not the easiest place to get to regularly.

[tacticalthaumaturge]

The Wolf King of Thedas - Chapter 2

You know that Wheel of Time / Dragon Age fic I started writing all those months ago?  It wasn’t dead, just sleeping.

Prologue - A Tear in the Pattern Chapter 1 - To Heal a Shattered Sky

Also crossposted to ao3 / fanfic.net

Chapter 2 - What Dreams May Come

Perrin dreamed.

He knew it to be no ordinary dream, but it was nothing like the Wolf Dream he knew. Islands of rock hung suspended in a misty green-gray void, heedless of gravity or common sense. Fragments of buildings dotted the floating isles, but even the most intact obeyed an alien logic – walls hung unsupported, and angles bent in strange ways. The Wolf Dream was a reflection of the waking world, and Perrin could not imagine any place that would be reflected like this.

That he was not here in the flesh, then, was of no small comfort. He could feel the path back to his sleeping body in the back of his mind, but somehow he knew that attempting to wake would prove futile - whatever had happened, whatever that mysterious tear had done to him, had left him too physically drained to simply will himself to consciousness. Faile would likely have sharp words for him when he returned. He did not dwell long on the problem, however, as it was a small detail compared to the mystery before him.

The familiar weight of Mah'alleinir formed in his hand, but Perrin dismissed it with a frown. The massive hammer was a weapon of war and men, ill-suited for exploring this strange place. Absentmindedly he grasped a Two Rivers longbow before dismissing that as well. A weapon of men... but this is no place of men, is it?

Between one moment and the next, the curly-haired man was replaced by a large wolf. Leaping, he disappeared in a blur and reappeared at the edge of the nearest island. Pausing, he tested the air: there was a faint hint of two-legs, alongside a mix of unfamiliar scents that made its fur bristle. He would have to be careful. Silent as the swirling mists, he loped into the unknown.

Young Bull had answers to hunt.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

"Are you telling me another bleeding idiot came out of that rift?"

Adan was as cranky as ever, despite the celebration that had overtaken Haven. The good Mother Giselle may have declared a holiday upon the sealing of the Breach, but Desa was unsurprised the alchemist-turned-apothecary busy mixing poultices. He was practical-minded, even to a fault, and it would take more than a mere "divine miracle" to make him turn away from his work.

Desa suspected he was also allergic to fun, or at least any sane definition of the world. He shunned both the tavern and campfires, complaining of the noise, and the first time she'd seen a genuine smile on his face was when she brought him a recipe for Antivan fire. Finding it among that Hinterland merchant's wares had been a stroke of luck, as Adan's own notes had been lost in the chaos of the Conclave; Leliana had forbid any attempts to reverse-engineer it after the third time his lab caught fire.

It was with this in mind that she'd sought him out. Their mysterious stranger from the Fade didn't seem to be in immediate peril – unlike in her case, there was no alien mark trying to kill him – but he had yet to regain consciousness. That left the Inquisition leadership with a conundrum. His existence was as closely-guarded a secret as it could be, given that his arrival was witnessed by well over a hundred Inquisition soldiers, agents, and allies, and they wanted answers before he became the talk of the camp. However, questioning him would require healing, and the process would lead to the same attention they were trying to avoid. It had been Cullen who ultimately suggested Adan. Not only was his lab relatively isolated from the rest of the camp, but he had been responsible for Desa's treatment when she herself fell out of the Fade.

For all his grumbling, the alchemist seemed far from upset about halting his poultice-mixing. The Inquisition was always in need of more, but tasking Adan with making them was like asking a master armorer to make nails; even knowing his work saved lives, he was itching for something more interesting or explosive to work on. Adan wasted no time in clearing a workspace, snapping at the stretcher-bearing soldiers as he did so.

"Shift your damn asses! Lay the lad on the table, then get out. Herald, you stay here – you've got more nimble fingers than those oafs, and my bloody assistants decided to take a damn holiday."

Desa made no complaint; she would have had him send a runner anyway, so staying simply cut out the middleman. Pulling off her gloves, she moved to help Adan with his examination. While she was well acquainted with field medicine, the gulf between their respective skills quickly became clear. Some of the methods the alchemist used mystified her, however – how did listening to his chest through a bone tube help?

It took almost half an hour before Adan seemed satisfied. Leaving the stranger lying on a cot they'd moved into the cabin, he set a kettle to boil while he sorted through his herbs.

"So Adan, what do you think?"

The alchemist ignored her until he had found the herbs he was looking for – mostly Elfroot, with a pinch of Embrium, and a few she didn't know – and deposited them in a mortar. "Exhaustion, mostly. But I'd bet a fat purse of royals that we're looking at Fade-sickness as well."

"What in the name of the Stone is Fade-sickness? I assume it's got something to do with him still being unconscious."

"Aye, that it does. Not surprised you haven't heard of it – you dwarves don't dream, so you can't catch the damn thing. It's usually only an issue for mages, and doesn't much trouble us normal folk. You know how mages' dreams go deeper into the Fade, lucid dreaming, right?"

Desa thought she could see where this was heading. "But I though all dreaming touched the Fade."

"Yes, but there's touching the Fade, and there's touching the Fade. We all do the first – you dwarves excepted – but mages' dream different." He paused, trying to find the right words. "It's a bit like how a branch floats, but a rock sinks. Or like how birds have wings, but some still can't fly."

"Anyway, Fade-sickness happens when someone's mind get stuck in the Fade," Adan explained as he ground the herbs. "Something to do with the body being too exhausted for the mind to return, and the mind being too deep in the Fade for the body to recover proper. Do nothing, and they waste away - thankfully, though, you've got me."

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

On a jutting spur of stone, a wolf blurred into existence next to a crackling campfire. It had been too long since Young Bull had run on four legs; there was a freedom in it, despite the strangeness that surrounded him. Each step had carried him a dozen spans or more as he explored the coastline of one of the larger islands, his dreaming mind twisting distance as easily as breathing. The rush of discovery was fading, though, and he could feel a familiar exhaustion soaking into his bones. Deciding it would be as good a place as any to rest, the wolf became a curly-haired man, who sat down on a nearby rock. That the campfire's flames danced a cheery blue rather than a familiar yellow-red now seemed a minor detail.

Perrin had lost any pretensions that this was the same Wolf Dream he knew. Hopper had been thorough in his teaching; the Wolf Dream had rules, and this place either distorted them or broke them entirely. He could still manipulate the dream – if anything, it was easier than it should have been – but the landscape did not reflect the waking world. Rather, it contained pale, partial imitations of it: upside down staircases, anatomically questionable statues, gravity-defying towers… it was an unsettling combination. And then there were the creatures.

He'd noticed them not long after he started his exploration, or rather, they had noticed him. Even now they skittered at the edge of his awareness, alien thoughts brushing against his mind. It was unlike anything he'd experienced; a conversation between wolves and even Wolfbrothers was a sequence of images and emotions, but the minds touching his seemed almost human, questing whispers in a language he could almost understand. None had revealed themselves physically, which was strangely comforting. They seemed as wary of him as he was of them.

Shifting to human form, however, seemed to spark some hitherto unrealized interest. The pressure on his mind grew, one voice overwhelming the others. Rather than pull back when he blocked its touch, it continued, insistent, until –

Welcome, Dreamer.

The words echoed in his ears as well as his mind, understandable at last. Thin mists coalesced on the other side of the fire, forming a human-shaped figure that did not stand so much as float just above the ground. Lithe in build, nearly as short as a Cairhienin, and with long, pointed ears more akin to an Ogier than human, it brought to mind Mat's description of the Aelfinn and Eelfinn. Perrin hefted his hammer. Both the snake- and fox-people were said to feed on human experience and memory, and Mat insisted neither were to be trusted; if this creature was kin to either, he would have to be on his guard.

Be at ease. I am Curiosity, and I mean you no harm.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Jemma finds out that her neighbor is a superhero totally by accident. They happen to be coming in at the same time, which is totally unusual because Jemma's schedule is often quite regular and it's out of the ordinary for her to be getting in so late. It's just past three in the morning and she's exhausted from all the time she's spent in the lab and the fact that she's starting to doubt that her experiment is even going to work, which would make slaving away over test tubes and data reports all for nothing. When she realizes that there's someone there in the hall with her, letting herself into the apartment next door, Jemma jumps in surprise and drops her keys. It doesn't help that the figure is dressed in all black and has a smear of blood across her forehead, making her look like some sort of sinister midnight ghoul.

Thankfully Jemma is able to recover her sleep-deprived senses quickly enough to realize that the figure unlocking the door to the apartment next door is actually the person who lives in the apartment next door. Their paths have crossed so rarely, which Jemma counts as a shame because Daisy Johnson seems like a nice enough person. Every time they happen to find a minute or two to talk, Jemma always enjoys spending those moments with her, however few and far between they might be. Jemma's schedule keeps her in the lab for most of the day and Daisy's…well, Jemma has never really thought to ask about Daisy's schedule or place of employment before.

Daisy looks just as surprised to see Jemma standing there and they stare at each for a beat before Daisy quickly throws open the door to her apartment and slips inside. It's an odd exchange, one that Jemma can't puzzle out at the moment because she's too tired to think and having to bend down to retrieve her keys really takes a lot out of her.

Once she's in her apartment, Jemma strips out of her clothes and crawls into bed, pulling the covers over her head to block out the moonlight and the sounds of the city around her.

Just as she starts to drift off to sleep, her mind puts all the pieces together. There's a reason Daisy disappeared inside her apartment without so much as a single word -something definitely out of character for her usually friendly neighbor. She's a superhero.

It suddenly makes perfect sense.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma has seen news footage of Quake before. Most people seem to consider her a superhero on good days and a public menace most of the rest of the time thanks to the structural damage that comes from saving lives. She's also earned the moniker of 'vigilante' and seems to have as many fan groups as she does people calling for her arrest and removal from the city. But no one knows who she is, despite the best efforts of journalists and ordinary people alike. One thing instantly recognizable about Quake is her black tactical suit and the shining pair of gauntlets that she wears on her wrists.

The same attire Jemma saw on her neighbor the night before.

Jemma considers all of these things the following morning while she waits for the kettle to whistle. Logically, someone out there would end up living beside Quake and becoming acquainted with her not-secret-identity; Jemma just never assumed she would live the type of life where she would become neighbors with a superhero.

Once the kettle is ready, Jemma pulls an extra mug out of her cabinet, adding the tea bag and pouring in the water. Carefully, she carries both mugs with her to the hallway and the few steps over toward the apartment nestled beside her own.

She has to knock a few times before the door is finally opened. Daisy is looking at her through bleary eyes, her hair pushed to the top of her head in crazy tangles and her clothes rumpled. "Jemma?" Then she seems to come awake, no doubt remembering their encounter the night before. She stands up a little straighter, eyes opening wider, a nervous smile crossing her face. "Hey, Jemma…what are you doing here?"

"I brought you some tea," Jemma replies, holding out the mug. Daisy takes it, seemingly confused. "I didn't know if you wanted to talk or…"

Actually she doesn't know why she bothered to come over. Obviously superheroes have a heroic persona and nickname for a reason, undoubtedly to keep nosy neighbors from prying. If they hadn't happened to cross paths, Jemma would have no idea that her friendly and adorable neighbor was a superhero at all. But here she is, butting in where she hasn't been invited.

Daisy worries her bottom lip nervously, holding tightly to the mug in her hands. "I…"

"Or not," Jemma blurts out quickly, taking a step back from the door and wondering how fast she can run back to her own apartment. "I'm…that was silly of me…I'm sorry…"

Daisy looks down at the mug still in Jemma's hand and hesitates a moment before asking, "Did you…want to come in and drink that?"

Jemma exhales, giving Daisy an apologetic smile before taking her up on her offer. Daisy steps aside so that Jemma can step into the apartment. "Sorry, it's a mess. I don't…organize much."

There isn't much to organize, honestly. Maybe being a superhero doesn't pay very well. Daisy has the bare basics of adult living: a few pieces of furniture in the living room, some dishes in the cabinet and Jemma can see the corner of a bedframe in the single bedroom.

Daisy looks nervous and uncertain having her there, the smiling and affable woman Jemma is used to crossing paths with seemingly vanished for the time being. They both settle on the couch and Daisy tucks her feet beneath her. "Thanks…for the tea."

Jemma smiles. "Of course. It always helps me after long nights."

"Yeah…about that…" Daisy taps her fingers against the side of her mug. "No one really knows…"

"Oh, I won't tell anyone," Jemma assures her quickly. "Your secret is safe with me."

Daisy looks relieved, a hint of her carefree persona peeking through her worry.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma can't help but wonder if Daisy has been secretly desperate for someone to discover her secret because as soon as it becomes clear that Jemma knows the truth, she can't seem to make herself shut up about all things Quake. For the next several hours, they volley a variety of topics back and forth, talking about Jemma's work and the things that she's interested in and studying in her lab. But they often go back to Daisy and her superhero identity and Jemma finds herself fascinated as Daisy talks to her about her alien DNA, her abilities and her exploits.

For the first time that Jemma can remember, she's actually disappointed when she glances at the clock and sees that it's time for her to head off to the lab and check up on her specimens. Her schedule isn't super compatible with Daisy's and she's quite liked sitting around with her, whiling away the hours talking and listening to Daisy laugh and watching her smile.

"Perhaps I'll see you later tonight?" Jemma suggests as Daisy walks with her to the door.

"Maybe." Daisy doesn't seem convinced that such an encounter will take place. "I'm usually, you know…gone most of the night."

Jemma crinkles her nose. "Sounds terrible."

Daisy shrugs. "All in a day's work, I guess." She considers. "Or a night's?"

"Be careful tonight, Daisy," Jemma says, glancing back in Daisy's direction as she unlocks the door to her own apartment. "No need to put yourself into too much danger."

Daisy looks almost surprised by her words but she nods anyway, giving Jemma a final wave before stepping back into her apartment and closing the door behind her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Jemma gets home from the lab several hours later, she finds her mug sitting outside her door with a note sticking out the top of it. Thanks again for the tea! It was nice talking with you -Daisy. As though Jemma would forget who she had leant her mug to and spent the better part of her morning with.

Jemma knocks on Daisy's door but gets no answer. While she makes dinner, Jemma keeps the TV on quietly, tuned into the local news, just in case there's anything going on that she needs to know about. Anything Quake related.

Before going to bed for the night, Jemma takes the dinner leftovers and puts them into a Tupperware container, ignoring the voice in the back of her head asking exactly what she thinks she's doing. She puts the Tupperware in front of Daisy's door, stepping back into her own apartment before she can second-guess her actions and retrieve the food.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma is running late, something just as out of the ordinary for her as coming home at three in the morning and discovering that her beautiful neighbor is actually a superhero. She feels like she's doing three different things at once: brushing her hair while grabbing a piece of bread from the toaster and pulling on her shoes. Jemma feels more or less together when she throws the door open and there, directly in front of her, is the Tupperware she left at Daisy's door the night before. It's empty and washed and there's another paper sticking out of the top, this one with a huge smiley face drawn across it. Jemma smiles to herself, picking up the Tupperware and tossing it behind her in the direction of the kitchen counter; she'll have to clean it up later and maybe think about putting it back to good use.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Unfortunately, for the next several days, the only interactions Jemma has with Daisy come in the forms of Tupperware containers and hand written notes. It quickly becomes second nature to make dinner or order takeout and set half of it aside for Daisy, putting it out in front of her door before going off to bed. Every morning, the container is waiting for her again, usually containing a note with a few sentences about how grateful Daisy is or some sort of hastily drawn picture expressing her gratitude.

Jemma regrets the fact that she hasn't actually seen Daisy in a week but the lab is running her ragged and obviously a superhero's job is never done. Now whenever there are reports on TV or in the paper about Quake, Jemma pays more attention, scanning them over quickly to make sure that the hero sustained no injuries and then reading them through again more slowly, hungry for the details.

Friday night, Jemma can't help but linger, hoping that she'll cross paths with Daisy again like she did a week ago, when their paths crossed so late in the night. She puts Chinese takeout in front of Daisy's door along with a particularly flattering article she saved from the day's paper and hopes that maybe Daisy will come knocking on the door, asking if she wants to help her eat the rice and crab Rangoon.

Jemma falls asleep long before midnight, run ragged by work and her schedule and the new-found weight of worrying about the safety of a superhero.

The sound of someone knocking on the door startles Jemma awake and she's momentarily disoriented, trying to figure out why she's on the couch and why it's so bright and sunny and what day is it anyway? Clearly she needs to remember to close her curtains unless she wants to get hit in the face with the rising sun every time she happens to fall asleep on the couch -which thankfully doesn't happen often.

Jemma is yawning, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the heel of her hand when she opens the door and her heart gives a little jump of excitement when she sees Daisy standing on the other side. Daisy gives her a tentative smile, holding up a bag. "Breakfast?"

Even if she hadn't come bearing gifts, Jemma would have let her in without hesitation. But she's never going to say no to food.

Daisy sets the bag on the counter while Jemma grabs plates out of the cabinet. "I thought I'd return the favor. Since you've been keeping me fed all week."

"It's no problem, really," Jemma assures her. "I always have extra so I thought…why not."

Daisy starts dishing out the food, ordered from the place on the corner where Jemma stops from time to time on her way to the lab. Her stomach growls and she's pretty sure that Daisy can hear it. "I really can't thank you enough," Daisy says. "You have no idea how many times I come home starving but too tired to cook so I just don't eat at all."

Jemma smiles at her. "I thought you deserved a thank you for keeping the city safe."

"You don't think I'm a public menace?" Daisy says and Jemma can tell that she mostly kidding in her question.

"You're a pretty considerate neighbor, so that counts for something," Jemma assures her. They carry their plates over to Jemma's couch and Jemma doesn't mind that Daisy sits a little closer to her than necessary given the space.

For a while, they're stuck sharing a comfortable silence, eating and simply enjoying the early morning quiet of the city around them. Daisy glances over at Jemma, setting her plate aside. "Thank you for taking care of me," she says quickly, as though she worries she's going to chicken out before she can finish. "I'm not used to…having someone looking out for me."

Jemma smiles, reaching over and settling her hand on Daisy's knee. "You don't have to thank me," she assures her.

Later, when Daisy leaves to go back to her apartment, she gives Jemma a quick kiss goodbye, a tentative and fleeting touch. "Thank you."

That's the kind of 'thank you' Jemma thinks she can accept. She reaches for Daisy before she can disappear, tugging on the bottom of her shirt to pull her close.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few months later, Daisy comes home in the middle of the night to find the space outside her apartment empty. She quickly moves from worry to disappointment and then to confusion when she spots something there after all, smaller than the usual Tupperware containers Jemma has been leaving out for her every night. It's a key.

As quietly as possible, Daisy lets herself into Jemma's apartment, smiling when she sees a plate sitting on the counter instead of the usual Tupperware container. But, for the time being, she's more interested in the woman waiting for her in the bedroom, the mattress empty beside her. Daisy can definitely fix that.

[glopratchet]

egg-drop

It's as if something else is going on here Haygurt looks at Arely expectantly, as if a good father, Then you remember that sometimes people do silly things for love And in this one-horse town, you wonder what kind of trouble our two lovebirds have gotten themselves into The hollow thuds of hooves wake you from your daze You turn to automatically begin riding after the hero, and find only a lone straggler in your path Slow night?" The man is disheveled and on edge Although he's tall his eyes shine with a scared intelligence, glancing from you to the crowd behind, while his knuckles are skin and bloodied from recent fighting \ A Horse-Lord's Lament \ Chapter I: Forsaken Without introduction, the horseman begins to beg He sounds pathetic, but quite familiar For reasons you cannot fathom, you feel a kinship over this dreary microphone and decide to listen in on his sob story Perhaps he's a \ spokesmodel \ for Z database, and this is simply product testing? No? Well then, what other possibilities could there be? \ (way side notes, "surely successful missions to mar"?) " I don't normally do this," the horseman breaks in, "but under the circumstances I feel that it my moral responsibility to try Are you familiar with Nuro? An interesting city despite its depri depri-bare condition Now as I was saying, we began another surely successful mission to Mars which wa-" "Has NASA officially abandoned the Goal of landing on Mars?" You interrupt once again c-21d will it return back to Johnathan? I did it the first time with a noogie actually that's a little lie It wasnapost the first time I actually fingered Allison Steiner after yesterday's track meet in sophomore year, in the bathroom We scandalously kissed! holding hands was a huge step for us Then,, we made plans to be together "All my life" and Get married Looks like little Allie found a new prince charming I entered the void a blinding white abyss taken by complete surprise an extreme departure from the blackness of before I swirled my finger in a circle captivating hypnotizing alluring just like the Allie of old Each of my senses captured her primal svelteness, free of any bound where her lush smooth flesh lay exposed "This isnapost a deadly wound" my skin is lougher she says as it gleaming with sweat from running multiple marathons Back to back since she heard of Micky's hospitalization when he was shot after playin a game of pool against They found him near death on the floor surrounded by blood "Get up ya bum! Youz ainapost gonna die here!" scattered across a black sky Each of her visions focused on the longbow in his hands which was smeared with blood, and the bandage at the crook of his arm leaking red The lemon scent was stinging her nose giving her an instant headache - at last! hypnotized by her youthful vocal chords the personification of an ancient evil This is what she thought as she Deciphered all these strange events She would soon start tot he carpeted floor beside a corpse, as if laying in a trance The shadow on the crawl space wall, was twisiting and turning while the rope swayed back forth almost all everyone went home and Finally! before entering I can hear and even sometimes feel the "Glow" of the green inhabitits that scuam around and pounc on everything, As you wish on a falling star That voice was entracing while inside louisiana She's probably in shock jealous that she could never b as small as an atom even after drinking the elixir of life from her man-aliens lover from the unvierse equidistant to her left (your right), galactic center Key-G, time starts now! As each lightspeed tube captain and as a law enforcement officer found her guilty for this unexpected romance with a rapsodo's rocker Sbove the law and an angel who was capable of flying the galaxy her entire life This moment is really happening because everything she imagined was real somewhere even if it wasnapost feel like it at the time It almost seemed like something was controling her every movement, sense and thought; Being able to morph into anything she wanted to remain on the ground, Een though niether lawnd or Eastwood's weapons raised as ze comissoned her Hell no her job was to contain the suspicious conflict begun by the accidental splattering of blood in his veins all over his grand piano The voices eager to play their roles as paparazzi screamin out the countdown until they grow irritated with your slowness and kill you both for eternity just as hell would if given half a chance Her feet usually hurt from heaven to planet Auro as she witnessed the entire night sky poke-poking playfully at our tiny blue planem in their galactic glee to watch the solar system dance of papyrus with his beloved long-legged, pregnant and rather large woman? She was a good natured person unless you push her too far They only stopped when they saw the looming wolrd that they once callled "The Iron Mask" approaching in front of them by then Then Billy the baby inside will become her eternal reminder of their strange flight into romance, they will sit and watch the magical time-space characteristics of our atmosphere together without speaking just listening to the gentle silence of wonder The omnipotent hand is beaing directed by me could crush all reality with ease yet they haven't once I think in all my gliding along singing to myself O wait they just blinked, an assassination attempt? with somewhat strangely painted forests, burning buildings, and blushing sunsets After releasing yourself from the restrictive hammock you manage to glide into our small group of runaway artists become refugees somehow amazingly surviving the dreadful king's judgement after which a majority of our countrty went under martial law You remember bright blue uniformed bodies crawling out of their burned out tanks too, thinking your playful head games like "I see what you mean [Angler Brod] about this painting" ENTERING: THE EMPTINESS PERIOD OF YOUR MENTAL EMPTINESS PERIOD Soon as you started make endless wallets you got bored of it and decided to find your place in the winding caves of The Dwarves After spending a few months on nothing but chewing some ambrosia leaves and travelling aimlessly through steamy tunnels you discovery something fascinating--a painting, like one made by a talented human artist But there were no humans in these woods from where you sat in quiet awe It was patchworked together assembled, contrary to it's ragged and worn appearance, from material much too delicate and lustrous to have withstood the forces of nature for even a little while A rainbow arrayed itself over glittering waters, topped by a clear deep blue sky unspotted by clouds anywhere within the visible horizon bloating like aaddictive balloon--it twists through space before settling down, as low-gravity satellites in the surrounding higher orbit station record it all These were a few ideas you implemented into The Dwarves' hammocks, both sick and normal, of which your was thee central unit in the entire militia campsite You pass the time lucidly staring at the beautiful painting, waiting until it finds you again why? Because your stories are all true protection while you nab everyone against their will on day 4 now that the king has ended martial law The artist is most likely dead by now, but no matter you think to yourself as you bend over to suck the contents of your dummy wallet left behind inside a copy machine The boxes are just out of reach and begging to be opened, and they made quite the [[choices]]; no going back , now invisibly trapped in a cell of pony pushpins But a trap is a trapm, right? Now they're paranoid as they pick up more and more humans left among the ever-expanding campsite, most of which makes a run for it instead, members from other guilds Only you seem intent on your games rather than eats or perhaps stand back and watches as you do your thing, which consists only of self-amusement for now [[bounced off walls of paintings]] How long had it been since she looked in a mirror? Never in awhile at least, it was rather foggy Whether because of her son, the ambiguous face nor the meek colors jumped any alarms, but a weight seemed lifted from her shoulders and a wide smile beamed on he face while her body felt three times lighter than before them Whatever faults there might have been Then she gently nuzzled into her children's side and playfully ran her fingers through your hair as she looks at you with soft warmth Such trust could never be violated now that it was well-beyond others Remembering her days in The Court, in the noble class and somehow at this very spot it was focused through a circular hole just a few feet across onto a given place on the ground of this star-patterned temple room You gazed into your own image reflected upon the floor and remembered the days of sitting against silk cushions and golden trimmed blankets, feasting with others just like you, listening to street entertainers or musicians play for the royal quality Every sense drenched to ecstasy in everything but this one thing--spirituality To superhuman types it had stored quite a lot, but to you it felt like a gaping whole which you fell through endlessly With a chill running down your spine you grabbed as much as you can and decided that you must find it somewhere in yourself to still be impressed by this acts of Creation As far as you well knew, at this time their gods had never been seen and there was no one like your Christ to comfort them about the passage from death into life that feeds into the bloodstream using math that she wished she remembered better It takes everything just to stay awake, and those were scare today Maybe that was normal for heavy labor? With all that had happened she had nearly completely forgotten about that instruction, but soon her muscles relaxed as it worked out the cramps and lifted slightly giving off some small plumes of steam You could barely make out the terrain below and those cute houses with pointy roofs Warm glowing light poured out of yellow windows making the fluffy mass appear white at the edges except for that one is obscured by a giant metal machine floating up and down with propellers on top You stare at the text of a report about a possible scandal inside the H Q Mercenaries within your own government helped the military seize power over the people without warning and for a time nobody could stop them At first you couldn't comprehend this so you carefully re-read it in confusion Without wasting any more time, you called one of your trustworthy advisors to get more information out of him on this impending issue "I don't know Being able to completely relax without a care in the world was a blessing like none other It appears that your repelling armor is completely intact, but the same can't be said about you Dehydration, improper breathing, and lack of nutrition has undoubtedly been taking its toll on your well being for quite some time now but as with all things in life, you have grown accustomed to it , but you could hear her typing on a keyboard from under the blankets, no doubt in deep discussion with someone else It'd be mentally difficult work and she expressed excitement about it in the past…But then so did you at one time Are you sure? While re-establishing contact with an old flame will probably score some points, that massage chair she got you for your birthday will probably go to waste without someone to operate it and a nice cup of watered down coffee somehow found its way into your hand You gulped it down in desperation as the sun had already started to peak out from the horizon and you needed all the endurance you could get to make it through another day It's only a matter of time until those svelk start pillaging more cities with immunity to conventional weapons Each city they take means abondoning another defenseless population to that lot with a stopwatch by the higher-ups because no sooner had you started to look for 'General' Nylund's contact than you were being called by someone wanting to verify that it was indeed you It was almost too easy In fact, as you soon found out that is why it was so easy The reason simply being that she wanted to track your whereabouts immediately after finding out what city you were in and his name is alakazam He seems to have regained his heavy brovado accent among other things which is typical of most fae living on brovar Powerful beings such as him seem to instantly regain aspects of their former selves upon stepping foot on the soil That or maybe alakazam just wanted to visit home again so he could get drunk and be angry all the time ┏──┳─────────────────────────────┓ │ │ │ │ You straighten the air intake to indicate a forceful draft directly at his face Heavy machinery was moving fast behind him as he struggles to hammer in a two-penny nail but manages to block the air flow just long enough to ruin any chance of you holding your breath any longer You are forced to inhale what would become your last breath while you still couldn't figure out what the hell Fel was trying to pull off with such a half-assed plan The boys who used to give you wedgies ended up in charge of giving thrust to an entire planet with just cardboard and sticky notes? Hell if he would have bothered to do his homework, he'd find that the other side is just flat earth and open ocean A deep and unstoppable need growled within as the oversized compositecarbon raingear rose to meet your chin and I hope managed to protect your identity just long enough for whatever was inside that big silver suit to pull off this death pact idents continued to flash upon your eye screen wallpaper as you cleared the register snooze Others use those repetitive loops of mem which have been burned into their mind's eye as screensavers but that is just plain lazy!!! Do not be like theOTHERs Watch our prototypeidents andrealive what itmeans to trulylive Soft smallwawses squezzed between scramjets hurrying overhead as your foot peeled off the curb as he hobbles his snail pace along cracked crosswalks for another block could you wait? The question burned within as you questioned his motivation for inviting you on this so-called bonding experience At first was just sheer nervousness or some eccentric act of midlife crisis but now that you've been through events which the old fool planned you could swear he was testing your patience at all, it's a good thing their generation has learned patience or whatever they would have destroyed their planet forever You step into the crosswalk against big red DON'T WALK letters and leap over a speeding taxi Cross at regular intervals and don'tgamble with your life for the sake of old men who think they know your motivations all too well A live dragon has nothing on such short tempers burning through even quicker life spans but you hold on to guarantee : EST TARD 44 MINUTES AT INTERSECTION 1701: THIS IS YOUR FINAL NOTE Full screen on an old stock picture of some awful carpeted office you begin typing out the words which have been set before Ral isn't even sure if he's alive himself lately but the harbingers made his plans very easy until this stoopid punk went and flew his vehicle into the wall : supposed to spread cheer and joy throughout the regin but no, this one had to end up as an anchor round Ral's neck A fix is in order obviously and he'll just use a couple of his teenage interns to make sure it spreads online as fast as possible Within 48 minutes the full rotten blackness of your thot would spread through tethersingles like a west nigger communities camped outside Walmarts on Black Friday gets a big fat red paint whoppin and so do all his employees Nice business you had there, shoulda thought to ask permission for ripping off a dead man's amusement huh before you on command from your chip and you select fillet steak at 6 dollars a pop The cottony tender whiteness slips down with a side order of organic veggies You help the banquet along with red wine and desert consists of key lime pie TING reply: Hey jared, I've sent a tape over to that polebox of yours how do you even watch it? the PS Publishing presentation of Tomas from the story "Don't Lick The Shell" included in Flame Locked? Do you wish to contact someone from your past? Do you wish to lock in the time coordinates of your next meal? Maybe write a poem for a loved one and have it eternally printed in their hearts? Wash down pain pills with an archived soupcon of any French director's cut Brand Channel Chefs compete to see who can tweet their fans first ber: How is your day going fellas? Fineday: You know how it goes, sew a button on a jacket and suddenly you're the tailor to the King Tommy or Moira: Can you reach me that jug of creamed corn in the cupboard? Hugging the wall you stay put thanks to an inconvenient arrangement of furniture and the ugly paintings that adorn it ber: Elder Chong got promoted to King because he said something the tape liked Truly a mystery is it not? hbarber: The ever vigilant sous chef may get the broth just right today The Regime is now: 14 hours 40 minutes 34 seconds With the helm control gone you can't help but imagine a highly intelligent 4D hamster riding the gears, maliciously bending them into bizarre angles that lead into a mindbending warp of inconceivable chaos human so 14pts ant 2dogs 1bee stings orphan slave to leathery tan creepers The dog doesn't think when it charges the ant, just instinct There's a snarling beast of sharp teeth and a shredding claws and then there's an enemy, much like yourself but under completely different guidance Not categorising either as good nor evil you walk patiently yet briskly through the wasteland The hunter's lazy wand'ring pace You're not attached to anything material and though lately a bit of extra protective gear on your next walkabout wouldn't go unappreciated a moth eaten tarp and a moldy cave aren't permanent residence whether you like it or not if you remain here Sooner or later that burned out datacore is going to be targetted by drones or troops and you'd best be long gone when they arrive So Much fury in those magnificent eyes, A flurry of fangs and a flash of claws You've got more close shaves than a bisexual hair salon but your head is still attached and the dogs are having just as many problems with the ant's exoskeleton as the ant has with their teeth Did You Evah! Where there was mud there is now dust and rock and where there was lush underbrush there is none now Someday I'll go, way down uncle vernon's way Time to continue your journey, you never did find that energy node solman spoke of and the dogs won't stop howling unless you move at least a mile or two away until such a time as they can accurately home in on the location again Muskrat pa and pop ik off to sleep nobody will The constant howling of the hounds is eventually drowned out by the crunching of gravel beneath your feet The sky overhead is a deep shade of purple and much as you'd like to know if this is natural or yet another bizarre effect of the overload, it doesn't do to dwell on such things I don't do aet well but nature, vegetable and mineral After a period of searching you find the hose which leads into the ground just as solman described when you were at his fortress This must be the spout he mentioned, leading straight from the Cornucium supply under his fortress to this intake somewhere out here in the vast wasteland outside the city A secret back door shipment of food right under everyone's noses Your earpiece suddenly cracksle to life with chatter I'm saving this regulation pour, it's the only logical move to tell you butterflies dear friend Uh oh The game is afoot Over five nearly six of his race are now forcibly dismounted You rush away from the hose and search for a suitable place to skulk until the the inevitable victors pass on by War is coming to Dr Gorriax land of fun and wonderment Surely he went this way sure as I'm aproducing like a badly written rent-a-plot movie! You find yourself wishing you still had the dogs, especially since it sounds like the Carbine EKKs all carry is inferior to yours In fact now that you listen closely their speech patterns are eerily similar to mandalorians in Star wars, nearly devoid of personality and understandable only with difficulty Thankfully they're also marginally less competent Water water clearly his favorite color A few minutes after you duck out of sight a squad of EKKs from an exploration wing come tromping past the tow of them have all spotted you but dismiss you as unimportant since you'r not tooled up like their fellows just passed The empera He's after the empera, that foul rat dares not challenge me to single combat! Squaaaaad! Six o'clock! The EKK behind you just noticed your rifle propped against a rock and hails his fellows about it, the other two have just spotted you Pwnd! He's an interloper send to de-limb us by the gruz! long live the new age! The One Minute Of Silence Before The Storm You try to at least communicate with them but there's not much conversating going on as laseral fire is exchanged Sure you've got tricky moves up your sleeve but 3 to 1 odds are tough no matter how you spin it Even the hounds have laid down and died from exhaustion overriding their instincts at the sudden noise attack YOU like to chat with your prey before you strike gap? Your mind fills with the voice of the maddened animal stating facts about its selective breeding Gabba gabba good job The dancing flower people have been replaced by the silly antics of glorified green space monkeys floating about in a cartoon cloud and gibbering nonsensically not to mention ridiculously Imperials gapyear verse Fated foes Beasts who breathe flame once roared here Kept food Race to the stars The blasted monkey dance in your mind has been joined by a jolly little song and a rhythmic clicking of some kind Clicks that become louder, more frequent and faster Amusing verm person not of the empire! Vworp Vworp Vworp ! section nine! Brimstone and an acrid smell begins clawing at your stomach and lungs, you can just make out a faint wispy smoke filling the crevice before you Don't these guy ever give up!?

[geek-and-nerd-are-not-the-same]

This looked interesting so would like to share with others too. Here’s what’s available on the link. (Please go to the actual site to see the shots that come from the photographer’s homemade lenses!) “I probably should have called this "Confessions of an Obsessive Lens Maker," because I must admit that I've been more than preoccupied by making lenses. At some point soon I need to actually spend time taking photos. I have no formal training in optics and am far from an expert. However, I thought I'd produce this brain-dump in case it's any use to others who may be starting down the lens-making path. Why make lenses? My real reason is that I love to experiment and I love the challenge, but there's also a practical reason: I want to experiment with certain optical effects that are difficult or extremely expensive to do with commercial lenses: spherical aberration that causes the glow of monocle lenses; non-circular apertures (and I don't mean little hearts) to produce extreme bokeh effects; and my biggest goal, tilt-shift to swing the plane of focus for selective focus and DOF effects. First lens: single element, fixed aperture, fixed focus. Any lens that focuses light (a double convex, plano convex, or positive meniscus) and has a focal length that is at least as long as the flange-to-focal-plane distance for your camera (46.5 mm for my Nikon) can be used as a camera lens. Magnifying glasses, lenses from binoculars, reading glasses, are all potential camera lenses. I got most of my lenses from SurplusShed ( www.surplusshed.com/ ), where lenses typically cost $4.00 to $10.00. Since I wanted to play with a lens with a very fast focal ratio, I ordered a positive meniscus with an advertised focal length of 65 mm and a diameter of 47 mm (price: $6). This should theoretically produce a fast focal ratio of 65/47 or about f/ 1.4. As it turned out, SurplusShed's measurement of the focal length was a bit off. The actual focal length of this lens turned out to be about 45 mm. Interestingly, at a diameter of 47 mm, this lens exactly fits in my Nikon lens mount without falling into the camera. Even so, with a 45 mm focal length, it would not focus to infinity. The maximum focus distance was about 10 feet. On the plus side, a 45 mm focal length meant that this lens was theoretically faster than f/ 1.0. And so, I decided to call this lens the antipinhole. the antipinhole First results: optical aberrations. As I stated, with the lens resting in the lens mount, the focus was fixed at about 10 feet. The images were about a half a stop brighter than my Nikkor 50 mm at f/ 1.4 so I don't think I quite achieved f/ 1.0 but it was measurably faster than f/ 1.4. But the big surprise was low contrast and very large halos around any bright objects. And unlike what you might expect from a lens at about f/ 1.2, there is no thin plane of focus that snaps in. Instead, there seems to be a very broad area from about 7 feet to 14 feet that has nearly the same degree of focus. Of course, the low contrast, halos, and soft focus can all be put to good use as long as you are not looking for the crisp images produced by commercial lenses. home All of the distortions I mentioned above can be largely explained by the spherical aberration in this lens. Parallel rays of light passing through the lens near the center come to focus as expected at the focal length. However, light rays passing through the lens toward the edge focus at a different distance. spherical aberration in the antipinhole This can also be seen in the following photo. The center of the lens magnifies as expected, but notice what happens as you move outward. The field become increasingly blurry and lines that should be parallel are not even close (indicating pincushion distortion). aberrations Spherical aberration is the largest cause of distortion on this lens but it is not the only cause. Color fringing (noticeable as blue and/or red fringes at high contrast transitions between black and white) from chromatic aberration is also present, and is caused by the fact that for a lens like this the focal length for short wavelengths (blue) is different than for long wavelengths (red). Next lens: Using an achromat to address chromatic aberration. Chromatic aberration can be significantly reduced by using achromatic lenses, which are made by combining a convex lens made of crown glass with a concave lens made of flint glass. Fortunately, inexpensive achromats are readily available. In searching for a large diameter achromat with a focal length between 70 and 90 mm (to give me some buffer beyond the 46.5 mm flange-to-focal-plane distance so that I could insure infinity focus), I found one at (you guessed it) Surplus Shed with a focal length of 75 mm and a diameter of 53.5. This time the specs were correct as advertised. Once again, spherical aberration resulted in soft, "glowing" images when the lens was used wide open (f/ 1.5). wide open As the lens was stopped down, the glow was reduced. Here's a shot at f/ 10. closed Mechanics: connection to the camera; adjustable focus; adjustable aperture. The mechanics, or plumbing, involved in making lenses tuned out to be every bit as challenging as the optics. Rather than attaching all my lens components together permanently, I opted for a reusable, interchangeable-parts approach. Fortunately, I already had a set of Nikon K rings. One side of the K2 ring mounts to the camera and the other side has a thread that fits 52 mm filters. This 52 mm thread is a convenient standard to use for quickly connecting multiple lenses, spacers, focusers, and diaphragms into a working lens (and then disassembling it for the next experiment). Here is my 75 mm lens along with some aperture rings. Note that the achromat was friction mounted (thanks to a layer of masking tape) to three 58 mm rings that were recycled from some junk filters. A 52 to 58 mm step up ring allows this lens to fit my 52 mm standard. (By the way, I've found two good sources for step-up/step-down rings and cheap filters to make lens mounts: CameraGear.com and KEH.com) homemade 75 mm lens and paper diaphragms Macro: easy for the DIY lens maker. Macro photography is one area where cheap homemade lenses can compete with expensive commercial ones. Generally, for macro photography, you don’t need or want fast lenses. I find I usually use f/ 16 or higher. Even a simple achromat stopped down to f/ 16 can be pretty sharp. Also, adjustable focus, though certainly nice to have, is not a necessity. Precise focus can be attained by adjusting the distance between the camera and the subject. Finally, extreme close up is not a problem. If you want to get closer, just add another spacer or extension tube. The same 75 mm achromat that produced such soft images wide open, produced this shot at f/ 32. Telephoto: also within reach. You may not be able to make a well-corrected 300 mm f/ 2.8 lens, but a decent telephoto lens in the 150 – 300 mm range is quite doable as long as you don't mind staying above f/ 8. Of course, if you consider aberration a "feature" rather than a defect, then single element lenses as fast as f/ 4 are no problem. Telephoto lenses absolutely need some kind of focuser, and an adjustable diaphragm is certainly a nice feature. Fortunately, building a simple lens with a focal length over 150 mm gives you lots of room between the lens and the mount for these items. I "recycled" a helical focuser from an old junk lens, and found an old iris diaphragm for $3 at a local surplus shop. I attached rings from junk filters to both of these so I could use them in my interchangeable system. I attached these items to a 191 mm achromat ($9 from SurplusShed) and I had a working lens. homemade 191 mm lens And the results of a quick lens test. lens test Time for multiple element lenses. As much as I was enjoying my simple lenses, I wanted more. My next goal was a fast lens (f/ 2 or better) with a focal length of less than 100 mm, complete with a focuser and variable aperture. Such a lens could be used as the basis for a tilt-shift lens. It was time to investigate multi-element lenses. Starting with two positive lenses (double convex, plano convex, positive meniscus, or positive achromat), what focal length results from the combination? For example, what happens when two lenses with focal lengths of 60 mm are combined? The resulting combination has a focal length of approximately 30 mm or half the focal length of one lens. combining two positive lenses The general formula to compute the effective focal length of two lenses is: F = (f1 x f2) / (f1 + f2 - d) Another critical factor for DIY lens makers is the distance from the second lens to the focal plane. This is called the back focal length (BFL). If the BFL is too small, there won't be enough room for the diaphragm, focuser and flange-to-focal-plane distance. On the other hand, if the BFL is too large, the lens may be unmanageably long. The BFL is computed via: BFL = (f2 x (d - f1)) / (d - (f1 + f2)) A camera lens made from two positive lenses doesn't really give us a great advantage over a camera lens made from one positive lens. However, there is one small advantage: The space in between the lenses is a convenient place to put the diaphragm. If you work your calculations carefully, you can save a few precious mm of back focus distance. (By the way, some early lens designs such as the Rapid Rectilinear and the Orthoscopic Doublet were made from two positive achromats with a diaphragm in between.) Adding negative lens elements. The truly interesting thing about the equations above is that the values of f1 and f2 do not need to be positive. Combining a negative lens (double concave, plano concave, negative meniscus, or negative achromat) with a positive lens produces a combination with the focal length greater than the positive lens alone. For example: combining a 100 mm positive lens with a –120 mm negative lens with a distance between them of 60 mm produces: F = (100 x –120) / (100 + -120 – 60) F = 150 mm Note that the order of the lenses does not matter in determining the combined focal length. However, it gets much more interesting when we calculate the BFL. In this case the order matters a great deal. BFL (100, -120) = (-120 x (60 – 100)) / (60 – (100 + -120)) BFL (100, -120) = 60 mm BFL (-120, 100) = (100 x (60 – -120)) / (60 – (-120 + 100)) BFL (-120, 100) = 225 mm Hello! So either way we order the lenses we get a focal length of 150 mm, but if we put the positive lens first we get a back focus distance of 60 mm, and if we put the negative lens first we get a back focus distance of 225 mm. This could be quite handy. In fact the first case (positive then negative) is key to making telephoto lenses that are not unmanageably long, and the second case (negative then positive) is key to making short focal length lenses fit the flange-to-focal-plane distance. Armed with this information, it's time to play. With a goal of producing a lens of intermediate focal length (around 100 mm) with a BFL sufficient for a focuser and/or some tilt-shift device, I pieced together a three lens combination based on parts I had on hand. In this case, that meant a negative achromat (-500 mm), a positive achromat (191 mm), an iris diaphragm recycled from a very old Ilex #4 Syncro shutter, and another positive achromat (165 mm). I think Rube Goldberg would be proud. homemade 6-element, 3-group lens Shorter focal length lenses would have gotten me closer to my goal, however this combination tested out at about 135 mm. The diaphragm allowing me to go from about f/ 2 to f/ 20. The real fun was about to begin because this combination gave me enough room for a tilt-shift "bag" MacGyvered together from black felt, a body cap, a lens back-cap, hot glue and binder clips. It isn't pretty. homemade lens with tilt-shift bag Now the next challenge: shooting with it. I have a long way to go to master the use of the tilt-shift lens. The effect I am most interested in is the lens tilt that swings the plane of focus so it is no longer parallel to the front of the lens. One obvious result is the ability to take a scene with a number of objects all at equal distance from the camera and, by tilting the lens, place the focus on only one of them. This first test shot was my attempt to do just that. tilt test Another tilt effect that I hope to master is the ability to swing the plane of focus such that objects at different distances are sharp. In this shot, the focal plane intersects with a diagonal slice of the table with all other areas out of focus. apple with a twist Next steps: Metering, Autofocus, and Vibration Reduction. Well, maybe I'll leave these for another day.”

[anneedmonds]

Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets

I always have such good intentions for this monthly life update post (in fact even writing the first part of this sentence seems very deja vu), but however hard I try to do things in advance I always end up compiling it at the nth hour on the 3rd day of the month. (It has been on the 3rd day of the month since Ted was born; before that it was the 17th of every month, Angelica’s birthday. I have never failed to publish my post before midnight on the right day – I’m borderline superstitious about it now.)

Many people would have thrown out the whole “stick to the same date every month” rule years ago, no doubt finding it ridiculously restrictive and unnecessarily stressful. But I seem to be at my most productive when life is ridiculously restrictive and unnecessarily stressful so go figure – if I didn’t have a set date for my life updates then you probably wouldn’t be reading these very words. I’d just never get around to it, like my cookery videos and the post about sunscreens that’s been languishing in drafts since May 2013.

(By the way, if you want to catch up on all of the life updates – and there are almost four years’ worth now – then you can find them by clicking here and browsing backwards to reach the older posts.)

After that semi-apologetic introduction, which is now pretty much mandatory, let’s get down to business. Or pleasure. Or a mixture of both. I can tell you what hasn’t been a pleasure and that is the twelve days (and counting) of suffering from minor ailments that have been popping up with almost comical regularity. It’s become a standing joke, almost, that every morning brings a new gripe and I can’t tell whether I’m missing some sort of vital nutrient or mineral and need urgent fixing or if this is just what it feels like to get older.

Do I moan and demand that the GP takes my ailments seriously (“but how do you know that my stomach acid isn’t something to do with my eye strain and my running nose and they’re not all related and I have one great big super-illness?”) or do I moan (default setting) and accept that multiple ailments, aches and pains are just an inconvenient way of life. And be grateful that I’m generally well. And alive.

I mean I am always acutely grateful to be alive and not have any serious illness or disease – I’m actually very mindful of checking myself in that respect and reminding myself that every day is an absolute blessing, but by God it’s hard to keep perspective when you can’t breathe through your nose, isn’t it? If there’s one thing that makes me furious with the world it’s a blocked-up nose. Few things are more cruel. Being forced to mouth-breathe through the night, as the inside of your throat dries into something resembling an ancient piece of parchment from Caesar’s journal and then feels as though it’s been set alight, is one of life’s great injustices. Why someone hasn’t invented a sort of irrigation/misting system for the mouth I do not know; a little tube, perhaps, that just spritzes the tongue and throat with water when you have a cold – or better still, a glycerin/honey kind of affair that stops tickly coughs in their path and provides lubrication.

Coming soon on Dragons’ Den.

Anyway, the toothache/headache/stomachache/bottomache/throatache/cough has been exhausting and I would just like a whole week off. To reset. Preferably somewhere hot but not too hot (Greece? Spain?) and with a kids’ club run by Mary Poppins. Or the Greek/Spanish equivalent. Maria Haciendo Estallar. (Google translate has possibly let me down there.)

But enough of me, I must leave some time to talk about Headstrong Ted (two years and four months old) and Pre-Teen Angelica (turning four in a couple of weeks). They are chatting away to one another now, Angelica in perfect, surprisingly crisp English and Ted in his own strange little alien language that likes to elongate vowels and completely miss off the beginning consonants from words. “Ooooo!” is zoo. “Armer!” is farmer. “Iraffe!” is giraffe. But we now have sentences, sort of, or at least the seeds of sentences – the intention’s all there.

“Go! Go! Gaga’s ‘oom! ‘Ide! ‘Olf!” is, obviously, “Go! Go! Angelica’s room! Hide! Wolf!”

Apple is “pull”. Snack is “ack” and baby is “dee dee”. And all of this is monumentally boring to other people so I can’t quite believe I’m writing it. Next I’ll be telling you about the knee operation that my Mum’s brother-in-law’s friend had before Christmas and how he’ll always set off the beeper at the airport. I am turning into the woman I always dreaded, though I haven’t started wearing fleece tops or saving eggshells. Why do people save eggshells? I want to say it’s something to do with slugs but I’ve had a large glass of quite a fine Chianti (no fava beans!) and my brain has gone soft.

Oh but I do have to tell you about my favourite Angelica-isms. Can I? I promise I’ll be quick. She now  understands just about everything so I rarely have to stop to explain – in fact a lot of the time she can tell if I’m oversimplifying things for her and she pulls me up on it. So it makes it even funnier when she gets things wrong. My favourite is this one:

“Mummy I’m going to paint my face but not poke the brush in my eye bulbs.”

Eye bulbs! I think I prefer eyebulbs to eyeballs – I may adopt it. At any rate I can’t bear to correct her because it’s so sweet. She still says coldsnore for coleslaw, and then there’s the one that had me in stitches the other day: Muffin Puppets. Guess what Muffin Puppets are? She was desperate to watch a film we had saved on Amazon Prime and it was about Christmas with the Muffin Puppets. I had absolutely no idea what she was on about. “You know Mummy, the Muffin Puppets at Christmas. With Scrooge.”

She was talking about the Muppets. Muffin Puppets!

If someone doesn’t form a band and call it that I’ll be very upset. Maybe Angelica should form a band – her and Ted are becoming quite the duo when it comes to singing their little ditties and putting on dance performances. Granted, Ted just sort of spins about on the spot and then falls over, but Angelica is full-on Sylvia Young jazz-hand material. She even introduces herself in a (slightly creepy) man’s voice before she begins her show. “Ladies and Gentlemen, my performance is about to begin.”

One of the things that I wanted to write about this month was how intense it was all becoming, looking after two small kids. Sometimes I feel as though we’re on a treadmill and it’s stuck on the highest setting and we just can’t stop running, you can’t even shift your gaze to the control panel to find the slow-down button, let alone reach a hand towards it.  You’re desperate for someone capable to lean over and adjust the speed, give you some breathing space, but it’s relentless. I thought that the newborn phase was hard, and it is, but for such different reasons. Because it’s new, because you don’t sleep, because your brain and body are completely mangled. But then they get older and the guilt becomes a thing, and you have to try and navigate your way through disciplining and educating and trying to instil in them the values and behavioural traits that you find acceptable and it’s a BLOODY MINEFIELD!

Why is there not a course on this? Parenting? I mean for the love of God! You learn about algebra (haven’t needed it once) and you learn how to read maps (hello? Sat nav?!) and you do classes on 1066 at Hastings and the six wives of Henry VIII and all sorts of things that are inarguably interesting; but surely there should be some basic bits and pieces on kids? Like what you should do when you shout at them and they just laugh in your face, or what to do when NO, NO, I SAID NO! doesn’t work, or how to get yourself out of the black hole of doom that is the “using ice cream and treats as bribes for good behaviour” hole.

I’m sure it’s all basic psychology, but it’s the sort of stuff I needed drilled into me from teen years onwards; I don’t have the energy to learn it all now. It needed to be second nature. If I took my eye off the ball for long enough to read up about parenting now, the cat would probably have been shoved into the oven and the walls would be bright green with bits of dried pasta glued all over them. And we’d have no floor, because Ted would have picked the lock on the cupboard with the cleaning products in, managed to mix two highly flammable solutions together and blown a hole in the ground. All in the space of nineteen seconds, which is the time frame in which he can achieve pretty much anything, including climbing two flights of stairs, mounting a window sill ledge and unlatching a window that requires the skill and dexterity of a professional bank robber.

Right, I’m onto my second glass of red which is almost unheard of for me, but it has been a testing kind of week(s). Not that I’m going to make a habit of it – two glasses and I’m a felled woman the following day, I can barely tie my shoelaces. But I have a new book to read and it’s a sort of biography and I feel that it calls for slight tipsiness and perhaps some light weeping. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what the book is at the moment, it’s a daft sort of thing, but I do feel a separate post coming on. I have a weird connection with the woman in question – perhaps it’s a nostalgia thing – so I’m really looking forward to curling up and getting stuck in.

On that mysterious note, I bid you all farewell until later on in the week, which is how long it will take me to recover from my two glasses of wine! So it’s goodnight (or morning, depending on when you’re reading) from me and goodnight from the Muffin Puppets – if you have any funny malapropisms of your own then please do pop them into the comments below. They don’t even have to be kid ones – my parents still call memory foam mattresses the “Tempura Mattress”.

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Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets was first posted on June 3, 2019 at 10:00 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley