#a man with his head in his chest from the islands in the indian ocean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hogarthwrites · 4 years

Text

just friends

pairing: young samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3,155

summary:

Sam's your best friend, and you're hopelessly in love with him. It's cliche and it's stupid, but you can't help it. Is it really okay to be in love with your best friend even though you know it might ruin things between you two?

note:

Hi! This is a two-part story. The first part takes place in the past, in 1989, while the second part will take place in the present day.

tags: unrequited love, best friends

1989

You stared at your notebook covered in doodles as your history teacher, Mr. Phelps, talked on and on. A 90 minute class felt like three hours and you couldn't wait to just get out to see Sam.

Your vision kept blacking out as you tried to stay awake, something Mr. Phelps noticed right away.

“It was ironic that the British Empire condemned pirates when they pillaged and stole more than those buccaneers ever have, isn't that right?” The old man was looking directly at you and you blinked yourself awake and nodded.

“Yup, I agree,” you tried to act like you were interested.

“Welcome back,” he laughed.

You sighed and slumped further into your chair. 3 o’clock couldn't come any sooner.

As soon as class ended, Mr. Phelps asked to talk to you and you gulped as you picked your backpack up and walked to his desk where he was looking through papers.

“I'm worried about you,” he slid a paper across to you and y ou picked it up and frowned at the F in red taunting you.

“I'm gonna have to ask for a guardian or parent’s signature on this.”

“Really?” You sighed.

“I'm sorry, but it's just school policy,” Mr. Phelps shrugged. “Look, don't be afraid to ask questions, alright? I'm here to help.”

“Sure,” you pursed your lips and shoved your test paper into your bag.

Sam was lying on the grass in the park and reading a book when you found him, and you tilted your head to see what the book was. Treasure Island . Again.

“You know grass stains your jeans?” You nudged him with your Nike Cortez sneakers.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Sam gave you a lopsided grin as his brown eyes met yours.

You felt your cheeks burn and you quickly sat down next to him so you wouldn't have to face him. It was something you didn't want to admit, but you had a budding crush on Samuel Morgan, your cocky, way too ambitious best friend who was probably deranged.

“Fuck my life,” you groaned as you plopped down on the grass.

“I thought grass stains your jeans,” Sam tugged at your denim skirt.

“Fuck you,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Oof, cranky.”

“Sorry, it's just been such a shit day.”

“What happened?”

You pulled your test and put it on his chest. “That happened. Uncle Arthur’s going to skin me alive.”

Sam looked at the paper, and you almost thought he was going to laugh because he looked so amused, but instead he sat up.

“Let me help you,” he simply said.

“Help me?”

“Yeah! Like those tutor people.”

“What makes you the history expert?”

“My mom taught me, and pirates are kind of my thing. You know that,” this time it was Sam who nudged you with his worn out Chuck Taylors. “Come on, let me help you.”

“Fine, but can you do me a favour?” You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Yeah, what is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Can you wait for me outside if Arthur decides to kick me out?”

It was a joke of course. Arthur wouldn't dare kick out his favourite -- and only -- niece. He did, however, lecture you about your priorities and banned TV for a month. As soon as you got to your room, you looked out your window and saw Sam smoking next to his red motorcycle.

You waved out a handkerchief to signify that things were good, and you could've sworn you heard Sam laugh before he drove away.

Sam’s apartment was actually a room he'd rented out in an older woman’s ( she’s just a friend , Sam had said) home near the city. It had a bed in the corner with an Indiana Jones poster above it and books piled on the wardrobe.

You sat on the floor, your back against the bed while you wrote the essay Mr. Phelps asked you to do while Sam read on his bed. Soft music played from somewhere outside and it was softly raining outside and all you wanted to do was lie down on the cool floor and take a nap.

“Done,” you announced as you finished your last sentence.

“Alright,” Sam plopped down in front of you, your knees touching. “Show me what you’ve done.”

Saying nothing, you held it out for him and buried your face between your knees.

“Hmm,” Sam grunted. “I mean, you’ve certainly memorised what you needed, but…”

“But?” You peeked up at him and saw that he was sucking in his cheek.

“But why was it important that pirates like Thomas Tew and Henry Avery pillaged the East India company?”

“For treasure?” You cocked your head to the side.

“Close, but you see, India’s economy dwarfed Europe’s at that time, and there weren’t any powerful navies in the Indian Ocean, which made a lot of the vessels there an easy target,” Sam explained, his hands flailing around as he talked. He did that a lot, and you thought it was kind of cute.

“Oh, alright,” you wrote what he was saying down on a piece of paper. “You make it a lot easier to understand than my stupid textbook.”

“Good to know,” Sam grinned. “If you get a good grade, I’ll take you out. My treat.”

Your face lit up. “Promise?”

“I promise. We’ll go anywhere… As long as I can afford it.”

“I’m holding you to that promise,” you stuck your tongue out.

It was quarter past nine when you were done rewriting your essay and Sam had fallen asleep. He was your ride home, but you figured if you walked fast enough you’d get home before 10 PM. You put your books away and looked at Sam who was gently snoring, his brown hair messy on his pillow.

He stirred when you covered him with a blanket, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t really make out.

“Good night, Sam,” you whispered as you turned off the light and stepped out.

Sam was waiting outside after school with a smug look on his face. You held up the paper as you approached him, doing a little victory dance before giving it to him.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m a wonderful tutor.”

“Oh please, you were asleep for most of it,” you jokingly punched him in the shoulder.

“I think the A on this piece of paper makes your point moot.”

“Fine,” you giggled as you took your paper back and stuffed it back into your bag. “Where are you taking me then?”

Sam hopped onto his motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “I dunno, it’s your choice.”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin. “I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Alright. But what about food? It’s not a picnic without food.”

You ended up buying burgers and a small cake at a local diner and without a picnic blanket, you laid out a little lace handkerchief on the grass where Sam meticulously set the food. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was the best you both could have done with what little budget Sam had and at short notice too.

It was a cool evening and you happily ate your burgers while Sam blabbered on about Henry Avery. When he leaned back, his pinky touched yours and you froze, unsure if you wanted to move away or not. It was funny how just the tip of his finger touching yours made you feel hot and all you wanted to do was take his hand in yours.

Sam kept talking, but you wondered if he noticed that you probably just stopped breathing. You read plenty of romance books, hell, you even ready Forever by Judy Blume, but you never knew what it felt like to actually be in love. No, you shook away the thoughts. I can’t be in love with Sam… This is just infatuation. Nothing else.

You practically memorised him, the way he’d run his fingers through his unkempt hair, how he’d talk with his hands, how he’d bite his lip when he was upset. You saw him fall in and out of love with a variety of people, and you were always there for him. It was almost pathetic how much you knew about Sam Morgan, and you wondered if he memorised you the same way you did with him.

Something cold dripped on your cheek and you looked up as rain started pattering down.

“Oh shit,” you frantically picked the mostly eaten cake up while Sam picked up whatever was left of the burgers and the handkerchief and followed you to a gazebo nearby.

“Well, that ruined a perfectly good picnic,” Sam had his hands on his hips. “Is the cake alright?”

You looked down at the soggy cake. “It had better days.”

Sam laughed before he stuck his paper cup into the cake to get another slice.

“Really?” You looked up at him.

“What?” He shrugged between bites. “It’s still a cake. It’s not like the rain is dirty or anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged again. “Thanks for the picnic, by the way.”

“Nah, you paid for it.”

“But it was your idea. I haven’t been on a picnic since…”

Since his mom passed away. He suddenly looked forlorn.

“I know, Sam,” you reached out and touched his arm.

“Do you mind if I steal this picnic idea? Nathan might like this too,” he forced himself to smile.

“Not at all. Tell him I say hi, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

The rain lasted long enough for Sam to mostly finish what was left of the cake and once the sky cleared up, he drove you home.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” you smiled as you stood by his motorcycle. You could hear the sound of a TV blaring inside and you knew Arthur was probably waiting up.

“That’s just what friends do, right?” Sam grinned. Right. We’re just friends . “I’ll see you on Monday?”

You nodded and watched him drive away. Arthur was fast asleep on the sofa while an old western played. You were always grateful he took you in when your mother ran off to Europe and your dad felt you were too much responsibility, but it made you sad Sam and Nathan didn’t have the same privilege.

You turned the TV off and placed your somewhat damp essay on the coffee table before going to your room.

I don’t love him . It was a lie you constantly told yourself. Believing it was getting harder every time you were with Sam and you could barely look him in the eyes without butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to make yourself stop, but you just ended up thinking about him more.

Your grades improved, much to Arthur’s delight and you hoped you could keep it up until after graduation at least. You applied to some colleges, but you were nervous with your mediocre grades and lack of extracurricular activities.

“And I can’t escape / I’m a slave to love…” Sam sang as he tossed a baseball up and down. He didn’t seem like it, but he was a pretty good singer. You were on the floor again doing your homework while he sang along to the song that was playing outside.

“Is there a bar here or something?” You asked.

“Nah,” his brown eyes followed the baseball. “There’s this old man who plays music on his roof. The lady says it’s because he misses his wife or something.” He shrugged. “It’s not too bothersome. He has good taste.”

“I guess it’s better than Arthur’s loud westerns at home,” you muttered. “That’s sad though. He must have really loved his wife.”

“Yeah,” Sam simply shrugged.

“What? You don’t think you’ll be an old man yearning for his spouse someday?”

“I don’t even think I’ll fall in love, to be honest,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

You laughed. God, I hope you’re wrong .

“What about you?” He nudged you with a socked foot.

“Gross, get your nasty socks away from me!” You shrieked, which made him push his foot against your back more. “Sam, stop, I swear you’re disgusting.”

“Come on,” he teased. “I bet you have a little crush. Was it Vicky? Whatever her name was? The one with the…” He gestured at his chest.

“No!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Don’t be rude. Vix is just a good friend, and she’s dating some guy anyway.”

Sam gave you a smug grin. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

It was quiet again while you went back to your homework, your heart pounding from the interaction. What a bastard, you thought. If he knew… If he knew I had a crush on him, this would all be over. You didn’t want to think about what it would be like without Sam.

“I got this fancy letter for you from the University of Texas at San Antonio,” Arthur strolled into your room and handed you a letter. “You really wanna move that far away from your ol’ Uncle Arthur?”

“It’s a good university,” you stuck your tongue out as you tore open the envelope. “Please, please, please,” you whispered.

You barely read past the “Congratulations!” when you squealed and jumped out of bed. “I made it!”

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Arthur embraced you. He looked at the letter then frowned. “Biology?”

“Yeah, I think I kinda wanna be a doctor someday,” you bit your nail.

“And someday you will be,” he ruffled your hair. “Promise you’ll phone as much as you can, alright?”

“I’m still here, Uncle Arthur.”

“You’ve just grown up so fast,” he sighed. “What am I gonna do when you’ve gone off to be a doctor?”

“You could get a dog?”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe.”

A week later, he came home with a puppy named John.

As graduation loomed closer, you felt excited, but you were left with a melancholy feeling of having to leave Sam behind. He was his usual, oblivious self, but you wanted to do it. You wanted to tell him before you left.

It was getting warmer again, so it was different to see Sam without a jacket on as he squatted on the pier, skipping rocks in the river. It seemed like there was something on his mind and he didn’t even notice you coming up to squat next to him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a rock skipping far.

“Nice,” you said and he looked at you in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” he gave a weak grin. “Didn’t know you were here already.”

“Yeah, you seem busy.”

“Nah, just got a new job out of state.”

“You're leaving?” You felt your heart drop.

“In the fall, yeah, but not for long I hope.”

Sam fell silent, and you felt your heart beat quickly in your chest. Was this the right time? You were graduating in a few weeks, then you were off to San Antonio, unsure when you were ever going to see Sam again.

“Sam,” your voice was weak and he hummed in response. “I–I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah? What's that?” He looked worried when he turned to you.

“I could tell you anything, right? Promise you won't laugh?” Your cheeks flushed and you felt like your heart was gonna leap out of your chest. What am I doing?

“I won't laugh.”

At three, you took a deep breath. One... two…

“Sam, I like you,” you blurted out. “No, I think I'm in love with you.”

His expression softened at your words.

“I'm sorry, I tried my best not to let it get to me, but we're parting soon and I just thought–”

“I've always known,” Sam interrupted.

“What?”

“That you have a crush on me.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't wanna say anything because this is the best friendship I've ever had, and I don't wanna ruin what we have. We're great like this.”

Oh .

Best friendship.

The butterflies in your stomach turned into moths and you wanted to vomit. A lump in your throat grew and you held your breath. The last thing you wanted to do was to cry in front of Sam.

“I'm sorry,” you looked down at your feet.

“Hey,” he lightly nudged you. “We'll always be close. I'll write to wherever you are in the world. I promise.”

“Alright,” you nodded weakly. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Bring it in,” he held out his arms and you leaned into his embrace, trying not to sob into his shoulder.

You spent the night crying while you packed your bags, deciding not to bring anything that reminded you of Sam to college with you. You had to get over him.

Your chest felt heavy as you felt your heart break with every stupid lovesong that came on the radio. Why did you even bother confessing, of course Sam wouldn't be into you. Why would you even want to ruin your friendship like that?

The day you had to leave for the airport, Sam was at your window early in the morning.

“Mornin’, college student,” he smiled as he climbed into your room.

“I thought you were going to see me off at the airport,” you yawned.

“Just thought we could spend a bit more time together,” he looked around your now empty room. “Wow. You're really leaving.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “San Antonio, here I come.”

Sam didn't react, instead he turned back to look at you, his brown eyes scanning your face. “Hey listen, uh, a few weeks ago… I'm sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you sat on your bed. “No, it's fine. You're right, we're great friends.”

“I didn't mean to break your heart or anything.”

“I completely understand, Sam.”

He reached into his pocket and asked for your hand. There he placed a little medallion with a star engraved on it. It looked more like a little coin with a chain pierced through it.

“Here, it's a late graduation gift. I couldn't get out of work to buy it early enough, but I made it just in time last night.”

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you gasped. You made your way to the vanity and put the necklace on.

“It's just so you won't forget me, the most amazing friend you could ever ask for,” he looked smug.

“And it was such a sweet moment too,” you shook your head. “Thanks, Sam. I don't think I can ever forget you.”

You hugged him, feeling his arms around you tightly. At the moment, you felt your heart break, suddenly missing someone who was right in front of you. Your tears flowed, and you buried your face into his shirt as he soothed you.

“Promise we'll see each other next summer?”

“Promise.”

“Promise you'll write and call?”

“I promise.”

But Samuel Morgan was gone by the next summer.

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #young sam drake #fluff #ig

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norman891 · 3 years

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...

@sleightlyoffhand

Hook noticed Smee trying to look busy and stay out of danger at the same time. He snapped his fingers loud enough for the bosun to hear, and Smee came huffing up the stairs.

“Aye Cap’n?” he asked, a bit winded.

“I want you to find Mr. Starkey and tell him that I said to give you Mr. Haigh’s weapons, and if he gives you any argument, reemphasize that you’re there on my orders, and he does not want me to have to come find him personally. Understood?” Hook ordered. “And be mindful you’re not seen.” Hook reiterated.

“And what shall I do with Haigh’s weapons, sir?” Smee asked, causing Hook to rub his own temples.

“Take them to Mr. Haigh, you fool!” Hook hissed.

“Aye Cap’n” Smee gave a half-hearted salute and headed below as quickly as he could. A few moments later, he reappeared, headed over to Joe Haigh and handed off the small bundle, then scurried out of sight.

Not that any of his weapons would do Haigh much good unless they were boarded. It was good to have his cutlass and knives back, but Haigh possessed no pistol nor rifle, so he stayed with the chase gun crew, ready to help reload.

From high in the crow’s nest, Edward watched through his own personal spyglass, which was much smaller and more utilitarian than the watchman’s or Hook’s, but it served its purpose. He signaled the canoes’ distance to Hook by hand signals. Seven hundred yards, then five hundred, then four hundred. At three hundred yards, the canoes made an unexpected tactical move, splitting into two columns to attack the ship from both sides at once.

Edward made a parting of the waves motion to Hook, who seemed befuddled at first. But by the time the crafts had narrowed the distance to two hundred and fifty yards, Hook had figured out their plan. At seventy-five yards, Edward received the signal to open fire, though the canons remained silent so their attackers would think only the night watchman had spotted them, the rest of the crew still unaware or with little time to prepare.

Edward already has his first shot lined up and with light pressure applied to Henry’s trigger, two warriors toppled sideways out of one of the leading canoes. He quickly ripped open one of the parchment premeasured powder charges he’d made after the last attack by the natives, followed by a patch and ball, ramming them home. A quick dram of powder to the flash pan and he took his second shot, again taking out the first two braves in that canoe so it keeled over, dumping its last occupant in the ocean.

Johnny Greene, a deck hand, crawled into the crow’s nest with him, bringing a second rifle. “Captain sent me up here to reload for ye. Don’t worry.” He motioned at the rifle. “It’s fifty-caliber as well and loaded.” He tossed the rifle to Edward who handed him Henry to reload.

“There’s about fifteen more pre-measured powder packets in my pouch. After that, ye must measure wi’ the flask.” Johnny nodded and began quickly reloading Henry while Edward continued to snipe warriors from their canoes. Edward found this method quite productive, through in the future, God help them, three rifles would be better.

At one hundred feet, Hook signaled for the chase guns to be fired, taking out seven canoes with the grape shot and langrage. Canoes continued to surge forward, angling closer to the Jolly Roger. Gun ports opened suddenly and fired a barrage from both sides, splintering the canoes into shards of birch bark and leaving mangled bodies floating in the water.

From his sniper’s nest, Edward was able to pick off any warriors trying to scale the side of the Jolly Roger. The last of the canoes had not reached the ship when the decision was made to retreat. The chase guns continued to hammer them, and Edward continued to pick off any survivors in the water. He took several long shots as the canoes reached one hundred yards, taking out three more braves, while the chase guns changed their altitude and continued pounding the canoes with their deadly loads.

The sun was beginning to break over the treetops of Neverland when Hook waved Edward and Johnny down from the crow’s nest and satisfied that the Indians were in full retreat and over two hundred yards away, he called a cease fire for all cannons.

Edward was not as quick on the rigging as any of the other men. His left foot kept giving way and slipping off the ropes, so his progress down was slow and careful. Why he had no trouble going up, Edward had never been able to puzzle out. When his feet hit the deck, Johnny was waiting to give him a handshake and congratulations.

“That were some fine shootin’, Mr. Butcher,” Johnny grinned.

“You’re a damned quick loader yourself. Aye, ye were invaluable up there.” Edward returned the compliments. “I ne’er could have gotten so many without ye.”

Hook greeted Edward at the foot of the stairs. “Good job, sir,” he patted Edward’s shoulder heartily. “And good eyes too, spotting them so far away.”

“Thank you, sir,” Edward accepted his captain’s congratulations humbly, but his eyes twinkled merrily at Hook.

“Men!” Hook called out to gain the attention of his crew. “Were it not for the sharp eyes and quick thinking of Mr. Butcher, we might all be dead and scalped as well.”

Edward bashfully endured the cries of huzzah, wanting only to store his weapons and get busy in the galley when a movement at the stern caught his attention. Without thinking, he shoved Hook to the deck, drew Luke and fired, seemingly all in one smooth motion.

A lone warrior who’d managed to escape detection had scaled the back of the ship and was intent on taking at least one soul, and his choice was the worst possible. The ball from the pistol struck him squarely between his eyes and he keeled backwards into the ocean.

Joe Haigh observed all from the bow, having been relieved of his gun crew duties for the time being. He would would, probably be scrubbing cannons after breakfast.

“That’ll teach you tae try and shoot my captain in the back, you heathen!” Edward roared. He stretched out his hand to help Hook back to his feet with a “Sorry about that, sir.” He patted the pistol, now back in its holster. “Ye can always count on the Gospels tae have your back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butcher.” Hook said, mildly stunned. “You shall have to explain your pistols names to me sometime. I find your choice quite interesting.”

“Aye sir,” Edward grinned. “But I must below deck and help fix a fine breakfast for the crew.” He had seen Victor already heading for the galley with his fusil.

“Of course,” Hook said. “Dismissed.”

Edward paused at the pantry, which was already open, to store his weapons, save Luke & John which he wore everywhere. Victor was busy cutting a goodly length of sausage links from their pole.

“I’ll be right wi’ you, Victor.” Edward said, pausing to quickly reload Luke. Once in the galley Edward washed his hands and began assembling ingredients for his Colony Biscuits. Victor boiled the sausage first before browning them in the large cast iron skillet, so they would remain tender and juicy, and they were served along with Edward’s biscuits and both plum and raspberry preserves each had taken turns making. At Victor’s suggestion, Edward added a good dose of rum to the men’s hot tea to warm their bellies and their hearts.

Again, Joe Haigh graced the dining hall with his presence to gather his breakfast and go back up top, but Edward stopped him before he could leave.

“Wait here a mo,” Edward winked. “I hae something tae gi’ you.” Edward headed for the pantry unlocking it, and Haigh watched from just outside the door as Edward began to sift through the contents of his sea chest. “Aha!” he said, sounding pleased. He closed the lid, displaying a flintlock pistol in fairly good condition. He locked the pantry door behind him and motioned for Haigh to follow him up the stairs.

“I noticed today that you hae no firearm of your own in the fight this morning,” Edward began. “I’ve had this for longer than I can remember, and it’s served me well. But it’s a forty-five caliber, nae a fifty. It’s yours on one condition.”

Haigh stared at him in disbelief and tried to speak but had lost his voice in the shock.

“Aye, I know what you’re thinkin’” Edward said. “Now why would that man gi’ me a gun? Well Joe, every man should hae at least one. You’ll hae tae find the right size ball and a powder flask, but it’s a good pistol. My only condition is that ye never turn it on any member of this crew. Yes?”

Joe set down his breakfast and looked the pistol over thoroughly. Like all of Edward’s weapons, it had been kept in excellent condition. It had nice balance to it and felt comfortable in his hand.” Oui” he replied. Edward extended his right hand.

“Then let’s shake on it like gentleman, and if you ever use it against any of o’ us, I’ll shoot you myself.” He winked. Joe frowned but shook Edward’s hand firmly. “Now, go and enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold.” Edward grinned. “Oh, and mind that tea. It’s got a bit o’ a kick tae it this morning.”

He headed back to the galley where he found Victor with his arms crossed, regarding him with a most disapproving eye. “What?” Edward said, finally having a minute to fix his own plate of breakfast. “Every man on this ship hae at least a pistol, and if any o’ those savages had gotten on board in any numbers… weel, I would nae like tae think of the outcome.”

“I think it is not wise,” Victor snorted.

“He agreed that he would ne’er turn it on any member o’ this crew, and I told him I’d kill him if he did.” Edward savored the wild boar sausage between one of his biscuits. “Och, man. Your sausage seasoning is spot on, mate.”

Victor nodded at the compliment, then went back to his concerns. “And what if the man he shoots if the captain?”

Edward’s expression grew dark. “Then I’ll shoot the bastard in the knee, and he’ll wish I had shot him dead before I’m done wi’ him.” He took another bite of his sausage biscuit, chewing thoughtfully. “I still di’nae trust what he does on that island, but I think the captain has set his head to rights, and if not, I’ll hunt him down myself if necessary. I’m no called ‘The Butcher” for naught.”

Victor shook his head buit set to fixing his own plate.

“Di’ nae fret.” Edward said. “I’ll be telling the captain myself, so if anyone gets in trouble o’er the affair, it’ll be me.” Victor raised a doubtful eyebrow and began to enjoy his own breakfast. Edward took his plate and cup and decided to finish his meal above deck in the cool fresh air.

#captain hook #pirates #neverland #violence #sleightlyoffhand

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herradhighpriestess · 3 years

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Deliberate Exchange

Chapter Eleven: Forgotten History and Rotten Smiles

As Bane and Elka enjoyed the silence, hours away, Calvin clicked on the remote until he found the high-definition Faux & Pals News Hour.

He watched as his earlier interview was replayed, this one was his favorite and he leaned forward and lip-synced his own words. In this interview he had perfected his solemn expression and the calls to the emergency line was flooded with calls as people called in sighting tips on every tall, dark blonde they saw.

Calvin fell asleep after he consumed a third of a bottle of a barrel-aged whiskey. The news replayed itself, Breaking News, announcing itself every fifteen minutes as fresh and new with brighter and more colorful graphics.

As Calvin passed out on a numbing sea of grain alcohol, Esau and the other men were locked on the tracking signal from the phone Bane had attached to the big rig.

The signal beeped steadily, indicating it was heading southwest on a major highway. The dangerous men loaded weaponry and slipped into tactical gear and headed for the steady flashing red light.

Bane stretched his arms overhead and listened to his shoulders pop, “we should get going soon,” he whispered to the back of her head.

She mumbled an agreeable sound and rubbed her eyes. She sat up and pushed her hair back as Bane was already in the bathroom washing his face. “I have a different hat I would like you to wear,” he said walking out of the bathroom, drying his face and hands.

“Sure,” she said and pulled on her clothes and took the hat he handed her. She tucked her hair under the dark green hat that was decorated with a four-leaf clover.

Bane watched her with a small smile as she shoved her hair out of sight. He quickly frowned as she gingerly dabbed a damp cloth on her palm.

“How is that looking?”

Elka held out her palm towards him, he could see the skin swollen and pulled tight, filled with liquid from the sudden and searing burn.

He kneeled in front of her and helped her with her shoes. “Where are we headed today?” she asked as his hands lingered on her calves.

“I’d like to get a full ten or twelve hours on the road, if we both drive it would work.”

“That sounds fine,” she said letting him help her slip into a light zippered sweatshirt.

Bane slipped his fingers into his pants pocket and pulled the keyring out, his fingertips brushed against the priceless band of metal at the bottom of his pocket.

He squeezed the ring tight, feeling the diamonds and rubies press sharply into his palm, he remembered the first time he had held the ring up to the light.

Bane closed his eyes and watched her as he let his mind return him to where there was sand everywhere underfoot and in every molecule of air he breathed.

Bane had become separated from his team and ended up being cornered by two enemy mercenaries. The two rebels spoke rapidly to each other in a language that was vaguely familiar to him and he could pick out a few dangerous words in the two men’s excitable chatter. The two men had bet money to fight Bane first, the bigger man had won and snorted loudly and spit a green blob to the sand in front of him.

The tall man swung his arms towards him, clutching a serrated switchblade, Bane slipped sideways and kicked his leg out to catch the man squarely in the center of his knee. The man screamed curses at him as his knee bent backwards and he ended up face down in the sand. Bane seized the moment and yanked the blade from the squealing insurgent and cut his throat from ear to ear.

Bane was on his feet in the next instance as the shorter enemy advanced on him. On the rebel’s left hand’s pinky finger, he saw a brilliant ring of rubies and diamonds.

The enemy saw Bane’s eyes fall upon the weighted treasure on his finger and gave him a smile of yellowed, rotting teeth and yanked the ring off his finger. Bane watched as the man swallowed the ring and gave him an even wider rotten smile.

Bane dodged a punch and caught the man’s extended hand, he quickly chopped at the man’s elbow joint and heard the bones break loudly. The man screeched and then went silent within the space of a heartbeat. He never registered the curved knife slide under his chin and open up his throat. The steel blade traveled through the flesh easily and was stopped by the spinal column.

Bane let the enemy’s warm body flop to the sand and pushed him onto his back. He ripped at the rebel’s clothes, exposing the chest and plunged his knife into the freshly dead flesh. Bane dug through the flesh and carved through muscle and viscera until he could close his large hand around the swallowed priceless antiquity. He yanked the ring free from its corpse coffin and wiped it clean of viscera before holding it up and letting it be kissed by the rays of the hot sun.

Bane was shaken from his trip down memory lane by Elka’s voice, he realized she had been speaking to him. “Are you okay?” she repeated for the fourth time.

“Yes,” he said, feeling emotions fill his heart until his chest ached. “Just fine,” he reiterated with a small smile.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked as she zipped up her sweatshirt.

“Quite ready,” he said and followed her from the room.

They took the rear access stairs to the parking lot and were quickly on the road. “I’ll have to stop for gas,” he said looking at the gauge.

“That’s good, we can get some snacks while we’re there.”

When they parked under the canopy of gas pump number seven, Bane handed Elka a fifty-dollar bill for the gas and snacks. “Do I need to be concerned about you going in there alone?”

“No,” she said without a quaver in her voice. “I’ll be back as quick as I can, would you like anything in particular.”

“Yes,” he said and put the pump into the trunk until the fuel started flowing. “Nothing from in there, but I’ll tell you when we’re back on the road.”

“Well that’s mysterious,” she said and slammed the heavy passenger door. Bane watched her go and pulled the ring from his pocket and let it settle in his palm. He had had it professionally cleaned and appraised decades ago and the value was obscene then, he could only imagine how much money was sitting in the center of his palm now.

Elka returned promptly with a bag filled with soda and bottled water, she had grabbed a variety of shelf stable snacks and whatever fresh fruit she could find.

She put the receipt and change in the console and cracked open one of the sodas.

“Got everything you need?”

“I think so,” she said and fastened her seat belt as he pulled onto a side road that eventually merged onto the interstate.

Bane’s heart gave itself freely to her while Esau and his band of murderous thugs headed in the opposite direction, Bane couldn’t keep from staring at the smooth skin on the top of her unburned hand as she gripped the plastic bottle. He kept glancing over to catch a glimpse of the line of her neck, the curve of her earlobe and the small valley created in her collar bones.

“What’s up?” she asked as she caught him staring at her lips, his eyes memorizing the shape of mouth.

He cleared his throat, the barest of fluster at being caught staring. “I have something that I would like to give you.”

“What’s that?” she said intrigued at his tone and near nervousness. He remained silent until he could exit the fast-moving multi-lane roadway and pull off onto a shady side-road and put the truck in park.

Elka watched him shift on the seat and reach into his pants pocket, he paused before he spoke. “Don’t feel you have to say anything, we’ll be driving for a while, so you’ll have some time to think.”

Elka held her breath as he dug deeper in his pocket and dropped the ornate ring into her hand.

“I’ve been carrying this with me for more than two decades,” he said as her eyes widened at the heavy ring fashioned originally for the empress of a long-forgotten civilization.

Elka stared down in unashamed awe at the antique ring that gleamed dully even without bright light.

“This is quite a ring, it’s too much though,” she said entranced by the sharp lines of the brilliant diamonds and rubies nestled in its platinum bed.

“This ring used to belong to a powerful, beautiful ruler, it needs to be worn again by one of beauty and grace,” Bane whispered as he slipped the ring onto her left finger.

Elka swallowed hard as she stared down at her ring finger which had been naked for only a couple of days. It now wore a ring that belonged to a once powerful empress who had been cut down in war and nearly forgotten by history.

“It’s too much,” she repeatedly lamely and proceeded to tug it free from her finger. Bane dropped his hands over hers, stopping her movement. “Please don’t take it off, it’s finally found its home.”

Elka kept her eyes firmly focused on the hollow at the base of his throat. He placed the fingertips of one hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his.

“This ring has been with me all over the globe, from an island in the Indian Ocean to the top of Machu Pichu. But this is its true home,” he whispered as he grasped her left hand and lifted it towards his mouth. He took two large gulps of medicated air and pulled his mask free so he could place a soft kiss on the ring, his lips touching the soft warm skin around the ring.

“What happens now?” she whispered, the cool ring pressing against her heated skin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he chuckled and gently kissed her forehead. Bane returned her serious, searching expression and revised his original answer. “I want you by my side willingly, return my affection, be at my side.”

Elka nodded, “can we talk more about what we both want and expect?”

“Yes, we can talk right now,” he said as he engaged the ignition a single click in order to run the engine and adjusted the vents. He pressed his face to his mask and inhaled deeply to hold off any encroaching discomfort as she spoke on a breathless rush. “I don’t want you to hurt me, put me through deprivation or degradation, forget that I’m a person.”

Before Bane could interject, Elka quickly added. “And I want toiletries and personal care products, be able to bathe daily.”

Bane smirked, “anything else?”

Elka felt her breathing increase under his direct stare. “I don’t want to end up broken and discarded in a ditch.”

Any sarcasm Bane thought immediately fell away as he closed the small distance between them on the bench seat and swept her up in his strong embrace.

“Don’t allow those kinds of thoughts to enter your beautiful brain, don’t allow yourself to think that my touch holds future pain,” he murmured and ran his fingertips through her tangled hair. “I want your heart, your love,” he whispered as he traced his fingertip along the shape of her lips.

“What else do you want?” she whispered as he lowered his lips to hover over hers. “I want you always by my side,” he muttered and brushed his lips quickly against hers. “I’ll do anything for you if you give me your heart, life and body,” he growled and aggressively pressed his lips to her, Elka moaned as he jabbed his tongue against hers before he groaned and slid back abruptly to behind the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” she gasped and smoothed her clothing back into place.

Bane shook his head, almost embarrassed he muttered. “I really want to fuck you on that seat, but I’ll never be able to marry you legally or share a life with you as long as your husband is alive, or you’re married.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying,” she stammered and sat up straighter.

“Your marriage needs to end, you no longer can be listed as abducted, Calvin would need to agree to the divorce and calling off law enforcement or he will have to die, and you become a widow.”

Elka sniffed hard and blinked, she couldn’t move any further on the seat. “I assume you have an idea to share.”

Bane’s shoulders tension and rigidity eased out of his limbs, “you can call Calvin, say you’re fine, you want a divorce and fresh start, nothing more. He would also need to tell law enforcement that you’re fine, you escaped from your abductor and want to start your life over somewhere else.”

“So, I ran away from Calvin and right into you,” she stated.

Bane slid closer and recaptured her bejeweled left hand, “no,” he said shaking his head adding as he squeezed her hand urgently. “I saved you from the good justice.”

“You saved me,” Elka whispered as she brought her face close to meet his, the tips of their noses touched. “You swear to keep me safe?”

“Yes,” he growled into her mouth as their lips met.

“I’ll call Calvin when we get settled at our next stop.”

Bane nodded; he stifled a moan at the ache in his cock. Elka watched his obvious discomfort as he settled behind the wheel and adjusted his pants.

“We don’t have to leave this very minute, we still have ….time.”

Bane smiled at her, lust pushing to the surface of his emotions. “We should probably get going, then you can get to calling Calvin.”

Bane reached for the keys to turn over the engine and was surprised when Elka’s unbandaged hand grabbed the keyring and clutched it tightly in her palm. “’What are you…?” Bane started to say until Elka partially struggled out of her drawstring pants, lace panties and slid closer on the seat to him. “Help me unzip your pants,” she said in a raggedly demanding whisper as she crawled onto his lap and fumbled with the stainless-steel zipper pull of his slacks.

Bane nodded mutely and freed his aching cock and felt the smooth palm of her hand slide and close around his hard length. They both moaned as she raised up and settled her tight, wet femininity around his rigidity

“Please hold onto me,” she breathed as Bane lifted his hands to settle around the smooth skin of her waist and increased the pressure each time she thrust down on his enthusiastic stiffness.

Elka rocked her hips as he sheathed her wet intimacy and earned an involuntary gasp from him. “This might not last much longer,” he muttered with an embarrassed chuckle and squeezed the flesh of her hips and thighs as he yanked her body down roughly to meet him. The sexual wet sound of their bodies touching, and their increased breathing were the only sounds in the vehicle.

Bane felt his pleasure turn into a tight coil, “say you’re all mine,” he demanded as he crushed her body tight. “Tell you me you are only mine,” he groaned as he filled her as much as he could, he shuddered as he felt her internally tighten around his engorged his length.

“I’m all yours,” Elka moaned as her body stretched to accommodate the length of time he pushed himself into her.

“All mine,” he said on a strangled whisper and lost control over his body as he let his orgasm crash over him.

Elka nodded, “yes,” she whispered and felt the warmth spread deep inside her from where he spilled his seed. He stayed sheathed inside her until his cock had grown completely flaccid and slid from her.

“Thank you,” Bane said after she had climbed off his lap and he helped her slip back into her clothes.

Elka gave him a curious nod as he assisted her slide her feet back into her shoes. “’I was thanking you for the one-sided pleasure, I will repay you later,” he added with a wink.

Elka ducked her head initially and fought a blush, “you’re welcome and thank you in advance for your repayment.”

Bane chuckled and stared at the time on the radio face. “It’ll be getting dark if we leave now and drive straight, you up for a while in the truck?”

Elka nodded as he adjusted the mirrors, “let me know when you need a break,” he murmured as stopped at the four-way intersection at the bottom of the deserted road.

Bane handed her the burner phone, “call Calvin and tell him you’re fine, you want a divorce.”

The tension and rigidity eased out of his limbs as she immediately began tapping out Calvin’s number.

Elka’s hand shook as she cradled the phone in the crook of her arm and dialed with her good hand. Her thighs shook she felt lingering jolts of pleasure from her intimate center.

She blew out a sharp breath as the phone rang twice before it was answered.

Elka felt her breath catch at the sound of her husband’s voice. “Justice Green.”

“Hello Cal,” Elka said cautiously.

She only heard Calvin’s breathing for a few beats and just when she was going to say his name again, he spoke.

“Elka where are you? Are you okay? I thought you were fucking dead. What happened? Wh…?”

Elka cut off his litany of questions, “Cal I’m okay, I hitchhiked out of town for a while after those guys from the bank left me in a ditch. I discovered I need a break; I’m not holding on to things well right now and I’d rather get ahead of the storm. I’m sorry for the abruptness of everything and making people worry.”

“Elka are you on something? Are you intoxicated? Do you know how many people are looking for you?”

“No, Cal, I’m not on drugs. I just needed some time to think and realize that I want a divorce, we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

Calvin scoffed, “Elka please, tell me where you are, I’ll send a car and call Dr. Kirk, he’ll have something to help you relax.”

Elka interrupted him, “shut up Calvin, I don’t love you and you don’t love me. Give me access to my money, you can have everything else. Call the police and say you were just embarrassed about a divorce with your politics and campaign run.”

Calvin was seething and silent as Elka continued. “Write me a check Calvin and then you can fill the house with your courthouse whores.”

“Cal?”

“Fine Elka, whatever you want, I’ll get some money together for you and get a hold of the investigating detective, call me in a couple days.”

“Thank you, Cal,” Elka said and was ready to end the call when Cal started stammering.

“El, El wait, are you still there?”

“Yes Cal, I’m here.”

“You’re right El, we probably shouldn’t have been together, and I know you never loved me, but you’re a beautiful and lucky prize for whomever you share yourself with.”

Elka’s expression softened, “thanks Cal, I’ll call you in a few days,” she said and ended the call.

She spoke without looking over at him, “I think I’ll call my boss next.”

“Do you and your manager have a good rapport?”

Elka shrugged, “for the most part, I did get invited to her exclusive Christmas party,” she added with a giggle.

Bane open his mouth to speak and then stopped.

“What is it?”

He cleared his throat, “have you two ever discussed female problems, depression…”

Elka cut him off, “oh should I tell her I’m sad and have cramps?” she scoffed.

“No,” he said with measured patience. “I merely thought you could ask for some time off, a leave of absence. Assure her that you didn’t disclose any financial information, if she is speaking to you directly, she could calm down the potential investigation that you leaked secure information.”

Elka nodded, considering his words, she wasn’t sure if Trisha would buy a need for a leave of absence, especially the job abandonment. “I’ll try,” Elka said and stared at the keypad. “But I need some water or something first.”

Bane handed her his half- empty bottle of water and she quickly guzzled a quarter of it before she dialed the Reserve’s main number, it rang twice before she reached the call desk. “Trisha Stevenson please,” Elka said to the nasally voiced woman, a few clicks later, Trisha’s phone rang.

“Stevenson.”

“Hi, uh, Trish, it’s Elka, Elka Green.”

“Elka!?! Holy shit, where are you, are you okay?” Trisha shrilled loudly.

“Trish I’m okay really, I kind of lost my mind for a minute. I’m divorcing Calvin. I’m sorry for the abruptness of everything and making people worry, I was hoping I could apply for a leave of absence.”

“Elka I’m so sorry too, your disappearance made some people suspicious, and being no one has heard from you…we need to get the chaos cleaned up, he said you were…” Trisha trailed off.

“What? I’m what?” Elka asked in a high voice.

“I’m sorry Elka, you were fired on the spot. Your last check, unused sick and vacation pay has already been mailed to your house.”

“Oh well, then I guess that’s that.”

“I’m sorry Elka, I really am, I swear I will give you a recommendation letter or verbal referral.”

“Thanks Trisha, it was nice working with you.”

“It was truly my pleasure, good luck.”

The call ended, and Elka set the flimsy phone aside. “Well there’s no job, so nothing to worry about there.”

“Are you okay?” Bane asked in a gentle tone and rested his large hand on top of her thigh.

Elka shook her head and nodded. “I’m not sure yet,” she said honestly.

“That’s understandable,” he said and added. “Anyone you think you should call? Someone close?”

Elka thought about that, there were co-workers but no genuine friends. She shook her head and gave a sad laugh, “there’s no one I’m real close to. If I’ve been fired since the start and no one has heard from me, assumptions and rumors have already prevailed, and I’ll just muck it up and get upset with what I’ll probably hear.”

Bane watched her press the button to scan radio stations until a classic rock station filled the truck. “This is best, a clean break, no loose ends that I can think of. You’ll need to make some calls too,” she added.

Bane nodded and glanced at the dashboard clock, “I’ll call them in a few hours, the sun will up there then.”

“Do you have a lot of people to call?”

Bane regarded her for a moment, “just a few. I need to secure us new identifications, credit cards and other important individual documents. A different vehicle also.”

As Bane merged onto the fast-moving interstate, Elka adjusted volume of the ultimate classic rock song and settled back against the seat. He glanced over at her and smiled to see her lip-syncing the lyrics.

As they proceeded north in comfortable silence, hours in the wrong direction, Esau and four of the other mercenaries continued to track the phone Bane had tucked into the big rig. The dangerous men were fully armed and one of the Russian men pressed the accelerator to the floor and urged the vehicle to move faster. Esau kept his phone close; he had posted a reward for information on Bane and his monetary whore on the dark channels of the web. There were now a lot more eyes that could potentially spot Bane and Elka.

As the fearsome men continued in the wrong direction, at the penthouse, Justice Calvin Green stared at his phone. “Should I be worried or just call the detective and say all is well?” He was conflicted and found himself leaning to cutting Elka a check and going their own ways, it would be so easy to call the accountant and move funds around.

Calvin set down his phone and nearly filled a high-ball glass with an extra-dry martini, he was generous with his olives and settled back on the designer sofa.

As he tried to decide what to do next and steadily drained his glass, Bane turned the heater on the lowest setting and glanced over at her as she stared out the window.

“Do you need it warmer?” he asked as his fingertips hovered over the matte black plastic knob.

Elka turned towards him and gave him a gentle smile, “this is fine.”

“Feel free to nap, we’ll be on the road for a while.”

“I’m okay for now, where are we headed next?”

Elka opened a fresh bottle of water as Bane told her about the sleepy town that was their destination.

“There’s not much to do there but it’s quiet and isolated.”

As the miles passed under the heavy tires, Esau and his dangerous companions all gave guttural shouts of homicidal anticipation when the flashing beacon of Bane’s cell phone came to a standstill on the screen of the square tracker. Esau glanced at the odometer; they were less than one hundred miles from the now stationary red dot that was supposed to represent Bane and his financial whore.

#Batman #Bruce Wayne #Bane #Bane x OC #barsad #talia al ghul #Miranda Tate #grey consent #Selina Kyle #The Dark Knight Rises #violence #murder #assault #language #fanfiction

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years

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Chapter 10: Behind Enemy Lines

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

There had been too many close calls and Steve knew it was well past time to get out of Brooklyn.

Fury had managed to incite enough fear to scatter the Families, and in less than six months, he’d infiltrated their city and obliterated generations worth of hard work by using a combination of violence and propaganda. He’d essentially given them just enough rope to hang themselves with, and as a result, the Families had lost their authority and credibility, and would soon lose their livelihoods.

Blood had been spilled, and if they didn’t take the fight to Fury, he would continue to push in. If anyone resisted, bodies would continue to drop, and if it went on for much longer, people would either turncoat or tuck tail and run. It didn’t take much to convince Bruce and Natasha that they needed to go on the offensive, but The Boss, per usual, had not been so easily swayed.

Precious time was wasted because Bucky squabbled about everything and nothing. When Natasha pointed out that arguing and delaying would only serve to give Fury even more opportunity to do further damage, Bucky finally conceded, and agreed to get out of dodge for a while.

Once the decision was made, it was only a matter of retrieving their passports and booking a flight. They decided not to tell anyone where they were going, didn’t bother with luggage, replaced their cellphones with burners, and only used cash. It wasn’t until they were in the air and flying over the Atlantic that Steve felt like he could breathe again.

They arrived in Jamaica and got out of the airport without any problems. Since it was the only island in the West Indians Fury had yet to infiltrate, it was the best place to lay low, recuperate, and do some recon. Montego Bay, located on the north coast, was home to a major cruise ship port. As a popular tourist destination, there were plenty of resorts available to hide away in, and the crowds made it easier for them to blend in.

While Bruce, Natasha, and Bucky focused on plans for taking back their city, Steve spent his time healing, and it took weeks for him to start feeling normal again. White-sand beaches; long, unobstructed stretches of ocean views; jerk food; Mento music; the freedom to go where he pleased; not having to look over his shoulder all the time; the kindness of the hotel staff – it all aided in both his mental and physical recovery, and when he felt ready, he set about making contact with the team he used to run with.

It took a few days to get the word out, but with Bruce’s help, he managed to do it without drawing attention or raising suspicion. Steve chose a restaurant on Gloucester Avenue for the meet and the outdoor seating offered just enough privacy and ambient noise to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. He selected a table that offered a full view of the street, and made sure to sit at the end so nobody could sneak up on him. The scent of pimento wood and authentic, local cuisine wafted through the air, and though he was the first to arrive, he wasn’t alone for long.

Maria Hill, Scott Lang, Carol Danvers, and James Rhodes were an A-list squad of thieves and baddies. They made it appear as if they were meeting up with Steve for dinner, calmly took their seats at the table, and perused the menu. They kept their features schooled, but their furtive glances suggested they were truly shocked to see him, and after the waitress served them their drinks and took their food orders, they immediately started talking.

“Nick said things went sideways in Brooklyn,” Scott voiced after taking a long pull on his beer.

“You pissed off the Families,” Maria stated bluntly over the rim of her wine glass. “Went rogue.”

Carol toyed with the umbrella in her drink, “Your actions got a man killed.”

Rhodey sat back swirled the whiskey in his tumbler, “And your Boss put you down for it.”

Their assertions, however misinformed, were not at all surprising. Fury was cunning and knew how to maneuver and coax people to his way of thinking. If he couldn’t connive, cajole, or get something credible to use as leverage, he resulted to wild accusations and downright lies. People in their line of work were hardwired to look for betrayal in all forms, and expect it to come from any direction, and because Nick was their leader, he was never second-guessed or questioned.

It was difficult for Steve to come to terms with the fact that someone he had worked side-by-side with for four years could so easily turn on him. He knew Nick wasn’t a good man, but then again, Steve himself wasn’t exactly a choirboy, and that probably explained why Fury had hooked and reeled him in so easily. Nick had saved his life. Gave him a job. Helped him and guided him when he was at his most vulnerable and least deserving. Perhaps he’d been naive, or maybe it was just a flaw in his character, but Steve had trusted him.

He believed they’d been friends.

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” Carol prodded. “Why would he tell us you were dead when you’re clearly very much alive?”

Pulled out of his internal self-loathing, Steve just sighed, and shook his head.

“Fury’s good at what he does,” he told them. “He sent me to Brooklyn and it went pear-shaped, but I swear to you, I didn’t sabotage anything. It was all him.”

The declaration made everyone fall silent, and during the moment of quiet retrospection, servers arrived at their table with heaping plates of food. The grub was so good, they didn’t start speaking again until after the dishes were cleared and another round of drinks were delivered.

Maria furrowed her brow and crossed her arms over her chest, “He wanted a foothold in the States. When the Senator fell through, you were his ticket in.”

“Which means he set you up and got you pushed out,” Rhodey said. “And since he doesn’t like to share, he’s decided to take it all.”

“And he hung me out to dry in the process,” Steve finished.

“So, what’s the next move?” Scott wondered.

Steve swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair, “Fury drew first blood and the Families aren’t going to let it slide. They have the numbers, and no matter the cost, they will fight to the last.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Carol asked.

“That despite your best efforts, war is coming,” Steve declared gravely. “And whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to pick a side.”

Rhodey held up his hands, “Look, what Fury did to you was bad, but he’s been good to me – to all of us. We did what we could for you, but none of us signed on for a fight.”

Steve sat forward and rested his forearms on the table, “Treaties don’t work unless all parties stick to the arrangement, and Fury has no intention of upholding his end of the bargain. It may not be your fight, but he will sure as hell make it your business.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say we switched allegiances,” Scott countered. “How can you guarantee your Boss won’t do exactly what Fury did?”

“Yeah, what’s to stop him from taking all we got?” Rhodey inquired.

“Or putting bullets between our eyes?” Maria tacked on.

Their interrogation, ignorance, and constant referral to Bucky as his “Boss” lit his fuse. Unable to stop himself, Steve let out a sound of frustration, and slammed his fist down hard on the table.

“I should’ve better than to think any of you would step up,” he snapped sharply.

In the wake of his outburst, the restaurant fell quiet, and more than a few heads turned in their direction. Hands shaking and heart pounding, Steve apologized loud enough for all to hear, and once it was clear to everyone that a fight wasn’t going to break out, they returned to their meals.

Carol cleared her throat and rubbed her arms, “We trust you. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

Steve arched an eyebrow, “But?”

“We looked into James Barnes,” Scott confessed. “And we don’t do what he does.”

He snorted, reached into his pocket, and tossed some cash onto the table, “Yeah, you do. You just prefer not to get your hands dirty.”

“We do what we can do avoid conflict,” Rhodey reminded him. “Your Boss doesn’t. In fact, he seems to enjoy mayhem and violence.”

“And I came up with him, so, you think we’re the same,” Steve fumed. “Because deep down, I’m still just a two-bit, gutter-rat thug like the rest of ‘em. So, fuck me, right?”

“Steve, you’re not being fair,” Maria argued.

“No, you want to know what’s not fair?” he snarled lowly as he got to his feet. “It’s not fair that one of my oldest friends is dead. It’s not fair that I keep getting fucked over. It’s not fair that I keep getting stabbed in the fucking back. It’s not fair that I’m being left to shovel the shit that every, goddamn one of you has dumped on me.”

Scott stood up, “Steve, come on, man. Let’s just talk about this.”

Without another word or backward glance, Steve stepped away from the table, and onto the street. Even though he could hear Maria and Carol call after him, he ignored them, and pushed onward. His rage carried him all the way out of the downtown area and back to the hotel, and as soon as the room’s door shut behind him, Steve reached for the chair tucked under the desk, lifted it above his head, and slammed it down as hard as he could onto the floor.

The stream of expletives that flew out of his mouth was punctuated by the sound of snapping wood. The little chair didn’t stand much of a chance; it was pulverized in seconds, which prompted him to drop what remained, and send his fist sailing through the drywall. Steve was gearing up for another swing when the sliding door that connected to the private patio slid open.

“I take it your meeting didn’t go well?” Bucky taunted as he stepped inside.

Steve flipped him the bird, but said nothing.

“Well, as entertaining as your tantrum was to watch, you had better not continue,” he ordered. “If you do, someone will call security, and we don’t need that right now.”

“Thanks for the lecture,” he gritted out as he moved into the bathroom. “Now, fuck off.”

Steve waited until he heard the patio door shut before he stepped up to the sink. He cranked the water too hot, and the sting of it as it ran along his raw knuckles hurt like hell. When he glanced into the mirror, the reflection that stared back at him was all too familiar. Flushed face and hard-lined mouth; eyes full of something that bordered on madness; a wildness and furor that hadn’t been let loose since he was a too-angry, closeted, punk-ass kid.

It was this face – these feelings – that he’d been running from for so long. Steve had been on everyone’s side but his own and he was sick of it. Sick of the constant, nagging fear. Sick of being taken for a fool. Sick of the blame always being left at his feet. Sick of the orders, the lies, and the whole god-damn circus his life had turned into.

Disgusted with himself, he turned off the water, and dried his hands. He had every intention of packing what little he had and making a run for it, but when he stepped into the room, Bucky had returned, and that brought him up short.

Curtains drawn. Shoes lined up neatly by the dresser.

Box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“Take off your clothes,” Bucky commanded lowly. “And get on the bed.”

Chapter 11: Strange Bedfellows

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

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gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

Gentle Rain (Part Thirteen)

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Author: Gumnut

9 - 13 Feb 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 4107

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, Gordon/Penelope, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline.

Timeline: Six months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: For @scribbles97 And here is your cliffhanger resolution. Many apologies for that. Thank you for not killing me :D I hope you enjoy this and thankyou for all your wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Gordon Tracy adored his brother Virgil. Ever ask him and he’d deny it through his teeth. Did he understand how the man’s brain worked? Not a clue. Did they argue on a regular basis? All the time. But did he love him?

More than life itself.

So, to first have to catch the man as he fell, then watch helpless as he struggled and failed to breathe, his hands desperately scrabbling at Gordon’s uniform, and to see him ultimately lose the fight and slip away...

“John!”

Virgil’s lips were turning blue.

“JOHN!”

He checked his brother’s vitals. No breath, heart-rate struggling, but at speed. What the hell was wrong?

“Gordon?”

“Virgil’s collapsed. I need vitals now. Advise Kayo, I’m going to need help.”

John rattled off numbers.

The engineer was still wearing his fire suit, minus the helmet. Gordon tore at his clothes, shoving the zip down as far as it would go, freeing up the man’s chest. He positioned him ready for CPR, tipping his head back, checking his airways. There were no blockages he could detect.

What the hell had gone wrong?

The ship suddenly slowed and stopped in mid-air, John obviously taking control. A thud on the roof and the overhead hatch was thrown open.

Gordon tipped his brother’s head back and breathed into his lungs. He watched his chest.

It barely rose.

Pulse.

Fast, but struggling.

“Goddamnit, Virgil!”

Another breath. Barely any movement.

He ran his hands over Virgil’s chest, what the hell was going on? The man was made of frickin’ muscle. Why weren’t any of them working?

“Kayo, portable scanner, now!”

Pulse.

Nothing.

Shit!

The scanner slammed into his hand. He flicked over the controls. Chest cavity. Heart.

He projected a hologram above his brother.

The answer was obvious.

Virgil’s right lung was about a quarter of its normal size, his trachea and heart shoved towards the left.

Tension pneumothorax.

Collapsed lung. His brother literally could not breathe and now his heart could not beat because of the air pressure in his lung cavity.

Hell.

“John, tell me Em is standing beside you and she has trauma experience.”

“I’m here, Gordon.” The voice was calm, professional and directions began flowing forth. Kayo handed him a large needle, a catheter, and his brother’s undershirt was torn away. Gordon had seen Virgil do this to a child in Afghanistan three years ago, but he had never done it himself.

John transmitted a holographic example of exactly what he had to do, transposing it over Virgil’s scan. Em’s calm voice chanted him through it.

Gordon inserted a needle into his brother’s damaged ribcage.

A hiss of air under pressure and Virgil’s chest deflated.

A moment. Kayo’s fingers lay on her lover’s throat.

“He has a pulse.” And the vitals hovering above the hologram flared into life.

Except for respiration.

A count and Kayo, tipped his head back and began breathing for him.

Taping the oneway catheter to Virgil’s chest, Gordon grabbed the manual ventilator and, touching his sister’s shoulder, handed her the device.

Em’s voice was still calm, still controlled. “He will have to be monitored for further pneumothoraces, especially under ventilation. John is sending you to Wellington.”

Around them, Two roared to life, VTOL replaced by the power of her rear thrusters.

Virgil still wasn’t breathing on his own.

C’mon, Virgil, goddamn you.

-o-o-o-

Kayo couldn’t think. The plastic bag in her hand was keeping her fiancé alive. Squeeze release, squeeze release.

The mask hid the lips that kissed her. The body that had so wanted her yesterday, lay limp on the deck of his own ‘bird. In the spaces between her heartbeats, she was screaming in silence.

She paused his resuscitation, holding back, allowing the CO2 to accumulate in the hope it would trigger a breath. Count.

Nothing.

She breathed for him again.

In.

Out.

Please, love.

In.

Out.

Pause.

Across from her, Gordon’s hands were shaking in his bloody medical gloves. The clinical part of her mind still functioning at a basic emergency level noted that she would have to watch her brother for shock.

The body beneath her fingers suddenly shook and took in a shuddering breath.

Oh, god, thank everything.

“Gordon, oxygen mask.”

It landed in her hand and she strapped it over her lover’s face.

Another breath.

Another.

She ran her fingers through his hair and noted her own hands were shaking as badly as Gordon’s.

Virgil’s breathing evened out.

She set the oxygen level to compensate for his reduced lung capacity.

His eyelids flickered.

And he was looking at her, beautiful foggy brown eyes.

“Virgil?”

He blinked ever so slowly. Voice barely there. “K-Kay?”

She touched his cheek and his eyes closed. “Virgil?”

They blinked open slowly again. “Wha-happnd?”

“You’re going to be okay. You had some trouble breathing.”

“Oh.” She got the distinct impression he didn’t understand. “H-rts.”

“I know, love.”

“Lv you.” And he was drifting, eyelids drooping.

She ran her hand through his hair and he relaxed into her touch.

She bit her lip as her vision blurred.

-o-o-o-

The first thing Em learnt about the Tracy family in a crisis was that they moved as one.

She had been sitting in the lounge listening to the rescue. John had thrown up various camera angles into the centre of the circle. She had the horrible experience of watching Virgil once again cheat death, this time escaping from a wave of concrete instead of water.

The hand in hers tightened involuntarily and a glance in Scott’s direction tore her heart. Did this happen every time they went out? Was death always this close? Would she have to sit here and watch Scott risk his life day after day?

The future stretched out before her in a roadmap of pain.

And it hurt.

His blue eyes glanced in her direction, caught her stare and frowned. “Em?”

She bit her lip and realised she loved him.

A blink and a wave of fear.

She hardly knew him, yet...

“Are you okay?”

Bloody hell.

She found her voice. “I’m...I’m fine. I want to see Virgil as soon as he gets back.”

“You will. Even if I have to hog tie him.”

The skyscraper fire was defeated, clearly demonstrating International Rescue’s superior technology and smooth teamwork, and the team was heading home.

Scott had led her out onto the balcony for the chance of spotting Thunderbird One on approach, when Gordon’s panicked voice yelled over comms.

“Doctor Harris!” And she found herself conducting a needle decompression of Virgil’s chest cavity via remote.

The terror on Scott’s face tore her heart in two.

The moment Virgil was stabilised, the Tracy clan deployed. John was somehow flying both Thunderbird Two and Shadow. Thunderbird One shook the house as she smoothly returned to her hanger below the pool.

Alan appeared in the room moments later still in his uniform, the stench of burnt building following him.

Scott was briefing his Grandmother and Uncle Crispin. Penelope and Parker stood quietly beside them as Em gave what medical information she could.

And then they were all moving.

Scott’s hand in hers, he gave her a badge. She blinked at the IR symbol.

“Temporary comms, so you can keep in contact with Kayo and Gordon. Tap to activate.” And he was leading her to the elevator.

The rush of movement. Thunderbird Two’s hanger, ever so empty of the great machine.

Tracy Two.

Scott swearing at his hoverchair.

John hurrying past, muttering a confirmation of Thunderbird Shadow’s return to the island before he slipped into the cockpit, Alan not far behind.

Uncle Crispin holding their grandmother’s hand and speaking kind words.

Scott not holding hers.

-o-o-o-

Em Harris had gotten used to being alone.

She didn’t grow up alone. She had a beautiful baby brother, a cherished mum and a dad who told wonderful stories and was paid to write them. Their family had travelled the world. She had landed on every continent on the planet. Explored rainforests, deserts, cities, she had spent most of her high school years doing schoolwork via a satellite in a tent, a van, in a three star hotel.

It had been a challenge, but it had been a life.

The one time she had stopped moving was to attend medical school, planting herself firmly in her home state of Western Australia. Even then she had darted between an apartment in Perth and the family home further south in Margaret River.

She discovered that despite her love of traveling the world, she had firm roots, and she would always have a home in those tree covered hills not far from where the Indian Ocean met the Southern.

It had been fate that had seen her and her family in Indonesia in 2060. The one place no-one should have been, yet so many were and had lost their lives.

Somehow she had survived, despite losing everything.

She had crawled back to that house in Margaret River and learnt how to live her life again.

With half her body.

All by herself.

And she had gotten used to it.

But now, over five years later, as she sat staring out at the city of Wellington, surrounded by luxury, and the most caring family on the planet, she had never felt more alone.

She stared down at the city lights and knew one of them was Wellington’s hospital where a caring man was slowly recovering. His outlook was good. Em had made sure everything was covered, liaising with his doctors.

The cause had been, as suspected, a poorly healed rib amongst the train wreck down the man’s side. All that strenuous activity over the past month or so had seen that rib erode the surface of his lung. His body would heal partially and then more damage would be done. It had only been a matter of time.

Virgil had been bloody lucky the last straw had occurred when it did. If he had been alone, he would have died.

There had been surgery to prevent it from happening again, and Em had made sure that amongst it all there was some skin grafts and long-term wound repair. She did her best to keep her word to Kayo and do her best for Virgil. She had strong hope that once recovered, the rescue operative would be able to function with little or no pain.

Which is what lay at the crux of her current problem.

From the moment Virgil was injured, Scott had retreated. She had lost the lovely joking man she had grown to admire, and yes, she had admitted it to herself, love, goddamnit, she’d fallen in love with a man who currently didn’t exist.

She looked down at her hands in her lap. They looked small and helpless, though she knew they weren’t. These hands had saved lives. Even saved her own.

Was it stupid to miss holding a man’s hand?

She shook herself. She was stronger than this. And it wasn’t as if the man had left her or kicked her out, he was just pre-occupied.

With his brother.

She had been witness to the awesome power of the Tracy family. Not just the way they moved wealth, but the close-knit inner workings of the family. How if one fell, everything stopped. Froze for the moment, and then the gears shifted, brothers moved and the machine started again.

Even two operatives down, International Rescue was still functioning.

And it broke her heart.

It was not sustainable.

As a doctor, as a friend, and as a woman in love, she was watching a family slowly killing itself. It was as if they had been cursed with a burden. Who had started this? Who had set them on this path? And why?

Sure, the great Jeff Tracy. But what drove them? And quite frankly it was like cattle to the slaughter. If this continued, she had no doubt that the brothers would eventually lose everything.

She had finally seen Virgil’s medical records and she had had to leave the room. She was a professional, but this was ridiculous.

Bullet wounds? What the hell? How did such a kind and giving man end up with so many scars on top of scars?

How had it been allowed to happen?

And what would she see if she dug up Scott’s medical records? What scars did the man hide under his shirt? What had those beautiful blue eyes witnessed? What would her fingers have to trace if she ever had the chance to touch him?

She closed her eyes.

Who was she bloody kidding?

God, it all just hurt.

“Doctor Harris? You okay?”

She startled. Gordon. The one brother she hadn’t managed to really say anything to other than the words necessary to save his brother’s life.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was miles away.”

He frowned at her. It was startling to see Virgil’s eyes staring out of a face so different in shape and colour. They were so different, yet so brothers, even their voices echoed each other. “You sure? You need anything?”

“No, no...I’m fine.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, but after recent events, I am so not taking that line at face value ever again.” He approached her and held out his hand. “And I apologise, it is ridiculous that I haven’t formally introduced myself. Hi, I’m Gordon Tracy, your local aquanaut and roving ocean saviour.” And there was that quirky smile, so echoing his eldest brother’s that her heart lurched.

She reached out her hand automatically and took his. So warm. What was it with Tracy brothers and warm hands? “I’m very pleased to meet you, Gordon.” She blinked and realised he was still in his IR uniform. “Have you been out again?”

He took a step back and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “Ah, yeah, that cyclone off Broome made landfall earlier. Took out Port Hedland again. Had to lend a hand with a ship that had run aground.”

“Alan didn’t have to do that same manoeuvre Virgil did, did he?”

Gordon snorted. “No. Besides, I think Virgil is the only one who could have pulled it off anyway.” He sighed. “Thank you so much for your help in saving his life.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m glad I was there. You did very well. That is not an easy procedure.”

“Yeah, well, I had expert guidance and all the best tech to back me up.” And he was grinning at her.

“How can you do that?” She said it, and then regretted it immediately. She hadn’t meant to say anything. Shit.

But the aquanaut simply tipped his head to one side. “What? Laugh it off?”

She had no choice but to nod.

“Better than the alternative.” And there was that smile again, full of mischief. “I’d rather laugh than cry. Far too much of that out there already.” The smile turned back into that grin. “Gordon Tracy, saving the planet, one laugh at a time.”

She had to admit it was infectious, and, despite herself, she smiled.

Gordon was shorter than his three elder brothers, consequently he didn’t have to bend to catch her expression. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

To her horror, her vision blurred.

She blinked madly as Gordon frowned at her. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” She straightened in her harness. “I’m just tired.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She stared at him. His eyes so like Virgil’s, his expression so like Scott’s, so damn Tracy, so damn selfless. “No. No, I’m fine.”

He was still frowning. “You’re sure?”

She reached out a hand and touched his arm. Firm muscle beneath tough fabric. “Go get yourself cleaned up. It is me who should be helping you.” She forced a smile. “Do you adore your coffee like Virgil?”

“Hah! Oh, god, no. That relationship defies definition.” He was grinning again. Distraction achieved. “Though I won’t say no to a hot chocolate, if you’ll join me?” His eyes were glittering with mischief.

Her smile was far more genuine this time. “Deal. I’ll see if I can dig up some marshmallows. Go slip into something more comfortable.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. For god’s sake, this brother was a loon. She found herself laughing. “Go, get.”

“Going, going.” And he turned, waving an arm in her direction.

She smiled after him. A sigh, and she headed towards the kitchen.

-o-o-o-

“Scott, you there, bro?”

The eldest Tracy was gliding down the corridor towards his brother’s hospital room as Gordon’s voice broke through his thoughts. He stopped, shifting to one side, out of the way of general hospital traffic. Another three weeks of these damn casts were going to send him insane. “Yeah, Gords? How’s that ship?”

“Ship’s all good and dandy, but you might want to get back here.”

“What? Why?”

“I think I broke your girlfriend.”

“What?! Girlfriend? What the hell did you do?”

“I don’t know! One minute we were just talking, she was smiling, even. Next she had tears in her eyes.”

“You made her cry?”

“Hell, if I know! You just need to get back here.” A sigh. “Look, Scott, it has been a shit of a week. Both of you came home for rest, and there has been anything but. Even I know that can’t be good. Virg is in good hands, you know that. You need to take some time for you and Em.”

“Gordon-“

“No, bro, no stoic leader bullshit, I can see that expression from here. Virgil isn’t in his right mind to kick your ass, and I’m his backup on this.”

“Since when?”

“Since birth, you moron.”

“Gordon-“

“She’s worth it, Scott.”

That shut him up.

“Come home, bro, please.”

A breath. “FAB.”

As Gordon signed off, Scott let his eyes close for a moment. His brother was right. It had been a shit week. Panic, doctors and a brother and sister in pain. He dropped his head into his one functional hand.

“Are you alright, sir?” A nurse was frowning down at him.

Scott straightened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m fine, thank you.” A forced smile.

“Oh, Mr Tracy, I didn’t recognise you.” And the concern shifted to dazzled starstruck.

Oh, for the love of- “Could you excuse me, please?” He moved the hoverchair assertively in the direction of Virgil’s room. The woman was forced to move or be rundown. She moved.

Scott slapped his hand on the scanner held out by their security guard, this time it was Gerald, and waved his ident card at the door.

Gerald held the door as he hovered through.

Virgil’s eyes caught him the moment he slipped in. “Hey, Scott.” His voice was still little more than a rasp, but they had been reassured he was healing. Em had been one hell of an advocate. Hell, he swore the staff here dreaded the sound of her hoverscoot in the hallway. She took no shit, and backed by the name Tracy, Virgil had had nothing but the best of care.

Kayo was sitting beside the bed. Her expression stormy. Virgil was pale.

Scott frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Virgil never could lie worth anything.

Kayo glared daggers at Scott.

Okay, so he wasn’t welcome here at the moment.

“I need to go back to the house. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good.” The oxygen cannula under Virgil’s nose twitched.

Scott sighed, and shook his head. “God, Virg, you lie like crap. Stop trying.” He turned to Kayo. “Remember, he’s fragile. You bust him, I bust you. Understood?”

“Scott!” Virgil’s rasp was ridiculous.

Kayo’s tone was firm. “Understood. As long as you consider it mutual.”

“Agreed.”

“What the hell?!” And Virgil was trying to cough. “G’dam’it. Ow.” Kayo immediately jumped in to steady him.

Scott frowned. “Take it easy, Virg. Just stating terms.”

His brother struggled to get himself under control and Scott fought the urge to rush over. Kayo had this.

Virgil glared at him through his eyebrows. His eyes clearly warned him off touching Kayo in any shape or form. Scott reached over and squeezed a foot through the bed covers and offered him a small smile.

Eventually the coughing fit passed and Virgil lay back against his pillows exhausted. Now Kayo was glaring at Scott.

“Sorry.” He swallowed. “Call me if you need anything.” And he was backing out the door.

“Gerald, could you please call Andre? Ask him to meet me with the car out front.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott stared at the door a moment before gliding back down the corridor.

-o-o-o-

The house in Kelburn had been bought out of necessity some years ago. With Wellington being the nearest major city to Tracy Island and consequently the closest major hospital, it made sense that the Tracy family own a residence in the area.

It was white, tall and had a great view. A pool out the back, balconies and large windows. As close to home as they could get without the tropical weather. It was used occasionally for visits to the city, but mostly as a convalescence residence. Particularly if a family member could go home, but couldn’t fly out to the island. It was likely they would be here for a few weeks yet.

Andre helped Scott make his way into the house, but then Scott handed the man a credit card and told him to grab Cecil and go treat each other at the corner cafe.

“He was all ’Don’t you dare spoil this for me, Gordon, this man is my absolute hero’. And what does he do? Makes a complete goofball of himself all by himself.” His brother chuckled. “Yeah, Virg, still hero worships Kip. Your uncle does right by him, though, and we have learnt a lot. But Virgil. Such a laugh.”

Scott slipped as quietly as he could into the room. Em was smiling at Gordon. “When I was little, he used to come visit and tell my brother and I such amazing stories. It all seemed so far away at first, but then when Dad started writing and we started travelling, those stories came to life. Uncle Crispin usually hunted us down. Mum said ‘Crispy’ should have written like my Dad and made a little money on the side. But he claimed he was more interested in saving lives than blabbing about it.”

“He has certainly made a career of it.”

“Yeah, he has.”

The room fell quiet.

“Where are your parents nowadays?”

“Uh.” Em paled. “They’ve passed on.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Do you see your brother?”

“No...uh, no. He’s gone, too. It’s just me.” Her smiled was forced. “And Uncle Crispin.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was a few years ago now.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, no, it doesn’t. But Mum and Dad and Jeth wouldn’t want me moping, so I do my best to keep things moving.” Another forced smile. “Do my best and always remember them. It is all I can really do.”

“Jeth? Jeth Harris?” Gordon sat up straight in his chair. “Jeth Harris, author of ‘Twenty-one Undersea Adventures on a Wednesday Afternoon’?”

Em smirked. “Yes, my Dad wrote children’s books.”

“Oh my god! I adored that book. It was one of the reasons why I got into marine biology. I still have it on my bookshelf. He is related to Kip Harris?” Gordon laughed out loud. “Virg is going to shit a brick.” An indrawn breath. “But he died in 2060, a victim of the tsunami in Indonesia, brought on by...aw, hell.”

Em had her hands up just as Scott’s heart fell through the floor. “Gordon, please it is in the past. None of us could have done anything.”

“But that was the Hood. Oh, god, will that asshole ever stop....goddamnit! I am so sorry.”

“There is no reason for you to apologise, Gordon. It wasn’t anyone’s fault except that bastard, and he’s dead. You have no idea how much I hope he suffered at the very end.”

Gordon’s eyes darkened to little more than flint. “Not enough. Never enough.”

Em reached out and touched Gordon’s arm. Scott tensed, despite himself.

“He breaks us, he wins. He’s never going to break us, so he will never win.”

Gordon’s lips were thin. “If you knew half of what that man has done to this family...” He shook his head. “And he took yours. I just...He is lucky he is dead. Damn lucky.” And it was that very moment that Gordon caught sight of his brother hovering by the door. “Shit.”

Em turned her beautiful pale blue eyes in his direction. They widened. “Scott?”

-o-o-o-

End Part Thirteen

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #em harris #virgil/kayo #scott/em #scott/oc #warm rain #gentle rain #gordon tracy #kayo kyrano

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lickmeleclerc · 6 years

Text

|Me Before You| T.H au

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female reader

Summary: Y/n Clark couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of being out of her element. She couldn’t fight the battle between what to say and what not to say. She would’t dare offend her new employer's son. The need to help her family since her father’s job loss kept her here. Tom Holland was a rather sarcastic fellow, who wouldn’t be in this state. But as his true colors are shown & Y/n becomes determined to show him that life is still lovable, feeling start to blossom.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Based off the film Me Before You (hence the title) Tom is au as Will Trainer’s character so he is paralyzed from the waist down. I do not own any rights to the film or to the actors.

“Look at me please. Please look at me.” He whispers. You can feel the the vibrations of his chest as he speaks and the soft thud of his heart beat.

“I can’t.” Your voice cracks as the tears are already fastly cascading down your cheeks. You don’t want to move, you don’t want time to keep ticking along. All you want to think about is him. About the memories the last six months have brought with Tom. With the snarky remarks and the lazy days inside. You didn’t want to be in reality in the present but wanted to relive the past.

“Come on darlin. I want to see your face, even if it’s all red and blotchy.” He speaks again and a painful laugh falls from your lips as you sit up and let him see you. His brown eyes scan over your features and the pain in his chest, a different pain that what he’s felt ever since the accident. It’s an emotional pain he can’t bear. All he does is try to lean in closer toward you. He can’t do much but you know him well enough and lean in closing he gap. The kiss is soft and filled with love, almost making this situation worse. You know he loves you. And he knows too well how much you love him. Your soft cheeks touch his and you can feel the soft stubble coming back. The memory plays in your head when you first talked him into shaving, it was your first intimate moment with him. And you didn’t even know how important it’d become to you. You shake the sad thoughts and get lost in the kiss.

Tom Holland has never in his life met someone quite like you. So full of life and so eager to smile. Maybe it was the first meeting when he pulled his jaw weird and held his eyes wide open as he moaned like he was dying. His test he’d pulled on all the people his mother tried to hire. You didn’t look appalled just confused. And you still held a smile, even if it looked more painful to hold you did it. Just like you’re doing as you look at him right now, holding a smile even if you’d rather not.

Tom has never had a girl be so invested in his life, in keeping him alive than you have. When you waltzed in the room that day in what seemed like a costume more than an outfit he honestly found himself laughing. The horses spread across your attire held so many sarcastic comments but the joy in your eyes as you explained the day to him. He couldn’t say them. He went for you. Even when he could walk he hated walking into the stadium to bet on horses and sit for hours in the hot sun only for the chances to hardly be in his families favor.

When you showed up with the symphony tickets Tom realized he actually was taking a liking to the girl with colorful outfits who didn’t do much but work and spend time with her family. When you entreated the room that night an Harrison, his nurse, let out a wowza, he knew as soon as he laid his chocolate eyes on you he’d be falling fast. And he was right. The red dress laid beautifully on your figure and there was the 100 watt smile plastered on your face. He’d wanted to ask if your cheeks ever hurt from all the smiling.

“Loose the scarf.” He’d said trying to keep up his wall. He couldn’t be falling in Love he thought to himself.

“Tom Holland, only you would tell a girl how to wear a red dress.” You’d laughed and slid it from around your neck gently. In moments like this you weren’t being cocky or overly confident, it just didn’t register with you that four eyes were on you. The symphony was full when you arrived and Tom couldn’t fully enjoy himself from something pricking his neck. You’d discovered it’s a tag and without any scissors leaned up and bit the tag removing it. The look up surprise on Tom’s face had you chuckle.

“Thank god it wasn’t on your trousers.” You say as the show begins. Tom then realizes maybe you just don’t care what people think, you’re just truly you. And that is a lovable quality.

The wedding invitation may open on the table. Tom’s old work make was marrying his ex girlfriend. The girlfriend he’d pushed away after the accident. He’d invited to take you somewhere. A third date with Tom. The boy you couldn’t deny the feelings growing. As you determined to make his life so amazing he’d want to keep it, you agreed to go. While there he called you beautiful for the first time. A memory you’d always cherish.

“Why don’t you say you give me a whirl.” You surprise him with suggestion as you say gently on his lap. As he wheels to the dance floor you can help but laugh happily as he spins you in circles.

“Are they all looking on disgusted?” He asks with a laugh of his own. It’s deep in his belly and you can feel it’s a true laugh. You nod still laughing but not breaking eye contact wit him.

“Take me away, let’s go somewhere just you and I.” Another suggestion from your lips that shocks him. He didn’t think he could have a girl have feelings for him in this state. Maybe maybe for just a moment you’ve convinced him. That is until the next morning when you return from a night spent in a hotel he came down with a bad case of pneumonia. His fourth case within two years.

You’d planned for two weeks, you’d thought of all the worse case scenarios and even got Harrison on board for this holiday. The Indian Ocean Islands it was. The Holland’s agreed to it and even though they’ve never spoken it they appreciate all your efforts. If anyone could had done it, it would have been you. The holiday was lovely. Tom and you shared your first kiss. It was while a storm was heavy outside and you left the doors open to watch it. It was after a long day on the beach sunbathing. The next day he’d encouraged you to scuba dive. To try new things. And it was then both you and Tom stopped fighting your feelings. It was when Tom confessed about his plans to end his life.

“I know Tom.” You said simply smiling at him as you expected him to explain how he’d changed his mind.

“I gave my parents six months. And when I get back....I’m going to Switzerland.” He surprises you with your words. To hold a smile still would weigh too much. It dropped and tears held heavy in your eyes.

“No no no Tom.” Was all that would slip out. You clung to his chest and let the tears land on his shirt.

“I can’t give you what I should be able to Y/n. Hell I can’t even wipe your tears right now. I can’t vacation with you, I could never be what you deserve. You’ll miss out and I’ll only hold you back.” He tries to start you to understand. You pick up your head shaking it back and forth not caving. You could never agree with this.

“Y/n I can’t even do. God what I wish I could do to you right now, I can’t.” He speaks again after you kiss him softly. A small laugh leaves his lips they’re still close to yours and his hot breath fans across your face.

“No please.” You manage one last time as he continues to try and explain his decision.

At first you were mad. You wouldn’t talk to him or even look at him as you traveled back home. But after speaking with your sister she explained how wrong it would be if you weren’t by his side. He’d ask you come with him well on holiday but you couldn’t bare the thought. But that was past and now reality seeps in. You’re not in his flat or on holiday or at a symphony. You’re laying on his chest in Switzerland as it’s about to happen. As the steady heart beat you feel will soon stop and the love of your life won’t be here to love you back anymore. No more kisses, no more laughs, no more memories.

“I’m going to kidnap you.” You speak after pulling away from the kiss. The kiss that sparked so many thought. He smiles up at you and his heart swells. Y/n Clark always one to stay positive in the worst of situations. Always one to make jokes. Always one to still be able to smile while crying.

“Where will we go?” Tom questions wishing he could run his hand down your back to calm you down and wipe the endless tears from your eyes. He could even come to the conclusion of self loathing because he couldn’t do that for you, he can’t do anything for you. And that is what helps him to not change his mind. You don’t deserve this kind of life.

“Paris.” You answer. The one word sentence doesn’t need more detail. He knows the reference. As he squeezes his eyes shut he imagines the two of you sitting across from each other in those chairs that never sit level on the pavement. It’s hot out but there’s a nice breeze. As you both sip your cups of strong coffee and spread raspberry jam with unsalted butter on a fresh croissant. He’d find himself reaching a hand across the table to hold yours and all the pretty french girls trying to give him the eye he’d ignore. He’d only look at you with love and adoration and happiness. Even though in his mind he was facing you, he had no doubt your legs would be clad in the bumblebee striped tights. A smile is held on his face, his eyes closed. And that is how he spends his last moments. You in his arms, the feeling of your breath on his chest and the thought of Paris with you outside his favorite cafe.

A/N: Okay so this isn’t my best I just love this movie ok like I wish I wrote this movie tbh

Tagging Mutuals: @lovelyh0lland @spidersgeek @beautiful-holland @secretly-spider-man @spideykisses @cherryhollands @parkerstan

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devilsmagic · 6 years

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more than just a game for two | chapter 3

The girls bond with their not-parents.

AO3 Link

Lucy placed a loaded plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of Iris with a flourish.

"Breakfast is served."

Iris looked up at with a smile before picking up her fork and pushing a piece of bacon around the plate. Lucy sat opposite the young girl, peering at her as she sipped at her coffee.

“Are you feeling okay?” She asked, leaning over to press the back of her hand flat against Iris’ forehead.

“I’m fine, Mum.”

“Are you sure? You hardly ate your dinner last night and now you’re not eating breakfast.”

“I’m just tired, I promise,” Iris gave her a bright smile before shovelling a forkful of egg white into her mouth. When in doubt, fill your mouth with food, she remembered Amy telling her.

“Well, I’d be tired too if I were making mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night. Do I want to know what that’s about?”

“Oh that!” Iris stammered, shocked at being caught. “I was calling a friend from camp. Denise. She lives in New York.”

“Ahh, I see. And you wanted to call Denise at a time that was convenient for her, because of the time difference,” Lucy carefully chewed on a piece of bacon.

“Exactly! The time difference.”

“Right. So you waited until it was three o’clock in the morning for her? Makes perfect sense.”

“Actually, it was eight in the morning. You see, she lives in New York but she was on vacation with her family in Europe.”

Lucy stared at her. “Please tell me you did not make an international call from our house phone last night.”

Iris exaggerated a wince and shrugged, making Lucy to groan in response. “Amy,” she chastised.

“Come on,” Iris took a final sip of her orange juice. “Day’s a-wasting. Let’s go!”

"Day’s a-wasting?" Lucy whispered to herself as Iris ran out of the room.

It wasn’t until later as they were walking down the beach, sandals in hand and licking their ice cream cones, that Iris brought the subject back up.

“We should do that, too, you know?”

“Hmmm?” Lucy licked at the trail of peanut butter ice cream melting down her cone. “Do what?”

“Go on vacation. Like my friend, Denise.”

Lucy laughed. “I don’t think you quite understand how much a university professor earns, Amy.”

“It doesn’t have to be to Europe. It can be anywhere. Just you and me. And maybe Jiya."

“Is Mason invited?” Lucy asked dryly.

“Sure!” Iris agreed, not catching on to Lucy’s sarcasm. “I just think it would be fun for us to get away for a few days as a family. I missed you when I was gone, Mum.”

Lucy sighed, guilt tickling in her chest. “I’ll think about it.”

Iris grinned, wrapping an arm around Lucy’s waist and squeezing tight. Lucy smiled fondly at Iris, slinging her own arm across the girl’s shoulders.

“Are you ready for our daddy-daughter day?” Garcia asked as he popped his head into Iris’ room.

Amy was lying on the bed, stomach down and legs kicking in the air as she tried to read one of Iris’ many books. She honestly could not understand why Iris enjoyed reading so much. Her brain kept losing track of the words and before she knew it, her eyes had reached the end of the page but she had no idea what she’d read.

“God yes! Let me just put my shoes on,” she literally rolled off the bed and shoved her feet into Iris’ single pairs of sneakers.

They caught a ferry at Dubrovnik Old Town. As they boarded, Amy grabbed hold of Garcia’s hand and pulled him to the front of the boat, smiling as the spray of the ocean hit her cheeks. The wind whipped her hair into her face and her grin only grew as she brushed it back.

Garcia reached deep into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a hair tie. He used his fingers to brush Amy’s hair back and secured it into a high ponytail. It looked a little worse for wear but he figured it would hold for the rest of the 15 minute ride to Lokrum Island – one of Iris’ favourite places.

“Can you take a photo of me?” Amy asked and Garcia chuckled before complying.

Pulling out his phone, he took a few quick shots of a grinning Amy, red cheeks and lumpy ponytail. The sea glistened in the background, the same shade of blue as the summer sky. She leaned over his arm to see the photos and laughed at the expression on her face.

“Thanks, tata.” She kissed him on the cheek.

When they arrived at the island, Garcia led the way to the Botanical Gardens. Amy had no real interest in examining a smorgasbord of flowers, but it was the kind of thing Iris loved to do and so she was stuck, fake ohhing and ahhing over the flowering cacti and other unidentifiable plants. She could feel the strap of her bathing suit dig into her shoulders and couldn’t wait to jump into the crystal water.

After an hour of roaming around the gardens, the duo sat on a large patch of grass. Amy was sufficiently bored out of her mind, the only remotely fascinating thing to happen was when a peacock had crossed her path, tail open and majestic as it stalked past like it was walking down a runway.

“Walk, walk, fashion baby,” she whispered as the peacock disappeared from view.

She tried to hide her boredom, throwing all of herself into faking enthusiasm. Her twin sister really needed to get out more if this was her idea of a good time.

Garcia reached into the backpack he was carrying and pulled out a couple of sandwiches and large bottle of water. She flung herself onto her back, eating her sausage and tomato sandwich with one hand as she brushed the other through strands of grass. Garcia followed her lead, lowering his large frame until his head was next to Amy’s. He pointing out interestingly shaped clouds as they ate with Amy chiming in at irregular intervals.

She grew groggy and tired, the warmth of the sun and her filling stomach mingled until her eyelids drooped and she fought against sleep. Garcia laughed to himself as he watched her struggle. Just as she was about to slip into a nap, he shook her out of her stupor with two words.

“So, swimming?”

Her eyes immediately sprung open as she sat up. “Definitely.”

They walked over to the other side of the island. The sun was bearing down on them from its spot in the middle of the sky as they found an unoccupied swimming hole.

Ripping off her t-shirt and denim shorts in a single swoop, Garcia caught her around the waist before she could dive from the rocks and into the water. He laughed as she struggled.

“Dad!” she groaned.

“Sunscreen first, draga.”

Amy huffed but stood still as Garcia slathered the cream onto her back. She squeezed a large dollop onto her own hand and covered the rest of her exposed skin. Taking pity on the large man, she smothered his back in a patchy layer of sunscreen before climbing over the rocks and to the nearby ladder. She descended down to the lowest rung and dipped a foot into the warm, cool water. Groaning, she hurled herself off the ladder and into the deep blue.

Iris’ dad was content to sit on a smooth rock, reading from a thick book that he’d pulled from his backpack. Every now and then we would look over to check on Amy before falling back into the pages.

The waves were calm as Amy floated on her back. Iris’ words from the day before crept into her mind. The idea that Lucy was dating someone was hilarious. For the past 10 years of her life, it had been just Amy and her mum. She couldn’t imagine that a simple 7 weeks away was enough time for her mother to meet a man and decide to give dating another shot. It was impossible. And so with the water gently lapping at her skin, she pushed the conversation aside and let her mind go blank.

She never wanted to leave.

Reality hit her hard and fast when she arrived her with a friend request from a Denise Christopher. Amy squinted at the profile picture of a generic Indian girl. She hovered the cursor over the “Delete Request” button, having seen enough Catfish and America’s Most Wanted reruns to be wary about adding unknown people on Facebook, especially when their profile was blank. She clicked on “Accept” curiosity piqued. She figured she could always delete them if they turned out to be shady.

Denise Christopher: Amy! It's Iris. Accept my friend request.

Denise Christopher: Where are you?

Denise Christopher: This is serious! They’re going on a double date tonight. I don’t know what to do.

Denise Christopher: AMYYYYYY!!!

Denise Christopher: Nemoj me jebat.

Iris Flynn: y do i get the feelin that uve just insulted me?

Denise Christopher: FINALLY! Amy, what do I do???????

Iris Flynn: k hold up

Iris Flynn: break it down for me

Iris Flynn: wats happening?

Denise Christopher: Your mother is currently in the bathroom putting make up on! There’s a really pretty red lace dress lying on her bed and Jiya’s mum is coming over to babysit me.

Denise Christopher: …Are you still there Amy?

Iris Flynn: ye im thinkin hold on

Iris Flynn: ok so heres wat u do

“I’m sorry I ruined your date,” Iris moaned pitifully from where she was burritoed in her comforter.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Lucy replied, running her fingers through Iris’ “sweaty” hair and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “It wasn’t a date anyway.”

Iris wrinkled her brows. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure about what?”

“That it wasn’t a date.” Iris moved her head from its position on Lucy’s chest, turning her neck until she could see the older woman’s face. Lucy’s eyebrows were crinkled in confusion.

“I promise you that if I ever go on a date, I’ll tell you.”

Iris bit her lower lip before smiling up at Lucy. Then she lowered her head back onto Lucy’s chest and fell asleep with the woman’s fingers gently brushing through her hair.

Denise Christopher: It worked! Crisis averted…for now. But honestly Amy, we have to switch back. I’m not prepared to deal with this!

Iris Flynn: look i know ok? im sorry

Iris Flynn: any ideas?

Denise Christopher: I have one, but you’ll have to be very convincing.

Denise Christopher: And you may need some help.

#garcy #garcy ff #lucy preston #garcia flynn #lucy x flynn #timeless #lol 11 months later #this is a thing i will finish or so help me god #*#my fic

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thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog · 7 years

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LAW # 29 : PLAN ALL THE WAY TO THE END

JUDGEMENT

The ending is everything. Plan all the way to it, taking into account all the possible consequences, obstacles, and twists of fortune that might reverse your hard work and give the glory to others. By planning to the end you will not be overwhelmed by circumstances and you will know when to stop. Gently guide fortune and help determine the future by thinking far ahead.

TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW

In 1510 a ship set out from the island of Hispaniola (now Haiti and the Dominican Republic) for Venezuela, where it was to rescue a besieged Spanish colony. Several miles out of port, a stowaway climbed out of a provision chest: Vasco Núñez de Balboa, a noble Spaniard who had come to the New World in search of gold but had fallen into debt and had escaped his creditors by hiding in the chest.

There are very few men—and they are the exceptions—who are able to think and feel beyond the present moment.

CARL VON CLAUSEWITZ, 1780-1831

Balboa had been obsessed with gold ever since Columbus had returned to Spain from his voyages with tales of a fabulous but as yet undiscovered kingdom called El Dorado. Balboa was one of the first adventurers to come in search of Columbus’s land of gold, and he had decided from the beginning that he would be the one to find it, through sheer audacity and single-mindedness. Now that he was free of his creditors, nothing would stop him.

Unfortunately the ship’s owner, a wealthy jurist named Francisco Fer nández de Enciso, was furious when told of the stowaway, and he ordered that Balboa be left on the first island they came across. Before they found any island, however, Enciso received news that the colony he was to rescue had been abandoned. This was Balboa’s chance. He told the sailors of his previous voyages to Panama, and of the rumors he had heard of gold in the area. The excited sailors convinced Enciso to spare Balboa’s life, and to establish a colony in Panama. Weeks later they named their new settlement “Darien.”

Darien’s first governor was Enciso, but Balboa was not a man to let others steal the initiative. He campaigned against Enciso among the sailors, who eventually made it clear that they preferred him as governor. Enciso fled to Spain, fearing for his life. Months later, when a representative of the Spanish crown arrived to establish himself as the new, official governor of Darien, he was turned away. On his return voyage to Spain, this man drowned; the drowning was accidental, but under Spanish law, Balboa had murdered the governor and usurped his position.

Balboa’s bravado had got him out of scrapes before, but now his hopes of wealth and glory seemed doomed. To lay claim to El Dorado, should he discover it, he would need the approval of the Spanish king—which, as an outlaw, he would never receive. There was only one solution. Panamanian Indians had told Balboa of a vast ocean on the other side of the Central American isthmus, and had said that by traveling south upon this western coast, he would reach a fabulous land of gold, called by a name that to his ears sounded like “Biru.” Balboa decided he would cross the treacherous jungles of Panama and become the first European to bathe his feet in this new ocean. From there he would march on El Dorado. If he did this on Spain’s behalf, he would obtain the eternal gratitude of the king, and would secure his own reprieve—only he had to act before Spanish authorities came to arrest him.

THE TWO FROGS

Two frogs dwelt in the same pool. The pool being dried up under the summer’s heat, they left it, and set out together to seek another home. As they went along they chanced to pass a deep well, amply supplied with water, on seeing which one of the frogs said to the other: “Let us descend and make our abode in this well, it will furnish us with shelter and food.” The other replied with greater caution: “But suppose the water should fail us, how can we get out again from so great a depth?” Do nothing without a regard to the consequences.

FABLES, AESOP, SIXTH CENTURY B.C.

In 1513, then, Balboa set out, with 190 soldiers. Halfway across the isthmus (some ninety miles wide at that point), only sixty soldiers remained, many having succumbed to the harsh conditions—the blood-sucking insects, the torrential rainfall, fever. Finally, from a mountaintop, Balboa became the first European to lay eyes on the Pacific Ocean. Days later he marched in his armor into its waters, bearing the banner of Castile and claiming all its seas, lands, and islands in the name of the Spanish throne.

Look to the end, no matter what it is you are considering. Often enough, God gives a man a glimpse of happiness, and then utterly ruins him.

THE HISTORIES, HERODOTUS, FIFTH CENTURY B.C.

Indians from the area greeted Balboa with gold, jewels, and precious pearls, the like of which he had never seen. When he asked where these had come from, the Indians pointed south, to the land of the Incas. But Balboa had only a few soldiers left. For the moment, he decided, he should return to Darien, send the jewels and gold to Spain as a token of good will, and ask for a large army to aid him in the conquest of El Dorado.

When news reached Spain of Balboa’s bold crossing of the isthmus, his discovery of the western ocean, and his planned conquest of El Dorado, the former criminal became a hero. He was instantly proclaimed governor of the new land. But before the king and queen received word of his discovery, they had already sent a dozen ships, under the command of a man named Pedro Arias Dávila, “Pedrarias,” with orders to arrest Balboa for murder and to take command of the colony. By the time Pedrarias arrived in Panama, he had learned that Balboa had been pardoned, and that he was to share the governorship with the former outlaw.

All the same, Balboa felt uneasy. Gold was his dream, El Dorado his only desire. In pursuit of this goal he had nearly died many times over, and to share the wealth and glory with a newcomer would be intolerable. He also soon discovered that Pedrarias was a jealous, bitter man, and equally unhappy with the situation. Once again, the only solution for Balboa was to seize the initiative by proposing to cross the jungle with a larger army, carrying ship-building materials and tools. Once on the Pacific coast, he would create an armada with which to conquer the Incas. Surprisingly enough, Pedrarias agreed to the plan—perhaps sensing it would never work. Hundreds died in this second march through the jungle, and the timber they carried rotted in the torrential rains. Balboa, as usual, was undaunted—no power in the world could thwart his plan—and on arriving at the Pacific he began to cut down trees for new lumber. But the men remaining to him were too few and too weak to mount an invasion, and once again Balboa had to return to Darien.

Pedrarias had in any case invited Balboa back to discuss a new plan, and on the outskirts of the settlement, the explorer was met by Francisco Pizarro, an old friend who had accompanied him on his first crossing of the isthmus. But this was a trap: Leading one hundred soldiers, Pizarro surrounded his former friend, arrested him, and returned him to Pedrarias, who tried him on charges of rebellion. A few days later Balboa’s head fell into a basket, along with those of his most trusted followers. Years later Pizarro himself reached Peru, and Balboa’s deeds were forgotten.

THE KING. THE SUFI. AND THE SURGEON

In ancient times a king of Tartary was out walking with some of his noblemen. At the roadside was an abdal (a wandering Sufi), who cried out: “Whoever will give me a hundred dinars, I will give him some good advice.” The king stopped, and said: “Abdal, what is this good advice for a hundred dinars?” “Sir,” answered the abdal, “order the sum to be given to me, and I will tell it you immediately.” The king did so, expecting to hear something extraordinary. The dervish said to him: “My advice is this: Never begin anything until you have reflected what will be the end of it.” At this the nobles and everyone else present laughed, saying that the abdal had been wise to ask for his money in advance. But the king said: “You have no reason to laugh at the good advice this abdal has given me. No one is unaware of the fact that we should think well before doing anything. But we are daily guilty of not remembering, and the consequences are evil. I very much value this dervish’s advice. ”

The king decided to bear the advice always in his mind, and commanded it to be written in gold on the walls and even engraved on his silver plate.

Not long afterward a plotter desired to kill the king. He bribed the royal surgeon with a promise of the prime ministership if he thrust a poisoned lancet into the king’s arm. When the time came to let some of the king’s blood, a silver basin was placed to catch the blood. Suddenly the surgeon became aware of the words engraved upon it: “Never begin anything until you have reflected what will be the end of it. ” It was only then that he realized that if the plotter became king he could have the surgeon killed instantly, and would not need to fulfill his bargain.

The king, seeing that the surgeon was now trembling, asked him what was wrong with hun. And so he confessed the truth, at that very moment.

The plotter was seized; and the king sent for all the people who had been present when the abdal gave his advice, and said to them: “Do you still laugh at the dervish?”

CARAVAN OF DREAMS. IDRIES SHAH, 1968

Interpretation

Most men are ruled by the heart, not the head. Their plans are vague, and when they meet obstacles they improvise. But improvisation will only bring you as far as the next crisis, and is never a substitute for thinking several steps ahead and planning to the end.

Balboa had a dream of glory and wealth, and a vague plan to reach it. Yet his bold deeds, and his discovery of the Pacific, are largely forgotten, for he committed what in the world of power is the ultimate sin: He went part way, leaving the door open for others to take over. A real man of power would have had the prudence to see the dangers in the distance—the rivals who would want to share in the conquests, the vultures that would hover once they heard the word “gold.” Balboa should have kept his knowledge of the Incas secret until after he had conquered Peru. Only then would his wealth, and his head, have been secure. Once Pedrarias arrived on the scene, a man of power and prudence would have schemed to kill or imprison him, and to take over the army he had brought for the conquest of Peru. But Balboa was locked in the moment, always reacting emotionally, never thinking ahead.

What good is it to have the greatest dream in the world if others reap the benefits and the glory? Never lose your head over a vague, open-ended dream—plan to the end.

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

In 1863 the Prussian premier Otto von Bismarck surveyed the chessboard of European power as it then stood. The main players were England, France, and Austria. Prussia itself was one of several states in the loosely allied German Federation. Austria, dominant member of the Federation, made sure that the other German states remained weak, divided and submissive. Bismarck believed that Prussia was destined for something far greater than servant boy to Austria.

This is how Bismarck played the game. His first move was to start a war with lowly Denmark, in order to recover the former Prussian lands of Schleswig-Holstein. He knew that these rumblings of Prussian independence might worry France and England, so he enlisted Austria in the war, claiming that he was recovering Schleswig-Holstein for their benefit. In a few months, after the war was decided, Bismarck demanded that the newly conquered lands be made part of Prussia. The Austrians of course were furious, but they compromised: First they agreed to give the Prussians Schleswig, and a year later they sold them Holstein. The world began to see that Austria was weakening and that Prussia was on the rise.

Bismarck’s next move was his boldest: In 1866 he convinced King William of Prussia to withdraw from the German Federation, and in doing so to go to war with Austria itself. King William’s wife, his son the crown prince, and the princes of the other German kingdoms vehemently opposed such a war. But Bismarck, undaunted, succeeded in forcing the conflict, and Prussia’s superior army defeated the Austrians in the brutally short Seven Weeks War. The king and the Prussian generals then wanted to march on Vienna, taking as much land from Austria as possible. But Bismarck stopped them—now he presented himself as on the side of peace. The result was that he was able to conclude a treaty with Austria that granted Prussia and the other German states total autonomy. Bismarck could now position Prussia as the dominant power in Germany and the head of a newly formed North German Confederation.

The French and the English began to compare Bismarck to Attila the Hun, and to fear that he had designs on all of Europe. Once he had started on the path to conquest, there was no telling where he would stop. And, indeed, three years later Bismarck provoked a war with France. First he appeared to give his permission to France’s annexation of Belgium, then at the last moment he changed his mind. Playing a cat-and-mouse game, he infuriated the French emperor, Napoleon III, and stirred up his own king against the French. To no one’s surprise, war broke out in 1870. The newly formed German federation enthusiastically joined in the war on France, and once again the Prussian military machine and its allies destroyed the enemy army in a matter of months. Although Bismarck opposed taking any French land, the generals convinced him that Alsace-Lorraine would become part of the federation.

Now all of Europe feared the next move of the Prussian monster, led by Bismarck, the “Iron Chancellor.” And in fact a year later Bismarck founded the German Empire, with the Prussian king as the newly crowned emperor and Bismarck himself a prince. But then something strange happened: Bismarck instigated no more wars. And while the other European powers grabbed up land for colonies in other continents, he severely limited Germany’s colonial acquisitions. He did not want more land for Germany, but more security. For the rest of his life he struggled to maintain peace in Europe and to prevent further wars. Everybody assumed he had changed, mellowing with the years. They had failed to understand: This was the final move of his original plan.

He who asks fortune-tellers the future unwittingly forfeits an inner intimation of coming events that is a thousand times more exact than anything they may say.

WALTER BENJAMIN, 1892-1940

Interpretation

There is a simple reason why most men never know when to come off the attack: They form no concrete idea of their goal. Once they achieve victory they only hunger for more. To stop—to aim for a goal and then keep to it—seems almost inhuman, in fact; yet nothing is more critical to the maintenance of power. The person who goes too far in his triumphs creates a reaction that inevitably leads to a decline. The only solution is to plan for the long run. Foresee the future with as much clarity as the gods on Mount Olympus, who look through the clouds and see the ends of all things.

From the beginning of his career in politics, Bismarck had one goal: to form an independent German state led by Prussia. He instigated the war with Denmark not to conquer territory but to stir up Prussian nationalism and unite the country. He incited the war with Austria only to gain Prussian independence. (This was why he refused to grab Austrian territory.) And he fomented the war with France to unite the German kingdoms against a common enemy, and thus to prepare for the formation of a united Germany.

Once this was achieved, Bismarck stopped. He never let triumph go to his head, was never tempted by the siren call of more. He held the reins tightly, and whenever the generals, or the king, or the Prussian people demanded new conquests, he held them back. Nothing would spoil the beauty of his creation, certainly not a false euphoria that pushed those around him to attempt to go past the end that he had so carefully planned.

Experience shows that, if one foresees from far away the designs to be undertaken, one can act with speed when the moment comes to execute them.

Cardinall Richelieu, 1585-1642

KEYS TO POWER

According to the cosmology of the ancient Greeks, the gods were thought to have complete vision into the future. They saw everything to come, right down to the intricate details. Men, on the other hand, were seen as victims of fate, trapped in the moment and their emotions, unable to see beyond immediate dangers. Those heroes, such as Odysseus, who were able to look beyond the present and plan several steps ahead, seemed to defy fate, to approximate the gods in their ability to determine the future. The comparison is still valid—those among us who think further ahead and patiently bring their plans to fruition seem to have a godlike power.

Because most people are too imprisoned in the moment to plan with this kind of foresight, the ability to ignore immediate dangers and pleasures translates into power. It is the power of being able to overcome the natural human tendency to react to things as they happen, and instead to train oneself to step back, imagining the larger things taking shape beyond one’s immediate vision. Most people believe that they are in fact aware of the future, that they are planning and thinking ahead. They are usually deluded: What they are really doing is succumbing to their desires, to what they want the future to be. Their plans are vague, based on their imaginations rather than their reality. They may believe they are thinking all the way to the end, but they are really only focusing on the happy ending, and deluding themselves by the strength of their desire.

In 415 B.C., the ancient Athenians attacked Sicily, believing their expedition would bring them riches, power, and a glorious ending to the sixteen-year Peloponnesian War. They did not consider the dangers of an invasion so far from home; they did not foresee that the Sicilians would fight all the harder since the battles were in their own homeland, or that all of Athens’s enemies would band together against them, or that war would break out on several fronts, stretching their forces way too thin. The Sicilian expedition was a complete disaster, leading to the destruction of one of the greatest civilizations of all time. The Athenians were led into this disaster by their hearts, not their minds. They saw only the chance of glory, not the dangers that loomed in the distance.

Cardinal de Retz, the seventeenth-century Frenchman who prided himself on his insights into human schemes and why they mostly fail, analyzed this phenomenon. In the course of a rebellion he spearheaded against the French monarchy in 1651, the young king, Louis XIV, and his court had suddenly left Paris and established themselves in a palace outside the capital. The presence of the king so close to the heart of the revolution had been a tremendous burden on the revolutionaries, and they breathed a sigh of relief. This later proved their downfall, however, since the court’s absence from Paris gave it much more room to maneuver. “The most ordinary cause of people’s mistakes,” Cardinal de Retz later wrote, “is their being too much frightened at the present danger, and not enough so at that which is remote.”

The dangers that are remote, that loom in the distance—if we can see them as they take shape, how many mistakes we avoid. How many plans we would instantly abort if we realized we were avoiding a small danger only to step into a larger one. So much of power is not what you do but what you do not do—the rash and foolish actions that you refrain from before they get you into trouble. Plan in detail before you act—do not let vague plans lead you into trouble. Will this have unintended consequences? Will I stir up new enemies? Will someone else take advantage of my labors? Unhappy endings are much more common than happy ones—do not be swayed by the happy ending in your mind.

The French elections of 1848 came down to a struggle between Louis-Adolphe Thiers, the man of order, and General Louis Eugène Cavaignac, the rabble-rouser of the right. When Thiers realized he was hopelessly behind in this high-stakes race, he searched desperately for a solution. His eye fell on Louis Bonaparte, grand-nephew of the great general Napoleon, and a lowly deputy in the parliament. This Bonaparte seemed a bit of an imbecile, but his name alone could get him elected in a country yearning for a strong ruler. He would be Thiers’s puppet and eventually would be pushed offstage. The first part of the plan worked to perfection, and Napoleon was elected by a large margin. The problem was that Thiers had not foreseen one simple fact: This “imbecile” was in fact a man of enormous ambition. Three years later he dissolved parliament, declared himself emperor, and ruled France for another eighteen years, much to the horror of Thiers and his party.

The ending is everything. It is the end of the action that determines who gets the glory, the money, the prize. Your conclusion must be crystal clear, and you must keep it constantly in mind. You must also figure out how to ward off the vultures circling overhead, trying to live off the carcass of your creation. And you must anticipate the many possible crises that will tempt you to improvise. Bismarck overcame these dangers because he planned to the end, kept on course through every crisis, and never let others steal the glory. Once he had reached his stated goal, he withdrew into his shell like a turtle. This kind of self-control is godlike.

When you see several steps ahead, and plan your moves all the way to the end, you will no longer be tempted by emotion or by the desire to improvise. Your clarity will rid you of the anxiety and vagueness that are the primary reasons why so many fail to conclude their actions successfully. You see the ending and you tolerate no deviation.

Image: The Gods on Mount Olympus. Looking down on human actions from the clouds, they see in advance the endings of all the great dreams that lead to disaster and tragedy. And they laugh at our inability to see beyond the moment, and at how we delude ourselves.

Authority: How much easier it is never to get in than to get yourself out! We should act contrary to the reed which, when it first appears, throws up a long straight stem but afterwards, as though it were exhausted ... makes several dense knots, indicating that it no longer has its original vigor and drive. We must rather begin gently and coolly, saving our breath for the encounter and our vigorous thrusts for finishing off the job. In their beginnings it is we who guide affairs and hold them in our power; but so often once they are set in motion, it is they which guide us and sweep us along. (Montaigne, 1533-1592)

REVERSAL

It is a cliché among strategists that your plan must include alternatives and have a degree of flexibility. That is certainly true. If you are locked into a plan too rigidly, you will be unable to deal with sudden shifts of fortune. Once you have examined the future possibilities and decided on your target, you must build in alternatives and be open to new routes toward your goal.

Most people, however, lose less from overplanning and rigidity than from vagueness and a tendency to improvise constantly in the face of circumstance. There is no real purpose in contemplating a reversal to this Law, then, for no good can come from refusing to think far into the future and planning to the end. If you are clear- and far-thinking enough, you will understand that the future is uncertain, and that you must be open to adaptation. Only having a clear objective and a far-reaching plan allows you that freedom.

#books #robert greene #power #psychology #SELF-IMPROVEMENT

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unending-happiness · 7 years

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The Most Beautiful Thing on the Planet

Alec and Magnus travel to the Maldives Islands for some much needed rest and relaxation. Their alone time gets interrupted by something unexpected. Alec is full of sass and Magnus is his usual magnificent self. Basically, just these two lovebirds in paradise.

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It was amazing how everything was better on vacation, even the coffee tasted better in paradise. Alec stood in the doorway to the deck of their overwater villa. They had been keeping the large sliding glass door opened all the way, so that the indoor and outdoor spaces merged into one. Even at night, there was no need for privacy, the only thing as far as the eye could see were the crystal turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean and a blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. They were but a few steps away from water so clear you could see all the marine life below, as your feet settled into soft white sand. It was a stunning sight, but even the idyllic scenery had nothing on the sight that was currently capturing Alec’s attention.

Magnus was lying on his stomach wearing nothing but the shortest, tightest swim bottoms that he had ever seen, not that he was complaining one bit. His already tan skin had been kissed by the sun over the past few days, giving him an almost unearthly glow. Magnus always called him an angel, but Alec knew who the real angel was here. He must’ve just gotten out of the pool, his skin still glistening with drops of water, his hair wet and slicked back. There were a number of comfortable lounge chairs and a hammock nearby, but Magnus was stretched out on the smooth tiki wood of the deck, his hand draped over the edge into their private infinity pool, languidly swishing through warm water. He was facing the ocean, his long legs stretched out toward Alec, toes pointed gracefully. Alec couldn’t see his face from where he stood, but he knew that he still didn’t have makeup on, nor any jewelry, and his nails weren’t painted. He knew because those fingers had just slid down his chest an hour ago, before he left Alec to his book and went outside. He was actually surprised Magnus had bothered to pull on bottoms, as he had taken to this pool naked more than a few times in their time here.

Alec knew that in a short time, all of his usual flair would be back. Magnus would get dressed up for their lunch date at the resort restaurant. This stripped down version of Magnus was something that few people ever got to see, and Alec felt a great sense of pride at being trusted with a laid bare Magnus. He knew that without the makeup, jewelry, and clothes, Magnus felt like a knight without his armour. However, he knew the truth and reminded him often that his armor was his incredible inner strength. Alec truly loved every version of Magnus, and couldn’t get enough of any of them.

He took a last sip of his coffee and quietly set it down on a nearby table, and moved to join his boyfriend by the pool, yearning to run his hands across his damp skin. He walked quietly, the wood soft and soundless under his feet, thinking Magnus would feel the vibrations and look up, but he didn’t. Closer now, he had a clear view of Magnus’ face. He was expecting his eyes to be closed, or at least filled with a look of serenity, so when he saw that his eyebrows were scrunched in irritation, his lips in a scowl, Alec followed his gaze to his hand. He was holding his iphone, it’s black glittery case shining in the sun, with a colorful game playing on the screen.

“Magnus Bane,” Alec said sternly, snapping him out of his game-induced concentration, “I cannot believe you.”

Magnus jumped, nearly dropping the offending article, before burying his face in the crook of his elbow and groaning. “Ugh. I thought you were reading.”

“I missed you, and you look so hot laying out here all spread ou--” Alec stopped, shaking his head ”--no, I’m not getting distracted. We specifically said no cellphones on vacation.”

Magnus rolled over onto his back, so that he could look up at Alec, pressing the button on his phone to turn off the screen and laying it next to him. “Yes, I’m aware of what we said, but honestly, you were reading, so I don’t see why I can’t just play a game, Alexander. Be reasonable.”

Alec scoffed, putting his hands on his hips over his shorts, “Be reasonable?! You’ve got to be kidding me. You are the one who made the rule. You went so far as to lock my phone in the hotel safe when we got here. You gave my family the resort number in case they needed anything, because, you know, I wouldn’t have my phone.”

Leaning back on his elbows looking up at him, Magnus at least had the grace to appear a little remorseful, “I understand, but the whole no phones deal was made because yours is always ringing and interrupting us. It’s always Jace, Izzy, Maryse, work, someone is always calling. I love that your family is important to you and that you are dedicated to your clients, but they always want you to fix something, and I just wanted one whole week of not having to share you, my love. Is that really too much to ask?”

“No, it isn’t too much to ask. I know that my work keeps me busy and my family can be a bit much, which is why I agreed, but the point is, you said you wouldn’t use yours either,” a thought occurred to him, “Wait...when did you even get yours out of the safe? How long have you had it?”

Magnus evaded the question, “I just wanted to beat this one level on candy crush..I’m so close, and you were reading that boring book anyway.”

Alec balked, throwing his hands in the air, “Candy crush?! You broke our pact for a game about crushing candy? Unbelievable,” but his annoyance was waning as his eyes raked over Magnus’ toned abs, displayed in all their glory in front of him. Damn libido!

Magnus’ knowing look told Alec that he knew exactly what was on his mind, and he smiled innocently, seeing his chance to distract him, “Darling. I am so sorry. How can I ever make it up to you?”

Alec could think of a way….or ten. “Don’t darling me. I’m still mad at you,” he said, but he lowered himself down, straddling Magnus. Leaning over him, he scooped a handful of water from the pool and dripped it into Magnus’ hair, smoothing it out of his face. “You are the most gorgeous candy crush addict I have ever seen.” He was leaning down to kiss him, when a loud chirping sound came from Magnus’ phone. He quickly snatched it up and sat up, sitting back on his thighs to keep him in place. He held the phone up out of reach, put in the lock screen password, and swiped down notifications, ignoring Magnus’ protests.

It was a text from Ragnor.

I emailed you with the files for next week’s edition, as requested. Honestly, Magnus, Catarina and I have this under control. I don’t know why you insist on working from halfway across the world. Don’t you have something else to do? such as: snorkel, drink from a coconut, or climb that tall broody tree of yours? Speaking of, Alec has instagram. He’s going to see the dates on those pictures when you get back, and I would love to be there when he does. Stop micromanaging. I’m not enabling you anymore.

Alec’s jaw dropped. Magnus was working?! He was working a lot apparently, and he was also on social media. So much for the whole ‘just playing a game’ bit. “You lied to me,” he said.

Magnus gave up trying to get the phone from Alec and slumped back down, putting his hands on Alec’s thighs, “I didn’t lie to you. You didn’t ask me if I was working, specifically,” he said, while slowly sliding his hands up under Alec’s shorts.

Damnit. Why was Magnus so good at removing all thoughts from his mind? He leveled a pointed gaze at his hands, which had the immediate effect of stilling them. “Withholding the truth is lying by omission, Magnus, and you know that.” He leaned down and whispered, “I am going to throw your phone into the ocean.”

Magnus panicked, “Don’t do that! That phone case was a gift from Catarina and it is one of a kind.”

Alec laughed incredulously, “So you aren’t worried about the brand new expensive electronic, but you are worried about the sparkly phone case?”

“All the best things sparkle.” Magnus retorted.

He couldn’t argue with that logic, considering Magnus sparkled most of the time and Alec was crazy about him. For a moment, he thought of removing the phone from it’s case and hurling it, but then he looked at Magnus underneath him, nearly naked and vulnerable, lips pouty and pleading, and he just sighed. He wasn’t going to win this one, so he typed out a text reply to Ragnor.

Magnus can’t come to his phone right now. It has been confiscated by the broody tall tree. He will see you in 5 days.

He decided to pull up instagram next, to see what kind of pictures Magnus had posted of their trip during his secret phone time. Expecting beach pictures, he was surprised when the first thing he saw was a picture of himself. It was a black and white shot of him sleeping, his hair wild against the white pillow, one hand tucked up under his head, the other one curled around Magnus’ hand. The caption on the photo seemed to be song lyrics, ones that Alec didn’t recognize, but that he would be listening to the first chance he got.

I surrender who I’ve been for who you are, nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart. If I had only felt how it feels to be yours, I would’ve known what I’ve been living for all along. ~ Turning Page, Sleeping at Last.

Alec swallowed. He felt overwhelmed with gratitude that life had given him this amazing, beautiful man who loved him. He blinked back tears as he focused on Magnus’ face.

Magnus looked concerned, “What are you looking at? Is it Ragnor? Are you going to throw my phone into the Indian Ocean?”

Alec powered down the device, placed it on the deck, and leaned down, kissing Magnus on the nose and running his fingers through his hair.

“No, I’m not. I’m going to order room service. We are going to stay here all day, and I’m going to worship every inch of your body in a vain attempt to show you how impossibly in love with you I am.”

Magnus placed both hands on his face, and whispered, “I love you too, Alexander.” He smiled, rubbing a thumb across his cheek, “Does this mean I get to finish my game later?”

Alec kissed him breathless, completely losing himself in the most beautiful thing on the planet.

#shaumondays #malec #magnus x alec #fic #my fic #shadowhunters #ao3 #the most beautiful thing on the planet #travel au #maldive islands #paradise #lovebirds in paradise #magnus bane #alec lightwood #maldives magic series #maldivesmagicfics

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topfygad · 5 years

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Travelmag – Taking a taxi-brousse across Madagascar

Madagascar, within the Indian Ocean, may not be an undiscovered jewel however it’s an disregarded a single. Gorgeous however arduous to acquire, guests are handful of: largely aged French males and natural world fanatics.

The island, as main as France, is distinct in a lot of means from different African nations all over the world. Though neighbouring Kenya on the African continent is thought to be ‘the cradle of mankind’, Madagascar didn’t see the footprint of people proper till considerably not way back. It skilled a lonely existence. It broke absent from Africa 160 million yrs previously after which, as if wishing to be by itself, unshackled alone from its japanese flank – which is recognized as India now – drifted a minimal even additional eastward and settled down by itself for about 70 million yrs. This has meant a novel natural world method.

It’s named the “Nice Crimson Island” owing to the dominant color of its soil. It’s mentioned that the inhabitants are so related to their island that, once they journey, they pack among the soil of their baggage – this means they’re, in a notion, often in name with their homeland.

The inhabitants are distinctive from different Africans: they’re initially from Asia arriving someday about 500 A.D in outrigger boats. Their origins have been localised by way of linguistic detective operate within the Malay-Borneo archipelago. This offers the place a distinctly Asian come to really feel.

When travelling, it’s superior to actually really feel surrounded by amiable individuals. It’s energising to have about you people who’re usually courteous and useful it staying additionally extremely possible to search out by yourself among the many those that are dour, unhelpful and humourless. Malagasies are among the many most agreeable peoples I’ve met.

Home flights are high-priced in Madagascar so just about everybody can take the “taxi-brousse” (bush taxi). These are 15 or 18-area minibuses. Avenue transportation could be actually harmful (terrible crashes are recurrent), unpredictable and never comfy however seldom monotonous: troublesome to foretell what new shut pal you might maybe make or what expertise skilled by the end of a visit. We go away early afternoon.

We’ve an night time meal in just a little highway-facet village: tongue of zebu in sauce and the traditional big plate of rice: a really poor nation however a various delicacies-Malagasy, French, Indian, Chinese language. A fellow-passenger, a state medical physician, speaks of how powerful it’s to make ends meet. He talks of his sufferers’ lungs: a lot mud on the winnowing of the rice. He coughs tough, maybe to make a concern. I sympathise, having to pay for his meals. Earlier than we depart we hear of issues ready down the highway.

At dusk we discover out that a part of the road has been washed away. We’re not the very first minibus to confront the hole we pull in driving people who appear to be settling in for the night time. Then again, we’re, it’s quickly obvious, heading to be distinctive. The driving force and co-driver have a voluble dialogue – or is it an argument – worldwide voice pitches are difficult to decipher the co-driver will get out, flashlight in hand, and investigates the world. We are able to see his silhouette and the torchlight picked out his plastic sandals stamping on the sodden soil.

Following extra evaluation of the terrain and dialogue the selection is made. We’re going to skirt the dilemma. For the shiny-purple Mazda, advancing into the self-discipline is the easy part nonetheless there are uneasy murmurings from the travellers. The flashlight is displaying the best way and we improvement 20 or 30 metres upfront of we bathroom down. A rope, pulled by the flashlight man and a volunteer passenger, strikes us a minor extra. It solely triggers our entrance wheels to sink additional down.

People contemplate to slumber. It’s nonetheless raining with the daybreak and the consuming water has attained half method up our wheels. On the highway some huge automobiles and plenty of mini-buses are backed up on each side of the hole. We’re the one minibus in a business so we incite some curiosity, even mockery.

We do away with footwear and trousers and get out to check the morning. Even with significantly pushing and pulling we keep caught. A stream has opened up in entrance of us in the middle of the night making our progress much more problematic. Teams, from different mini-buses, happen and survey the state of affairs and study solutions.

The co-driver has his shirt off and with the help of 6 or 7 youthful gents pull and press however we actually don’t budge. The scene is desolate fields are a soggy mess on equally sides. The substantial gap stretches all through three-quarters of the highway, minibuses again up in equally directions, an oil tanker is as much as its axles in water precisely the place it has 50 percent-skidded off the freeway.

A different is at hand however for a charge. The driving force of a big truck, proprietor of a prolonged metallic rope bargains with our driver. With the rope related, the truck backs down the freeway and pulls us, slithering, on to the highway. We even now on the unsuitable aspect of the opening however some enterprising souls have managed to space planks all through the offending hole and, with individuals right this moment steadying them on every particular person facet, minibuses are crossing gingerly. Much more funds is important for this and our driver asks us so as to add. Some do and a few actually do not. We go away.

The unpaved sections of the freeway are quagmire laterite has turned to mush. Our driver tussles violently with the steering wheel as he fights to proceed to maintain us from bogging down. At specified areas youthful and never so youthful children, are collected to monetary achieve from nature’s present. They maintain out on the trickiest and muddiest spots they’re the rescue teams-perhaps you can get in contact with them “mud busters”. They snicker and puff and chortle and puff and power as they help us in extra of essentially the most treacherous sections. As we get away, I see them within the rear-see mirror, digging within the pink mud with their arms trying to retrieve the cash the motive force has tossed. We then slide and skid on to the following “toll” phase.

In mid-afternoon we pull in on the tail of an extended line of minibuses, vans, automobiles and a few zebu-pulled carts. A river has overflowed slicing off our passage and the maintain out for it to go down is believed at four a number of hours upwards. We maintain out roadside meals objects suppliers do glorious group. I have a look at the consuming water stage there is no such thing as a recognizable variation four hours afterwards. Gents wading all through the flooded stretch preserve their belongings greater than their head the h2o is chest massive. Other people are spending to be ferried greater than in dugout canoes. Herds of zebus are being pushed into the water to be washed.

At nightfall I inquire for my bag and appeared for a canoe. It was now dim. I spend and get safely and securely all through the initially aspect. Now there’s a rapid-flowing stream to ford, potent sufficient to comb me off my ft. A “information” clasps me by the wrist and hand and usually takes my bag on his shoulder. Even so, I come to really feel critical dread as, within the gloom, the consuming water rushes thigh-significant. I wrestle to maintain my ft for the 10 second crossing. I pay again the knowledge. There’s a taxi-brousse ready across the different facet and so I pay as soon as extra. When it fills, at about three am, we go away, drained and sodden.

As we pull into the Diego Suarez bus-station nearly three occasions proper after our departure I felt a notion of help and triumph. There are some journeys you take into account much more vividly than others.

Extracted from Donal Conlon’s extraordinarily glorious ibook My Africa, obtainable from Amazon.

from Cheapr Travels https://ift.tt/2rWCWdl via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Cheapr Travels

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drtanstravels · 6 years

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Anna and I came to a conclusion recently — She needs to relax more and take more holidays. Yes, we do go on a lot of trips and we have plenty coming up this year, but it is almost entirely for her work so she doesn’t really get to take a break. When we went to Thailand and a resort in Indonesia recently, she was a completely different person and got to unwind properly for the first time in about a year. We did go to Turkey late last year, but it was on the tail-end of a conference that Anna had put in a lot of work for, plus it was an extremely hectic trip anyway, hardly any time for relaxation. That’s why we decided to take part in the world’s largest annual human migration and get away at Chinese New Year this year; it’s a relatively quiet time for her at the Eye Centre as few people in Singapore want to have surgery done during this period and the timing of Chinese New Year meant that Monday, February fourth was a half-day public holiday, while the fifth and sixth were full days off. We wanted to go somewhere neither of us had been before and initially considered Taiwan, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to go there during Chinese New Year as everything would be closed and we kind of wanted to escape the stress of being in a Chinese environment during those celebrations, because constant drums, chanting, and fires aren’t conducive to a relaxing weekend. Instead, we opted for Sri Lanka, a place neither of us really knew a whole lot about. My knowledge of Sri Lanka was limited to what was shown when singer Kamahl did advertisements for teabags in Australia and the fact that their cricket team was abysmal when I was growing up. Well, here are the basics on Sri Lanka:

Sri Lanka is an island country in South Asia, located in the Indian Ocean to the southwest of the Bay of Bengal and to the southeast of the Arabian Sea. The island is historically and culturally intertwined with the Indian subcontinent, but is geographically separated from the Indian subcontinent by the Gulf of Mannar and the Palk Strait. The legislative capital, Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, is a suburb of the commercial capital and largest city, Colombo.

Sri Lanka was known from the beginning of British colonial rule as Ceylon. A nationalist political movement arose in the country in the early 20th century to obtain political independence, which was granted in 1948; the country became a republic and adopted its current name in 1972.

The island is home to many cultures, languages and ethnicities. The majority of the population is from the Sinhalese ethnicity, while a large minority of Tamils have also played an influential role in the island’s history. Moors, Burghers, Malays, Chinese, and the indigenous Vedda are also established groups on the island.

‘Colombo,’ not ‘Columbo’

Sounds like it could be an interesting place to spend a few days so the plan was to fly out on Friday evening and stay the night in Colombo, catch a train to Galle and spend Saturday and Sunday night in the Fort area there, meeting up with our Australian friends from Singapore, Tom Cargill and Leonie Brown, whom it happened would be in the same place at the same time, and then come back for a final night in Colombo before flying out very early Wednesday morning. There was, however, the issue that I had had an epileptic seizure a few days prior to leaving that would require me to get my head stitched up in hospital, but wasn’t expected to put our trip in any jeopardy. Let’s see if all went to plan.

Friday, February 1, 2019 Anna finished work early on Friday afternoon so we packed, took Kermit to the dog hotel, and then got a cab to the airport. Our flight was at 7:30pm and it would take three-and-a-half hours to touch down in Colombo, however, Sri Lanka is two-and-a-half hours behind Singapore so it was barely 9:00pm by the time we landed. Getting through immigration wasn’t too much of an issue, although I did get a few sideways glances from officers because of my rather impressive black eye, but we were soon through the gate and one thing became abundantly clear; A lot of people landing at Bandaranaike International Airport must purchase fridges on impulse! Sure, there was the regular duty free store selling alcohol, cigarettes, perfume, and the usual stuff that you encounter in any international airport, but this was surrounded by endless shops selling duty free white-goods — refrigerators, washers, dryers, ovens, vacuum cleaners, and everything else any complete home requires were all available and all tax-free at any of the countless electronics and homewares stores in the arrivals area. I think Harvey Norman may have to rethink their business model, I’m not kidding, there are tons of these stores so they must be selling something, take a look around for yourself:

Anna looking a little confused

Just a couple of the stores

Looking from the standard duty free section

Even more

We managed to resist the urge to pick up a reasonably priced chest freezer and walked down to the taxi rank. Initially we thought that maybe we should’ve requested a hotel transfer, but we had nothing to worry about, getting a taxi without getting ripped off wasn’t a problem as there was a fixed-priced taxi counter. Now onto our home for almost the next 24 hours, Colombo:

Colombo is the commercial capital and largest city of Sri Lanka. According to the Brookings Institution, Colombo metropolitan area has a population of 5.6 million, and 752,993 in the city proper. It is the financial centre of the island and a popular tourist destination. It is located on the west coast of the island and adjacent to the Greater Colombo area which includes Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, the legislative capital of Sri Lanka and Dehiwala-Mount Lavinia. Colombo is often referred to as the capital since Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte is within the urban area of, and a suburb of, Colombo. It is also the administrative capital of the Western Province and the district capital of Colombo District. Colombo is a busy and vibrant place with a mixture of modern life and colonial buildings and ruins. It was the legislative capital of Sri Lanka until 1982.

Due to its large harbour and its strategic position along the East-West sea trade routes, Colombo was known to ancient traders 2,000 years ago. It was made the capital of the island when Sri Lanka was ceded to the British Empire in 1815, and its status as capital was retained when the nation became independent in 1948. In 1978, when administrative functions were moved to Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, Colombo was designated as the commercial capital of Sri Lanka.

To make matters even better, we were staying at the legendary Galle Face Hotel. Just have a click around that website and you’ll see why we were excited to be staying there or if you’re too lazy, just read a portion of what Wikipedia has to say about our humble abode for the night:

The Galle Face Hotel, founded in Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1864, is one of the oldest hotels east of Suez. It is listed as one of the “1000 Places to See Before You Die” in the book of the same name.

Celebrity guests include Mahatma Gandhi; the first man in space, Yuri Gagarin; John D. Rockefeller; former British Prime minister Edward Heath; Princess Alexandra of Denmark; Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh; First Prime Minister of India Jawaharlal Nehru; Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India; journalist Eric Ellis and photographer Palani Mohan; future British RAF officer and MI6 agent F. W. Winterbotham; Prince Sadruddhin Aga Khan; then-Prince Hirohito of Japan; Roger Moore; Carrie Fisher; Richard Nixon, US President; Lord Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma; Noël Coward, English playwright, composer, director, actor and singer; Josip Broz Tito, Marshal of Yugoslavia. In January 2018 Prince Edward and the Countess of Wessex stayed at the hotel during their five day official visit.

I guess I can now name two hotels in which Richard Nixon has stayed. Anyway, once we had arrived we checked into our room and then went down to King of the Mambo, a Cuban-themed bar and restaurant within the hotel, right on the water. We pulled up a seat, ordered a couple of drinks and just started chatting while a Latin band played in the background when, before long, a couple on the next table, an Italian man and an Indian woman, must’ve overheard us say something about Singapore and asked if we were “Jacu’s friends.” It turned out that they both live in Singapore too and knew someone there whose friends were also traveling to Sri Lanka this weekend as well. We told them that we were from Singapore, but didn’t know a Jacu. I later had a look at Facebook and saw that there were comments on my friend’s page tagging me as traveling to Colombo, as well as another couple. This particular friend doesn’t use his real name on Facebook and I thought that maybe I had just forgotten his name as he is someone I only know from the pub so I showed his photo to the couple on the next table. “Yes, that’s Jacu!” they replied, so we settled in, ordered some food and got chatting with them. Not only did we have the mutual friend we knew of, but it turned out that the Indian girl, Adita, also went to university and is friends with one of Anna’s best friends, Roshini. To quote the comedian Steven Wright, “It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.” Here’s a look around our room in the Galle Face Hotel and King of the Mambo that night, although we didn’t get one our new drinking buddies:

Looking toward our bed

looking away from it

toward our bathroom

Out our window

Getting a bit rough on the way to the bar

Part of the view of King of the Mambo from our table

Looking along the shore

Inside the bar

Another area

Part of the skyline in the background

Saturday, February 2, 2019 We were still operating on Singapore time so we were up pretty early by our holiday standards. One thing that we didn’t realise was that Sri Lankan National Day, or Independence Day, also happened to fall during our trip, being celebrated on the Monday so there were thousands of soldiers rehearsing for the National Day parade when we left the hotel in the morning. Our plan for Saturday was to catch a train down to Galle, however, first-class trains only departed at around 6:30am, which wasn’t an option for us. Instead, we could get an express train at 3:50pm, but we would only be able to get either second or third class tickets with unreserved seating. You’re probably thinking, “Oh, poor Tim and Anna, can’t get first class tickets, boo-hoo,” but anyone who has ever caught public transport anywhere on the Indian subcontinent would understand that even first class could be deceptive in definition, second class with unreserved seating could mean absolutely anything, and third class with unreserved seating may possibly resemble something like this:

Still, we had a few hours to kill so we hit the street, taking in some of the military rehearsals along the way. We began walking toward the centre of town along Colombo-Galle Main Rd. when we were almost immediately approached by a very well-dressed, albeit extremely sweaty, local man who burst into a power-walk to catch up to us. Sri Lanka is famous for its gemstones and this dodgy guy insisted on taking us to a gemstone museum and then a shop afterward. We’re used to dealing with scammers overseas so we made it clear that we weren’t interested and that’s when the bullshit began. “Today is National Day so nothing else will be open anyway, as you can see by the parade on the beach.” We explained to him that we were more than aware that National Day was on Monday, the shops were clearly open, and that the parade on the beach was a rehearsal, but he wasn’t deterred. “I work at your hotel, what sort of representative would I be if I didn’t show you the best of Colombo?” We then pointed out that it was one of his alleged coworkers that told us about the rehearsals and he wasn’t dressed like any of them, but still he insisted we see the gemstone museum, going on and on about it as we sped up, him struggling to keep pace. It was finally when he called over a tuk tuk for us and told the driver where to take us that we both finally snapped, telling him that we saw through his bullshit and that we were doing something somewhere else. He kept talking, but soon realised he wasn’t getting anywhere, muttered something under his breath, and walked away. We were expecting to meet hustlers like this after the time we’ve spent in India and the first person we encountered on the streets of Colombo was exactly that, but fortunately we wouldn’t meet too many more.

We continued exploring, but everyone we know that has been to Sri Lanka told us beforehand that there wasn’t a whole lot to do or see in Colombo, just tons of construction, and Galle was where the real action was. Still, we had a look around, grabbed a decent lunch, and then soon we had to head back to the hotel to grab our luggage in order to catch our train. A look around our hotel and the surrounding area of Colombo:

A panoramic view from our balcony

Inside the lobby of the Galle Face Hotel

Our doorman about to let us out

Looking across the road

The parade rehearsals from a distance

Part of the exterior of the Galle Face Hotel

Part of where we had spent the previous night

More of the parade action on the beach

The local police station

A building that seems to be missing a roof and some walls

One of many construction sites

A cool mural on a building on our way to lunch

These photos may not paint a particularly beautiful picture of Colombo, but it is really nice, just the area we stayed on that first night may have been a little less aesthetically pleasing. After lunch we walked back to the hotel, got our luggage and checked out, and then we were on our way to the train station. The train station wasn’t far away, but we had to get there about an hour early in order to get halfway-decent tickets for our two-and-a-half hour journey to Galle. Anna read online that if we wanted to get a seat on the train, it was best to go to the first station on the trainline, but the concierge at our hotel said it was too far out of the way and we only needed to go to the nearest station. We got our first tuk tuk in Sri Lanka, negotiated a decent price due to the fare metre still being sealed in its original packaging, and rode in our three-wheeled deathmobile, weaving recklessly through traffic, all the way to the station. Anyone that has ever ridden in a tuk tuk before knows that you never feel all that safe in one and that’s not including the time a tuk tuk driver in Pondicherry, India (the vehicle called an “auto” there) made a piss-poor attempt at kidnapping me! These things are completely unstable, you’re not secured into the vehicle in any way, the drivers just throw caution to the wind, and in some countries they’ll do anything to screw you over to make an extra buck or two. Only some of them in Sri Lanka have a fare metre, but they are never used so you just have to haggle first and fortunately we never had any drivers try to scam us. Tuk tuks are the cheapest, and sometimes only, option, but all the ones we encountered on this trip could be trusted. We soon arrived at the train station and I watched the bags while Anna bought our tickets and then we walked down to platform 5 where our train would eventually be arriving. We managed to get second class tickets with unreserved seating, which meant that the process for getting a seat was first in, first served when entering the carriage, however, our carriage would have ceiling fans. When we saw a train arriving on another platform, we realised exactly what this meant; the carriages in both classes were extremely crowded with people getting on and off while the train was still moving, others just hanging out of the doors as the only convenient place to stand in third class. After we saw this, I decided to ask someone on our platform where to board the second class carriage. I approached a friendly-looking young woman, only for her to let out a little scream and grab her handbag. Train stations around the globe are generally seedy areas so I guess when a female is approached by a rather large man with a black eye and facial stitches, she needs to be on her guard. I apologised, explained our situation, and she advised us to wait in the middle of the platform, as that is where the second class carriages would most likely be.

Our train soon arrived and we boarded, and although I wasn’t expecting complimentary champagne, we were also unable to get a seat despite how proactive we were, instead relegated to standing in the centre of the carriage, the end nearest to us only having two of the seven ceiling fans operating. Initially the carriage was overcrowded, people even sitting in the open doorway, legs hanging outside the train. There were handles hanging from bars from the ceiling, but it was easier for me to hold the bar, Anna grabbing a handle, and we were soon on our way. Sri Lanka is infinitely cleaner than India, but as we were departing we crossed a river that could almost be tasted as we passed, the horrendous stench of raw sewerage hanging in the air. None of the locals really reacted to fragrant aroma of human waste, but almost every foreigner on the train instantly gagged. I’ve also heard awful rumours about the toilets on trains in this part of the world, essentially just a seat with a hole that drops turds directly onto the tracks, the room ending up ankle deep in human waste. How much truth there is to those stories can really be neither confirmed nor denied for me, but we both decided it was best to clench for the next couple of hours and take in the scenery. Any photos from inside the train were captured as it was still moving, the view almost always obstructed by another passenger’s arm gripping a handle or pole:

In a tuk tuk en route to the station (note the sealed metre)

Looking down at Anna on our platform, early for our train

Inside the station

An earlier train that would resemble ours

Not sure what class this is, but it looks like it’s going to a concentration camp!

Our train has finally arrived

A gentle reminder not to rub your nuts on seated passengers

Looking one way up our carriage at a worried-looking European tourist

And we’re off!

The other way down our carriage

This guy sat like this for the bulk of the journey

Crossing the festering river

Some of the scenery out of the door was beautiful

Some not so much

Going behind some houses

Location, location, location

You also shouldn’t rub your nuts on standing passengers

Trying my best to blend in while onboard

That bar was a little dirty

Finally made it to our destination

Our ride only stopped four or five times en route to Galle, but for the last ten minutes or so enough people had exited the train so Anna could have a seat and I could sit on the table in front of her.

Me with some of our dinner

Once we arrived in Galle we took a tuk tuk to our hotel, The Bungalow in Galle Fort, and by that time it was already about 7:00pm so we decided to hit the town. The first plan of attack; get some hoppers. Hoppers are kind of like a bowl-shaped pancake made from fermented rice flour and coconut milk, generally eaten with curry and sambol. Not long after we had walked out the door and around the corner, we stumbled upon a small store simply called Hoppa so we pulled up a seat and ordered what we had come for. We got some egg hoppers and cheese hoppers, as well as some curried prawns and black curry pork and Anna later ordered some dessert hoppers that came with treacle. To be honest, I could happily eat hoppers for every meal daily, but I don’t know how my waistline would handle it. After dinner we walked down to the Old Dutch Hospital, one of the oldest buildings in Galle, dating back to the 17th century Dutch occupation of Sri Lanka when the building actually functioned as a hospital. Now it serves as a shopping and dining precinct so we sat down in a bar, ordered some drinks and a shisha, but it wasn’t going to be a long night as it turns out most, if not all, bars in this town shut at 11:00pm, even on a Saturday. Oh well, it had been a packed day so we really weren’t complaining.

This concludes the first part of our Sri Lankan adventure, stay tuned for the second half when we spend more time wandering around Galle and getting into a couple of weird situations before returning to Colombo again for a final night.

Chinese New Year in Sri Lanka, pt.1: Colombo to Galle Anna and I came to a conclusion recently -- She needs to relax more and take more holidays.

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itsiotrecords-blog · 7 years

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Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! The X marks the spot, so get your shovel ready and start digging. Money, gold and jewelry stashed away on some mysterious island usually means trouble. From the mists of time, when mythical gods and legendary heroes roamed the Earth, though the Middle Ages and even the last couple of centuries, we have records of great treasures that seem to have vanished, leaving behind only pies in the sky. Fascinating examples of opulence and decadence, the world knelt to their power and wept at their disappearance. They witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, and now they are gone. Or are they?

#1 Blackbeard’s Treasure Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard the Pirate, spent only two years preying the high seas, more than enough to extract a great treasure estimated at over $100 million. While the Spaniards were busy trying to get their hands on Mexico’s and South America’s gold and silver, Blackbeard and his men patiently waited to plunder the ships carrying the treasures to the old continent. The pirate was captured in 1718 and decapitated under the orders of British lieutenant Robert Maynard, who hung his head from his ship as trophy. In front of his executioners, Blackbeard admitted to having hid his treasure but never revealed where, saying “Only the devil and I know the whereabouts of my treasure, and the one of us who lives the longest should take it all.” This didn’t stop treasure hunters — in 1996, Blackbeard’s ship Queen Anne’s Revenge was found near Beaufort, North Carolina. Valuable artifacts have been recovered, but no sign of the precious cargo.

#2 The Amber Room

Widely considered the eighth wonder of the world, the Amber Room is a masterpiece of German and Russian fine art, offered by Wilhelm I, the King of Prussia, to his Russian ally Tzar Peter the Great as a symbol of friendship in 1716. Made from six tons of amber and covered in gold and gemstones, the impressive chamber was worth well over $200 million at the time it was built. During World War II it disappeared without a trace, and has since been one of the world’s most coveted treasures. During the war, when the Germans attempted to bring the room back to Germany the ship transporting it might have sunk into the sea. Others claim it was transported to Konigsberg Castle, presently Kaliningrad in Germany. Could it be hidden in an abandoned mine in Thuringia? Or buried on the shores of a lagoon in the Baltic Sea? Feel like finding out?

#3 Treasure of Lima In 1820, Peru’s capital found itself on the brink of revolution. As a precautionary measure, the viceroy decided to move the capital’s treasures into Mexico for safekeeping. Precious stones, two life-size golden statues of the Virgin Mary, and many other priceless artifacts were loaded on 11 ships. The viceroy put commander William Thompson in charge, who soon proved to be a merciless pirate. Thompson led the ships to the island of Cocos in the Indian Ocean, where he presumably buried the treasure. When finally captured, he promised to dig up the treasure in exchange for his life. On the island he pretended to lead the way and managed to escape into the jungle. Since that day, over 300 expeditions tried to locate the Treasure of Lima, estimated at over $300 million. All failed.

#4 Montezuma’s Treasure

The fall of the Aztec Empire to Spanish conquistadors reached its peak on July 1, 1520. After mortally injuring King Montezuma, Hernando Cortes ordered his men to gather all the riches of the Empire and tried to flee the territory by night. Seeking revenge, the Aztecs attacked the conquistadors near the capital of Tenochtitlan. The carnage that followed filled up Tezcuco Lake with bodies and Montezuma’s stolen treasure, countless gold and silver ornaments and an impressive collection of jewelry. Cortes and some of his men survived and returned one year later, but the treasure had already been stashed away, protected from the conquistadors’ greed and most likely buried near Tezcuco Lake. Worth over $3 billion today, Montezuma’s treasure might also be hidden somewhere in the swamps near Mexico City, the place where the colossal city of Tenochtitlan once laid… yet generations of treasure hunters have failed to locate it.

#5 Leon Trabuco’s Gold In the early 1930s, Mexican millionaire Leon Trabuco secretly flew to the heart of the Mexican Desert and hid a great treasure. It was the Great Depression — the dollar hit rock bottom and the price of gold was about to skyrocket. Leon Trabuco and his business partners bought as much gold as they could and stashed it away it in the hope of selling it later and getting rich. They piled up over 16 tons of gold, but they never lived to see their dream come true. Leon Trabuco kept waiting for prices to rise until a new law restricting gold commerce prevented them from selling. The gold, which could be worth close to one billion dollars today, seems to have carried a curse. Leon’s partners died within five years, followed by Trabuco himself, taking the secret of the treasure’s whereabouts to the grave.

#6 Treasure of El Dorado

A city filled with gold lost in the South American jungle sounds like a fairy tale. El Dorado is the legend of a Muisca Chieftain, a legendary leader who used to cover himself in gold dust during religious ceremonies. The true city of gold is actually Paititi, a mysterious city that might really exist. Spaniards had been at odds with the Incas in Peru for over 40 years. The locals took shelter in the Vilcabamba Valley, where they withstood Spanish attacks for some time. When the Spaniards finally conquered the valley in 1572, it was deserted. It seems the Incas fled to the jungles to the south of Brazil, taking their treasure with them. The exact location remains unknown, although recent satellite images revealed what seem to be the ruins of vast settlements in the deforested area of Boco do Acre in Brazil. Paititi might be one of them and, if discovered, the secrets of the Incan gold might be revealed, a treasure that could be worth over $10 billion.

#7 Flor do Mar Flor do Mar (Flower of the Sea) left Lisbon on a voyage to Malacca (modern day Malaysia) in 1505. On November 20, 1511, it shipwrecked in a reef in Sumatra with the largest treasure ever carried on-board a Portuguese ship and the largest naval treasure ever lost. Flor do Mar was returning home from Malacca loaded with gold cups, silver plates and gold ingots offered as tribute from the King of Siam to the King of Portugal. While crossing the Strait of Malacca it was caught in a violent storm and broke in half. The captain was rescued, but the treasure and many young sailors were forever lost in the merciless waves. The exact location of the shipwreck remains a mystery. If ever found, the treasure would be worth $2.6 billion in intricately worked gold objects, plus the current value of approximately 60 tons of pure gold.

#8 Ark of the Covenant

The Book of Exodus offers plenty of details when it comes to one of Christianity’s greatest treasures. For the ancient Israelis it was the most sacred object on Earth, created by God Himself on Mount Sinai with the help of Moses. The Ark is a massive chest covered in pure gold, with a pair of wooden handles and two golden cherubim on top, their wings spreading out over the “Mercy Seat.” It contains sacred relics, including the two stone tablets with the Ten Commandments. Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem served as home for the Ark, but when the city was looted by the Babylonians in 607 BC the population fled. When they returned 70 years later, the Ark was gone. No one knows what happened to it. Could the Israelis have hidden the Ark before the Babylonians attacked? If so, why didn’t they recover it? Most plausible theories locate the relic in either Egypt or Ethiopia. Ethiopian legends talk about the Ark of Axum, perhaps one and the same, hidden inside the Aksum Obelisk. Archeologists have yet to explore even a fraction of the secret tunnels and mysterious labyrinths under the granite colossus. If the Ark were to ever surface, it would be considered priceless.

#9 The Pharaohs’ Missing Treasure

When Howard Carter discovered Tutankhamun’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings in 1922, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the precious artifacts meant to accompany the pharaoh to the other world. It took Carter ten years to finish labeling the vast treasure. Of all the tombs previously uncovered in the Valley of the Kings, King Tut’s was the only one that wasn’t completely empty. Tomb raiders may have looted them, but it all seemed to be part of one huge heist. So where are the treasures of the other pharaohs? Theories suggest the priests who oversaw the burials were the ones who knew how to evade the many booby traps inside the tombs and moved the treasures out. One of them was Herihor, a senior official and priest at the court of Ramses XI. If Herihor’s tomb is discovered, a great part of the pharaohs’ missing treasure will probably surface. And if King Tut’s burial chamber treasure is estimated at $700 million, and there are at least 24 pharaohs buried in the Valley of the Kings, you do the math.

#10 Treasure of the Knights Templar

Many legends revolve around the mysterious Knights Templar, the name behind some of the world’s greatest enigmas. The religious military order was founded in 1114 to protect Christian pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land. They soon managed to raise quite a fortune — donations and recognition made the Knights Templar the richest and most powerful military force in Europe. They possessed jaw-dropping amounts of gold and silver bullion, the crown jewels of prestigious European families and significant religious artifacts. Legend has it the Knights Templar discovered Christianity’s greatest treasure under the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. Unfortunately, they didn’t share the findings with the world, but it’s widely rumored that it might have something to do with the coveted Holy Grail. The knights invented an early banking system which made them even richer, but also unpopular. By 1291, their prestige was beginning to falter. In 1307, the King of France arrested the order’s leaders and tortured them to confess to heresy and worshiping the Devil. Their lands were confiscated, but when searching their treasury they found it empty. Could the Knights have foreseen their fate and hid their billions of dollars worth of treasures?

Source: TopTenz

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midnight-scrivener · 7 years

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In the Aftermath of a Particularly Bad Storm

The story to go with this painting!

Virgil makes a Friend.

(I haven’t published any of my original stuff on here in ages, so feedback would be lovely! Give it a read and tell me what you think!)

This was bad. This was very bad.

The waters around me were gray and churning, the sea extending far into inky blackness beneath. There was no longer a pink cloud around my head, but I was dizzy, listing to one side. I… must have blacked out. I… must have hit my head. My home, my reef, my friends were nowhere to be seen. Above me, lightning flashed, the arc of unbridled energy illuminating the darkness below. I caught a glimpse of huge, ponderous shapes plowing gracefully through the water, barnacles and algae clinging to them. Whales. I’d never been so close to one before, let alone a whole pod. They dwarfed me. A huge swell bowled me over, tangling my fins and and resetting any progress made on my slowly clearing head. Nausea rose in me and a blackness separate from the void-like depths engulfed my mind.

I woke up… reluctantly. My head ached as though I’d been overindulging in grog, the briny alcohol of the sea last night, instead of getting caught up in a storm. Without opening my eyes, I felt for the lacquered bronze compass I kept around my neck, and the goggles that were usually strapped to my head (though with my nearsightedness, they really should have been on my face… oh well). The compass was still in place, pressed between the scales of my chest and my tightly fitted, hydrodynamic shirt. The goggles were tangled in my hair, the curls matted and wrapped around the straps from the roiling of the waves. It pulled and tugged uncomfortably, but I was grateful they hadn’t just been washed away. I let my arms fall, even the simple effort of questing after my belongings proving to be exhausting. My stomach moaned. I moaned too.

I wasn’t floating anymore. Something rough was digging into my back, and my scales felt dry and brittle. I realized I had washed ashore somewhere, and that the roaring of the ocean was more distant than I was used to, no longer a constant, comforting presence. The sun, its impact now undiluted by the protective seas, beat down on me, warming me uncomfortably. I opened my eyes and hissed at the world’s blurred brightness. Looking around, I saw that I was lying on pavement, out in the open. I was surrounded by limbs of plants and small piles of sand and other debris. A few feet from me, I squinted and saw the carcass of a medium-sized fish cast half on and half off the path. A carcass that would become an ominous portent if I didn’t do something about it. I reached up to fit my goggles over my eyes, but they were so tangled in my mess of hair, I couldn’t pull them down, and every time I tried I just worsened my own predicament. I gave up that part of the endeavor and instead cast about blurrily for some clue as to the direction of the ocean. With my imperfect sight and the way sound reverberated weirdly off all these hard surfaces, I couldn’t tell. There would be no way to know if I was heading towards or away from my safe haven.

But my gills burned. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I had to get out of this accursed heat before I shriveled away. I pushed up onto my shaking arms and dragged myself across the hard ground. My grace, my ease of movement had been stripped from me. Every inch was a labor. My tail, its fins wilted, flopped uselessly behind me. Dirt and mud and pebbles and plant matter stuck to it or got caught on my fine scales, only increasing my discomfort. I gasped as I inched slowly out of the solar oven, stopping only when I felt a shady respite from the heat and stagnant air. Water burbled somewhere in my vicinity, and the air smelt more strongly of brine. But… It wasn’t the sea. This salt water was kept controlled and calm, and the burbling was artificial, from a pump rather than a natural outlet. I could hear a motor whirring.

This, I thought muzzily, pressing my cheek to the cool, dampened concrete as my will for locomotion evaporated like water off my scales. Is probably very bad.

I had been lying there, in a sort of passive, foggy fugue for an indeterminate amount of time, dimly aware of my increasingly labored breathing, when I heard a voice and steps approaching. Absently, I listened. The man sounded young, and seemed to be in distress. “I mean, sure, she was old,” he said, and sniffed tearfully. “But… I raised her! You know? From a little tiny pup!... No, No, I don’t know exactly what happened. I mean… the storm last night was bad. It was really bad. Maybe… maybe the shock was just too much for her? But… coming out this morning and just finding her… gone? It broke my heart. It broke my friggin’ heart.”

“... Hey, man,” I croaked, only half aware that I was speaking at all. “Everyone’s gotta go sometime. And there are worse ways to go than during a storm. Lotsa worse ways.” My voice scraped the ears, abrasive from lack of water and slurred with delirium. I was slipping back into unconsciousness, what I was sure would be my final bout before death.

There was a gasp, one that my fading neurons registered only dimly. “Ma? Yeah… I’m gonna have to call you back.”

I was floating again, barely. My back was being supported by something, but my tail drifted freely in water that was pleasantly cool. I took a deep breath, letting the life-giving liquid rush over my gills. A smile pulled at my mouth.

I opened my eyes and the smile abruptly vanished as I flinched away from the blurry form leaning over me, above the surface. My tail flipped up and out of the water when I instinctively curled inwards.

The loud splash and sudden movement made the shape flinch as well, and he yelped. His looming shadow vanished as I lay frozen, and all was quiet except for the gently lapping water and the soft babbling of the pump.

Eventually, he reappeared, moving much more tentatively into my line of view. “... Oh my god,” he said, simply.

I shrank further. I’d heard stories about what humans did to things they didn’t understand. I had no intention of becoming a specimen.

We stared at each other. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was getting a much better look at me than I was at him. All I could really discern was a brownish blob of a head and a bluish blob for clothing. His contours and edges, already blurred, shifted and fluctuated with the movement of the water. Slowly, so as not to alarm him, I braced my hands on the side of what seemed to be a floating stretcher, and eased myself off. Sliding wholly into the water, I curled up at one corner of the white, featureless tank in order to assess myself before I tried to engage with this creature any further. My head, which still throbbed dully, was bandaged, as I discovered upon questing around with my fingers. Scrapes on my arms and tail had been given similar treatment. My compass still hung around my neck, but my goggles had been removed, meaning I would have to get much closer to my captor-slash-rescuer if I actually wanted to see his face.

Which I did.

But not that badly.

I peered up through the water to see if he’d gone yet. He hadn’t. I sighed, expelling salt water through my nose. He hadn’t hurt me yet… it couldn’t hurt to try and forge some goodwill. I pushed myself up to the surface, still moving deliberately, and gripped the lip of the tank. I didn’t like it. It felt confining. I felt like I was less than a person in here. Or at least that mister brown blob blue blob expected me to be less of a person. My head broke the water, and rivulets ran down my face. The air was dry and chilling, and I shivered. “... ‘Loo.”

The brown head-blob nodded. “... Hi.” He had a different accent from the humans I was used to. I’d been a fair way around the globe. Born in the south pacific, I had visited the indian ocean and even the north atlantic (though that didn’t last long. Much too cold for me). Eventually, I’d settled in the reefs by a group of teeny tiny little islands in the mid atlantic. The people there had a laid-back, take-your-time attitude that meant they were easy to avoid. They also kept the sea clean and looked after themselves, which was an increasingly rare commodity these days. But this guy seemed foreign. Just how far away had I drifted?

“So… you found me, huh,” I noted, looking away from him and down at my fingers.

“Yeah… on the ground by the ray tank. You… looked pretty rough. I didn’t know if you’d make it.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted. “Couldn’t find the ocean again after I woke up. This… place was shady, so that was at least a little better.”

“... Where did you wake up?” the man asked, frown audible.

“Some sort of paved path, I think. There was a dead fish next to me,” I added, remembering.

“The sidewalk? That’s… that’s a good ways away from the tanks,” the man said, sounding somehow perplexed and impressed at once.

“Fear of death is a lovely motivator,” I murmured, looking down at one of the bandages on my arm. “Did you tape me up?”

The head blob nodded. “Mm-hmm. You were really scraped up, and you have a nasty gash on your head. Guess it’s from the storm.”

“Yeah…” I agreed. “The storm.”

“You must have washed up when the beach flooded,” he mused. “We haven’t had a tropical storm that bad in a while. It was nearly a hurricane.”

“Oh,” I said. Then, “You have a… ray tank?”

He nodded once more. “Sure. We have lots of tanks.” I shrank away as suspicion swelled in me, and the man noticed. “We’re an Oceanic rehabilitation facility,” he amended hastily. “... We have some critters out on display, but you’re in a solitary area at the back. Usually we keep this one empty in case we get a porpoise or a dolphin, but I thought you might be comfortable here.”

“Oh,” I repeated. “What do you do with things when you get them?”

“Nurse them back to health and let them go, mostly,” The man said with a shrug. He turned away from me to sit on the lip of the tank. “We only hold onto an animal if it’s too injured or used to people to survive in the wild.”

“‘The wild,’” I half mocked. Then a new uncertainty loomed in my mind. “... What are you gonna do with me?”

He looked over at me. “Well, the transport trucks are all out now, combing the beaches for anything that washed up overnight. Once I knew you weren’t going to need more care, I had planned on sneaking in in the dead of night and, you know, sending you on your way.”

I felt some knot of previously unrecognized tension and fear loosen a little at the base of my spine. “... Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” The man hesitated. “So… you’re like, really a mermaid?”

“Almost,” I said, allowing a smirk to tease at my mouth. “Except for the maid part. But half credit.”

“Oh! Right.” The man was suddenly flustered. “Sure. Sorry. Merman, I meant.”

“Better,” I agreed.

“I’m Himmat,” he said after a moment of slightly less tense silence.

“... Virgil,” I replied, hesitantly.

He swiveled to face me and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Virgil.” I took it, and we shook.

My hands were starting to ache from gripping the lip of the pool, so I let go. To my imperfect eyes, the other walls of the tank were just far enough away to appear like nothing more than indistinct blue-white blobs. I felt my way around the edges until I found what I was looking for. I settled myself in a sitting position on a submerged lip in the tank, tail flicking in the deeper water in front of me. Himmat had watched my progress, but had declined to offer assistance or derision. I was grateful for his silence. I picked at a loose scale. I was a nervous preener, resorting to fidgeting and picking in new situations. “So…” I called, beckoning him over with a jerk of my head. “Where am I? And come here, I can’t hardly see you.”

Himmat stood and started to make his way over. “Florida,” he said. “Why can’t you see me?”

“My eyes suck,” I admitted. “But… I think I lost my goggles.”

“Oh, sorry!” Suddenly Himmat was walking the other direction, receding. “I took them off when you were unconscious!” He called, his back to me. Hinges creaked. “They were all tangled in your hair and I couldn’t wrap that head wound. I didn’t know you needed them to see.”

“I hardly ever wear them anyways,” I said with a wave of my hand. “It’s fine.”

“Still.” He walked back over to me and held them out. I took them gratefully and dunked them in water before slipping them on. My eyes were relieved and the world swam back into focus. Himmat blinked at me. His light eyes were at odds with the dark tan of his face, and his hair, the iridescent black of a durgon fish, shimmered bluish in the wan artificial light. Freckles spattered his crooked nose, and one snaggletooth dented the center of his bottom lip. He smiled. “Hello there.”

“Nice to see you,” I joked back and patted the lip beside me.

Himmat hopped on first one foot and then the other to remove his shoes before climbing into the tank and sitting beside me. His eyes lingered on my scales.

I fidgeted and preened again. “... What?” I asked.

“Sorry… it just that you’re really kind of pretty,” he admitted.

I looked down at myself. I thought I was all right. I was still too slender to be considered masculine, my features too fine-boned and delicate. My colors were pleasantly tropical, mostly light blues with hints of pinks and oranges in freckled patterns on my face and stripes on my arms and back. My hair was the pink and lavender shades of healthy coral, and my fingers were tipped in the same. My tail was admittedly eye catching. It was mostly the same blue as the rest of me, but with an iridescence that meant it shimmered with the whole rainbow every time I moved.

Okay, I was a little vain about my tail.

“What kind of fish are you?” He asked, still watching my fins flick lazily back and forth as he gently kicked his legs.

“What do you mean?” I asked, frowning.

“Well… are you like, a parrot fish, a rainbow fish… you do sound like you could be from around Australia.”

“I’m… not any kind of fish,” I said. “I’m just me.”

“Sorry…” Himmat blushed. “I just assumed you would like… co-evolve with different fish species, you know?”

“... That’s not… no,” I finally said, half amused. “And maybe you shouldn’t bring that up if you ever meet another one of us. Any similarities are accidental, I promise.”

“Oh… Okay,” he said, looking away. “My bad.”

“No, no! I reassured him. “It’s a… novel theory.”

“Is that fish person code for ‘stupid theory?’” he mumbled wryly.

“Maybe,” I admitted. My brain swung back around to our very first meeting, when I was so near death. The memories were fogged, but one impression stood out to me. “Earlier, were you upset about something?”

He glanced at me again and his face was twisted with pain. I immediately felt horrible for bringing it up. “Or… you know. Never mind. If you don’t want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No… it’s fine. It’s just… Queenie, my favorite ray died last night.”

I nodded in sympathy and sudden understanding.

“I started volunteering here when I was twelve. She hatched a few weeks later. Her egg was damaged, they didn’t think she’d pull through. I babied her when no one was looking, read up online and in the library here about how to look after her the best I could. No way was I gonna let her die, you know? And she didn’t die, she pulled through. She was such a fixture in my life. I volunteered for a couple more years and then got a full time job here as soon as I could. I’m putting myself through college online right now so I can keep working. One of the joys of my day was coming in to visit with Queenie -” His voice choked off. “And now… uh… I can’t anymore. She’s gone.” He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes glistened wetly. “Damn it. I’m sorry. Damn it.”

I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. Sounds like she was your friend.”

He shrugged with a sad little smile. “Yeah… as close to it as a grumpy cow nose with a gimpy fin can get.” He chuckled.

“I lost one of my friends once,” I said suddenly. “I was much younger, and we were playing where we weren’t supposed to be. He got a cut that didn’t seem like a big deal, but he got an infection, and he got very sick. And then… he died. And my heart just… ached. I felt hollow. Knowing that I was never going to see him again just gutted me. That kind of pain just follows you to sleep every night and wakes you up in the morning, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “Sucks.”

“Sucks,” I agreed. Then I paused. “Sorry, that got really heavy.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. No one else here wanted to get emotional with me over a dead fish.”

“Happy to help,” I said quietly. In the following silence, my stomach yowled. Apparently it was even more audible than I’d thought it was, because Himmat looked at me in alarm.

“…When was the last time you ate?” he asked.

I thought about it and realized I didn’t know. My whole day up until the brawl that had resulted in my head on collision with a limestone cliff-face was blurry, like my memory, and not just my eyes, was nearsighted. “I… don’t know,” I said.

“Do you want sushi?” he asked. “I’m overdue for a lunch break.”

“What’s sushi?” I asked, running my hands over my tail.

“Fish,” Himmat said with a shrug. “Usually raw or mostly raw. They wrap it up in seaweed with rice and vegetables and stuff. It’s pretty good.”

I pondered, but my stomach made the final decision. “Sounds good,” I said, hoping to drown out its clamoring. I didn’t.

Himmat smiled lopsidedly, cheeks dimpling. “Great. I’ll run out and get some.” He stood, water dripping from his swimming trunks. “There’s a restaurant a short walk away. I’m going to lock the door behind me and put up a sign that says it’s quarantined in here, so no one should come in. Okay?”

I nodded.

“I’ll be back soon. Just, uh… stay quiet for a little bit and try not to hit your head on anything else.”

I promised that I would survive until he returned, and watched him leave before slipping back into the pool and breathing deeply to refresh myself. My people have gills along the backs of our jaws that are our primary modes of respiration. We can breathe fairly comfortably out of the water for hours on end, but it always feels nice to be back under the surface. I swam lazy laps from white end to slightly shallower white end, past a window covered by a blue, crinkly tarpaulin on the outside, tied in place to prevent anyone peeking through at the tank’s occupants. In this case, at me.

I lazily flipped and twisted through the water. Featureless and plain though it was, the tank was plenty big enough to exercise comfortably. And the lack of décor could be forgiven since, as Himmat said, this seemed to be only a temporary living space.

I don't know how long I’d been amusing myself in the tank, letting my mind drift back to my friends at home and pondering absently how to get back to them, when I became aware that I was no longer alone.

A small human had wriggled under the tarpaulin and was standing pressed to the window, watching me agog. I froze.

She (at least, i think it was a she. It's harder to tell with the little ones sometimes) waved a pudgy hand. Not knowing what else to do, I waved back. She clapped and jumped up and down, obviously excited by our interaction. I felt a humoring smile pull at my lips, and I arced into a lazy flip, leisurely rippling my fins to maintain my momentum. It did occur to me that I should have been hiding, or something, but except for the ledge there wasn't really anywhere to go. And being kind to one child wouldn't end my life. Probably.

The little girl was eating it up, looking at me with a big silly grin on her face. In a moment of boldness (or stupidity) I swam up to the window and pressed my thin hand to the glass. Her expression turned awestruck, and she gave me a high five. The impact resonated through the glass and was amplified by the water. I flinched ever so slightly, but smiled anyways and gave her a thumbs up. She jumped up and down again, and that was when i noticed someone untying a corner of the tarpaulin. My eyes widened, but i still waved to the little girl before rocketing away. I was fast, one of the fastest on my reef, and it took me no time at all to make it to the other side of the tank. I pulled myself up onto the raised ledge, removing myself from the line of sight of anyone at the window.

Hesitantly, I peered back just in time to see a pair of masculine arms lift the small girl away from the glass. She clapped and wriggled in what seemed to be happiness, so I assumed the arms belonged to her father. I could not, however, tell if the tarpaulin had been properly replaced, so I declined to return to the deeper portions of the tank. I stayed on the shallow ledge, splashing water onto my tail and watching the rivulets run off, making little rainbow prisms along the way, until Himmat returned.

It didn't take long for a key to turn in the lock and Himmat to enter. “I come bearing gifts!” he called, holding up a plastic bag. I smiled. “Thanks…”

“I just got you what I usually get, I hope you don't mind. I just realized that I didn't actually know what you wanted.” he pulled a carton out of the bag and handed it to me. “Here you go. I usually just eat it like finger food, but I got you chopsticks too.” he held out the wooden skewers, but I waved them away. “Finger food works fine for me.” I popped off the top of the top of the carton and took one of the rolls in my hand. I lifted it in Himmat’s direction as a little toast before taking a tentative bite. “Oh!... oh my goodness,” I said. This is delicious! What is it?”

Himmat chuckled. “It’s called a Philadelphia Roll. I think it's… salmon, avocado, asparagus, and cream cheese.”

“Well, it's very good,” I said, and popped the rest of it into my mouth. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Sure thing. So… where are you from?”

I thought about it. “Hm… in terms of geography you're familiar with… i guess you could say from the Bahamas. That's what those islands are called, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the ones just off the coast?”

I nodded back. “Yeah, I guess. I live on a big reef a little ways away, in an old submarine.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” I said with a nod. “I like it there. We do a lot of our own construction and whatnot, and most of our buildings we do from scratch ourselves. But it's a perfectly habitable little place. Now that I've fixed up the kitchen and refurbished it, it’s actually kinda homey.”

“It doesn't feel confining? Submarines aren't exactly known for their roominess.”

I shrugged. “I mean, it's kinda small. But it's also just me. So there's not a whole crew crammed in. I did used to have an eel, so that made it a little tighter.”

Himmat blinked. “You had an eel? I wouldn’t have thought they made good pets.”

I flapped a hand and ate another roll. “Nah. You guys just don’t know how to read them. They’re perfectly sweet.”

“Got some fierce teeth though,” Himmat noted.

“Sure, but so do dogs, and you keep them around no problem,” I countered.

He thought about it and shrugged, popping another roll into his mouth. “I mean… fair enough.”

I nodded and picked absently at my tail, eating the third and final roll in my little box before easing back into the water, checking to see of the tarp had been replaced. It had been, so I pushed off from the ledge, diving deeper into the pool. I exhaled, and bubbles wavered towards the surface as I replaced the air in me with salt water. Himmat was watching me keenly, but I paid him no mind, stretching and swimming around restlessly. I wasn’t very good at staying still, but I was nothing compared to my friend Callisto. Sharky in looks and nature, he never stopped moving, swimming around and around and back and forth until I’d get dizzy watching him.

I looked around the tank and sighed. The walls were too close, I didn’t have the space I wanted to just cut and run for as fast and as long as I could. I realized I was longing acutely for my home, and for my friends. I was really tired of waiting. I bobbed back to the surface and swam to where Himmat was still sitting. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How far off is dusk?” I asked him, fiddling with the cord of my compass.

Himmat thought about it. “Dunno… maybe five or six hours yet.” My distress must have shown, because he frowned. “Why? Something wrong?”

I shook my head hastily. “No, no. Not wrong, per say. Just… I think it’s a pretty long way back. And my friends will worry.”

He nodded. “Oh… you want to get going.”

“I mean, if I can. If it won’t be too dangerous.”

“No, no… I think I can work something out. And you’re right, you know. The less of this swim you gotta do in the dark, the better, probably.” Himmat set aside the empty sushi cartons and stood up, hopping out of the tank and onto dry land once more. “Hang tight again, I’m going to see if one of our trucks is back.”

So saying, he left. The door locked once more. I pulled myself up onto the ledge and looked around once more. The warehouse type building that this tank was in was clean, but barren-looking, sparse and professional. There wasn’t really anything there to catch the eye of a marveling public, which made sense since this was apparently a private place.

Unfortunately, that meant there was nothing to catch my eye either. I went back to fiddling with my own fins, shifting and rocking and twiddling my thumbs to pass the time. Absently, softly, I started to sing.

I was part Siren on my mother’s side, so I’d always had a gift for music. I hadn’t sung publicly in years, as my voice was reluctant to change along with me and its high, feminine tones tended to attract the wrong kind of attention. Finally, over the past year, it had begun to shift downward, leaving its trilling soprano range. It still wasn’t deep by any means, but the light tenor felt much more comfortable and natural now. Like it fit. I sang an old shanty song that I think my people must have picked up from mankind. It was about ships and storms and beautiful women. We had no need of ships.

I didn’t know how long Himmat had been standing there just inside the door, but when I finished the song, he applauded me. His expression was awestruck, and I felt my cheeks warm. I waved sheepishly. “Hey.”

“Woah,” he said, the sound almost more like an involuntary exodus of pent up breath. “That was…”

I shrugged it off. “Part Sirin on my mom’s side. Guess you could say I have a predisposition for it or something.”

He nodded. “That you do… I found a truck. It’s idling outside. Are you ready to go?”

“Now?” I glanced around me and felt instinctively for my goggles and compass. “Uh. Yeah, sure. Now’s as good a time as any, I guess.”

He nodded. “I can carry you over if you want.”

I sighed at the thought. I did not like the idea of anyone carrying me anywhere. But what I said was, “That would probably be easiest.”

He nodded and came the rest of the way over. “Just, uh… lay flat on your back, I guess. We’ll do this wedding style.”

“But you haven’t even proposed,” I joked lamely, stretching out like he said.

He chuckled, apparently feeling just as awkward as me. He bent over and scooped me up, curling his arms behind my narrow shoulders and about a quarter of the way down my long tail. He grunted as he straightened. “You’re heavier than I thought you’d be,” he said, voice ever so slightly strained.

I felt my cheeks warm again. “Yeah… it doesn’t matter so much in the water though, I guess.”

He nodded. “Guess not. Okay. There are only three staffers in the building besides me right now, so the chances of you being seen are slim. But I still want to move as fast as I can.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. I grabbed his shoulder for support as he shifted my weight and took off at a quick lope.

It turns out I hated being carried. I hated it. It made me feel like I was somehow less of a person. It made me feel vulnerable, defenseless. At the mercy of another.

Himmat heaved me into the passenger seat of a vehicle, cool air blasting from a vent. “I couldn’t find one of the proper transport trucks,” he apologized. “But I promise it’s not a long drive.”

I waved off his concern. “I’ll be fine, I promise. But we should get moving.”

Right! Right!” He closed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side, leaping in and moving the car forwards and away. The radio was on, and himmat sang along in a language I didn’t understand. He wasn’t half bad, and I didn’t mind listening. It was a short drive, only about five minutes. My scales weren’t even dry when he rolled to a stop alongside a copse of trees. “There’s a private beach through there,” He explained. “A couple of big walls on each side mean it’s pretty well hidden. It’s summer, so the owners are out of town.”

“Okay. Thank you,” I said, shifting to slide reluctantly out of the vehicle and into his waiting arms. Himmat grunted and hefted me a little before turning and trotting off into the trees. The sunlight filtering through the leaves dappled everything in interesting patterns, and I took note as Himmat made his way out onto the beach. Shaded by the high walls as he’d said it would be, the waters looked gray and cool. I perked up at the familiar sight of the open ocean before me. Himmat waded into the shoals and set me down, crouching beside me. He pulled a phone from his breast pocket and fiddled with it. “Right… so does that compass work?” he asked me. I nodded. “You’re going to want to head east-north-east for about… sixty five miles. That should land you right in the islands. Can you make it?”

I nodded and pulled out the device. “I’ll manage.”

“Okay… Sorry we had to meet in such a crappy way,” Himmat said.

“I am too,” I replied, and I realized I was. I looked up at this man and it occurred to me that I had accidentally stumbled into a friendship. Probably my unlikeliest to date (which was saying something). I felt myself smile. “You should come over to my place sometime. I’ll give you a tour.”

He look surprised, but he grinned. “Great! I’ll bring my scuba gear.”

“We’ll work something out,” I said, thinking of my friend Camari, and her decidedly special skillset. “We’ll make it happen.”

“And if you ever feel like visiting here again without nearly dying, I’d be open,” Himmat said.

“Will you bring sushi?” I asked, as if that would make or break my decision.

“I will definitely bring sushi,” he laughed.

“Well then let’s make it official.” I stuck out my hand. “Same time same place next month?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Himmat said, a wide grin splitting his face. He took my hand in a firm grip and shook.

“Great. I look forward to it.” I waved to him, and pushed off, beginning to backfin my way into deeper waters. “... I actually had fun today, in a weird, unfortunate kinda way.”

Himmat chuckled. “I did too, actually.”

“It was good to meet you.”

“You too.”

See you in a month, man.”

“See you in a month.”

I waved a final wave and ducked below the waters, breathing deep. I took a moment to adjust my goggles, and then, eyeing my compass, I set my sights for home.

#mermay #mermaid #merman #writing #story #my writing #oc

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readbookywooks · 8 years

Text

The Indian Ocean

NOW WE BEGIN the second part of this voyage under the seas. The first ended in that moving scene at the coral cemetery, which left a profound impression on my mind. And so Captain Nemo would live out his life entirely in the heart of this immense sea, and even his grave lay ready in its impenetrable depths. There the last sleep of the Nautilus's occupants, friends bound together in death as in life, would be disturbed by no monster of the deep! "No man either!" the captain had added. Always that same fierce, implacable defiance of human society! As for me, I was no longer content with the hypotheses that satisfied Conseil. That fine lad persisted in seeing the Nautilus's commander as merely one of those unappreciated scientists who repay humanity's indifference with contempt. For Conseil, the captain was still a misunderstood genius who, tired of the world's deceptions, had been driven to take refuge in this inaccessible environment where he was free to follow his instincts. But to my mind, this hypothesis explained only one side of Captain Nemo. In fact, the mystery of that last afternoon when we were locked in prison and put to sleep, the captain's violent precaution of snatching from my grasp a spyglass poised to scour the horizon, and the fatal wound given that man during some unexplained collision suffered by the Nautilus, all led me down a plain trail. No! Captain Nemo wasn't content simply to avoid humanity! His fearsome submersible served not only his quest for freedom, but also, perhaps, it was used in lord-knows-what schemes of dreadful revenge. Right now, nothing is clear to me, I still glimpse only glimmers in the dark, and I must limit my pen, as it were, to taking dictation from events. But nothing binds us to Captain Nemo. He believes that escaping from the Nautilus is impossible. We are not even constrained by our word of honor. No promises fetter us. We're simply captives, prisoners masquerading under the name "guests" for the sake of everyday courtesy. Even so, Ned Land hasn't given up all hope of recovering his freedom. He's sure to take advantage of the first chance that comes his way. No doubt I will do likewise. And yet I will feel some regret at making off with the Nautilus's secrets, so generously unveiled for us by Captain Nemo! Because, ultimately, should we detest or admire this man? Is he the persecutor or the persecuted? And in all honesty, before I leave him forever, I want to finish this underwater tour of the world, whose first stages have been so magnificent. I want to observe the full series of these wonders gathered under the seas of our globe. I want to see what no man has seen yet, even if I must pay for this insatiable curiosity with my life! What are my discoveries to date? Nothing, relatively speaking-since so far we've covered only 6,000 leagues across the Pacific! Nevertheless, I'm well aware that the Nautilus is drawing near to populated shores, and if some chance for salvation becomes available to us, it would be sheer cruelty to sacrifice my companions to my passion for the unknown. I must go with them, perhaps even guide them. But will this opportunity ever arise? The human being, robbed of his free will, craves such an opportunity; but the scientist, forever inquisitive, dreads it. That day, January 21, 1868, the chief officer went at noon to take the sun's altitude. I climbed onto the platform, lit a cigar, and watched him at work. It seemed obvious to me that this man didn't understand French, because I made several remarks in a loud voice that were bound to provoke him to some involuntary show of interest had he understood them; but he remained mute and emotionless. While he took his sights with his sextant, one of the Nautilus's sailors-that muscular man who had gone with us to Crespo Island during our first underwater excursion - came up to clean the glass panes of the beacon. I then examined the fittings of this mechanism, whose power was increased a hundredfold by biconvex lenses that were designed like those in a lighthouse and kept its rays productively focused. This electric lamp was so constructed as to yield its maximum illuminating power. In essence, its light was generated in a vacuum, insuring both its steadiness and intensity. Such a vacuum also reduced wear on the graphite points between which the luminous arc expanded. This was an important savings for Captain Nemo, who couldn't easily renew them. But under these conditions, wear and tear were almost nonexistent. When the Nautilus was ready to resume its underwater travels, I went below again to the lounge. The hatches closed once more, and our course was set due west. We then plowed the waves of the Indian Ocean, vast liquid plains with an area of 550,000,000 hectares, whose waters are so transparent it makes you dizzy to lean over their surface. There the Nautilus generally drifted at a depth between 100 and 200 meters. It behaved in this way for some days. To anyone without my grand passion for the sea, these hours would surely have seemed long and monotonous; but my daily strolls on the platform where I was revived by the life-giving ocean air, the sights in the rich waters beyond the lounge windows, the books to be read in the library, and the composition of my memoirs, took up all my time and left me without a moment of weariness or boredom. All in all, we enjoyed a highly satisfactory state of health. The diet on board agreed with us perfectly, and for my part, I could easily have gone without those changes of pace that Ned Land, in a spirit of protest, kept taxing his ingenuity to supply us. What's more, in this constant temperature we didn't even have to worry about catching colds. Besides, the ship had a good stock of the madrepore Dendrophylia, known in Provence by the name sea fennel, and a poultice made from the dissolved flesh of its polyps will furnish an excellent cough medicine. For some days we saw a large number of aquatic birds with webbed feet, known as gulls or sea mews. Some were skillfully slain, and when cooked in a certain fashion, they make a very acceptable platter of water game. Among the great wind riders - carried over long distances from every shore and resting on the waves from their exhausting flights-I spotted some magnificent albatross, birds belonging to the Longipennes (long-winged) family, whose discordant calls sound like the braying of an ass. The Totipalmes (fully webbed) family was represented by swift frigate birds, nimbly catching fish at the surface, and by numerous tropic birds of the genus Phaeton, among others the red-tailed tropic bird, the size of a pigeon, its white plumage shaded with pink tints that contrasted with its dark-hued wings. The Nautilus's nets hauled up several types of sea turtle from the hawksbill genus with arching backs whose scales are highly prized. Diving easily, these reptiles can remain a good while underwater by closing the fleshy valves located at the external openings of their nasal passages. When they were captured, some hawksbills were still asleep inside their carapaces, a refuge from other marine animals. The flesh of these turtles was nothing memorable, but their eggs made an excellent feast. As for fish, they always filled us with wonderment when, staring through the open panels, we could unveil the secrets of their aquatic lives. I noted several species I hadn't previously been able to observe. I'll mention chiefly some trunkfish unique to the Red Sea, the sea of the East Indies, and that part of the ocean washing the coasts of equinoctial America. Like turtles, armadillos, sea urchins, and crustaceans, these fish are protected by armor plate that's neither chalky nor stony but actual bone. Sometimes this armor takes the shape of a solid triangle, sometimes that of a solid quadrangle. Among the triangular type, I noticed some half a decimeter long, with brown tails, yellow fins, and wholesome, exquisitely tasty flesh; I even recommend that they be acclimatized to fresh water, a change, incidentally, that a number of saltwater fish can make with ease. I'll also mention some quadrangular trunkfish topped by four large protuberances along the back; trunkfish sprinkled with white spots on the underside of the body, which make good house pets like certain birds; boxfish armed with stings formed by extensions of their bony crusts, and whose odd grunting has earned them the nickname "sea pigs"; then some trunkfish known as dromedaries, with tough, leathery flesh and big conical humps. From the daily notes kept by Mr. Conseil, I also retrieve certain fish from the genus Tetradon unique to these seas: southern puffers with red backs and white chests distinguished by three lengthwise rows of filaments, and jugfish, seven inches long, decked out in the brightest colors. Then, as specimens of other genera, blowfish resembling a dark brown egg, furrowed with white bands, and lacking tails; globefish, genuine porcupines of the sea, armed with stings and able to inflate themselves until they look like a pin cushion bristling with needles; seahorses common to every ocean; flying dragonfish with long snouts and highly distended pectoral fins shaped like wings, which enable them, if not to fly, at least to spring into the air; spatula-shaped paddlefish whose tails are covered with many scaly rings; snipefish with long jaws, excellent animals twenty-five centimeters long and gleaming with the most cheerful colors; bluish gray dragonets with wrinkled heads; myriads of leaping blennies with black stripes and long pectoral fins, gliding over the surface of the water with prodigious speed; delicious sailfish that can hoist their fins in a favorable current like so many unfurled sails; splendid nurseryfish on which nature has lavished yellow, azure, silver, and gold; yellow mackerel with wings made of filaments; bullheads forever spattered with mud, which make distinct hissing sounds; sea robins whose livers are thought to be poisonous; ladyfish that can flutter their eyelids; finally, archerfish with long, tubular snouts, real oceangoing flycatchers, armed with a rifle unforeseen by either Remington or Chassepot: it slays insects by shooting them with a simple drop of water. From the eighty-ninth fish genus in Lacepede's system of classification, belonging to his second subclass of bony fish (characterized by gill covers and a bronchial membrane), I noted some scorpionfish whose heads are adorned with stings and which have only one dorsal fin; these animals are covered with small scales, or have none at all, depending on the subgenus to which they belong. The second subgenus gave us some Didactylus specimens three to four decimeters long, streaked with yellow, their heads having a phantasmagoric appearance. As for the first subgenus, it furnished several specimens of that bizarre fish aptly nicknamed "toadfish," whose big head is sometimes gouged with deep cavities, sometimes swollen with protuberances; bristling with stings and strewn with nodules, it sports hideously irregular horns; its body and tail are adorned with callosities; its stings can inflict dangerous injuries; it's repulsive and horrible. From January 21 to the 23rd, the Nautilus traveled at the rate of 250 leagues in twenty-four hours, hence 540 miles at twenty-two miles per hour. If, during our trip, we were able to identify these different varieties of fish, it's because they were attracted by our electric light and tried to follow alongside; but most of them were outdistanced by our speed and soon fell behind; temporarily, however, a few managed to keep pace in the Nautilus's waters. On the morning of the 24th, in latitude 12 degrees 5' south and longitude 94 degrees 33', we raised Keeling Island, a madreporic upheaving planted with magnificent coconut trees, which had been visited by Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy. The Nautilus cruised along a short distance off the shore of this desert island. Our dragnets brought up many specimens of polyps and echinoderms plus some unusual shells from the branch Mollusca. Captain Nemo's treasures were enhanced by some valuable exhibits from the delphinula snail species, to which I joined some pointed star coral, a sort of parasitic polypary that often attaches itself to seashells. Soon Keeling Island disappeared below the horizon, and our course was set to the northwest, toward the tip of the Indian peninsula. "Civilization!" Ned Land told me that day. "Much better than those Papuan Islands where we ran into more savages than venison! On this Indian shore, professor, there are roads and railways, English, French, and Hindu villages. We wouldn't go five miles without bumping into a fellow countryman. Come on now, isn't it time for our sudden departure from Captain Nemo?" "No, no, Ned," I replied in a very firm tone. "Let's ride it out, as you seafaring fellows say. The Nautilus is approaching populated areas. It's going back toward Europe, let it take us there. After we arrive in home waters, we can do as we see fit. Besides, I don't imagine Captain Nemo will let us go hunting on the coasts of Malabar or Coromandel as he did in the forests of New Guinea." "Well, sir, can't we manage without his permission?" I didn't answer the Canadian. I wanted no arguments. Deep down, I was determined to fully exploit the good fortune that had put me on board the Nautilus. After leaving Keeling Island, our pace got generally slower. It also got more unpredictable, often taking us to great depths. Several times we used our slanting fins, which internal levers could set at an oblique angle to our waterline. Thus we went as deep as two or three kilometers down but without ever verifying the lowest depths of this sea near India, which soundings of 13,000 meters have been unable to reach. As for the temperature in these lower strata, the thermometer always and invariably indicated 4 degrees centigrade. I merely observed that in the upper layers, the water was always colder over shallows than in the open sea. On January 25, the ocean being completely deserted, the Nautilus spent the day on the surface, churning the waves with its powerful propeller and making them spurt to great heights. Under these conditions, who wouldn't have mistaken it for a gigantic cetacean? I spent three-quarters of the day on the platform. I stared at the sea. Nothing on the horizon, except near four o'clock in the afternoon a long steamer to the west, running on our opposite tack. Its masting was visible for an instant, but it couldn't have seen the Nautilus because we were lying too low in the water. I imagine that steamboat belonged to the Peninsular & Oriental line, which provides service from the island of Ceylon to Sidney, also calling at King George Sound and Melbourne. At five o'clock in the afternoon, just before that brief twilight that links day with night in tropical zones, Conseil and I marveled at an unusual sight. It was a delightful animal whose discovery, according to the ancients, is a sign of good luck. Aristotle, Athenaeus, Pliny, and Oppian studied its habits and lavished on its behalf all the scientific poetry of Greece and Italy. They called it "nautilus" and "pompilius." But modern science has not endorsed these designations, and this mollusk is now known by the name argonaut. Anyone consulting Conseil would soon learn from the gallant lad that the branch Mollusca is divided into five classes; that the first class features the Cephalopoda (whose members are sometimes naked, sometimes covered with a shell), which consists of two families, the Dibranchiata and the Tetrabranchiata, which are distinguished by their number of gills; that the family Dibranchiata includes three genera, the argonaut, the squid, and the cuttlefish, and that the family Tetrabranchiata contains only one genus, the nautilus. After this catalog, if some recalcitrant listener confuses the argonaut, which is acetabuliferous (in other words, a bearer of suction tubes), with the nautilus, which is tentaculiferous (a bearer of tentacles), it will be simply unforgivable. Now, it was a school of argonauts then voyaging on the surface of the ocean. We could count several hundred of them. They belonged to that species of argonaut covered with protuberances and exclusive to the seas near India. These graceful mollusks were swimming backward by means of their locomotive tubes, sucking water into these tubes and then expelling it. Six of their eight tentacles were long, thin, and floated on the water, while the other two were rounded into palms and spread to the wind like light sails. I could see perfectly their undulating, spiral-shaped shells, which Cuvier aptly compared to an elegant cockleboat. It's an actual boat indeed. It transports the animal that secretes it without the animal sticking to it. "The argonaut is free to leave its shell," I told Conseil, "but it never does." "Not unlike Captain Nemo," Conseil replied sagely. "Which is why he should have christened his ship the Argonaut." For about an hour the Nautilus cruised in the midst of this school of mollusks. Then, lord knows why, they were gripped with a sudden fear. As if at a signal, every sail was abruptly lowered; arms folded, bodies contracted, shells turned over by changing their center of gravity, and the whole flotilla disappeared under the waves. It was instantaneous, and no squadron of ships ever maneuvered with greater togetherness. Just then night fell suddenly, and the waves barely surged in the breeze, spreading placidly around the Nautilus's side plates. The next day, January 26, we cut the equator on the 82nd meridian and we reentered the northern hemisphere. During that day a fearsome school of sharks provided us with an escort. Dreadful animals that teem in these seas and make them extremely dangerous. There were Port Jackson sharks with a brown back, a whitish belly, and eleven rows of teeth, bigeye sharks with necks marked by a large black spot encircled in white and resembling an eye, and Isabella sharks whose rounded snouts were strewn with dark speckles. Often these powerful animals rushed at the lounge window with a violence less than comforting. By this point Ned Land had lost all self-control. He wanted to rise to the surface of the waves and harpoon the monsters, especially certain smooth-hound sharks whose mouths were paved with teeth arranged like a mosaic, and some big five-meter tiger sharks that insisted on personally provoking him. But the Nautilus soon picked up speed and easily left astern the fastest of these man-eaters. On January 27, at the entrance to the huge Bay of Bengal, we repeatedly encountered a gruesome sight: human corpses floating on the surface of the waves! Carried by the Ganges to the high seas, these were deceased Indian villagers who hadn't been fully devoured by vultures, the only morticians in these parts. But there was no shortage of sharks to assist them with their undertaking chores. Near seven o'clock in the evening, the Nautilus lay half submerged, navigating in the midst of milky white waves. As far as the eye could see, the ocean seemed lactified. Was it an effect of the moon's rays? No, because the new moon was barely two days old and was still lost below the horizon in the sun's rays. The entire sky, although lit up by stellar radiation, seemed pitch-black in comparison with the whiteness of these waters. Conseil couldn't believe his eyes, and he questioned me about the causes of this odd phenomenon. Luckily I was in a position to answer him. "That's called a milk sea," I told him, "a vast expanse of white waves often seen along the coasts of Amboina and in these waterways." "But," Conseil asked, "could master tell me the cause of this effect, because I presume this water hasn't really changed into milk!" "No, my boy, and this whiteness that amazes you is merely due to the presence of myriads of tiny creatures called infusoria, a sort of diminutive glowworm that's colorless and gelatinous in appearance, as thick as a strand of hair, and no longer than one-fifth of a millimeter. Some of these tiny creatures stick together over an area of several leagues." "Several leagues!" Conseil exclaimed. "Yes, my boy, and don't even try to compute the number of these infusoria. You won't pull it off, because if I'm not mistaken, certain navigators have cruised through milk seas for more than forty miles." I'm not sure that Conseil heeded my recommendation, because he seemed to be deep in thought, no doubt trying to calculate how many one-fifths of a millimeter are found in forty square miles. As for me, I continued to observe this phenomenon. For several hours the Nautilus's spur sliced through these whitish waves, and I watched it glide noiselessly over this soapy water, as if it were cruising through those foaming eddies that a bay's currents and countercurrents sometimes leave between each other. Near midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual hue, but behind us all the way to the horizon, the skies kept mirroring the whiteness of those waves and for a good while seemed imbued with the hazy glow of an aurora borealis.

#20000Leagues

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