#and I think I’ll likely do dark teal accent wall in my bedroom so

[whentherewerebicycles]

*eye twitch* I am swatching one… more… green. the farthest left is the current wall color, second from left is that lighter sage that’s currently the front runner, and the farthest right is the last one I’m swatching today before I make a decision. the others are just in there for reference lol. I really like the sage but it’s also reading pretty grey in certain lights and I’m wondering if a slightly more saturated green will make my heart happier/hold its hue better.

[babbushka]

The Shape of You (1/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

11.4k, Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury

                                                    ------------------

It’s warm, in the dream. Warm and black, in an all-consuming kind of way. You’ve had this dream before; it’s a comforting one, a familiar one. In it, you are surrounded by inky darkness, smooth and silky as it wraps around you. In it, you are walking through a grand expanse towards a light, red and glowing.

If you had not had this dream before you think you’d be terrified, think it an omen of some ominous kind. But the darkness is not something to be afraid of, you’ve come to learn. And when the red light beckons you, there is not a promise of evil on the other side, but rather one of liberating freedom.

You reach out to it, walks towards it. You’re in no hurry, in the dream, in no hurry at all. It’s patient, you find with relief as it seemingly takes eons and eons to navigate the soft velvet of wherever this place may be. As you get closer, little pricks of light begin to emerge, stars from a galaxy far far away. They twinkle as if they’re smiling down at you, and you smile back, unafraid.

You know how the dream ends; it ends the same every time. The jolt of your alarm clock bringing you back to consciousness, pulling you awake. You never seem to be able to reach the red light, but you aren’t discouraged by that – how could you be, when every time you have this dream you get closer and closer? When every time your hand seems to reach out a little farther?

It’s going to end soon, you think in the safety of your mind, in this little bubble you’ve built for yourself. The dream is going to end, and you’ll have to face the day, another day of being you, of being (Y/N). Soon enough you’ll get dressed and have breakfast with Armitage, your friend who lives next door, and he’ll complain about his students and you’ll complain about work only for a short while before you’ll need to go get ready to spend the next ten hours at the place.

It’s going to end soon, but that’s alright, because you know after those ten hours are up you’ll get to come home and hopefully, hopefully, have the dream again.

When you walk through the rich blackness of the void, when you approach the red light, this time you’ve gotten a step farther. This time you’ve reached your hand out nearly to the edge, nearly to the very edge of the red. It curls and winds around your hands like smoke, if smoke could be hot. It tugs at the tips of your fingers, wanting you to come closer closer closer, and you chuckle at its eagerness.

“One day.” You say sadly, in the dream. Or maybe you say it out loud, out in the real world too. You don’t know.

You live alone, so there’s no one to ask, no one to laugh at the way you talk in your sleep, if you do at all.

The red tugs on your hand again, insistent, but you shake your head with a sigh, you reclaim it because you have to, you have to or you’ll never wake up and then you’ll be late for work, and if you’re fired from this job then there will be astronomical consequences, consequences that you simply can’t risk.

The red seems to know this, and it’s almost as though you can feel it sighing too. It reaches out to caress your face, warmth seeping into your bloodstream through the gentle press of an invisible force against your cheek. You let your eyes begin to close slowly, savoring the feeling of the love of the universe, because that must be what this is, that’s why you’re not afraid.

As your eyes close, as the red begins to slip away, you think you see the silhouette of something – of someone, standing just on the other side of the light.

You snap your eyes open to try and get a better glimpse, because you’ve never seen that before in the dream, you’ve never ever seen a person standing on the other side, you’ve never seen anything solid and corporeal and real and –

You bolt upright in your bed, the radio crackling to life from across the room, its bright cheerful jingle alerting your brain to get the fuck out of bed and go turn it off.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swing singers coming through the speakers are loud enough to earn you a pounding on the wall, courtesy of your neighbor and one of only two friends you had, Armitage Hux.

“Christ (Y/N)!” Your friend says loud enough that you can hear him through the wallpaper, “It’s my day off can’t a man get some sleep?”

Your feet slide into slippers on the side of your bed, and you pad across the room naked to shut the radio off. You’re not really one for listening to all the commercials and commentary, preferring your vinyl collection much more than whatever taste some disc jockey thinks he has.

“Sorry Professor,” You roll your eyes sarcastically, “But if I have to be awake at this hour then so do you.”

It was the routine, day off or no, that you spend every morning together. Neither of you had anyone, no one to really call your own, and so you spend it with one another. It helps fight the loneliness that creeps into your soul sometimes, and even though he’s aggravated at waking up on a weekend, he still does with a hopeful, “Coffee?”

Smiling to yourself, you grab your robe and tie it tightly around your body.

“I’ll be over in five.” You check the time, before leaving your bedroom to brew up a big pot of Lyons standard roast.

                                                     ------------------

Once the coffee has brewed and you’ve brushed your hair enough to look presentable for your friend, you make the short trip next door with hot percolator in hand, and a smile. A smile which, upon the opening of his front door, is not returned to you by Armitage, who instead looks like he may crave death or violence.

“Remind me again why we wake up at two o’clock in the morning?” He grumbles, his Irish accent thick from sleep as he abandons the door, leaving you to close and lock it behind you.

You follow him further into his apartment, a chic, mid-century modern space that looks very curated, very well thought out, very Armitage. He’s changed his design taste more times than you can count really, but for the past year it’s been the same; dark teal paint on the walls and ceiling, with matching teal-stained wood on the floors. His furniture and décor are all varying shades of rich orange to provide an interesting contrast that only gives you a headache sometimes.

“Because my shift begins at five, and it’s a two-hour ride to work.” You reply, fishing out two mugs from his cabinet in the kitchen and get to pouring you both a generous helping of coffee.

“I didn’t ask why you had to be up at two, I asked why we had to be up at two.” He huffs, gratefully accepting the mug with his cold hands, humming around a healthy sip of the brew.

“Because you love me.” You wink, setting down the coffee pot in favor for rummaging through his pantry, pulling out flour and sugar, “And you love the pancakes I make you.”

Armitage sets the table with plates and silverware while you begin to measure out ingredients and raid his fridge. It was a good setup you thought, you cooked breakfast and then abandoned him with all the dishes and cleaning up. You spent enough time cleaning, you always say.

“You do make damn good pancakes.” He complimented you as you stuck some butter in the pan to melt and sizzle.

“Any plans today Armie?” You smile at the immediate groan that escapes from between your friend’s teeth as you mix pancake batter into the perfect consistency to be poured.

“Yes, regret ever telling you about that nickname.” You can tell he’s scrubbing a hand over his face, the way he tends to do when he’s annoyed.

“Drink your coffee.” You tease, using a ladle to start breakfast properly. “I was thinking, when I get back from work maybe we can go downstairs and see the new film that Boris got, it’s a Fred and Ginger musical.”

Your apartment building wasn’t really an apartment building at all – or at least, it didn’t used to be. What were once storage rooms for the cinema downstairs had become single bedroom apartments nearly ten years ago, according to Boris, the friendly Bulgarian proprietor. When the cinema began to fail due to the rise of television, he sought out extra income and became a landlord.

This was perfect for Armitage, who, as a professor for film history at the university, had an immense love for the classic older films which were only ever screened on special occasions, or at special theaters. Boris knew this, and he acquired many old film reels from the 1930s and 1940s, which he played during the week as a way to generate interest on otherwise slow days.

You paid your rent early, which had the added bonus of being on Boris’ good side, which in turn meant you got to see the movies for free whenever you wanted.

“Which musical, Top Hat or Swing Time?” He eagerly accepts the pancakes you flip onto a plate for him, before drowning it all in syrup and powdered sugar.

“The Gay Divorcee.” You tease with a grin, “Right up your alley.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Armitage rolls his eyes once again, although now he’s much less aggravated with coffee in his system and food in front of his face.

“Will you see it with me?” You put a hand on your hip, and he smile.

“Of course I will. It’ll give me a good excuse to finish grading these essays, maybe I’ll tell my students they can write something about the musical for extra credit – god knows some of these kids will need it.” He gestures to the pile of marked and unmarked papers on the other end of the kitchen table.

The stack that still needs to be graded is far taller than the stack of finished essays, and you wince when you read that the one on top of the stack has been given a D-.

“Which paper is this one?” You plate yourself some pancakes and sit at the table, making sure the stove is off and the plastic spatula isn’t anywhere near the heat where it could be left to melt.

“The midterm; an analysis and comparison of German Expressionism in cinema before and after the second world war.” Armitage sighs around a bite of the delicious breakfast.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at your friend, that topic being so on brand for him. His father was a Navy General, and he had been even more patriotic than most. But while his father had big dreams for Armitage to follow in his footsteps, instead he became a professor, much more interested in researching and educating the new generation.

Still, he found ways to incorporate his love for the military into his love for cinema. It’s all propaganda anyway, as he likes to say.

“Show me the awful papers when I get back, we can laugh about it over lunch.” You smile as you dig in to the breakfast you’ve made, but he scoffs.

“Oh please! I’ll be crying.” He replies, a funny blend of deadpan and melodramatic.

                                                     ------------------

Once breakfast was over, you kiss Armitage on the cheek and wish him a good day, before taking the warmed coffee pot back to your own apartment next door. Filling up two thermoses, you set them near your purse right by the door so you can easily grab them on your way out.

After breakfast you typically only have fifteen minutes to get properly ready for the day, but that was alright. Dressing never took very long, not when you were provided with a uniform. Sometimes Armitage exhausted you with his fashion shows; trying on every possible combination of sweater vest and tie he owned, asking for your opinion on new trousers. You loved having one less decision to make, especially this early in the morning.

The uniform was a simple dress made of a dark grey linen. It had accented cuffs on the rounded collar, short sleeves and hem in a darker grey, and two large pockets on either side which proved themselves immensely helpful. While not required, it was often encouraged to wear the provided apron, a white thing that’s gotten so soft and worn over the years from all the bleach baths you’ve had to give it.

And though the uniform may seem drab and boring to some, you adored the anonymity of it. You liked being able to blend into a crowd, to move unnoticed. It was imperative that as a cleaning woman you were out of everyone’s way, and any flashy attire would have certainly drawn unwanted attention. That’s not to say that many of the other cleaning women didn’t enjoy the attention – your own dear friend Gwendoline among them.

With the red scare, your boss had made a push to encourage individualism within his employees – he felt that everyone looking exactly the same and wearing the same was far too much like communism, and he’d be damned if he were anything like the Soviets. So things like scarves to tie back hair, pins or broaches, nail polish colors, and shoes were encouraged to be something you made your own.

The only one of these little pleasures you indulged in were your shoes, and your daily dilemma often consisted of which pair of short reliable heels you would be slipping your now stocking-clad feet into.

You were having one such dilemma now, looking at your wall of heels. Another perk of living alone, you think to yourself, no one there to tell you to get this obsession under control.

In honor of the dream you were once again so lucky to enjoy, you picked a pair of red kitten heels off the top shelf and put them on as you hopped across the living room, grabbing your dashing out the door.

                                                     ------------------

The world is so quiet, this early. Not completely silent, as it were, because there were always people like you, always people having places to go and friends to meet. Living so close to the Vegas Strip was interesting, and you saw all sorts of people on the sidewalks and in convertibles, driving around in the dark with their sunglasses on because they think it makes them look cool.

As you descend the steps which lead out of the apartment, you are stopped by the familiar sight of your landlord up on a ladder, arranging letters on the bright marquee sign surrounded by golden lightbulbs.

“(Y/N)!” He calls to you with a hand up waving, “Good morning dear!”

“Good morning Boris, you’re up early.” You call back, making sure to be loud enough that he can hear you with his old ears. His hearing has been failing him lately, and you do your best to help him when you can.

“Early or late, eh? Will you come to the screening tonight?” He laughs heartily as he gestures to the big black letters which read the name of the musical.

“Of course I will, I’m bringing Professor Hux along – he’s going to encourage his students to come this week.” You tell him, and he gasps.

“Students! He has big class, yes?” Boris’s excitement is contagious, and you find yourself grinning.

“Yes, nearly one hundred and fifty eager filmmakers.” You inform him, and the news shocks him so much that he nearly falls off the ladder.

Thankfully he has one of his sons, a nice young man named James, holding the ladder steady. You always wonder why James isn’t the one up on the ladder, since he’s clearly in better shape, but then you remember this is Boris you’re thinking of – he’s the kind of man who doesn’t trust anyone to do anything the right way.

“One hundred fifty! When you come tonight, you get free popcorn, okay?” He is giddy, and you feel good to have made his day a happy one.

“Okay Boris, I really must go now.” You see the familiar headlights of the city bus turning the corner, so you give him another wave, “I’ll see you this evening.”

“One hundred fifty…did you hear that?” Boris is in awe, not having had so many customers in a long time.

                                                     ------------------

It takes three buses to get to work. When they had been looking for a place for you to live, you had insisted that there be a bus station as close as possible because if you were going to be spending ten hours on your feet, you wanted as short of a distance from the stop to your front door as possible. You don’t mind the two hours each way, you don’t mind the long grueling hours – but you sure as shit were not going to take any extra steps in your heels if you didn’t have to.

The bus comes at exactly three every morning, and it’s the same bus driver every time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N).” He greets you, a kind older gentleman who probably needs his sleep more than even Armitage did.

“Good morning Mr. Henry,” You reply, taking a seat up front so you might talk to him and keep him company on the drive to the main bus exchange station. “Did you have a good evening?”

“I surely did, there’s nothing better than getting to go home to the Missus.” He gives you a dreamy-eyed smile through the rear-view mirror. “It was her birthday last night, I took her out to dinner and a show.”

“Mr. Henry you are such a romantic.” You lean your head against the window, using your small hat as a pillow to shield yourself from the cold rattling glass. “Where did you take her?”

“Circus Maximus in Caesars Palace! Damn what an evening. We only just got back home an hour or so ago, and I wanted to take off the morning to get some rest into these bones, but my boss didn’t take to the idea too kindly.” Henry shrugged, making you frown.

You wish you could encourage him to stand up to his boss, but with racial tensions as high as they were, you didn’t want to see your friend get hurt, or lose his job. Henry had been driving this route ever since you began working out in the desert, and you thought of him as a highlight of your day, a friend even if you only saw one another for the short time you did.

“I hope you have a fast shift today and that no one gives you any trouble.” You tell him honestly, only ever wanting the best for Henry. You’d offer him some of your coffee, but he’s got a thermos of his very own up at the front of the bus.

“Seeing your smiling face certainly does help, Miss (Y/N).” His eyes glimmer when he asks, “Now tell me, anything interesting going on where you work?”

You chuckle and shake your head, staring out the window as the streetlamps blur together, cutting through the dark.

“I’m afraid not, or if there were, I wouldn’t know anything about it, I just clean.” You say.

“Don’t be so down on yourself, we’re the ones they don’t ever suspect, isn’t that right?” Henry asks, and when you look back at him, he’s got a smile and that mischievous look in his eye again.

“Yes, it is.” You reply with a smile of your own.

                                                     ------------------

More and more people get on the bus as it visits the various stops, until it’s almost packed. You used to be so surprised by that, by the way so many people seemed to wake up before the world was ready, before the sun had even begun to stretch and blink away the night. But that was Las Vegas, you supposed, almost like New York City in a way, with all the casinos and hotels and shows. Sometimes it felt very much like you lived in a parallel universe, where day and night were reversed.

You thank Mr. Henry and give him a warm parting smile when the bus finally arrives at the transfer station. Everyone follows suit as they exit, and it makes you feel a little brighter to know that people are willing to be polite if only someone would set the precedent. You’re more than happy to set that particular precedent, every time.

From Mr. Henry’s bus to the next takes nearly five entire minutes, between the length of the bus station and the busyness of the crowd. You always come close to missing it, and you’re always out of breath from running. Thankfully though, you have Gwendoline to look forward to every morning, your friend who always saves you a seat on an otherwise crowded bus, always looks out for you otherwise you’d have to stand for the next hour, holding on to overhead bars that you can’t quite reach.

“Hey! Come on, what do you think you’re doing?” One of the other passengers complains when Gwen spots you and offers you the seat next to her at the back of the bus.

You both always took the very last row, because you were the very last stop on this particular route before it swung back around to the transfer station.

“You’re getting off in ten minutes you can deal.” Gwendoline snaps back, and the woman rolls her eyes, adjusts her grip on the handrail.

“Thank you.” You snuggle up against your friend on the crowded bus, your laps now filled with your cardigans and purses.

You met Gwendoline on your very first day at work, completely by accident. You were in the wrong place, lost and confused, and had stumbled across this gorgeous blonde woman who wore bright red lipstick that smeared around a sneaky cigarette. She had helped you, and you’d been inseparable at work ever since.

She isn’t very much older than you, but she has that worldly quality that makes her feel wise beyond her years, and gives her an authority over people – even strangers – that you find endlessly amusing.

“Henry was cutting it close today.” She comments, looking at her watch.

This bus departs the transfer station on the half-hour, and does not come back until the next half-hour. You’ve never once missed it, but you certainly have chased it down to get it to stop and pick you up.  

“No, it’s not his fault, I think one of the other routes is down so people were confused and no one knew where they were going.” You point out the bus window to the people nearly swarming like bees around the poor people in the ticket kiosk.

“Fuck, really? It’s too early for that.” She looks nearly offended, as if to say, how dare the world be so difficult.

“I agree.” You reply to both her words and her look, and take one of the thermoses out of your purse, offering her, “Coffee?”

She plants a big kiss to your cheek and warms her hands on the thermos before bringing the thing up to her lips for a long deep gulp. You hope that the thermos has done a good job keeping the coffee hot, because you know how much of a bummer warm coffee can be for some people, but your worries disappear when she happily sinks into her seat on the bus and smiles, content.

“You’re a saint, (Y/N), you know that?” She clutches the thermos to her chest, and you grin.

“It’s the least I can do.” You reply, because it’s true – with all she does for you, you’re more than happy to return the favor for your friend.

“Cards?” Gwen pulls out a deck from her pocket, and you light up at the sight of the bent and beat up deck.

“Cards.” You agree, the two of you twisting towards one another, shuffling and re-shuffling the pack before dealing them out onto your laps.  

                                                     ------------------

When the last of the passengers have gotten off the bus, the driver pulls over onto the side of the road, letting cars whizz past on the interstate to your left. The sun still hasn’t made her debut yet, and the driver has turned the lights off, so that the bus might blend in to the darkness a little better.

“Identification?” He asks, like he does every morning.

There is a reason you and Gwen are the last two passengers every morning, a reason why this is such an important bus to catch.

You and Gwen don’t bother getting up from the back of the bus, not feeling in the mood to walk all the way up front to only go right back, so you fish out your ID cards and flash them long enough that the bus driver can see them in the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you ladies.” He says, much less like a robot this time. “I know you’re you, it’s just protocol.”

“You ever wish you could say ‘fuck protocol’?” You ask, and he regards you, not-unkindly when he replies,

“All the time.”                                                                    

The bus roars to life once again, now that your clearance has been checked for the first time of the day. It’s a much more scrutinous process at the next bus stop, one you’re always a little paranoid over but prepared for. Bag searches, identification card and number, finger scans, the whole works. Four-thirty always seems too early for that sort of thing, and sometimes you wonder if you’ve accidentally brought something in that could be deemed dangerous, that they’ll randomly find some reason to haul you away.

The desert is dark and stretches on for miles and miles with nothing to see, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, should one need to. You hope you never need to.

Gwendoline always makes fun of you for it, but it’s all in jest. She tends to give attitude to the security guards at the bus station, but she gets away with it because she’s a bombshell. She may be just a maid, just a cleaning woman like you, but damn does she fill out her dress nicely.

“Have a great day ladies.” The bus driver says once the hour has passed, and you and Gwen have gone through ten rounds of card games, leaving you the winner this time.

“See you tomorrow.” You reply in unison, making one another laugh at your timeliness, jinxing and double jinxing one another, demanding bottles of Coca-Cola as payment.

                                                     ------------------

This bus station, much like your work and your job, doesn’t…technically…exist.

It’s a small little depot in the middle of the desert, armed guards at every door and gate. You join the pool of other employees, when you get off the bus and pass through the first gate. No one is allowed to drive their cars onto the main site, everyone – no matter rank or position – has to shuttle in from this station.

It’s always so interesting seeing everyone here, milling together and scanning their badges. You’re sure it must be a humbling experience for some of the managers and heads of department, being treated the same as the sanitation workers, but if they’re upset about it they don’t show it.

You get your pat down and walk through the metal detector while security inspects your lunch.

“Don’t you ever get tired of eating the same thing?” One of them, a young guy who is usually in good spirits, asks.

“If you want to come over and pack my lunch for me, I’d be happy for the variety.” You joke, giving him a playful wink that makes all the other security guards whistle, as you clear the metal detector with a green light.

“Don’t go giving him any ideas, (Y/N),” Gwendoline harmlessly flirts with the guy, “I might want him to toss my salad instead.”

This makes them all whistle and jeer, hoot and holler and laugh and Gwen laughs back, snatching your purse and hers back from the metal table. Some of the other employees catch ear of the conversation and they shake their heads with incredulous smiles of their own, but neither you nor Gwen really care – what’s the point of working if you can’t have a little fun every now and again?

There’s no room for playing cards on the shuttle, not this time. The small bus isn’t jam packed like a tin of sardines the way the public city buses are, but still there isn’t an empty seat, no real luxury for spreading out. That’s fine though, you think, as you shift into your professional attitude, start thinking of all the things you’ll have to do today.

It’s Sunday, and that’s a good day, a strong day, you think. It’s usually barebones crew, only the most basic staff that needs to be there. In fact, it’s usually mostly cleaning people like yourself and Gwen, getting the place ready for full operations to commence Monday morning. Of course there are still all sorts of scientists checking on their experiments and engineers testing their inventions and the like, but on the whole, Sundays are easy days.

They wax the floors on Sundays, so you know you’ll be doing quite a bit of sweeping scrubbing mopping for most of the shift. The building is huge, but more than that it’s sprawling, like a maze almost in the way that it’s constructed. That’s purposeful, you know, but in the beginning it seemed almost impossible to clean because everywhere you looked there was another hallway leading to another set of doors that all had tile and shelves and counters that needed to be taken care of.

Now though, now you were an expert at it, able to clean up even the stickiest messiest stains in twenty minutes or less. You prided yourself on your work, and always wanted to leave everywhere you went better off than it was when you got there. This job was important to you, vital, one might say.

The shuttle crosses through the gate in the desert, the gate which feels as though it has no ending, chain link splitting through the sand. The large sign boasting RESTRICTED AREA NO TRESSPASSING nearly disappears into the purple of night, and you check your watch to make sure you and Gwen will be able to punch in on time.

“We’ll be fine, we always are.” Gwen sees you checking, and you roll your eyes.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes, it takes nearly ten to get all the way to the lobby.” You show her your wrist, but she only pushes it away, not bothering to look.

“Then that leaves us with five minutes for a cigarette.” She whispers covertly, and the two of you snicker together at her secret smoking habit.

                                                     ------------------

The base never looks more imposing than it does like this, too early in the morning before the sun has come up, when there’s nothing but harsh fluorescent lighting flooding the desert. The buildings are brutal, grey cubes that jut angrily out of the earth, rock and sand cleared away for the lines of sidewalk that connect each area in Area 51 like a spider’s web of concrete.

Inside the lobby, people are busy busy busy, walking back and forth in all capacities. Some are wearing white lab coats, others are in suits, and others still are clicking their heels off to go do some typing behind their desks. Friends recognize and greet one another, strangers excuse each other they pass, and along the wall you and Gwen wait your turn to clock into work. The little hand proudly proclaims that you do have five minutes before you technically have to start, and Gwen gives you a devious little smile as you both walk arm in arm down to the ladies’ locker room.

You think it’s kind of funny, that all locker rooms look the same. Rows and rows of standard sized lockers stick out from the walls, creating little aisles almost. Gwen follows you to your lockers, which naturally are side by side, near the middle of the room. It’s perfect because it’s right near a window, and Gwen always cracks it just slightly so she can light up a skinny Virginia Slim and not stink up the place.

She’s not the only one who does it, but no one wants to get caught.

While she smokes, you stash your purse and lunch into the locker, grabbing your cardigan that you keep there at work and sliding your arms into it. It might be one hundred-degrees in the desert when the sun is up for the day, but inside the buildings they keep it at a chilly sixty degrees, and with all the water you deal with, the last thing you need is to be even colder.

“You got any plans tonight (Y/N)?” Gwen asks as she flicks her ash outside through the window, “I was thinking about going out to get my nails done when we finish up our shift.”

She glances at her cuticles, noticing the growth from the way the polish has begun to move away from her nailbed. You take a glance at your own nails, and while the invitation does sound enticing, you do indeed have plans.

“The Professor and I are going out to a movie, you should come with us! It’s not until the late evening, you’d have more than enough time to get a manicure beforehand.” You offer, making Gwen laugh fondly.

“You two and your movies, I swear. I don’t know anyone who loves them more than the pair of you. Why, I feel like you could both quote just about any musical from beginning to end.” She teases.

“Depending on the musical, we probably could.” You tease back, before you stand up and stretch the very last bits of sleep and laziness from your limbs.  “I mean it though, you’re more than welcome to come with us.”

“I’ll pass this time honey, but count me in for the next one.” She promises, and you nod. “You want a puff?”

She offers you the cigarette but you nudge her hand away.

“No thank you, you know me, gotta keep these lungs clear so I can recite scripts on command.” You grin, and she only stubs out the butt of it onto the concrete wall, before tucking the thing in her pocket so no one could find it in the trash and get her in trouble.

“And they say I’m sarcastic.” She huffs, tying her apron around her waist.

Mrs. Parker, a strict not but necessarily unkind woman, enters the locker room at five o’clock on the dot. Everyone stands at attention for her at the end of the aisles created by the rows of lockers, and she has one of her assistants pass out clipboards to each of the women in the room.

“Alright ladies, time to start the day.” Mrs. Parker takes her job very seriously, as she should. It was not common for a woman to hold a management position the way she does, and you’re proud to be under her instruction. “Boss says since it’s a holiday tomorrow if you get everything on your checklist done and signed, you can clock out early.”

“What’s the holiday?” One of the other girls asks, as a slight murmur breaks out among them.

“Presidents Day.” Mrs. Parker replies. “So thank JFK for a nice end to the day – if you get everything finished that is.”

With that, she and her assistants leave the locker room. Once the door has closed, the women all talk among themselves, eager for the prospect of getting to go home sooner than anticipated. For many of them, their weekend is just beginning, and the thought of having more time to catch up on sleep or whatever else they want, is exciting.

Neither you nor Gwen have your weekends yet, and though the holidays may apply to everyone else, the two of you will still be expected to come into work the next day. There are different levels of clearance even within maids, you’ve found, and yours are some of the highest, which means you get to clean some of the most sensitive parts of the base.

For now though, Gwen reviews your clipboards. They’re always the same, because Mrs. Parker isn’t stupid and knows that you’re more productive together than you are apart. But still, she checks to make sure.

“I’m guessing we’ve just got floors to do today.” You say, adjusting your hair in the mirror.

“You guessed right.” Gwen nods, flipping through the pages. “Where should we start, the display room, communications, or the lab?”

“Makes the most sense to do it in that order, actually. I don’t feel like back-tracking.” You say, and she’s inclined to agree.

                                                     ------------------

It’s not really called the display room. It’s got a proper name like everything else, D-3449 Exhibition Hall. This is one of the rooms that they bring all the important people to, it’s like a museum of sorts with pieces of new technology sitting on pillars and pedestals, large air craft suspended from the ceiling.

It’s more of a hangar than an exhibition hall, especially with how empty it is. The only people inside are the armed security that stand by the door, but they don’t speak. They’re instructed only to watch over the technology and that’s it.

“You would not believe the time I had trying to get new hubcaps for my car,” Gwen says as she slaps her wet mop against the marble tile, pushing suds around and scrubbing at the floor, “Remember how that piece of shit swiped my side and scuffed them something fierce? Well I figured I’d drive myself down to the dealership and ask their auto shop to replace it, and I inquired about any new designs. You know how they’re always coming out with new designs.”

“Did you ask for chrome?” You’re on your hands and knees with a little scraper, someone had tracked gum into the hanger and not bothered to wipe it up. It had hardened and now practically needed to be chiseled off the damn tile.

“Of course I asked for chrome, and do you know what the sleezy man at the dealer told me?” Gwen puts her hand on her hip, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

“What?” You look up from the gum.

“He said men love women with chrome hubcaps, because they can see up her skirt through the reflection!” She scoffs.

“No way, that’s not real.” You go back to scraping, managing to get it all the way off in one blue sticky chunk that you dump into the trash at the end of your janitorial cart.

“Whether it’s real or not I wasn’t going to let it stop me, so I bought four new ones and had them put on.” Gwen says anyway, making you laugh.

“Gwen! You’re too much sometimes I tell you.” You shake your head, grabbing your mop and walking across the great big hangar to the other side so that you can mop that half. Though you are far apart, being the only ones in the room had its perks, and your voice carries when you joke, “This is why I don’t have a car.”

“Oh but you should get one, they’ve got all different colors and you can get ones with the tops that fold down so you can feel the sun on your face and – ” Gwen starts, unaware that you’re teasing.

“We live in the desert, the sun is always on our face.” You say as you’re careful to not box yourself in with the wet tile. “Besides, you only ever talk about how expensive your car is to fix, and how you have to fix it often. I’d much rather spend my money on other things.”

“Yeah like your shoes.” Gwen points to your feet, “Are those new?”

At the mention of your new heels, you strike a dramatic model pose.

“Do you like them? I saw them in the window and had to get them.” You beamed, showing the bottoms still mostly un-scuffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re breaking them in at work, your feet are going to fucking hate you for that.” Gwen whistles low, already feeling sorry for your ankles.

“My feet are going to hate me either way, might as well look nice.” You point out, and this at least Gwen understands.

 From the hangar you move on to the communications room, which is exactly as it sounds. It’s an open office floor plan, with desks in neat lines. Two men in headphones sit at each desk, fiddling with nearly a hundred different buttons and looking at many small screens. No one pays you or Gwen any mind as you go about sweeping the floor, collecting any dust or specs of dirt that had accumulated since you’d been there yesterday.

In fact, everyone is so engrossed in their work that you’re not so sure they’d notice if you started screaming and jumping up and down. They’re monitoring the soundwaves and frequencies across the planet, right there in this room. There are enormous satellites pointed towards the sky nearly a mile away, four different ones pointing in each direction, and the communications personnel listens in on what the satellites send to their headphones.

You have your big dust broom and are walking in one direction between an aisle of desks, and Gwen is walking the opposite way on the other side.

“Sometimes I wonder what in God’s name goes on in this place, but then I think, if I want to sleep at night, it’s better to not know.” Gwen whispers, voice kept quiet so that she can’t be heard over the noise of whatever the personnel are listening to.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You whisper back, “They’re keeping aliens down in the basement labs.”

“Oh not this again.” Gwen groans, before lowering her voice again and hissing, “There is no such thing as aliens.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, Gwen, keep telling yourself that.” You grin, entirely too cheeky to be serious. “Look all I’m saying is why do we have big satellites pointing to the night sky and people listening in every second of every day?”

“To intercept the Russians, hello!” Gwen says as though it’s fairly obvious, and you grin as you sweep because now she’s really going on a tangent. “This is the United States government we’re talking about, they’re not going to waste their time on fairy-tales and conspiracies from lunatics on the street.”

“Then how do you explain the UFOs that people keep spotting?” You ask, waggling an eyebrow.

“Just because some people don’t know what a damn airplane looks like, doesn’t mean it’s something from outer space.” She says, and you put your hands up in mock-defeat.

“You’ve got to admit it is a pretty good conspiracy though,” You continue to be playful and difficult, not because you believe in any of this bullshit, not for real. But because it’s so easy to rile Gwen up with this sort of stuff, so you make a face and say, “Little green men with big black eyes and three fingers on each hand, like in those low-budget horror movies.”

“If that’s what aliens are supposed to look like, then I definitely don’t want them to be real.” She rolls her eyes and finishes sweeping the floor.

 Your last stop of the day is the laboratory. It is deep underground, and requires two elevators to get to, so generally no one ever wants to visit, and no one ever wants to clean it. It’s not the most pleasant atmosphere to be, as there are no windows and nothing but steel doors as far as the eye can see.

You and Gwen have to scan into the lab using your ID cards, as the doors are bulletproof and heavy, a double sliding mechanism that moves slowly because of the weight of it. When they finally open, you’re confronted with a flurry of activity.

The normally peaceful lab is filled with people, mostly installation workers who are hooking up wires and pumps to a big fish tank that takes up most of the room. Your eyes widen in awe, the thing is massive and hadn’t been there yesterday, meaning the install workers had been there through the night putting it together.

They must have been working so hard that they had no qualms throwing all the packing materials for the hoses and wires and whatever else, right onto the floor.

“What the hell is this mess!” Gwendoline snaps as she pushes her cart through the open doors, you trailing behind. “Are you fucking kidding me, the trash can is right there!”

The men stop at the sound of her, and quickly scramble to start picking stuff up. They look like chastised young kids, being scolded by their mother, and that’s fitting considering how some of them barely look like they’re out of college.

“Sorry Gwen, we didn’t – ” One of them starts, but she gives him a glare that would have turned him to stone if he had looked any longer.

“No, I know you didn’t you never do.” She sighs, using her broom to sweep everything up, pushing it to one side so at least the majority of the floor is clear.

You assist her, throwing away all the plastic wrappers and sheets of card stock, breaking down boxes and sweeping up package insulation.

“What’s all this shit for anyway?” You wrestle a piece of foam board into the trash can on your cart.

“Yeah really, as if we don’t have a big enough fucking mess to deal with as it is – ” Gwen shoots the boys another glare and they all duck, embarrassed.

“Watch your profanity, Miss Gwendoline, and goodness lower your voice.” Your boss, Mr. Robert appears through the double doors just then. He’s one of those overly polite fellows, one of those people who says goodness gosh golly gee whizz. You can’t ever really take him seriously, but he’s in charge, so you do as he says, and so does Gwen.

“Sorry sir.” She casts her eyes down and returns to her sweeping, and you do the same.

“It’s alright, today is just a very important day.” Mr. Robert smooths his shirt down with his palms, before clapping his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “In a few moments, we will be welcoming a new team to our base. Accompanying this team is the most highly classified asset that we have ever obtained.”

Almost as if by magic, the thick steel walls slide open, revealing in a most dramatic fashion, a tall and thin Colonel, the only indication of his rank being a pin on his suit lapel. The man looks like a skeleton, with his high cheekbones and sunken in eyes, and his lips are stiffly frowning, so much so that you wonder whether his face would crack, if he were to smile. His hair is greying, but in a dignified manner, and it is well-kept, just as the rest of him seems to be.

Everyone in the room falls silent when his polished dress shoes click across the freshly swept floor, standing with their shoulders and chin squared, you and Gwen included.

“May I present Mr. Tarkin. He is the acting head of security regarding the Asset. His office will be next to mine in the administrative wing, should you have any concerns or are called for assistance. Mr. Tarkin?”

“Thank you Robert, your introduction is most welcome.” The colonel’s voice is exactly as you’d expect it, deep and gravely and more than a little sinister, although he gives a chilling smile when he says, ���I have nothing more to add, other than the fact that anything you see here, anything at all, does not and never will exist. If you think you see something, hear or even smell something – you didn’t.”

“Is that understood?” Mr. Robert asks everyone in the lab, and you all nod.

“Yes sir.” You say in unison, cogs in the machine.

Suddenly, there is a commotion at the doors, as a team of armed security guards wheel in a massive steel tank. It looks like an iron lung, only bigger, far bigger. Everyone in the room is interested in it, but no one dare steps in the way of the security. It takes ten men on either side of the tank to move it into the lab, and though they certainly aren’t weak, they are visibly struggling with the Force of it.

It doesn’t help that whatever is inside the tank, isn’t happy. There is a harsh loud banging coming from within the steel, that low hollow echo as something pounds against it, bangs against it. You’re curious, so incredibly curious – you want to peer inside it, you want to know what it is. You’ve never seen anything like this before, never seen anything alive before. So far you’ve only come across planes and engines, never ever anything like this.

They’ve wheeled it in front of Mr. Tarkin, who regards it with pride. You wonder if he’s the one who found whatever is inside, or if he’s just in charge of it. Either way, whatever it is must be some raging feral animal, to make the kind of banging slamming pounding noise it’s making.

There’s a pain in your chest for it, for the creature, because certainly something that upset must be wounded, or frightened, or both. The security team steps away from the tank once it is securely in the lab, and they leave, filing out in two straight lines. The thick steel doors open, and before they close, Robert gives you and Gwendoline the cue to leave.

You nod, knowing when you’re officially just no longer allowed to be somewhere. You both gather up your carts and silently make your way out of the lab, passing the tank as you go.

Your intrigue gets the better of you though, and as you pass the tank, you stop briefly. There’s a window made of bulletproof glass, spanning nearly the entire side of the thing. Glancing into it, all there is to see is a bright blue liquid. You can’t really tell if the liquid is illuminated, or if it’s glowing on its own with some sort of bioluminescent quality, but either way, the blue liquid is too thick to see through.

You place a hand on the glass, using that as leverage to peer in closer without falling forward, when a hand pushes through the blue liquid and slams forcefully against the glass, jolting you back.

A flash of red fills the room. You blink and you are surrounded by the soft smooth endless velvet of blackness, the very same which populates your dreams. You’re close, so close, far closer to the red veil than you’ve ever been before, a hand outstretched, a hand reaching for you, before it –

As soon as it comes, the memory of your dream is gone, and you are being held tightly in Gwendoline’s arms.

“They need to leave, now!” Mr. Tarkin barks orders at your boss, but you’re already nodding, already racing to get your shit and get out.

You wonder if you’re ill – if you’ve had a stroke, if you’ve accidentally ingested some cleaning fluid. Nothing like that has ever happened to you before, and you can’t fight the shudders that wrack through your body, nor can you ignore the sweat that freezes across your neck.

“Yes of course sir,” Gwendoline says as she leads you and the carts out of the lab, pushing you bodily with concerned panic on her face, “We’re sorry, sir.”

You keep your eyes trained on the tank, as you leave. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has, and even as Gwen nearly shoves you into the hallway, still you crane your neck to look at the tank, still your eyes widen as you desperately try to catch a glimpse of something, of whatever that thing was.

Before the doors close fully, you see a shadow of something...the shadow...of a man.

Gwendoline races you to the nearest bathroom, and you feel as though you’re going to be sick. Had it been a hand? A human hand? Or were you officially just losing your fucking mind?

Was that really a person in the tank? Why would they keep a human being in a tank like he were some new fish at an aquarium? It must have been so scared, pounding on the tank like that, over and over and over and over – and you do get sick then, just because you still have no idea why you hallucinated in the way that you did.

“(Y/N)!” Gwendoline has a soothing hand on your back as you’re hunched over one of the toilets, all remnants of your lunch burning your throat as it comes back up in your panic, “(Y/N) talk to me what the fuck happened in there?”

“I don’t – I’ve never – ” You choke out, coughing with your face against the porcelain.

Gwen leaves for a moment, only a moment, returning with a paper cup and fresh water from the tap.

“Deep breaths, here, drink this.” She offers it to you, and you eagerly take it, gulp it down as you grab a fistful of toilet paper to wipe your face. She is so concerned, you can read it on her face, and she takes the paper from your hand to get the rest of your own sick off where you can’t see it. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the hospital?”

“Gwen it,” You’re out of breath, heart still beating so quick that you’re lightheaded. “I don’t know what happened I, I think I blacked out.”

“You scared the shit out of me, one second you’re touching the glass, the next second you’re almost falling to the ground. Would have hit your head on the concrete if I wasn’t there to catch you, but your eyes were wide open.” She says, and you frown.

“They were?” You don’t know how that could be, because you were dreaming, and you can only dream when you’re asleep, right?

“Yes, wide open but blank, kind of like those sharks, it was like you weren’t looking at anything in particular.” Gwen shakes her head and there are scared tears in her eyes, “I’m going to call the hospital – ”

“No,” You stop her, not wanting to have to deal with doctors and nurses for this, not when you don’t even know how you’d explain it. “No it’s okay. I feel better now, the water helped. I think I was just startled.”

“I’ve never seen you like that.” She whispers, “And I don’t want to again. If it happens a second time, I’m taking you and that’s not negotiable.”

You agree, and after you take a deep breath, you gesture to the bathroom around you.

“Since we’re here, we might as well clean.” You say. Clearly whoever was scheduled for this section of the hallway hadn’t gotten to it yet, and you didn’t want to face the world just yet.

“I’ll clean, you sit on the counter and just relax for a minute.” Gwen instructs, and you do as she says, hopping up onto the counter.

Gwen grabs a rag and a spray bottle and begins to wipe down the stalls, where she makes the mistake of looking up at the ceiling and groaning.

“Look at this, would you look at this?” She asks, pointing up. You squint but you can see the splatters on the cork ceiling tiles. “What were they doing, having a pissing contest up here? Isn’t this supposed to be the home of highly classified information and technology? Aren’t we supposed to have the best scientists and engineers?”

The door opens just then, and you immediately slide off the counter and adjust your dress, making way to grab your cart and leave. Gwendoline does the same upon the entrance of a man, as this is the men’s room, and though it’s your job to clean it, you are expected to give them privacy when someone is using the facility.

Especially when that someone is the Colonel, the new head of security regarding the new highly classified and top secret asset.

“No,” Mr. Tarkin says, as he approaches the counter, “No that’s alright, you don’t have to leave.”

He’s carrying something, a long baton made of black metal. He rests it on the counter and sets to washing his hands, using exactly six pumps of soap from the dispenser near the sink.

“Are you certain, sir?” You say, avoiding eye contact. “Our work can wait.”

“I’m certain. Don’t mind me, I won’t take but a moment. Please, carry on with your conversation, I don’t want to interrupt.” He waves it off, fastidiously scrubbing at his palms.

Once his hands are clean, he steps to the side and unzips his pants. Both you and Gwen quickly look away, embarrassed and in absolutely no mood to catch a flash of this guy’s dick. Instead, your gaze turns towards the baton, which seems to almost be humming there on the counter.

“Nifty little toy, isn’t it?” Mr. Tarkin catches you regarding it, and he smiles down at the baton like it were his newborn baby, fondness in his eyes that is incongruent with what it is when he tells you, “State of the art, high-voltage electric shock cattle-prod. But don’t tell anyone I told you.”

You and Gwendoline exchange a glance, what the fuck were they using electric shock on?

“I saw you both in T-4, didn’t I?” Mr. Tarkin hums, as he puts his hands on his hips and pisses right in front of you, “You’re the one who touched the tank.”

“Yes sir, I apologize, I don’t know what came over me.” You reply, trying your absolute best to not die of embarrassment and disgust.

“Humans are naturally curious, don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re alright.” He says, strangely sympathetic before asking, “Doesn’t it get lonely? The graveyard shift, I mean.”

“It gets quiet.” Gwendoline answers, strangely serious in her own way. She doesn’t like this man, you can tell.

Neither do you.

He hits the button on top of the urinal to flush and zips up his pants, making his way back to the sink.

“Well, hopefully things stay quiet – if you catch my meaning.” He winks.

“Yes sir, here.” Gwendoline offers him a hot towel for him to use when he’s finished washing his hands, but he doesn’t take it.

“Oh no thank you, a man washes his hands before or after tending to his needs. You can find out a lot about a man by the way he does it, what’s important to him. If he does it both times, it only points to a flaw in character, a weakness.” He explains with logic that makes no sense. “I think you’ll find I’m not a weak man.”

You find him a self-absorbed idiot, but you’d never say that out loud.

He picks up the baton, the cattle-prod, and exits the bathroom, catching the door with his hand before it closes fully and giving another one of those chilling smiles when he says, “It was very pleasant talking with you ladies.”

The second the door is closed, Gwen has her spray bottle and rag turned onto the door, scrubbing away where the man’s dirty hands have touched the steel.

“What a creep.” She mutters under her breath, and you hum out an agreement before gasping.

“Gwen, look.” You’ve caught sight of smeared blood, blood that had come from the baton itself. It was bad enough that they were electrocuting the creature, but now they were making it bleed too?

You and Gwen look at one another, and she just shrugs and hands you a rag too.

                                                     ------------------

Some time later, you’re walking down the hall pushing your carts, reviewing the clipboard. Each and every task has been crossed off, and it was nearly only lunch time. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly lunch time for the rest of the world, ten o’clock in the morning and all. But you were feeling good about it, thinking to yourself that if you can just hold on a little longer, you’ll be able to go out to lunch with Armitage when you get off the buses that will bring you back home.

Gwen is in an equally good mood, no doubt wishing that she could clock out early more often.

“I can see my own smile in these floors, we do such a damn good job, don’t we? Do you think Mrs. Parker will sign off on our forms so we can go?” She has a spring in her step as you both round the corner – right into Mr. Robert.

“(Y/N)! Gwendoline!” He looks frantic, looks terrified, is holding a napkin up to his face, mopping up the profuse amount of swear on his brow, “You need to come with me, now.”

“Sir, we were just about to pack up and leave actually – ” Gwendoline says, but your boss doesn’t care.

“Now!” He insists, and you have no choice but to follow suit.

Soon enough, it’s clear as to why.

Down the dark windowless halls and through the elevators you find yourselves in front of the lab once again, where there is a mess of blood all across the tile. So much blood in fact, that you’re nearly positive whatever has happened here has been fatal, because there’s just no way someone survived from this much loss.

Mr. Roberts scans in and the doors open, revealing an even bigger mess on the inside.

“You have exactly twenty minutes to get this lab spotless, do you understand me? Twenty minutes.” Mr. Roberts looks at you, and you nod, because you know you can get it done.

He leaves without another word, and the moment the doors close, Gwen groans.

“This is a lot of blood.” She states the obvious, grabbing buckets and filling them with water from one of the lab sinks. “You know, I can handle a lot of things. I can handle piss, throw up, hell, even shit. I can handle shit. But something about blood sets me off.” She shudders.

“Give me a bucket, the sooner we get this place mopped up the sooner we can leave.” You reach for one and she gives it to you.

You dump the entire bucket on the floor, and in the shallow wake of the murky water, a pair of fingers rolls out from underneath a large storage cabinet.

“No fucking way,” You gasp, bending down to pick the appendages up, “Fingers.”

“Fingers!?” Gwen covers her mouth, fully disgusted. “Okay, you stay here, I’m going to get Robert.”

The moment the steel doors close behind her, you sigh. What could have gone on here, you wonder, to have Robert in such a state? And the fingers, well clearly they had to belong to someone, which meant the blood had to as well. But there had been blood on Mr. Tarkin’s baton, the cattle-prod whatever he wanted to call it, hadn’t there?

Your stomach sinks at the thought that whatever the creature Mr. Tarkin has captured, bleeds just like all of you.

A low dull thunk comes from the tank, and you turn around slowly to face it.

Against all your better instincts, you turn to face it.

Where the tank was once empty, now there is something pushing through the fluorescent blue, something making its way closer to the glass. It is not screaming this time, nor is it banging its fists on the walls of the tank, and you drop the fingers, one hand outstretched.

You approach the glass, heart pounding pounding pounding, blood rushing in your ears, because it is a man, from what you can tell.

It’s not clear, not perfectly clear inside the tank, but you see a head and a wide torso, long thick legs and strong arms. He’s wearing some sort of breathing mask which obscures his face almost entirely, an apparatus that reminds you very much of the kinds that scuba divers wear, and he’s got a heavy looking metal collar clasped tightly around his throat.

It looks like a shock collar, but you’re not sure, you’re not sure of anything.

Though it is hard to see, there are definite wounds marking his body, fresh ones that speak to the blood all over the floor. You suck in a breath and just as you had done earlier, you place a hand against the glass of the tank.

This time when he – because it is a he and not an it – puts his palm against the glass from his own side, you don’t black out. You sigh with relief, and take another step closer to the glass, trying to get a better look at him when –

“Right this way Mr. Robert, yes two fingers.” Gwen’s voice carries into the room as the doors open for her and your boss.

You quickly yank your hand away from the tank and turn towards them, about to beckon her forward to show her the man in the tank, but when you look back through the glass, it’s empty. Nothing but the blue liquid as far as you can see.

In your pocket is a brown paper bag and you stuff the fingers inside it, folding the top down like a lunch parcel.

“Where are the body parts?” Mr. Roberts sweats, nervous nervous nervous.

“Here sir,” You give them over, explaining when he looks confused, “I’ve wrapped them for you.”

“You both can clock out and go home, I’ll sign your lists personally.” Mr. Roberts accepts the paper bag, and walks over to your carts where the clipboards rest nestled in amongst the bottles of cleaners and wipes. “And don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, the holiday applies to you as well. Go get some sleep.”

“Thank you sir! We very much appreciate that.” Gwendoline can barely contain her excitement at that.

“Well I appreciate you.” He stammers, genuinely grateful. “I don’t know anyone who can clean as well as quickly as you.”

He gives you a smile, and then rushes out of the lab with the paper bag, no doubt to the hospital.

                                                     ------------------

Hours later, after you and Armitage have shared some lunch and you’ve bathed in the Nevada summer sun on your balcony, after the home cooked dinner he makes you and the movie you watch together downstairs at the cinema, when it’s officially late once again and Armitage is asleep in his bed, you slip into the hallway.

Careful to close your front door quietly, you tip-toe down the stairs at the end of the hall, the only real sound are the dimes jingling in your pocket.

There is a phone booth right on the corner, and no one pays you any mind as you step inside it, closing the glass door behind you. You drop the dime into the payphone, and when the operator tone buzzes, you dial the number on the rotary, memorized but never written down.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before someone on the other end of the line picks it up.

“She speaks to the earth with a loud voice.” You say evenly and clearly.

You look around, check over your shoulder, make sure that no one is watching or listening in on you, making sure no one is trailing you. When you find no such person, you relax a little.

“And the earth shouts back.” The man on the other end of the line finishes the code, before switching to his mother tongue and saying, “Go ahead.”

“They’ve got a hold of something,” You cannot refrain from letting some of the awe pollute your news, even in this language which feels thick in your mouth, your Russian sticking in your throat, emotional as you whisper, “Something incredible.”

                                                   ------------------

Tagging some friends! <33  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @hidingp @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @mauvemountains @insanita @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @pinkmoontribe-blog @shyhairdocoloralmond @i-am-lokii-of-asgard​ @loud-binch​ @flapjacques​ @celiholland​

[saltmageelliexiv]

Disclaimer: This story has mild mentions of sexual situations. Please do not proceed if you’re uncomfortable with said themes. Story kept beneath a cut for the sake of not taking up dashboard space. Just as well: be nice, as I tried my best.

The sun had begun to rise in the snow-capped city of Ishgarde; the morning was one the highlander had experienced quite often. Ever the early riser when visiting a client, the sunlight breaking through the white curtains certainly helped with forcing her to rouse from her deep sleep. Her dark hair practically splayed across her body, even on the soft pillows that carefully cradled her head. Carefully adjusting herself, she’d pull her hair out of her face, moving to sit up in the bed, her head throbbing in pain. The night before was fueled with alcohol and a manner of indulgences, as she played the part of the loyal pet to a amorous nobleman whom she met with regularly. Just a slight glance to the side, she was greeted with his sleeping face.

‘Ever the heavy sleeper... I wonder how often his wife sees this.’

While the relationship between them was strictly business, he had paid for her to fulfill the fantasy for the previous night, as well as the following day. Even if she desired to return to her home, and take the time to herself to relax, she still had a job to do. Her fingers gently worked through his tawny locks, brushing the soft strands out of his face as he slept. For a second, her claw-like nails brushed against the rounded tip of his ear. While it was common for elezen lords to reside in Ishgarde, there was the odd hyuran or two, this man being one of them. The sensation Eliceyn’s fingers running through his hair was enough to rouse him from his sleep, the light reflecting softly off his cerulean eyes.

A slight smile tugged at the man’s lips. “You are succor sent by the twelve.” Before she could take her hand away, he took the courtesan’s hand in his own, peppering it gently with kisses. “Sleep well?”

‘Don’t get caught up in the act. You know better.’

Eliceyn returned the smile, letting the hyuran noble indulge in his desire to touch her. “Of course.”

While he kept her hand in hers, she used her free hand to straighten her hair, to the best of her ability, as well as rub her eyes, ridding of the ‘sleep’ along with it. She took a moment to take in her surroundings; a near pristine room, decorated with different shades of blue and teals, accented with black and silver. Not uncommon with nobility of Ishgarde. Taking her hand back for a brief moment, Eliceyn lifted her arms above her head, a soft groan escaping her as she allowed herself a morning stretch. Bare of any clothing, the nobleman next to her took the second to admire the far eastern beauty before him once again.

“Who knew such beauty could be lured to my bed... are you finished over there?” He’d prop himself up with his elbow, his eyes glued to her. While she was taking the time to wake up, he was taking the time to commit her bare form to memory.

The temptation to roll her eyes was gnawing at her, but she couldn’t afford to be rude. This man’s impatience aside, he was one of her highest paying clients, someone she couldn’t afford to offend. She’d bring a finger up, noting him to simply relax, and give her a moment. Next to her was a small bedside table, where some small trinkets and the more minor bearings of her personal belongings laid. Sifting through it, she grabbed a black hairband and hair pin, putting both in her lap. Bundling her hair into a ponytail, she’d twist it into a bun, holding it together with one hand, as she’d bring the hair band around it, looping it around three times before securing it with the hair pin.

“There we go. Now was that so bad?” She playfully teased the nobleman, a sly smirk forming on her lips.

“Yes, it was horrible. Now come over here.” Without even waiting for her to respond, he’d quickly tug her arm, being gentle as to not hurt her, his aim to pull her on top of him. Even if she was simply someone who’s company he purchased, he didn’t want to have to worry about becoming the next target for her infamous wrath. 

With the awkward positioning, she was half-laying on top of him, her chest on his own, but her hips and legs still on her side of the bed. By now she knew what this meant with him. Lifting herself slightly to allow her to readjust, she’d carefully slip one leg on the other side, allowing herself to straddle him, though she didn’t lay back down, giving him what he could only consider ‘the perfect view’. The man grinned slyly, as he eyed the courtesan’s body up and down. He could never get tired of such beauty.

“You know, my wife won’t be back home until tomorrow... and the servants won’t be awake for another three hours. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night.” One of his hands began to travel up her stomach slowly, feeling the toned muscle that laid beneath the soft pale flesh. “You certainly had a way of igniting my passions. Then again, such exotic beauties like you have always lit the fires within me.”

‘Liar... I wonder how often you said lines to your wife, or your other whores.’

“If you’re to have a repeat of last night, my lord, then you’re going to have to work for it this time. After all, what we do is a game for two, not a game for one.” The highlander softly whispered those words, ever the coy creature she was for her clients. She knew very well what he was looking for; he wanted someone who acted demure, but was still a tease. Such an act was child’s play for her, and if she was going to be acting a part, she may as well try and get some form of fun out of it.

The hyur smirked to the highlander; just as much as he liked it when she played coy, he did enjoy when she subtly told him what she wanted. His hand wandered from her front, moving around his side to her back. “Well then, why don’t I see if I can make you purr like you did last night.”

Bringing his free hand up, he’d use his index finger to beckon her to move her hips upward. After she had readjusted herself, she placed her hands on the wall, letting him to the rest. Not long did the sounds of the night before begin to ring out of the room once again. A mixture of heavy breaths, moans, the squeaking of the bed, and soft bangs of the headboard filled the room and the halls outside. The early morning the two spent indulging in each other, and though last night Eliceyn focused on pleasing her client, this time, he aimed to return the favor. 

Their early morning raptures had taken away what little energy the woman had in her, leaving her just as exhausted as she was when she went to bed the night before. The pair spending the remnants of their energy, their time alone was interrupted by knocking at their door. It was about time for the servants to wake up, but only the nobleman could answer; not only due to the servants only listening to him, but Eliceyn being far too worn out to move from the bed, let alone get dressed.

“Wait here, I’ll take care of it, my dear.” He spoke to the courtesan in a gentle voice, taking care to not be as firm as he was earlier. Their private time had been interrupted, and he had to keep up the respectable act in case someone was listening in. Moving out of the bed, he picked up a nearby robe, slipping it on and tying it shut, just barely opening the door to slip outside to answer who came knocking.

‘Might as well get cleaned up. Thankfully he didn’t reenact last night to complete accuracy. I can get away with a simple whore’s bath...’

The situation wasn’t ideal, but she had to get herself fixed up somehow. First and foremost, cleaning herself up. A bath wasn’t an option, so she had to wipe herself down as best as she could. She was quite thankful that this bedroom was meant for guests, and had a small washroom off to the side. A quick soak of a washcloth in hot water, she wiped herself down from head to toe, paying heavy attention to her back and her nether regions. Once she was finished, she rinsed the washcloth as best as she could, tossing it into a small basin where other dirty clothes were collected. Before leaving, she’d even give her face a quick wash with cold water; it wasn’t effective, but at least it gave her a shot of energy and helped her cool down. Now all that was left was to get dressed.

‘Thankfully I didn’t wear one of my more luxurious kimonos yesterday. I can actually tie this by myself. To think... I had fallen so reliant on others to help me with such menial tasks.’

Grabbing all of her clothing that laid on the floor, little by little, Eliceyn collected herself. She put on her undergarments, slipped her arms through the sleeves of her kimono before closing the front, and carefully wrapped the sash around it to keep it closed. But she couldn’t help but wonder, what was taking her guest so long to get back? Surely he would have sent whoever it was away by now. Apt to investigate herself, she had made her way to the door, determined to figure out just what was keeping her guest, only for the door to be forced open with such fervor that the swing caused the breeze it created to blow the soft strands of hair that hung in her face behind her. The cause? Her guest, returning to the room in a panic, looking as if he saw a ghost.

“You have to leave. NOW.” His voice was shaken, his face devoid of color as it was damp with a cold sweat.

Eliceyn raised a brow, curious, and deep down, agitated, that she were being ushered out of the room in such an unceremonious manner. Just why was she the one being sent away? She was told she could stay longer; while she didn’t care for who she was in company with, it wasn’t often she could lay in such oppulence.

“Why do I need to leave? What has you in such a fright?” Her voice was firm, as she demanded to know the answer. 

The man collected himself, slipping on some proper clothes, spraying himself with a musky fragrance, and cleaning up his hair. “My wife is here. You need to leave before she sees you. She must never know you were here.”

Before she could even raise her own concerns over the situation, the man grabbed her by her arm, pulling her roughly out the room, down a number of halls and a set of stairs, leading her to a small door out of the way. Opening it, he’d practically pull her out of it, shutting it behind him. For the moment, he was able to breathe, collecting himself as to not make himself look suspicious. 

“I promise you. Next time, I will make it up to you, my love. I swear.” Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a small satchel, bringing it to her hand, and pushing it to her. “Take this, as a token of my apologies. I’ll have my men bring the rest of your payment to the inns where you’re staying. I am sorry, if my wife discovered you here... she’d chop off my manhood and throw me to the hounds in the brume.”

‘Hmph... I may vomit...’

Even she couldn’t put up the act; she was quite angry about this. She didn’t care about his secrets being discovered, nor what any petty spouse could do to her. What she cared about was being treated with such disgusting actions. The man would move in for a kiss, quickly being stopped as Eliceyn held a hand up to his lips. 

“Not this time. Go.” She gave no other words, not even a farewell as the man hesitantly turned to go back into the door, leaving her outside in the snow by herself. Leaving her to go back to wherever she came from.

“She’ll have your manhood alright...” She let out a scoff. “What’s left of it...”

With a sigh, Eliceyn only had one thing she could do; go to the inns, and get as much sleep as she could. After a long soak, where she could be alone, with some peace and quiet. Such things were not new to her; she knew the course of actions. When a wife or spouse was around, it was time for her to go. But today, it reminded her just where she is in the social circle. She was her own master; not meant to be in a cage like a pet, not meant to be loyal to anyone but herself. 

The mask that she wore continued to grow heavy, but she could only do what she did best; hold it steady where it was, and never let it slip.

“Don’t let them see what’s under the mask, no matter what they do. Don’t even let you see yourself without it. The you beneath it doesn’t matter to anyone.”

‘Trust me... I never will let it slip.’

[eye-zen]

DROWNED

Swim or Sink

As I waited for the TSA security screening to open, my heart raced. It was absolutely the wrong time to have any negative thoughts but the anxiousness hit me like a ton of coconuts. You know that moment when you imagine everything that could possibly go wrong. 

The airport was cold and had a feeling of abandonment. Occupied only by workers cleaning, a few TSA agents, and an armed officer accompanied by a german shepherd. Arriving 4 hours before my 8am flight, the anticipation was overwhelming. After braving the cold for several months I was prepared to head closer to the equator. Where the sun was food and the sea was a reflection of the sky on a cloudless day. Stress is an understatement as life in the city is accompanied by ceaseless sirens, congested trains, and accessibility to any junk food you can think of. The separation from my island home had taken its toll on me, ironically, I never lived in the islands but I imagined for years what it would be like. Never thought I would make the move under these circumstances but people around me were dying and I felt the grim reaper closing in.

To relieve the overthinking I put on my headphones and listened to some jazz, It was Nocturne by Alfa Mist.  It calmed my nerves long enough for security screening to open and for me to begin the process of checking in to my flight. The check in process was smooth as I packed very light, just a duffle bag with a few underclothes and a couple of essentials. I headed to gate 18 in a sleepwalking daze. Throughout the desolate airport I saw a few people sleeping in corners cuddling with their charging spouses but we call them cell phones. 

I found a seat in a dimly lit corner near the window. The seat faced the tarmac and had a view of the city just on the horizon.  Taking deep breaths, I still couldn’t believe the moment was here. Thinking to myself, by this time tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in a nice bed and waking up hours later to the fresh smell of sea water. My eyes began to burn and became heavy like bricks as I fought my sleep. Finally I gave in as the tunes I was listening to expedited the process. An hour later I woke up and surveyed my surroundings, there seemed to be a few people who arrived and were waiting. I picked up my phone to check the time and change to a different playlist. Within a few minutes I was nodding off again, I hadn’t slept in over 34 hours. This time when my eyes opened the sun was rising over the cityscape and a few more airplanes had entered onto the tarmac. When I turned my head the seats were starting to fill up as life was finally being breathed into the airport. I adjusted myself in the seat and reached for my bottle of water. It had just enough for a sip, not nearly enough to quench my thirst. A few seats away from me was an older woman with what appeared to be her grandchild. I asked her if she could keep an eye on my belongings while I went to the restroom and a concession stand. I asked if she would like two bottles of water as well but she politely declined. When I entered the bathroom I looked for a urinal with the least amount of liquid on the floor. Afterwards I made my way to a sink and made wudu,  Washing my hands, face, nose, ears, and arms before drying myself off with a paper towel. I felt refreshed but still tired, I guess the 2 hour nap had not done me much justice. After buying my water and a few packs of M&ms i headed back to my seat. I killed time for a few more hours before my flight was finally announced to be boarded. I walked down the long corridor to the plane and sat at my seat 27F. Before the entire plane could be seated I fastened my seatbelt, turned on my music and went to sleep. 

I woke up and heard the ice shuffling into a cup before I opened my eyes

Excuse me would you like orange juice, tea, coffee, or water ?

I quickly wiped whatever drool had not made it to my clothes and opened the window. The sun was glaring and instantly made me hot so I closed it.  May I have some water please, thank you. I looked at the time and only slept for 45 minutes. I thought to myself, these naps are feeling like eternity. I opened the window back halfway and stared out of it. Gliding across the sky, in and out of clouds I couldn’t help but smile, I dreamed of this. 

Hours later we began the descenion and then landing. Looking out the window I could see nothing but plush green mountains sitting in the middle of blue water. As we approached the island, the water went from dark blue to teal, nothing I’ve ever seen before. The landing was smooth and I noticed this airport didnt have any bridges for the plane to be attached too. To my pleasant surprise the plane stopped  in the middle of the tarmac and passengers began exiting the plane. As people wrestled with their carry on luggage from overhead compartments I sat patiently with my duffle bag ready but nervous to exit. One of the flight attendants opened the back door which made the process go quicker. As I exited the plane a gust of wind hit my face. It felt like a smooth caress. The smell of sea water instantly made me smile as my nose and lungs happily embraced it. 

The airport was surrounded by green mountains and the ocean could be heard just over a treeline. I couldn’t believe I finally made it. Feeling like I escaped the grasp of death only to make it to heaven on earth. I walked past the baggage claim and straight to the arrival section. I was the first from my flight to leave. Clothed with a hoodie and a long sleeve t-shirt I took it off and almost threw it in the trash before hearing a familiar voice.

OY ! aye cuz ! 

I looked up and there was my cousin sitting in his car. I hadn’t seen King in years. One year he came up for the summer when we were younger. All I remember was his accent and him putting a tiddy on my basketball from always kicking it. 

Yo…wassup cuz! 

Glad to see you made it, how was your flight ?

Man it was ok, I slept a lot. The view from up there was crazy though cuz, can’t believe we are in the middle of the ocean like ths. 

Yes man, this is my home. Nothing like it you finally made it. I’m gonna show you a good time….yo where are the rest of your bags ?

This is all I have. 

What ? Haha pack light huh ?

You already know cuz…

I threw my bag in the back seat of his pickup truck and we drove off of the airport lot. The weather was beautiful and the landscape even better. Just hours ago I was in the concrete jungle now I’m cruising in paradise. There were vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the dark grey matter that clouded the city. People on the side of the road selling fresh fruit and vegetables, even a man on a horse in the middle of traffic. A few minutes later we stopped on the side of the road and got some coconuts to drink from a man selling them. At first I wasn’t too fond of the taste but I finished it and felt refreshed. More refreshing then any bottle of water I’ve ever had.

Well cuz were going to go on a longer ride later but I have to work this morning and afternoon.  I’ll drop you back off at the house for now. 

Damn Cuz, you work two jobs ?

Yes Man, in the morning doing a little construction and at night got a gig at the resort. Here, you gotta hustle. Paradise ain’t easy but it’s worth it.

Yea, I get it.

Well I don’t live too far from town so you can find your way around while I’m at work. All you have to do is tell the taxi where i live and they’ll drop you off. I mean unless you are tired, it looks like you haven’t slept in days.

Okay cool. Well yeah  you right about that. It’s been a day or two. Couldn’t sleep thinking about getting on that plane.

Yea well I heard everything that was going down up there, I’m glad you made it. Here, it’s all about respect. You don’t trouble anyone then everything should be irie. 

Yea for sure .

We turned off the main road and started heading up a steep hill. The road was not paved and surrounded by trees, so much so that it blocked the sun. After a few bumps we approached a bright red house with a white roof sitting on top of a grassy knoll. The view was amazing, I could see the ocean and what appeared to be “town” at the  bottom of the mountain. I didn’t realize how high we came but we seemed to be pretty elevated. 

Dam cuz this is a crazy view..

Yeh Meh son. Before I go to work I sit out here and drink my tea. Early in the morning or late at night you could hear the waves crashing from here, especially during a full moon. 

Well let me show you around real quick, I have to head to work. 

King gave me a tour of the house and where I would be sleeping. The house smelled like incense and had art on nearly all the walls. My bedroom was small but decent. It had a bed, nightstand, closet, but the best feature was the windows. I had a perfect view and the breeze flowed through effortlessly. Swaying the curtains back and forth like sails on a boat. I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Those few minutes became more as I fell into a power nap once again. When I woke up the breeze was still blowing and I still was in the islands. Part of me was extremely relieved that it wasn’t just a dream. 

I took a shower freshened up and decided to go exploring. On the kitchen counter King left a house key and a freshly picked mango from the tree outside. 

I began my trek down the hill in search for town. Cars passed me by honking as they maneuvered down the narrow winding road. One of the cars honked as it passed me by and I waved. The car stopped so I guess they thought I flagged them down. It turned out to be what’s known as a dollar cab.

Yea yea,. Good Afternoon, Where are you headed?

 I’m going to town. 

To town huh ? You’re not from here , What part of town are you going too ?

I don’t know, just town. I’m going to walk around and check everything out. 

Ok, ok. Well what brings you here brethren. 

I don’t know, just wanted to experience paradise.

Oh, ok I see. Well from my experience talking to foreigners who come here it’s always two things. You are either running from something or running to something. Which one is it ?

To be honest it might be both. Now if i’m running to something, only time will tell. 

Yes, I. Well here on my island, it’s a beautiful place. Weather is 80 degrees plus everyday, plenty of good food and beautiful women. But one thing I must warn you. Some of the women here are Mami wata or what you foreigners call mermaids. You must be careful, nothing here is what it seems. 

 Yea ok, i’ll keep that in mind. 

We approached the town after a few minutes. The buildings looked relatively old and there were quite a few tourists traversing the streets. I paid the taxi driver the fare and exited the car. I crossed the street with a family of roosters and entered into a clothing store. I bought some sunglasses and a bottle of water. Block by block I walked through town learning its layout. It must have been obvious I wasn’t from the island because I could see people staring at me. I thought I would be able to blend in, being that the tourists were for the most part white but that wasn’t the case. After an hour or two of walking around I found a restaurant on the harbor. The water was like a parking lot for boats. The sail boats seemed to have stretched for miles as traffic in and out of the harbor was steady. Under the surface of the water was a huge fish. I could see them swimming back and forth as if they were waiting to be fed. I ordered the most american thing you could probably get, a cheeseburger and french fries. After eating my lunch I sat on the harbor for a while then continued my walk through the town. During my walk I noticed I approached a restaurant bar that grabbed my attention for some reason. It was called Sea Breeze and unlike the rest of the restaurants, stores, and bars this one was by its loneliness just outside of the main cluster of businesses. I made my way in the empty bar overlooking the water and sat down. 

A few minutes later I could hear voices behind a closed door. There was a man carrying a clipboard with a phone to his ears.

 Good afternoon, can I help you.

 Yea sure, I just want to order a drink. 

Ok, no problem. Serene ! Serene ! You have someone out here.

 Seconds later a woman appeared from the door holding a box of beer. 

Yes, good afternoon, what can I get for you?

For a second I was at a loss for words. Her presence alone paralyzed my tongue. Unable to speak, I just nodded my head until I snapped out of my daze. 

Umm yes,, good afternoon, sure can I have a glass of water,

Ok, is that it ?

Yes, that’s it for now.

 Ok, well here is a menu for you. Let me know if you want anything else.

Her skin was golden brown and her hair was black, curly and glowing. She was adorned with a few pieces of jewelry. A perfect accessory complimenting her skin tone. After giving me my water she walked back to the room and retrieved a few more boxes. In a few more trips she began restocking the bar with drinks We conversed for a few minutes before I asked for a drink, a glass of whisky to be exact. I don’t normally drink but it’s as if i was hypnotized. I mean I guess thats what a bartender is supposed to do but it felt different. Jokingly I asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be a mami wata, would you ?

She looked at me with a blank stare and began laughing. 

 You haven’t been on the island a whole day and you are already talking about mami wata. Haha who have you been speaking to? 

 The taxi driver mentioned that to me,

 Well what did he tell you about this mami wata. 

Not much, just that some women on the island were mami wata and that I should be aware of them. 

 Haha well that’s all you know. The elders say mami wata are half women and half fish. In the daytime they live on land looking for people to bring back to the water at night. They Are said to be the most beautiful women and have the ability to put men in a trance. They lure men into the water at night where they drown or are never seen again. 

Wow choices, I escape death from gun shots only to be in danger  by the hands of a beautiful woman fish. I think I’ll take my chances with the latter. But, thank you for the fairy tale, I’ll keep that in mind. 

Before I knew it, hours passed and I had more than enough drinks. It was the most drinks I’ve ever had at one time in my life. The sun was down and when I looked at the clock it read 10pm. The restaurant workers were cleaning up and starting to close up shop. What in the world just happened. Where had all the time gone ?!? Everything at that point was confusion. The girl I was speaking to looked at me and said, were closing up now. I walked outside the restaurant onto the street. The road was empty of taxis and most of the restaurants had started to close. I began walking through town retracing my steps. My stomach was growling horribly and I was extremely tired. I thought to myself “ How the fuck, did i let this happen. I really don’t remember drinking that much, how much did i drink? I feel horrible” 

I finally made it to the outskirts of town and saw the direction I needed to walk home. I stood on the side of the road for a few minutes hoping that I would get lucky and maybe my cousin would pass me by or at the very least a taxi cab. In 15 minutes I decided to just walk back to the house. At first the walk was cool untilI started sweating profusely. The roads were dark and the sound of crickets and dogs nearly drowned out my thoughts. I walked until I finally reached the hill that led up to the house. Suddenly a wave hit me and I became even more drunk than I already was. Along with this came stomach pains I could barely fathom. How much did I really drink and did I not eat while I was drinking. There were so many questions that I had no answers to. I stumbled up the hill every few steps before having to lean up against a tree for a break. I took one step before collapsing to the ground. I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky. It was the first time I’ve seen stars in years. As much as I hated laying in the muddy ditch I knew that I needed to lay there in order to recover. I gained the strength to get up and began my trek back up the hill. There would be a few more falls before I finally made it to the house. Dusty dirty and drunk. Wasn’t quite the experience I imagined for my first 24 hours in my new home. My cousin’s car wasn’t at the house yet so I figured he was still at work. I slipped off my muddy clothes and reached in the pocket for my cell phone. The phone was nowhere to be found. Wow, so I lost my mind and my cell phone, THIS CAN’T BE LIFE RIGHT NOW. 

I stumbled to my bedroom and flopped on the bed, dusty and all. Hours later I woke up as the sun was just starting to rise. I hopped up and threw some clothes on. My head was hurting and my stomach was still in pain. I thought to myself this is going to be a bad hangover. I walked outside and began tracing my steps. Before I knew it, I was back at the restaurant. The black gate surrounding the bar was locked and there was no Sea Breeze sign but rather a poster that read for Sale by owner. For Sale ? I was just here last night, ain’t no way. I was too ill to figure it out so I walked back to the outskirts of town and caught a taxi home. On the ride back home my headache became more severe and my stomach pain was excruciating. I probably was in desperate need for food but now I didn’t even have the strength to make me food. I exerted all of my strength walking back into town searching for my cell phone. I laid back in bed and began tossing and turning in agony. The breeze flowing through the window offered a little bit of relief but not enough to ease the pain. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It was as if whatever I drank started to slowly eat out my insides. I grabbed onto my sheets, clinching them and holding the pillow over my face. Suddenly sun rays came through the window and pierced through the pillow onto my face. I turned my head and looked towards the window. At that moment a sharp pain striked me in the stomach and I closed my eyes. 

I blinked once then all of a sudden I was staring at myself. In disbelief I blinked again and I was still looking at myself. As if I was standing over the bed. I could not believe what I was seeing. The craziest part about it, is I was completely conscious of what I was seeing. There I was, looking at my body tossing and turning in agony. I was able to see myself from the outside looking in but I did not feel the physical pain. The more I blinked the more I started to rise above my body and move farther away. The further away I moved the less my physical body started moving. The vision of myself started to become blurry when suddenly I heard a loud knock

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Aye cuz ! you good in there ? OY!

King  opened the door and my eyes suddenly opened and I felt pain again.

Yo whats up cuz, you good ?

I saw your clothes outside when I got in. I put them to be washed.

Yea. yea everything is good. My stomach is killing me though. Do you have any advils?

No cuz i dont use those things. I have some tea brewing right now. 

Man, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was sitting there having a drink of water and whisky then the next I was laying in a ditch. 

 Hahaha well yea i can see that. You wasted no time getting acquainted with the Mami Watas I see.

Hold on, you know about the mami wata too ??

 Of course, why wouldn’t I be. 

Why didn’t you tell me about them? Do you think that’s what happened to me. ???

When I left yesterday you were knocked out. I figured you would sleep all day but hahaha I also didn’t expect this to happen to you on your first day here. Well you must be lucky because you actually survived. Word of advice cuz, don’t get too caught up in looks. Looks can be deceiving.. A pretty face can kill you.

Too late cuz, I may have already died.

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 22: Sick

Adrien takes care of Marinette while she is sick with a mysterious illness. 

Sorry for the long delay. I promise I’m back into the swing of things! ;-;

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The door squeaked as Adrien opened it and a spear of light pierced the warm darkness of their bedroom. He winced at the noise, but Marinette remained still save for the rise and fall of her chest as she lay sprawled across the bed. The call had been made, even if he had to do a bad accent to appease his paranoid mind. Her work was now aware that Marinette was sick and couldn’t make it into work today. Someone else would have to do their dirty work for the day.

He froze halfway towards her, realizing that she was mumbling in her sleep. Craning his head towards her, he strained to make out what she was saying. There was something about magic and sorcerers and monsters. Was she having a nightmare?

The bed sunk as Adrien sat on the edge. He put his hand against Marinette’s forehead, growing more concerned as he realized just how warm she was. Despite this, she smiled blearily at the contact, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, hot stuff.” She mumbled. “You come here a lot?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked around their shared bedroom. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” The quick smile died on his lips as he saw the sweat on her brow and how difficult it was for her to keep her eyes open. “How’re you feeling, Bug?”

“Not great. Tired. Hot,” she admitted with a cough. But then the bleary smile was back. “On the bright side, at least I have my boyfriend to nurse me back to health.” She weakly squeezed his hand and he idly ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

“At least there’s that…” He carefully stood up, making sure not to disturb her as he rose from where he had been sitting on the side of the bed. “Are you feeling up for some soup?”

“Yay! Soup!”

He shook his head with a smile and closed the door behind him. In the kitchen, the kwami were arguing on the countertop.

“Are you sure, Stinky Sock? You might have missed them if you saw a dustball that looked like a piece of cheese while you were in there.”

“Hey!” Plagg pointed his paw indignantly at Tikki, glaring. “That happened once and it was an honest mistake!” He crossed his paws over his chest. “If you’re so sure I missed them, then go ahead and check for yourself.”

“Maybe I will!” Tikki huffed and phased through the wall.

“What was all that about?” Adrien asked when he was alone with his kwami.

“Pigtails didn’t stock up on medicine. We’re out, so your girlfriend will have to tough it out this time.” Though Plagg said it matter-of-factly, his tail was flicking back and forth in irritation and he was frowning into space.

Adrien sucked in a breath. Tikki emerged from the wall with a pout, watching Adrien. “It looks like cheese boy over there is right.” She sighed. “Do you think you two could go get some medicine? Maybe some comfort foods too while you’re at it. Marinette doesn’t get sick a lot, but it tends to linger when she does.”

He exchanged a look with Plagg, who rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said with a nod. “I’ll head out after I’ve made the soup.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Marinette.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you going to be okay watching her by yourself?”

“I’ve done it before.” At his shocked look, she shrugged. “It’s been a while since she’s had another human on hand to take care of her. I pick up the slack when I can, but I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re in her life now.”

“Thanks, Tikki,” he smiled at the red kwami, gently petting her head with his finger. “That means a lot to me.”

She giggled. “Don’t worry about it.” She quickly turned serious again as she glanced worriedly toward the bedroom. “Just hurry back, okay? I don’t like the idea of leaving her alone when she’s like this.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

The soup didn’t take much longer to finish and within the hour he was transformed and leaping across Paris as the hero Chat Noir.

------------------------------

It had become almost routine for him at this point. Pull out cash from an ATM, then pay for whatever their household needed as Chat Noir. Sure, it had flaws, mostly in how other people reacted to seeing a superhero walking through the aisles of a supermarket or drugstore, but he usually got around that by going to the stores at night.

That option sadly wasn’t available to him today. At least, it wasn’t if he wanted to be quick and get Marinette some medicinal help for her fever. He braced himself to interact with a lot of people and wasn’t disappointed in that regard. Thankfully, most people were content to just take pictures of him shopping. Probably because they were bemused at the weirdly domestic sight of him shopping for ice cream, cold packs, and ibuprofen.

While he was being rung up at the checkout lane, the cashier raised an eyebrow. “Rough morning?”

“You could say that,” Adrien replied with a sigh.

“You know, I’m sure the hospital has plenty of this stuff if you’re that worried about her.” He scowled. “Although, it serves her right, if you ask me.”

Surprised, Adrien asked, “Who’s at the hospital?”

“What, you haven’t heard? It was all over the news this morning.”

Adrien winced. After their date last night, his entire world consisted of their apartment until he left late this morning. What could have possibly happened in that small time frame?

“Nathalie Sancoeur turned herself in at a hospital. Apparently, she got really sick, the docs don’t know what it is, and she’s under police supervision until she is fit enough to stand trial.”

It felt at once like a punch to the gut and as if a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders. The feeling of betrayal had faded, but that scar was still fresh. But she was the last figure from his childhood still around - the last remnant of his family since Gabriel’s trial was just a formality before he’d get locked away for life. Still, the peacock miraculous was in grasp - assuming the police hadn’t taken it.

His eyes widened with sudden realization and he nearly dropped his bags in shock. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Marinette got sick at the same time, right? Did something happen that got them both sick?

While paying for the groceries, Adrien asked, “Can you tell me which hospital she is at?”

------------------------------

“...And that’s all I know so far.” Adrien glanced between his council of two kwami, who were sharing meaningful looks of their own with each other. “Well? Is my gut right, or is this just a coincidence?”

“Well,” Tikki began hesitantly, “If something had happened to the peacock miraculous, then it could have rippled out and affected Marinette.”

“But why? Wouldn’t it only have affected Nathalie?”

“All the miraculous are connected, Adrien. They form a balance between one another - perhaps not as potent as the balance between me and Plagg, but still.”

He rubbed his eyes. He was struggling not to panic, but it was getting harder the deeper he got into things beyond his knowledge. “Okay… But why didn’t it affect me then?”

“Nooroo and Dusuu’s powers were centered around creating things - whether it be super powers or monsters. That tied them closer to me. And if something did happen to further damage the Peacock miraculous, then that would just fed into Plagg’s powers of destruction.”

“Aren’t you lucky, kid.” Plagg sat on Adrien’s shoulder. “We should probably check in on old Nathalie. If nothing else, we need to fix the Peacock miraculous.”

“Will that make Marinette feel better?” Adrien glanced hopefully between the two.

Tikki gave him a reassuring smile. “Marinette will feel better either way. This is just a backwash of energy making her sick. She’ll be fine in a couple days, especially now that I know what the problem is.”

“Nathalie, on the other hand…” Plagg grimaced. “The faster we rescue Dusuu the better her odds are of recovering.”

Adrien looked longingly toward their bedroom door. Tikki seemed to pick up on this and reassured him, “Don’t worry, I can take care of her for a little while longer. Hurry back, but remember to drop off the Peacock miraculous with Master Fu!”

“Right,” Adrien nodded. “Plagg, claws out!”

------------------------------

It was midafternoon by the time Chat Noir finally stood before Nathalie once again. The warnings that the kwami had giving him about misuse of the miraculous were confirmed as he saw how pale and weak she looked. Despite being only skin and bones, she was still handcuffed to the hospital bed.

Adrien nodded to the pair of police officers. “Gentlemen. Can you give us a moment?”

One of them seemed about to protest, but he was elbowed by the other. “Of course, Chat Noir. We’ll be just outside if you need us.”

Once he heard the door shut behind them, he turned his attention back to Nathalie. She hadn’t spoken since he entered, but her eyes had never left him. Was it anger or regret he saw there? He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.

“Adrien.” There was no hint of a question or accusation in her voice. Just a statement of fact. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

He knew he should ask for the miraculous. It would be the smart thing to do. Even knowing that, he couldn’t help but repeat the question he had asked her during their last confrontation. “Why would you side with him?”

Her lips curled up in distaste. “He promised that he could bring back someone I cared about. It doesn’t matter now. None of this does.”

To his shame, he had no idea who she could be talking about. Despite how much she micromanaged his life, he knew next to nothing about hers. But she was right - it was too late for that now.

“You can at least try to make things right.”

“No, I don’t think I can.” She reached into her pocket, and Adrien tensed up, expecting her to vanish once again. Instead, she pulled out her hand and Adrien reach out with his. She dropped a long sliver of a teal crystal in his palm.

“What… what is this?”

“That,” she said, pointing towards the crystal, “is a fragment of the Peacock miraculous.”

[theflashdriver]

Silvaze: Phobias

With Winter now fully turning to Spring I thought it time to post this older oneshot I wrote, though I didn’t think of it at the time I suppose Springtime makes the most sense for its setting. It utilises just a little bit of headcanon, granting Silver a phobia I think makes sense given his upbringing(s). I hope you enjoy!

An explosive crash echoed throughout the room and immediately Silver was awake. Instantly the room was awash in teal, the bed shot out from beneath him and pinned itself against the door; ornaments were crushed and gathered into a wrecking ball as golden eyes razed the room for an opponent. There was a flash of light beyond the window and, without hesitation, Silver threw the debris toward it. Following the immediate smash wind and rain howled through the broken windowpane. Hearing the crash again Silver clenched his fist, the bedside table and lamp were pulled into the air; clattering against one another as they refused to fit comfortably in his grip. Silver jumped back from the window, pressing his back against the far wall and locking his eyes on the hole. Whatever was doing this, it wasn't in his room; it was outside. While he felt some immediate relief it was miniscule in comparison to the stress and tension surging through him, howling rain pelting his fur from the opening. Being outside meant it could be bigger, more dangerous than one person attacking him in his room. There was a jagged flash of light; cutting through the sky and a second later he heard another rumble. What were these attacks? Was it an energy beam? Was it causing earthquakes? Were the people okay? A thousand thoughts were streaming through his head, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had to act! He had to do something!

A voice sounded from behind him, cutting over the rainfall and his thoughts. "Silver! Silver re-

"Blaze!" He threw the bed from the doorway, it shattered as it bounced along the ground, and immediately wrenched the door from its hinges, thrown into the room passed him; he shot out to help her… only to find her standing in his doorway; eyes closed and a hand to her head. "A-Are you okay, are you hurt?!" He was looking past her, cyan light had filled the hallway, the desk and lamp were clattering above their heads; prepared to be used as a weapon. He was ready, if it had hurt Blaze that meant it must be strong, he couldn't let her get hurt any-

"Silver, look at me." His eyes snapped to hers, much to his surprise those eyes lacked their common ferocity. The hedgehog stalled, she reached up and took his hands; slowly pulling him down to land. "Everything is fine. This is normal, are you okay?"

"Normal?" The teal began to fade from the room behind them but lingered in the hallway, his boots met with carpet. "But those noises and the lights, it's some kind of monster isn't it?" At the sound of another crash Silver flinched; eyes clamping shut and his gloves pulsing brightly. "Wh-What do you mean normal? H-How is that normal? Does it stop? D-Do we need to fight it to stop it?"

"Silver, Silver, look at me." His eyes pried open again, meeting with her pair. Her hands were holding his tightly, thumbs on the back of his palms and fingers wrapping around. "It's weather, thunder and lightning, they're not common in this region but a storm has arrived, we don't need to fight it, it will leave with time. It's perfectly normal, you'll be safe as long as you are inside; now, more importantly, are you okay Silver?"

The energy faded almost completely, cabinet and lamp setting themselves on the ground. He flinched as another rumble sounded but forced his eyes back open; "I'm okay, I don't think I hurt myself. A-Are you okay?"

She sighed, finally closing her eyes and loosening her grip on his hands to hold more comfortably; "I’m fine Silver, I was simply concerned that you weren't. Lightning can't hurt you in here, had you gone out there and flown around looking for it you would have been in more trouble. Lightning likes to root itself in metal." She indicated to his bracers, “This is the first time you’ve experienced a storm, isn’t it?” 

“I can imagine what it must seem like to you, but it’s no monster Silver. We’re ok.” He felt his heartbeat begin to slow, no longer rattling against his ribcage. "Come on, you can't stay in the guest room, not tonight at least.”

Realisation sparked in Silver's mind, he cringed but kept his gaze strong. "I'm sorry, it's… I kind of destroyed it. I panicked and… I-I'll try to fix it if you-

"It's fine Silver, it was going to be redecorated for you eventually regardless. Now we'll just move the date forward." There wasn't anger in her voice but there was certainly sharpness, a finality that told him not to argue despite how bad he felt. He only blinked when thunder struck this time.

"I'll help fix it, I-I'm sure my powers can be useful for that." Silver promised, "I guess I should set it up so I can sleep again, the mattress is probably okay. I'll see you in the morn-

He went to turn but Blaze's hands held tight, "Come with me. I'm not having you struggle in here, we'll just have to share my bed." She released his left hand but held tightly to the right, leading him down the hallway and toward her bedroom.

There was a conflict of emotions brewing within Silver, manifesting itself as a guilty frown painted in embarrassed red. He'd broken her things; he'd destroyed a room due to his misunderstanding and he'd certainly made trouble for her in the coming morning. She had to be angry, at least a little, in the dark it was hard to tell but her grip wasn't crushing; he was certain she was hiding it. But counteracting the guilt, over even the fear of this thunder and lightning, was a blossoming embarrassment. It wasn't as though they'd never shared the same bed before; in that city they'd done so out of necessity to protect one another, but this was the first time since they'd reunited. And it was over something so small, a stupid mistake he’d made rather than some life or death scenario. She'd said this weather wasn't dangerous, he could sleep on the floor or even that broken bed but she was insisting they share. Was he being a burden? Undoubtedly, she'd been awakened and had to deal with his fear at some ungodly hour but, despite this, she had been gentle. She hadn't pounded his door and demanded he stop, she'd called out to him and took his hands; kindly eased him to the ground and talked him down. Well, she was never rough with him; that was nothing new. She’d chastise him a little sure, call him naive for good and bad reasons, but in this new world with her new role weighing upon he-

He stumbled into her as she stopped, cringing as he pulled back; he'd been too deep in thought. "I-I'm sorry… n-not just for that. I woke you up and you're-

"Silver." Looking to her now, clearly readable the light of her open doorway, he could see her brows were furrowed but her ears weren't pinned back as was typical when she grew angry; her lips were formed into a small frown rather than a full-blown glower. "The fear you are feeling is completely understandable. You are still my partner and so I will look after you, as I know you will look after me. The only thing to be sorry for is this disrespect to our bond, your distress means far more to me than being awakened."

Before he could stumble over another apology she'd pulled him into the room, the door pulled shut behind him. Despite having been in the Sol dimension for a few weeks now, Blaze quickly acquiring the guest room so that he'd neither have to sleep rough or with Marine, he'd never actually been in here. It was certainly nice; her bed looked far too big for one person and had four tall wooden posts (one in each corner) for no clear reason. The floor was carpeted, the window large though the curtains were drawn; the rumble of thunder disturbed him but at least there were no more flashes. There was a giant bookshelf, lined with tomes he'd never even heard of, and a desk in the corner; the only part of the room with any mess. It was all quite normal but the colouration was… something. The guest room had been a mix of whites with purple accents but this room was entirely different; greys, silvers even, and teal covered everything from the walls to the duvet. All colours present on his person.

Looking to her he found she’d finally turned away, her eyes fixed to a dresser in the right of the room and ears pinned forward. In the light of her bedroom he could clearly view out a blush on her cheeks. She dropped his hand, "My room was like this long before I remembered you, I just happen to like these colours. Nothing more, don't grow an ego."

Thunder rumbled in the long pause and prompted a small flinch, he really wasn't sure what to say or do; looking awkwardly to the bed… then to her, still looking away… then the walls. He could feel a heat on his face. "Sh-Should we just…?"

"Probably," She sighed, with a flick of a switch he became the only light source in the room, his teal glow bounced off the greys in the room and provided enough clarity to reach the bed. When lightning flashed the curtain wasn't enough to neutralise it; the accompanying bang caused his symbols to pulse bright as he raised his hands to his ears. She pulled back the covers, sat atop the bed and extended a hand to him. He took it, fingers to wrist, and lowered himself in beside her. He'd expected that they'd take opposite ends, the bed was huge after all, but as they pulled the covers around themselves he wasn't far from the edge but Blaze lay within elbows reach; turned away from him naturally. He was quite unsure where to put his hands, giant golden bracers still on his wrists, so he lay flat on back front; resting his hands beneath the covers on his legs in an attempt to block out the light. His back quills were uncomfortable, pushing down his back and slowly being crushed out of shape. This wasn't at all like their sleeping positions of prior days but he'd try to make it work.

He braced for thunder, closing his eyes. Only seconds could have passed but it felt like minutes, he felt himself stop breathing. Only when he became certain it wouldn't happen did the thunder crack, the duvet shifted as his hands came up to his head. Blaze said his fear wasn't something to apologise for but he didn't want to keep her up, looking to her he now saw two honey yellow disks looking back; he bit his tongue to stop himself apologising.

"Do you want to get closer?" She said it so bluntly, in the blue light her face incredibly difficult to read but there was a small smile on her face, ears slightly lowered.

He took a moment, thunder continued to rumble. "Y-Yeah." He turned onto his side, quills now hanging off the edge of the bed. He felt her move closer, arms wrapped around his ribs and hands pressed on his back that he returned by wrapping his right around her shoulder. She shifted a little, allowing his left hand to slip beneath her and meet with the right. It was immediately much warmer but this pose was far more memorable to Silver, the two had usually slept one of two ways; on opposite ends of whatever bed they shared or wrapped tightly around one another on the louder nights when monsters still stalked the streets. There was only one-

Silver felt a weight on his chest and the position was completed; Blaze had placed her head in his chest fur. He felt a smile grow on his face, pulling his arms in to hold her closer. His body relaxed, tenseness dissolving away. "Thank you, Blaze."

"Mhm." She sounded through his fur, "It's just new to you Silver, but even if this doesn't pass I'll be here to help you. It's like how I was with heights."

Lightning sparked, thunderstruck, but with her in his arms, he lay so much stiller. His brow furrowed, "You weren't afraid of heights in that city… were you? You were jumping off of skyscrapers, we flew together."

Her eyes flashed up at him, cutting through the blue light the pair were awash in. "No I wasn't, it was in this second life that I gained a fear of heights, but upon remembering you it vanished. I could fall from the highest mountains without a care as long as you're here with me, so I'll help you endure any storm."

Silver could feel his heart beating in his chest; his eyes clamped shut and arms drew in tight, pinning his partner to his chest. His chin lowered to rest atop her head. "I-I'm not letting you go again. Not now, not ever."

There must have been at least a minute of him just holding her to his chest, thunder and lightning sounded but prompted no reaction from him. Eventually, she spoke up; voice muffled in his chest. "As nice as this is Silver, I think… we might struggle to sleep like this."

Remembering that was the reason they were actually laying together Silver eased his grip, feeling quite embarrassed as she pulled away; even in this low light, he could tell she felt the same, ears pinned forward and refusing to meet his gaze. Blaze eventually yawned, fangs glinting in the teal as her mouth stretched wide, before her head lay more gently against his chest; she embraced the steady rise and fall. On reflex he to loosed a yawn too, his eyes dampened and he lowered his chin to top her forehead. "Goodnight Blaze."

"Goodnight Silver." Thunder would continue to sound but soon he'd be fast asleep, when held together like this he felt like nothing could be wrong; both back when they lay in those destroyed buildings and here.

[darknessdancing]

Hidden Among Us Chapter 1

Authors Note: Hey guys! This is the first bit of the novel that I am currently writing. I am putting it here just to get it out in the world. Commentary and criticism is accepted and wanted. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: None yet

Summary: Humans weren’t the first ones on this Earth, and they’re not alone. They’re living among us in plain sight. But how do they see the world? What do they do in it? What happens when the creatures hidden among us keep showing their true form...?

Word count: 1880

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Her piercing brown eyes surveyed the small cafe as she watched the people milling about. She fiddled with her long silver hair as she watched the young couple in the corner as they whispered harshly to each other. She smiled to herself as she remembered disputes she had had throughout her life. Her attention was drawn to the young mother whose baby cooed loudly in her arms as the mother hurriedly gathered their things. She glanced up at the door as the bell above it rang alerting people to the presence of the man that just walked in. She noticed that he seemed to be quite disorganized despite his appearance and she laughed to herself. She knew that the tailored suit, the shiny watch and the cocky smirk at the young cashier were all a front, a mask. She had met and dealt with men like him more than she would care to admit in her lifetime. She always walked away from these men with a sourness in her mouth and an ache in her heart. Her painted red nails picked up her tea cup and brought it to her plush lips as she sipped thoughtfully. She set it back down and adjusted it on the saucer. She watched as the next ding of the door alerted her to a pretty young woman. She tilted her head with a predatory quirk as she calmly watched the young woman shuffled about rather airily, lost in her own world. She tapped the table thoughtfully as she remembered a time where she would easily lose herself in her own thoughts. Her youth. The woman decided that was quite enough reminiscing for one day and stood from her seat. She stood confidently and strode towards the door, her glossy black heels clacking against the shiny marble tiling of the cafe. She gave a thoughtful glance to the scatterbrained young woman and adjusted her pace so she accidentally bumped into her. The young woman apologized profusely, clearly not new to this interaction. She smiled graciously and waved her off saying it was quite alright. 

“You look familiar. What is your name?” The young woman asked her head cocked to the side a bit. Rain could hear her inhale deeply, smelling the air around her. 

“My name is Rain,” She responded with an off-putting smile. The woman looked her over and pursed her lips together a bit looking away and nodded quickly.

She walked out of the cafe and looked up at the night sky, inhaling deeply. She looked around momentarily and headed off on her way. Her heels clicked in rhythm as she trodded down the sidewalk, occasionally catching the glances she seemed to get wherever she went. Looks full of desire. Desire to be her, desire to have her, desire to own her, desire to know her. She got used to it after a while. Came to enjoy the looks a bit even. She continued her stroll until she got to her tall, white stone apartment complex and the doorman opened the door for her. She threw him a bright smile and entered the building. She hummed quietly to herself, a tune she couldn’t quite remember, in the elevator until it reached the top floor and she got off. She quickly walked to her door unlocking it and entering. She paused when the door swung open though. The lights were on. 

She entered her home silently, heels no longer clacking. She looked around the living room silently, searching for any sign someone was here. Her whole body grew stiff as she moved around her home in a silent hunt. A rustling in the kitchen drew her attention and she prowled over there leaning against a wall near the doorway of the kitchen, crouching down and readying to peer in. Before she could however a man strode out of the kitchen, something in hand. She stuck out her leg as he was walking effectively tripping. She grabbed at his shoulder and roughly flipped him on to his back, her knee planted on his chest and one hand pinning his arm down. 

“Woah woah woah! Hey it’s me! It’s me!” the figure yelled from beneath her. 

She straightened up still on top of the man and scoffed. “You dumbass. You should know better than to break into my house.” 

“As much as I love having you on top of me, can you shift just slightly so I could breathe a bit more?” He asked smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes and stood up adjusting her clothes. 

He pouted and got up himself, adjusting his light grey suit and the golden snake pin that sat neatly on his suit lapel. He ran a hand through his black hair, pushing it to the side. His stormy grey eyes tracked her as she walked across the apartment kicking off her shoes finally and making her way to the back of the apartment. 

“What are you doing here Kyril?” She yelled from the bedroom. 

He walked around the living room of the apartment slowly taking in the room. It was painted an off white ivory. The room was immaculately decorated with objects, seemingly from all over. A couple of matching vases with intricate oriental designs, a large fan pinned to the wall with what he recognized as the chinese characters for strength scrawled on it, paintings of landscapes or photographs in black and white decorated most of the walls, a sword hanging in the middle of a photo arrangement, and knick-knacks lined the shelves. Little statues, books with worn spines, gold and silver bowls and containers, a few instruments, and some interesting stones here and there. He smiled to himself and shook his head recognizing a few of the items and scoffing at how her it was. He could feel the overall air of power and knowledge settle throughout the room, just like it settled around her. It always made him a tad uneasy. 

“What I can’t stop by to see an old friend?” He shouted back at her as he leaned in to inspect an intricately embellished box on the shelf a little closer. 

“You should be careful with that old friend. Don’t get to close,” She suddenly spoke behind him making him jump a bit. He laughed and gave the shelves another look over, dragging his eyes over to her finally. 

“You really do have a bad habit,” He tutted gesturing with his head at the shelves as he went to go sit on the couch. She simply shrugged and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen. She came back and sat next to him pouring them both a glass and handing him one.

“Now, what are you really doing here Ky?” She asked sipping from her glass, eyeing him. 

“I’m moving back to town. There was an… incident where I was and I can’t stay there. Shame too. I had a lovely home…” He lamented staring into his glass.

“What kind of incident?” She questioned skeptically. He smiled at her and shook his head. 

“I don’t feel like getting a lecture today.” 

She shook her head and took a bigger sip looking him over more closely. He looked the same. His black hair fell easily into his grey eyes, the ones she was always fascinated by. As she looked deeply into them they flickered to his natural emerald green. The suit he was wearing did wonders showing off the defined muscle underneath. His dark olive skin slightly more sun toned than it usually was, leading her to guess he had been somewhere sunny. His strong jaw and handsome features were the same as always, swoon worthy. At least by “normal” women’s standards. 

“So where exactly were you?” She pondered tilting her head. 

He chortled dryly and responded. “Egypt.” 

She choked on her wine at this response laughing loudly and coughing. She cackled and put her wine glass down so she wouldn’t spill it on the couch as she recovered from her laughing fit. He shook his head and tried his best to hide a smile at the display but failed as a humorful smile broke through. 

“I know, I know. But hey! I have a great tan now!” 

She laughed a bit more finally calming down. “Oh lords Ky. How much trouble did you get in to?” 

“Enough that I had to come back here to see you…” He smirked. She rolled her eyes and hit his arm enough that he felt it. He rubbed the impact point and looked hurt.

“You know you better be nice since I’m letting you stay here,” She pointed out. He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. 

“Staying here, huh?” 

“Well, do you have anywhere else to go?” She retorted. He opened his mouth as if to say something then shut it, looking dejected.

“That’s what I thought. I have a spare room, you can use it for as long as you need. Just…” She started but he interrupted.

“Don’t make a mess, don't break anything, don’t be annoying and don’t have fun.”

She glared at him and got up. She started walking towards the back of the rather large apartment and opened a door. He peered inside and saw a nice looking guest room with light grey walls, white furniture and teal accents throughout the room. He recognized the grey was strikingly similar to his eye color. He smiled and leaned against the door frame looking her over.

“Those colors look awfully familiar…” He teased. 

“Look, I like the colors. It has nothing to do with you.” 

He walked into the room and jumped onto the bed causing a few of the teal pillows to fly up. “It’s ok. The teal reminds me of good old home.” 

“Did you bring any of your things with you?” She asked him ignoring his comments.

“Yeah, I’ll go get them tomorrow.” 

She nodded, “My room is right next to yours. You’ll figure it out if you need anything and you always make yourself at home. So, goodnight.” 

He smiled brightly at her and said goodnight back as she shut the door behind her, walking into her own bedroom. She wandered around her room slowly shedding clothes piece by piece and exchanging them for something comfy to sleep in. The walls in her room were all white except for one painted a soft lavender. It resembled the living room in the sense that there were pictures, scrolls and items hanging from the walls and strange objects covering almost every surface. Jewelry hung from the corners of her vanity mirror and sat on top of most surfaces. On top of her dresser were beautifully cut and polished jewels long forgotten. Though the room was filled with items it was still somehow organized. She sat at her vanity and brushed out her hair as she watched herself in the mirror. She fixated on her eyes as she heard Kyril singing in the next room. It was a song she recognized. One she recognized to be long forgotten aside from them. As she hummed along her eyes flickered from a moment from their usual brown to their natural bright gold. She blinked and the color was gone.

[ifyougivethezeitgeistasword]

Dreaming about having a house to cope

Must-haves/very much want:

. Window over the sink

. CUTE PORCH

. Bathtub

. Space for a vegetable & flower garden

Wants:

. Old quirks like a crazy wallpaper or colorful bathroom tile

. Spiral staircase somewhere?

. Small bedroom, small living room (cozy) but like a medium-sized kitchen and a medium-to-big bathroom. Maybe 1 guest room. Root cellar?

. It would be cool if it was all 1 floor except one room at the top of the house, maybe a reading/craft room with a big window where I could drink tea 😭 just like them pinterest girlies

. I’m thinking big windows in every room INCLUDING THE BATHROOM (I’ll just do a sheer curtain or something) except the living room which I see as shady and cozy. Which, if it’s behind my porch, it will be anyway.

Decorating:

. I’d paint the siding to optimize the changing light so maybe like a shadowy blue on the north facing side, a sunlighty gold on the south facing side, sunsetty peach on the west-facing side, maybe lavender or pink on the east-facing side.

. I would have fun paint all inside too. I’m not afraid of dark colors like a lot of these Pinterest PUSSIES. I definitely want a teal room. A yellow kitchen with lavender accents. Definitely some accent walls & doorways.

. I’ve always wanted an ugly orange couch and a 70s-themed living room.

. A wall of frames with nothing in them to complement my jar collection (love of nothingness.) I think I’d paint them the same color as the wall. Or maybe slight variations.

. Art from friends 🥺 my favorite way to decorate!

. I am a big sheer curtains girl I love how they glow in the light. Sheer curtains for every window, in interesting colors! Mayyybe blackout for the living room.

. I honestly don’t want a TON of plants because I’ll have my vegetable garden but I definitely see like 1 per room and maybe more in the bathroom. I’ve grown such a love of shade plants over the years.

. Victorian-decorated bedroom (I kind of hate that I love this aesthetic but I do) lots of draped fabrics, dark colors. DRAMA.

Dreaming:

. Outdoor bathtub or shower?

. French doors that open from my reading/craft room onto a little balcony where I will eat breakfast in a sexy robe

[pinche-vida]

Stars in Your Eyes, Death at your Throat [part 5]

[Read on ao3] [first] [previous] [next]

The world is as disorienting as it has been the last few dozen times he has come to when Lance wakes up in a cold sweat. His muscles tense against the-

Sheets?

He moves the sheets that are comfortably draped over with his (free!) arm and recognizes that for the first time since this hellish turn of events, he's laying down in something reminiscent of a bed instead of strapped to a cold examiner's table.

Something (someone?) tuts and kneels beside his bed to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Lance opens his eyes and his vision is swimming. He forces it to focus on the person next to him.

Blurry blue lines fall into focus.

It's the general that attacked him.

There’s so much anger, so much fear coursing through his veins, Lance can’t tell if his blood is boiling or freezing. This monster attacked him in his sleep, kidnapped him, took him away from his family. They're the reason why he's been tortured for God knows how long.

The general rolls her eyes and grumbles “This is such glorp, why did I get stuck kit watching.” She tries not to complain out loud too much. Lotor had trusted her to keep an eye on his Altean prisoner - why Lotor had said it had to be done in one of his guest quarters was beyond her, but if he instructed her to do something, it had to have been for a good reason. She glances at Lance who's seething and she can see the bloodlust in his eyes. Unimpressed, she lightly press his shoulders to the bed. “Calm your little heart, Altean. You're safe.” She leaned back in her chair before adding, “for now, anyway.”

Lance's anger is far from gone, but the way she said that so factually is… confusing to say the least. “What are you talking about? I'm not Altean, I'm human!”

“Right," she mocks with a slow nod, "and my mother was a Balmeran.” She rolls her eyes, reaches blindly backwards, and grabs a hand mirror from a dresser behind her. She hands it to Lance who warily takes it to looks at his reflection.

He gasps. His fingers shake their way to his cheekbones, both marked with a swooping teal scale. They inch to his ears, now elongated and pointed, then to his hair (while still flawless) is completely silver. He finds himself staring into his eyes, which are still his beautiful ocean blue, but now have a lavender diamond shaped outline around his pupil.

He looks like Allura.

He looks Altean.

Even the most plausible reasoning he can think of leaves him sick to his stomach. Lance feels like his heart is beating so fast, it's going to shatter through his chest. He throws the mirror across the room as if it burned his hand and it bounces to the floor with a resounding crack.

The general uncrosses her legs and raises an eyebrow.  Whatever reaction she had expected, this clearly was not it. “H-hey,” she half-heartedly reaches out to him.

Lance pays no mind to her actions. Instead, he curls in on himself. He grabs fists full of his hair and tugs on it. “What- What did you do to me?” He repeats it, over and over again, “What did you do to me!” He screams. He tries to pull on his hair and his ears. He scratches at the marks on his cheekbones, hoping, praying it'll come off as a sick joke. It does nothing but send sharp, shooting pain across his face, but maybe he's not trying hard enough. Maybe if he sucks up the pain, he can scratch it off and look human again. Be Human again.

“What are you- are you crazy?!” The general leaps across his bed and grabs his wrists. Lance screeches for her to get off and feels terror creeping in his bones. He thinks of his mama y papa. His hermanitos, all waiting for him to come back safe and sound. He always knew how to explain a scar or even a missing limb, it's war, that's what happens in war. But this? He's not human anymore, he doesn't belong anymore. To the one place he's called home, to his family, to Voltron, to anywhere.

The tall pink general appears from the upper corner of the wall and rushes to crawl down next to him. “I got the straps Axca! It's okay little guy, it's gonna be alright!” She tries to soothe him as she restrains him, which Lance thinks would be hilarious if they hadn't just taken everything away from him.

Lance feels his wrists locks down to both sides of the bed, but still tries in vain to wrestle out of them. A few more attempts and he's reduced to erratic panting.

Axca sits back down in her seat to the right of Lance, where as the pink general has pulled up a seat to the left of him. “You could have come in a bit sooner, Ezor.”

The pink general, Ezor, sheepishly smiles, “Sorry! I thought you had it under control.”

His body is heavy with weariness and denial. Lance takes this moment to try to calm his breath and look around. While the two generals are watching him closely, he sees that the room he's in is more of a bedroom then a surgeon’s room or an interrogation area. It's painted and furnished with dark red and brown accents. Colors he frankly wasn't aware the Galra were knew existed outside of bodily fluids. The bed he's in is comfortable, plush, even. The bedroom is a decent size, it would be easy to fit in 7, maybe 8 people.

Axca clears her throat. He glares at her and see how uncomfortable she is, her eyes darting around the room. “For what it's worth, I… I’m sorry for attacking you as you slept. Prince Lotor wouldn't have sanctioned such a dishonorable or reckless abduction, but the mission came from above him.” If she thinks he’s acknowledging her half-ass apology, she was sorely mistaken. He didn't know what she expected from him; A smile? A 'no probs, I hated being human anyway, this is so much better’?

Ezor puts a hand on his bed and pats it softly, causing him to direct his attention her way. “Don't worry, buddy. If anyone can figure out what's going on, it's Prince Lotor!”

Axca hissed Ezor’s name out and gave her a pointed look.

The doors swish open and bring both generals to their feet.

Prince Lotor enters with his hand neatly tucked behind his back and stopping at the foot of Lance's bed.

“Hello Paladin, how are you feeling?”

Lance stares at the Galran Prince. “Are you serious?" He scoffs. "You kidnap me, torture me, shove your fucking hand in my gut, turn me into an Altean, and you ask me how I'm feeling? Go quiznak yourself!”

Axca visibly bristles and seethes out “How dare you speak t-”. Lotor places a disarming hand on her shoulder.

“Now, now, Axca.” He shakes his head as if teaching her how to care for a child, “Almost everything he said is true, he has a right to be upset.” Lotor turns back to Lance, “But I did not 'turn’ you into anything. You were and have always been an Altean. Judging by your hair and eyes, I would say probably more than that.”

“Bullshit,” Lance spits out, “Altean’s haven't existed in 10,000 years.”

Lotor leans his head to the side, contemplating his words. “Not… quite. While Altea was certainly destroyed approximately 10,000 deca-phebes ago, not all Altean's were lost. There were Altean's living outside of Altea, there were Altean's in orbit around the Galaxy. Our Druids are almost exclusively Altean. I, myself, am half Altean. Even your dear Princess managed to live.” Lotor sits at the base of Lance's bed, slowly removing the straps his generals fastened. “Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury to piece together how you came to be where you spent most of your time or how you didn't age. We cannot keep you here for long. In healing and studying your body, your human camouflage fell, revealing your Altean nature. Once the Druids saw you, they refused to touch you any further. Word of this inevitably reached the Witch and when she saw you with her own eyes she ran to inform my father. Unsurprisingly, she left his chamber's shortly after, arriving with the decree for your execution.”

Lance felt his heart skip a beat. “Whu… what? Execution? You just said that Alteans are still around! Why does that mean I get executed?”

“It’s to be expected.” Lotor simply states. “The Galra empire still harbor animosity to the Altean's Kingdom for ordering the destruction of Daibazaal. If we had Princess Allura in our possession, the order would be the same.”

After all the pain and suffering he’s felt over since being taken, Lance is ashamed to feel tears prick the corners of his eyes, “But I'm not Princess Allura!”

Sentry drones enter the room and Lance sees all three half-Galrans tense up.

“The High Priestess demands the prisoner is brought to his holding cell.” One of the drones vocalizes.

The sentries approach his bed and Lotor stands up. “No,” he concedes, “but you are Royalty.” They make their way to the door and leave with a final message. “Believe it or not, My father and I have different ideas, I'll do what I can for you. From one prince to another.” He pauses, at the door’s threshold. “I would not be surprised if your team is able to access our communication channel for the event - you may wish to use that time to make your peace.”

The sentries roughly grab Lance out of the bed and drag him to the hall in the opposite direction of the Prince.

They throw him into a small cell in what must be their holding cells and slam the door behind him. The floor is cold and damp, but Lance can’t bring himself to stand or even sit. So many thoughts were bombarding his mind, that it all just felt like a storm was pushing and pulling him in every direction.

Lance has always prided himself in having good judge of character and being able to read people - it’s what allowed him to be as social as he was.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, or chalk it up to some crazy Galra experiment, he could tell Lotor wasn’t lying.

Altean and a Prince.

Even he can put two and two together.

If he wasn’t about to die, he’d be more than a little grossed out with how much he hit on his (older? younger?) sister, but that’s probably the wrong thing to focus on right now.

There’s also no real point to wonder why the same guy that spent the last whatever pheobs torturing him would even bother being so nice to him all of a sudden, even though it’s clear what his brief appear meant. Lotor didn’t specify when the execution was, but if he went so far out of his way to get Lance that comfy room, it must be right around the corner. Lance crawls to the bench/bed of the left side of the room and uses it to pull himself up.

He sighs.

His hope has just about depleted, but there’s no time to resign to it. If they’re going to make a show of his death, he need to prepare himself.

The bench is bumpy, hard and unforgiving, and exactly what he needs to focus. Lance thinks back to when Allura shapeshifted to look like a Galra. He doubts he could get that good in such a short amount of time, but at the very least…

He grabs a lock of silver hair dangling over the end of his brow. He focuses (on what, he’s not exactly sure), until there is the tiniest sensation tugging up his spine to the base of his neck. Pushing, harder to channel that feeling, he smiles - a genuine smile, when he sees the bit of hair wash over in the comforting brown hue he’s used to seeing.

It wasn’t a lot, but in time like these, any victory is a good victory.

Lance sighs, and nods to himself.

They can kill him all they’d like, he’s going to make sure he can’t die.

(That's a good line, he's definitely going to use that.)

[adrianexists]

Spymaster for the Royal Family, huh?

@kollegekid3721 wanted a sequel. Well, I guess I’m super on a roll tonight.

(Alt. title for this story: Apartment hunting feat. the Queen)

“Spymaster?” The King spat. “Spymaster?!”

“Yes, father,” the Prince sighed, having told his father nearly six times within the last hour, all while their new Spymaster sat to the side, looking embaressed as all Hells.

“We don’t need a bloody... fucking... Spymaster!” He sputtered, gesturing to her. She felt her cheeks and ears burn in shame. These people could easily wipe out everyone, why would they need a spymaster?

“We do,” the Prince repeated with a sigh. “And why on this green Earth is that?!”

“Because she knows all of the latest trends with humans,” he replied. “We’ve been out of the game for God knows how long.” The King turned red with rage, about to spit more venom, until the Queen tutted. “I believe it’s a good idea,” she said.

The King sputtered, unable to process what he was hearing, while the Prince grinned. “Our son is right, we know nothing of the human race currently. For all we know, they could’ve learned how to fly, and we’d be all the weaker for it.”

“But... but... Spymaster!” The King whined. The Queen raised a hand, and her husband went silent. “Not a word more, because I am done with your... insolence,” she snarled. As soon as her rage had come, it was gone, and she gave a serene smile to their newest addition. “Spymaster, would you like to see your possible rooms?”

“Rooms?” She repeated, swallowing. The Queen was patient when she said, “yes, rooms.” The Spymaster blinked. This was... unexpected. “I... sure,” she blurted, standing rapidly. “Let’s go see my possible rooms.”

“Excelent!” The Queen said, standing. The King still sat there, looking awkward and in shock. “But... but...” The Queen shot him a glare, and he went silent, looking bashful. “Come along, dear,” she hummed at the Spymaster.

They continued along corridors, the Spymaster having no idea where half of them came from. “Here we are! Door one!” The Queen opened the door, leading to a room full of only white colors. It was open, yes, but that was the only positive. “The bathroom is right there,” she said, pointing a door on the left wall. The Spymaster went to the door and opened it, peering inside. The bathroom was also white and... admittedly boring. And clinical. Reminded her way too much of the Hospital Wing. She shuddered. “No, too white,” she commented when she returned to the Queen.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “Onward!”

“Door number two!” Once again, the door was swept open, and this one was way too dark. Too many fur rugs, and fur on the walls and...

“No,” the Spymaster said, shutting the door quickly. She turned to the Queen, looking awkward before asking. “Do you... have one with brighter colors?”

“Of course!” The Queen answered, pointing down the hall. “To the next room!”

“Option three!” The room was... colorful... in the wrong way. They were pastel, and still too light. The Spymaster gave a critical look. “No?” The Queen supplied. “Sadly,” the Spymaster replied.

“That’s perfectly fine. Never liked this room myself, anyhow. To room number four!”

The Queen lead them down the stairs, all the way to the Level Floor. “Why are we on the main floor?” The Spymaster asked. “Because there is a room I think you’d like,” the Queen replied cryptically. The Spymaster looked wary, but followed none the less.

The Queen opened a small door, painted teal. The Spymaster liked it imediately. “Here’s one we saved for a special guest. I believe you may just be that guest, but it would become your perminant room,” the Queen said. She opened the door, and the Spymaster walked in.

The walls were a dark, chocolate brown, with an accented wall in a beautiful alspice red. The bed was massive, a fourpost bed, with thick, beautiful curtains in browns and beiges and reds, with the comforter in purples and browns and reds itself. The windows were open and huge, with seats at the bottom, with many pillows and blankets, with bookshelves in the walls and storage underneath. Thick curtains and thin, the thin being closer to the outside, framed them. Two glass doors lead outside to a small, secluded garden, full of decedent plants. A thick rug was on the floor, and all the remaining furnature was colored in blues and teals and purples and greens and yellows.

The Spymaster walked to the door they guessed was the bathroom, to find another small room. There was another couple of doors, but she was impressed by the massive vanity that took up an entire wall, with a massive mirror. She opened the door to her immediate left. It opened into a huge closet, which she figured she could put her armor and such in there. The next was next to the vanity, and she admitted, she hadn’t skipped to something in a long time. Inside, a shallow pool and dripping shower(?) stood proud.

“Yes, that can have a shower, but a proper one is in that small cubicle right there,” the Queen said, pointing to the right. The Spymaster walked over and opened it, surprised to see it was transparent. “Uhm...”

“Don’t worry. You can see out, and they can’t see in,” the Queen assured. “Oh... that’s good.” The Spymaster looked across the way. “What’s that?”

“Hot room. Sauna. Different words in different countries,” the Queen explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll show you how it works at a different time.”

“Thank you.”

They returned to the bedroom. “Now, where am I to hold meetings with my spies, once we gain them?” She asked. The Queen thought for a moment before pointing to a door that was between the Spymaster’s bed and a dresser. “There’s a room through there. Originally a training room, but it’ll work for your purposes,” she said.

They walked through the door, and the Spymaster was impressed. It was large, circular, with high cielings. It’d be perfect for training and telling people what was to come. There were small areas to rest, thankfully, and seemed to be in a softer color scheme. “It’s perfect,” she sighed.

“Wonderful! Now, what do you want for your spies?”

“As in, what race or...?” The Spymaster knew how some races could get. The Elves, with their damned pointy ears, refused to talk to Dwarves on principle, and vice versa, while humans and Orcs would rather tear each other’s throats out, stating that the other was smarter and better at combat, while the Ulashgigs refused to help anyone, and even attacked those that entered their swamps.

“No, dear, what you look for in your spies. Certain character traits, body types,” the Queen explained calmly. “Oh... lithe, able to scale walls easily, or willing to learn. Not afraid to get their hands dirty. A few con artists and grifters wouldn’t be amiss,” the Spymaster mused. “Ok. Anything else?”

The Spymaster thought for a moment before looking at the Queen with a hard glint in their eye. “People who have been refused by anyone. Those that are outcasted for no reason. I don’t want monsters, but I want the orphans, the veterns, the rare and few. I want those that have no where else to go. You can always teach a large set man how to scale a wall. Give him a use.”

“And if those veterans or orphans are crippled?” The Queen pried. “Mentally ill?”

“Then we help them,” the Spymaster replied. “I lost a leg myself,” she admitted, kicking her prothsetic against the ground, letting the muffled clang reach their ears. “And I was told I was a retarded child because I refused to walk until I was 2. I know the people I want, Queen. And I want those just like me.”

The Queen’s smile turned into a grin. “My son chose right,” she gasped in joy, tears falling down her face. “We needed a Spymaster for years, my husband is just...”

“Stubborn?”

“That’s a kind way of putting it.”

They shared a laugh before the Spymaster looked over at her new training room.

“When should you be able to get my first recruits in?”

“First thing in the morning,” the Queen replied. “Good... Where shall they be staying?”

“I’m sure I can make a good argument to have them housed in this corridor.” The Spymaster grinned. “Perfect. We’ll get started tomorrow morning.”

The Queen nodded, turning and leaving out a door to their right. “I will see you then, Spymaster.”

The next day, the Spymaster was up early, staring at the room. “Maybe I should’ve gotten this ready...” she muttered to herself. The door to her right swung open, and in stepped the Queen with two recruits. “They came willingly,” she assured.

“Good.” The Spymaster clapped her hands together. “Welcome to your first Training Course. Let’s begin!”

(Sorry if it ain’t all y’all expected. If I wanna make a series outta this, gotta make sure we know where shit’s taken place at. Hopefully, if this does keep going, the castle and the lands will be touched on more, along with the different races and sides and so on and so forth. Hope it’s at least passable!)

[ilgaksu]

this is the opening of a sequel to a kingdom where nobody dies, which i started as soon as i finished the first one and am only just looking into finishing up now bc Life Happened. for those joining us just now, andrew is a obscurial, neil is a pureblood wizard from a grindelwald-supporting family on his father’s side, both of them are on the run from MACUSA. probably read the first fic?? it’ll make more sense that way. 

(also friendly reminder i am currently taking prompt commissions!) 

*

Andrew stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised, and says, “I suppose this answers the question of what you told your uncle.”

“Stuart,” Neil corrects absently, rolling his eyes without looking up, and Andrew snorts under his breath.

There’s an interconnecting door between their bedrooms, set into the wall. It’s lockable from both sides. The rooms, vast and looking out on the rolling vistas of pleasant and manicured green, each have a bed that could fit Neil three times over and an adjoining water-closet across the hall, tiled in a pearlescent teal that undulates unsettlingly in the copper light after months at sea. Only Neil’s bed has been turned down. As far as implications go, it’s not slight. When Neil does look up, Andrew is watching him silently from the doorway still, hands braced either side of the doorframe like a penitent halfway to being flayed alive, like a woman carved into the bow of a ship to replace all the wives left behind. Andrew’s posture is a question. Neil says, “I didn’t say anything outright.”

(And he hadn’t. When he’d called in the favour Stuart had owed him, linked inextricably to his mother’s dying breath hot on Neil’s face, it had been after seven years of silence. The static on the transatlantic line, bespelled against eavesdroppers, crackled and stuttered like kindling, Neil rubbing absently at his own face until Stuart had finally, tonelessly gone, “Will you be bringing Minyard with you?”

“I go where he goes,” Neil had replied, keeping the worst of the defensive note out of his voice. That Andrew came up hadn’t surprised Neil in the slightest: he wasn’t stupid enough to think Stuart hadn’t kept tabs on him, even and especially after he cast aside his old name. He also wasn’t stupid enough to believe Stuart might be opening his arms in Mary’s name as some kind of substitute Madonna. It could be a trap for Andrew, set by foolish men who thought Andrew could be honed into a weapon with their hands in control, when Andrew’s own pulse was a fucking hairline trigger.

“Yes. I’d heard something of the sort. You’ll have to travel as brothers, of course.”

“He won’t like that,” Neil retorted, a little irked by Stuart presuming to lecture a professional runaway on travelling incognito, and then changed the story to cousins out of sheer spite.)   

“Didn’t you? Well, then. Good to see subtlety’s a family trait on both sides,” Andrew mutters, the closest to disbelieving he gets, assessing the rooms again. “I worried we’d left all the basilisk’s blood dramatics back,” a pause where someone else might give in to saying home, “in Carolina.”

He’d been tense since they met the chauffeur at the station; a pretty, dark-haired woman who’d been quickly relegated to the backseat when Neil had noticed the glint in Andrew’s eyes and figured out the best way to settle Andrew’s sea-frayed nerves. It’d relaxed Andrew some to drive, but it’s only now that Neil makes the connection between the tension leeching off Andrew like an extra shadow and the blatant wealth of the Hatford estate. Andrew, with his nails kept clean as knives and his driving gloves, can’t disguise the scars on his knuckles. He’s got an orphanage boy’s soul.

“I’m not gonna clean up after you,” Andrew warns, his eyes tracking an invisible arc and landing on Neil’s discarded key - the one for the adjoining door. Neil shrugs and leaves his key thrown over his own shoulder, glinting in the thick of the carpet where he’d pitched it as soon as the maid had handed it over, unshed fear glimmering under the gather of her eyelashes when she looked to Andrew.

“Good job I didn’t ask then,” Neil bites back, bitchy with exhaustion and the strain of smiling at Stuart Hatford for the first time in nearly a decade. “Lock it if you don’t want me with you. You know I won’t mind.”

“You say that like a door can keep me out.”

“You say that like you don’t know where to stop.”

It’s an old argument, honed down to beach glass over five consecutive years. Neil sighs, the tiredness a dusty itch under his skin, infecting his blood and making it flow slower.

“Did you call Betsy yet?” Neil asks, “I’d say send an owl, but there’s no guarantee you’ll get her back. There’s storms out on the Atlantic the next few weeks.” 

“Betsy has a telephone,” Andrew replies, “You know, they’ve only been around forty years or so, pureblood.”

“The day we catch up to 1927, it’ll be another thirty years,” Neil points out. “Kevin Day will drop dead at the indignity of it all.”

“Can I watch,” Andrew mutters, halfway out to the hall in search of said telephone. He glances to where Neil sways on his feet and pauses, his expression the closest to conflicted Neil’s seen it get. Andrew often puts him in mind of the Medici Fountain statues, last seen by Neil when he was twelve and answered to Stefan with a Parisian accent: blank-eyed, beautiful, unmoving in the face of strangers, looking at these singular things that form the orbit of their world and never away. They can’t help it, of course. They were carved like that. 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Neil says. He falls back on the bed and pushes himself up on his elbows, all the better to see the frown Andrew sends his way. “Lock the door, if you feel like it.”

Andrew slams the door shut, leaves it unlocked, and Neil imagines his own laughter following Andrew down the hallway.

*

When Neil was twenty, he walked through the morning, light made beautiful, walked all the way to Renee Walker’s doorstep, and rang her doorbell; ignored Allison hovering behind Renee in a raspberry slip, hips and mouth like fruit, ignored everything but the steady dark heartbeat of Renee’s gaze.

“Help me,” Neil said to her. “I’m losing him.”

The words caught in his throat. Renee’s eyes didn’t waver. She opened the door wider and stepped back.

“Hello, Neil,” she said, quietly, so quietly it felt like gauze, something deceptively strong, something binding. “I think we should talk.”

Neil went to her because, despite the silver of the cross winking at her throat and the way her voice tasted like promises, tasted like something unfaithful, they both fundamentally believed there was something to lose. That there was always something more to lose. That, for all she read Eliot, Renee had always dared to disturb the universe.

“Allison,” Renee said, soft, without looking away from Neil. That was all she said. Allison looked between them and made an annoyed noise.

“I’m going back to bed,” she said, and stomped back up the stairs, the satin of her slip a shedding skin undulating in the light. “Send the monster my regards.”

“Don’t expect any back,” Neil snapped, and Allison cackled and disappeared from view.

“Ignore her,” Renee said to Neil, as he passed her passing through the doorway, feeling the faint displacement of magic as he slipped through the wards. “It was Seth’s anniversary yesterday. She was drinking, and she’s got a sore head for it.” Sore head as shorthand for she’s wounded right now.

“I thought Seth died in March,” Neil says, surprised. Renee nods.

“Today was the day she got the letter. Postal delay.”

There’s always something more to lose.

“I can come back tomorrow,” Neil tries to suggest, and Renee fixes him with an eloquent look.

“If you leave now,” she says, eerie in her accuracy as always, “You won’t ever come back, will you? We both know that. Do you take tea?”

“Please don’t look in my head like that.”

“Please stop thinking so loudly then. It’s like you’re shouting at the moment, and you’re the most opaque person I’ve ever met, apart from Andrew, so,” Renee pours herself a cup of tea, the faint warm colour stirring something in Neil like soothing, “There’s not a great deal I can do on my end, unfortunately.” Her eyes flash to his, sudden and knifelike. “Tell me about Andrew.”

“He hasn’t talked in two days,” Neil admits. Renee hums and takes a sip of the tea. “I don’t think it’s a Charm, but I’m not going to check.”

He doesn’t say I would rather die than use magic on him less than five days after we got back from New York, but he doesn’t have to. He finds that when Renee and him look at each other their eyes meet hollow, with the sort of bleak and total understanding it would be preferable to live without.  

“I see,” she murmurs. She hands him a cup of tea. He takes it on automatic. 

“Don’t read the leaves,” he says, also on automatic. The scent of it is soothing. She doesn’t bother to reply.

[simplysaiyanlicious]

[ I could be an asshole and just make you answer all 100 of them. But I'll be nice and just select like 98 of them. ^^ So, hmm.. let's see. I'm so bad with options. >/ 1-5. And then 7, 12, 13, 15. 16, 17, 22 (DON'T LIE), 23, 28, 36, 37, 38, 41-46, 49 (wtf xD), 50, 52-56, 58-66, 69, 71-74, 78 (DON'T LIE), 84, 85, 89, 90, 94, 95 (go for that Miss Universe title~), 98-100. ]

... NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, VEGETA. YOU MAY BE THE PRINCE OF ALL SAIYANS BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN JUST COME INTO MY INBOX AND DEMAND-

Yeah okay fine I’ll do it, you dick.

Nuuuuu ilu

1.What is your middle name?Suzanne ^^

2. How old are you?30~

3. When is your birthday?February 21st!

4. What is your zodiac sign?Pisces/Bunny

5. What is your favorite color?Teal, hands down. So much in my house is teal; the curtains, a wall, my towels, my pillows, my decorations, my floor mats, you name it I probably have it in the color teal.

7. Do you have any pets?I doooo. Currently I only have a very old bunny named Bunneh and a handicapped cockatiel named Loki (he can’t fly). I also used to own a bunch of cats, a budgie, two gerbils, a hamster, four chinchillas and a tame hedge sparrow and he was the BEST BIRB EVER! ;__;12. What was your last dream about?... The Nanny. MISS FINE AND MR. SHEFFIELD! I don’t even know why.

13. What talents do you have?... art? XD I also have this very useless talent that lets me memorize dialogue real easily, which allowed me to memorize entire DBZ episodes as a kid and that’s how I taught myself English.15. Favorite song?Les Friction - Torture (listen to it, seriously!)

16. Favorite movie?I dunno, I like way too many movies to just pick one favorite.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?No I’m a good girl.

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?No but I do have a Belgian actor in the family. Never met him either though.28. What type of music do you like?I mostly prefer game and movie OSTs, and also ‘epic’ songs, the type of music often used in movie trailers.36. Favorite clean word?Keukendeur, which is Dutch for kitchendoor and this is a really long story but basically it’s an old inside joke between me and some friends and it’s not gonna make any sense if I tell you. XD

37. Favorite swear word?I don’t really have a favorite one, but back when I still RPed in Dutch (15 or so years ago) my favorite swear word to use for my character to call other people was ‘opruiige bakvis‘ which... doesn’t really translate into English well, so... yeah XD;;;

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?Close to 30 hours, during a movie night when I was still in high school.41. Are you a good liar?I... don’t know? I think so... I mean, I’m no saint, I’ve lied plenty as a kid and I usually got away with it.

42. Are you a good judge of character?I like to think I am. I tend to trust my gut and it’s usually right (I WAS RIGHT WITH YOU!!

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?I never tried honestly...

44. Do you have a strong accent?YES AND NOTHING YOU CAN SAY WILL EVER MAKE ME THINK DIFFERENTLY! XD

45. What is your favorite accent?Hmm... there’s this youtuber from Sweden (no, not that one) whom I really like listening to because of his accent. It really reminds me of how Zevran from Dragon Age Origins talks. His name is Keralis, look him up, he’s funny.

46. What is your personality type?INFP (mediator)49. Are you an innie or an outie?Innie

50. Left or right handed?Right handed52. Favorite food?Sushi and lasagna, you can always wake me up for either of these!

53. Favorite foreign food?... sushi and lasagna? XD

54. Are you a clean or messy person?I’m not a clean freak and I like to pile things up and cover every available space with stuff instead of putting it neatly away, but my place is not gross or dirty or anything. It’s organized chaos! Gets dusty real quickly though, but that’s what happens when you have pets.

55. Most used phrased?Oh snap!

56. Most used word?‘Lol.’ All the time.

58. Do you have much of an ego?No. When I receive a compliment I get terribly self-aware and start getting all awkward and shy.

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?I suck ‘m!

60. Do you talk to yourself?All the time, it’s a terrible habit XD

61. Do you sing to yourself?I only sing along, never without actual music.

62. Are you a good singer?I’m average at it.

63. Biggest Fear?Drowning.

64. Are you a gossip?... maybe a little. XD

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?Hmm... I honestly don’t know.

66. Do you like long or short hair?Looooong hair all the way, on the ladies AND on the men!

69. Extrovert or Introvert?Very introvert.71. What makes you nervous?Everything. Not even joking, almost everything makes me nervous or gives me stress and anxiety. The joys of having a severe anxiety disorder. >

72. Are you scared of the dark?Depends. I don’t like being outside while it’s dark, and I’m seriously afraid of being in a forest in the dark. But at home? No problem.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?Only when I feel it’s actually important, like when the mistake they’re about to make will have actual consequences. In all other cases, learn from them.

74. Are you ticklish?WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW? I’M VERY SUSPICIOUS OF YOUR MOTIVES RIGHT NOW (yes I am).

78. Have you ever done drugs?No, unless you count actual medicine like anti depressants and such. I was in the hospital once and they gave me oxazepam and I was so fucking high when they wheeled me off to surgery, I was grinning the whole way. I had a blast, lol.84. What color is your hair?Boring brown. I used to dye it, I’ve had it black for a while, and various shades of red, but I’m honestly too lazy to keep it up.

85. What color is your eyes?Greyish green with amber flecks. My eyes are purdy :D89. Do you like your age?Eh, my real age doesn’t reflect my mental age anyway, so whatever. XD

90. What makes you angry?When I see people hurting animals. I’m a huuuuuge animal lover. I’m really super shy but if I see you hurt an animal I will go fucking bananas on you! >C94. What are you strengths?I dunno. People say I’m a good listener so there’s that I guess. This is kind of difficult to answer.

95. What are your weaknesses?I’m what I like to call a ‘doom thinker’. I always immediately think of the worst case scenario when something happens. A friend doesn’t show up on skype for a day? They probably got into an accident and I’ll never know. A small pang of pain in my chest? Yep I’m having a heart attack.  My 98 year old grandpa doesn’t answer the door after ringing twice? Something happened to him and he’s probably dead.

Stuff like that. It sucks.98. Do you have any scars?Smalls scars here and there but the most noticable one is on my left wrist. Derpy kid!me was trying to feed a pony and I accidentally cut myself open on rusty barbed wire. Oops.

99. Color of your bedspread?... teal. Don’t even bother acting surprised. XD

100. Color of your room?Which one? XD My bedroom has white and grey walls, and my living room has white and teal walls.

[a-dizzle-dizzle]

Here is a perfect real-life example of why communication is so important in a relationship:

My husband and I are in the process of painting our bedroom. More than painting, actually. We’re taking over my childhood home and making it our own, and it hasn’t been updated since I was a kid. So, when I work from home, I’m working at the same desk where I did my homework in 2nd grade.  

Digressing for a moment: To prove how serious I am, when I was closing one desk drawer recently, I heard some paper crunching behind it. I’ve literally never taken the drawers out, but I figured it was something recent that got stuck back there. When I finally got the drawer out, I found a paper doll outfit, a notice from my elementary school from 1992, and some scribbles written by me in that giant little-kid handwriting. Talk about a blast from the past.

So anyway, the entire process of redecorating our bedroom has been a long one. We got vinyl plank flooring in our room (and carpet in the rest of the upstairs, updated from a dusty rose color from 1994 to a gorgeous plush-but-dense medium gray), which is a grayish brown. I’ve always wanted a blue bedroom, but for the shade of blue I love (kind of a deep teal), to do the whole room in that color would be too much and too dark. So, as an accent color, we selected a light gray.

So, one big accent wall and a couple smaller walls (little alcove for the desk, and around the bedroom door) in the deep teal, and then the other walls this light gray. My husband and I agreed on both colors, and did the blue first.

Every time I look at this blue, I get so happy. This color is to-die-for gorgeous. We worked on those together through last weekend, but during the week I work (he’s not working right now), so during the week, he said he’d finish up the other walls. After the first day of him working alone, I walked into the bedroom very excited to see the result, and was immediately turned off. I didn’t want to make him feel bad, since painting is hard work and he did it all alone, but something about this gray color was just...off. I thought, maybe once we take off the painter’s tape and maybe once our furniture is in here, I’ll like it more. I can tolerate this.

But the blue isn’t “tolerable” - it’s PERFECT. It sucks that the blue is ruined by this “tolerable” color right next to it.  He painted the final wall yesterday and I hoped the room would look more <i>together</i> at that point, but I just hated it more. His work was great, and he was so excited because neither of us are handy and by this last wall, he really had the process down pat.

I didn’t want to discourage him, but I guess he could easily see my disappointment in the entire project. Except he took that as my disapproval of his work, not of the color. And I, not wanting him to think it was about his work and internalizing my hate of this gray color, kept quiet. He ended up snapping at me that he could see I was disappointed, and when I tried to say, “No, no, I’m not -” it came off as insincere, even though I tried to sound positive. Between his snapping at me and my disappointment overall, we both got quiet and went to bed angry and not really speaking.

Today, while I’m at work and he’s home, we were chatting online. It finally came up in our conversation, and we discovered each other’s real feelings from last night.

He had no idea that I hated the color that much; he genuinely thought I was disappointed in his work and trying to be nice about it, which was more annoying for him that I wouldn’t just say how I really felt about it. Except I didn’t feel that way - I thought he did a great job, but the color was terrible. 

And I had no idea that he didn’t mind the work at all. I was thinking, “Oh, he worked so hard for two whole days - I can’t ask him to just repaint the entire thing some other color. Plus, we spent money on the paint, he’ll be so annoyed if I change my mind on the color.” But my face couldn’t hide my disdain for this cool-toned gray (we really need something warmer). 

And he was thinking, “She hates my work, she thinks I did a shitty job.”

If we’d each just said that last night, we could have avoided a night of not speaking or touching.

Lesson learned, I hope. 

[lindyhunt]

How to add colour to your home – Rooms by Abbie

We’re delighted to welcome Abbie Curd back with another great guest blog, all about bringing colour to your home:

As an interior designer, the subject of colour is very close to my heart; I love researching, designing and creating new colour schemes. However, many of my clients get nervous when it comes to applying colour to their rooms in case they get it ‘wrong’ – what if they don’t like the end result, or the colour doesn’t go with the rest of the room, or it makes the room look dark… but will the room look bland if they stick to their comfort zone of neutrals??!?!

If this sounds familiar, I’ve put together some tips and advice to consider before you apply colour to your room, and I hope it will make the process feel less daunting!

Choosing your colours

So how do you decide which colours to include in your room? Can you simply choose the colours you like, should you consider the rules of colour theory, or in reality, are you limited by other factors?

With so many potential permutations, it’s impossible to provide a one-fits-all formula, but here are some questions to ask yourself.

What colours are you drawn to?

OK, I’ll go first! I’m drawn to a warm grey-green, like Farrow & Ball’s French Grey. If I see a front door, a painted dresser or a ceramic bowl in this colour I instinctively do a double-take; I’m physically drawn to it! This is one of the reasons I designed my logo in this colour, as I love it and it represents me.

So it might seem obvious, but when you’re considering colours for your home, identify the colours that you are drawn to; that make you stop in a shop and pick something up. If this colour is present in your home surely that’s a good thing!

Bedroom wall painted in Farrow & Ball French Grey

How do colours make you feel?

Did you know that from a physiological point of view, colours can evoke a wide range of emotions in us? Warm colours tend to conjure the stronger, more primal feelings, because our brains process these colours most easily; for example, red represents danger, romance and hunger. At the other end of the spectrum, cool greens, blues and purples can make us feel relaxed and even spiritual.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

So in theory, a blue lounge would ‘work’ because it is relaxing, but of course it will only work if you like the colour in the first place! I always consider this area when advising clients, but as a guideline only, rather than a set of rules.

What colours are already in the room?

If you have existing pieces that will remain in the room, it is advisable to choose colours that will complement these – and in a lot of ways it’s useful to have a starting point.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

One of my clients already had the base of her colour scheme in place, with silvery duck egg blue curtains, off-white walls and stripped floorboards, but she was concerned that the room felt cold. I suggested injecting some warmer deeper colours to provide some balance – deep teal with tiny pops of coral – through an armchair, cushions, prints and ornaments.

Are you persuaded by trends?

Lots of clients ask me if they should follow current trends, and if they do, is their room likely to look out of date within a year. My answer is always the same – if you like something then go for it! Personally I think it is easy to be influenced by trends, as that is what we see in shop displays, in magazines and on social media; all set up to look beautiful and persuade us to buy. If you do like a particular trend you’ll have a wider range of products to choose from, but never feel that you should. One of my clients recently apologised that she didn’t like grey and asked if that was OK! Sometimes with established trends, there is so much of it around that it can give the impression that there isn’t any other choice, but there is always an alternative.

For 2017, the Pantone colour of the year is the acidic green ‘Greenery’, and Dulux nominated a soft grey-blue, ‘Denim Drift’. I recently read an article predicting that ‘Orange is the new Pink’ but that remains to be seen!

Pantone colour of the year 2017 – Greenery

Does your partner share your taste?

I met a couple recently who are building an open plan kitchen / living / dining room in their home. He is drawn to neutral colours and the industrial look; she prefers a cleaner contemporary feel and loves yellow. So we traded his distressed brown leather armchair for a yellow velvet occasional chair, in exchange for some oversized industrial pendants hanging over the kitchen island.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

There’s always a compromise to reach so both parties are happy!

Creating your colour scheme

So you’ve nominated some colours that you’d like to use in your room; the next step is to define your colour scheme.

Although there are no hard and fast rules, there are guidelines to follow. I tend to use these as a starting point and then love throwing in something unexpected at the end!

The 60-30-10 decorating rule recommends that your main colour makes up 60% of the space (e.g. walls & floors, large sofa), your secondary colour makes up 30% (e.g. accent chair & rug) with the remaining 10% dedicated to the accent colour (e.g. cushions, pictures, accessories).

In reality, most main colours tend to be neutral, i.e. light grey walls and whitewashed flooring, but how to do you choose your secondary and accent colours so they ‘go’?

There are two main types of colour scheme – complementary and harmonious – which are best explained using the colour wheel.

Colour wheel showing the split between warm and cool colours

Complementary schemes use colours that are opposite on the colour wheel, as these colours appear at their most vibrant when placed together. One example is blue and orange; now this may not seem like an obvious choice, but… picture a room with soft grey walls and floors, a dark grey sofa, a warm navy armchair and patterned rug, with copper lights and picture frames… are you convinced?

Harmonious schemes use colours that are adjacent on the colour wheel, and create a more relaxing environment than vibrant complementary schemes. Take this Design Concept board I created for one of my clients as an example – by adding yellow and green to a neutral background, a fresh yet relaxing feel is created, balanced by using elements from both the warm and cool side of the colour wheel.

So what are you waiting for?!

If you still feel nervous, try adding small splashes at first in the form of accessories, such as a ceramic vase, a brightly coloured print or some cushion covers. If you have neutral walls and furniture, brightly coloured accessories will ‘pop’ and make a real impact. This experimentation doesn’t need to be costly – there are lots of affordable retailers like Ikea, Dunelm, and most supermarkets sell homewares.

Once you’re feeling braver and have established your colour preferences, you may want to increase the amount of colour in your room, which could be done by adding an accent chair or rug. You can also experiment by painting old furniture using chalk paint – you can apply it directly to the furniture without any sanding or priming so is quick and easy to do. And who knows, you may soon be painting your walls too!

So go for it! The worst that can happen is that you don’t like it and you can paint over your walls and sell your accessories – you’ll never know unless you try…

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

If you’d like to book an appointment with Abbie, see the Rooms by Abbie website for details.

If you’re thinking of moving, the Move Revolution team would love to hear from you on 0330 223 1000.

from Move Revolution http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/add-colour-home-rooms-abbie/

[billwells3]

How to add colour to your home – Rooms by Abbie

We’re delighted to welcome Abbie Curd back with another great guest blog, all about bringing colour to your home:

As an interior designer, the subject of colour is very close to my heart; I love researching, designing and creating new colour schemes. However, many of my clients get nervous when it comes to applying colour to their rooms in case they get it ‘wrong’ – what if they don’t like the end result, or the colour doesn’t go with the rest of the room, or it makes the room look dark… but will the room look bland if they stick to their comfort zone of neutrals??!?!

If this sounds familiar, I’ve put together some tips and advice to consider before you apply colour to your room, and I hope it will make the process feel less daunting!

Choosing your colours

So how do you decide which colours to include in your room? Can you simply choose the colours you like, should you consider the rules of colour theory, or in reality, are you limited by other factors?

With so many potential permutations, it’s impossible to provide a one-fits-all formula, but here are some questions to ask yourself.

What colours are you drawn to?

OK, I’ll go first! I’m drawn to a warm grey-green, like Farrow & Ball’s French Grey. If I see a front door, a painted dresser or a ceramic bowl in this colour I instinctively do a double-take; I’m physically drawn to it! This is one of the reasons I designed my logo in this colour, as I love it and it represents me.

So it might seem obvious, but when you’re considering colours for your home, identify the colours that you are drawn to; that make you stop in a shop and pick something up. If this colour is present in your home surely that’s a good thing!

Bedroom wall painted in Farrow & Ball French Grey

How do colours make you feel?

Did you know that from a physiological point of view, colours can evoke a wide range of emotions in us? Warm colours tend to conjure the stronger, more primal feelings, because our brains process these colours most easily; for example, red represents danger, romance and hunger. At the other end of the spectrum, cool greens, blues and purples can make us feel relaxed and even spiritual.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

So in theory, a blue lounge would ‘work’ because it is relaxing, but of course it will only work if you like the colour in the first place! I always consider this area when advising clients, but as a guideline only, rather than a set of rules.

What colours are already in the room?

If you have existing pieces that will remain in the room, it is advisable to choose colours that will complement these – and in a lot of ways it’s useful to have a starting point.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

One of my clients already had the base of her colour scheme in place, with silvery duck egg blue curtains, off-white walls and stripped floorboards, but she was concerned that the room felt cold. I suggested injecting some warmer deeper colours to provide some balance – deep teal with tiny pops of coral – through an armchair, cushions, prints and ornaments.

Are you persuaded by trends?

Lots of clients ask me if they should follow current trends, and if they do, is their room likely to look out of date within a year. My answer is always the same – if you like something then go for it! Personally I think it is easy to be influenced by trends, as that is what we see in shop displays, in magazines and on social media; all set up to look beautiful and persuade us to buy. If you do like a particular trend you’ll have a wider range of products to choose from, but never feel that you should. One of my clients recently apologised that she didn’t like grey and asked if that was OK! Sometimes with established trends, there is so much of it around that it can give the impression that there isn’t any other choice, but there is always an alternative.

For 2017, the Pantone colour of the year is the acidic green ‘Greenery’, and Dulux nominated a soft grey-blue, ‘Denim Drift’. I recently read an article predicting that ‘Orange is the new Pink’ but that remains to be seen!

Pantone colour of the year 2017 – Greenery

Does your partner share your taste?

I met a couple recently who are building an open plan kitchen / living / dining room in their home. He is drawn to neutral colours and the industrial look; she prefers a cleaner contemporary feel and loves yellow. So we traded his distressed brown leather armchair for a yellow velvet occasional chair, in exchange for some oversized industrial pendants hanging over the kitchen island.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

There’s always a compromise to reach so both parties are happy!

Creating your colour scheme

So you’ve nominated some colours that you’d like to use in your room; the next step is to define your colour scheme.

Although there are no hard and fast rules, there are guidelines to follow. I tend to use these as a starting point and then love throwing in something unexpected at the end!

The 60-30-10 decorating rule recommends that your main colour makes up 60% of the space (e.g. walls & floors, large sofa), your secondary colour makes up 30% (e.g. accent chair & rug) with the remaining 10% dedicated to the accent colour (e.g. cushions, pictures, accessories).

In reality, most main colours tend to be neutral, i.e. light grey walls and whitewashed flooring, but how to do you choose your secondary and accent colours so they ‘go’?

There are two main types of colour scheme – complementary and harmonious – which are best explained using the colour wheel.

  Colour wheel showing the split between warm and cool colours

Complementary schemes use colours that are opposite on the colour wheel, as these colours appear at their most vibrant when placed together. One example is blue and orange; now this may not seem like an obvious choice, but… picture a room with soft grey walls and floors, a dark grey sofa, a warm navy armchair and patterned rug, with copper lights and picture frames… are you convinced?

Harmonious schemes use colours that are adjacent on the colour wheel, and create a more relaxing environment than vibrant complementary schemes. Take this Design Concept board I created for one of my clients as an example – by adding yellow and green to a neutral background, a fresh yet relaxing feel is created, balanced by using elements from both the warm and cool side of the colour wheel.

  So what are you waiting for?!

If you still feel nervous, try adding small splashes at first in the form of accessories, such as a ceramic vase, a brightly coloured print or some cushion covers. If you have neutral walls and furniture, brightly coloured accessories will ‘pop’ and make a real impact. This experimentation doesn’t need to be costly – there are lots of affordable retailers like Ikea, Dunelm, and most supermarkets sell homewares.

Once you’re feeling braver and have established your colour preferences, you may want to increase the amount of colour in your room, which could be done by adding an accent chair or rug. You can also experiment by painting old furniture using chalk paint – you can apply it directly to the furniture without any sanding or priming so is quick and easy to do. And who knows, you may soon be painting your walls too!

So go for it! The worst that can happen is that you don’t like it and you can paint over your walls and sell your accessories – you’ll never know unless you try…

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

If you’d like to book an appointment with Abbie, see the Rooms by Abbie website for details.

If you’re thinking of moving, the Move Revolution team would love to hear from you on 0330 223 1000.

source http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/add-colour-home-rooms-abbie/

[moverevolutionestateagents]

How to add colour to your home – Rooms by Abbie

We’re delighted to welcome Abbie Curd back with another great guest blog, all about bringing colour to your home:

As an interior designer, the subject of colour is very close to my heart; I love researching, designing and creating new colour schemes. However, many of my clients get nervous when it comes to applying colour to their rooms in case they get it ‘wrong’ – what if they don’t like the end result, or the colour doesn’t go with the rest of the room, or it makes the room look dark… but will the room look bland if they stick to their comfort zone of neutrals??!?!

If this sounds familiar, I’ve put together some tips and advice to consider before you apply colour to your room, and I hope it will make the process feel less daunting!

Choosing your colours

So how do you decide which colours to include in your room? Can you simply choose the colours you like, should you consider the rules of colour theory, or in reality, are you limited by other factors?

With so many potential permutations, it’s impossible to provide a one-fits-all formula, but here are some questions to ask yourself.

What colours are you drawn to?

OK, I’ll go first! I’m drawn to a warm grey-green, like Farrow & Ball’s French Grey. If I see a front door, a painted dresser or a ceramic bowl in this colour I instinctively do a double-take; I’m physically drawn to it! This is one of the reasons I designed my logo in this colour, as I love it and it represents me.

So it might seem obvious, but when you’re considering colours for your home, identify the colours that you are drawn to; that make you stop in a shop and pick something up. If this colour is present in your home surely that’s a good thing!

Bedroom wall painted in Farrow & Ball French Grey

How do colours make you feel?

Did you know that from a physiological point of view, colours can evoke a wide range of emotions in us? Warm colours tend to conjure the stronger, more primal feelings, because our brains process these colours most easily; for example, red represents danger, romance and hunger. At the other end of the spectrum, cool greens, blues and purples can make us feel relaxed and even spiritual.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

So in theory, a blue lounge would ‘work’ because it is relaxing, but of course it will only work if you like the colour in the first place! I always consider this area when advising clients, but as a guideline only, rather than a set of rules.

What colours are already in the room?

If you have existing pieces that will remain in the room, it is advisable to choose colours that will complement these – and in a lot of ways it’s useful to have a starting point.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

One of my clients already had the base of her colour scheme in place, with silvery duck egg blue curtains, off-white walls and stripped floorboards, but she was concerned that the room felt cold. I suggested injecting some warmer deeper colours to provide some balance – deep teal with tiny pops of coral – through an armchair, cushions, prints and ornaments.

Are you persuaded by trends?

Lots of clients ask me if they should follow current trends, and if they do, is their room likely to look out of date within a year. My answer is always the same – if you like something then go for it! Personally I think it is easy to be influenced by trends, as that is what we see in shop displays, in magazines and on social media; all set up to look beautiful and persuade us to buy. If you do like a particular trend you’ll have a wider range of products to choose from, but never feel that you should. One of my clients recently apologised that she didn’t like grey and asked if that was OK! Sometimes with established trends, there is so much of it around that it can give the impression that there isn’t any other choice, but there is always an alternative.

For 2017, the Pantone colour of the year is the acidic green ‘Greenery’, and Dulux nominated a soft grey-blue, ‘Denim Drift’. I recently read an article predicting that ‘Orange is the new Pink’ but that remains to be seen!

Pantone colour of the year 2017 – Greenery

Does your partner share your taste?

I met a couple recently who are building an open plan kitchen / living / dining room in their home. He is drawn to neutral colours and the industrial look; she prefers a cleaner contemporary feel and loves yellow. So we traded his distressed brown leather armchair for a yellow velvet occasional chair, in exchange for some oversized industrial pendants hanging over the kitchen island.

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

There’s always a compromise to reach so both parties are happy!

Creating your colour scheme

So you’ve nominated some colours that you’d like to use in your room; the next step is to define your colour scheme.

Although there are no hard and fast rules, there are guidelines to follow. I tend to use these as a starting point and then love throwing in something unexpected at the end!

The 60-30-10 decorating rule recommends that your main colour makes up 60% of the space (e.g. walls & floors, large sofa), your secondary colour makes up 30% (e.g. accent chair & rug) with the remaining 10% dedicated to the accent colour (e.g. cushions, pictures, accessories).

In reality, most main colours tend to be neutral, i.e. light grey walls and whitewashed flooring, but how to do you choose your secondary and accent colours so they ‘go’?

There are two main types of colour scheme – complementary and harmonious – which are best explained using the colour wheel.

  Colour wheel showing the split between warm and cool colours

Complementary schemes use colours that are opposite on the colour wheel, as these colours appear at their most vibrant when placed together. One example is blue and orange; now this may not seem like an obvious choice, but… picture a room with soft grey walls and floors, a dark grey sofa, a warm navy armchair and patterned rug, with copper lights and picture frames… are you convinced?

Harmonious schemes use colours that are adjacent on the colour wheel, and create a more relaxing environment than vibrant complementary schemes. Take this Design Concept board I created for one of my clients as an example – by adding yellow and green to a neutral background, a fresh yet relaxing feel is created, balanced by using elements from both the warm and cool side of the colour wheel.

  So what are you waiting for?!

If you still feel nervous, try adding small splashes at first in the form of accessories, such as a ceramic vase, a brightly coloured print or some cushion covers. If you have neutral walls and furniture, brightly coloured accessories will ‘pop’ and make a real impact. This experimentation doesn’t need to be costly – there are lots of affordable retailers like Ikea, Dunelm, and most supermarkets sell homewares.

Once you’re feeling braver and have established your colour preferences, you may want to increase the amount of colour in your room, which could be done by adding an accent chair or rug. You can also experiment by painting old furniture using chalk paint – you can apply it directly to the furniture without any sanding or priming so is quick and easy to do. And who knows, you may soon be painting your walls too!

So go for it! The worst that can happen is that you don’t like it and you can paint over your walls and sell your accessories – you’ll never know unless you try…

Photo taken by the Move Revolution in house photography team.

If you’d like to book an appointment with Abbie, see the Rooms by Abbie website for details.

If you’re thinking of moving, the Move Revolution team would love to hear from you on 0330 223 1000.

The post How to add colour to your home – Rooms by Abbie appeared first on Move Revolution.

from Move Revolution http://www.moverevolution.com/blog/add-colour-home-rooms-abbie/