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whispersafterdusk · 5 years ago

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Lost in Time - ch 1

Winter had been very eager to shove fall out of the picture this year.

It had announced its presence with a torrential downpour that turned to sleet that had eventually given way to a heavy snow that had hammered Portia for a good five, six hours straight and brought with it a bitter cold that was a stark contrast to the chilly but tolerable temperature from only a few days prior.

It wasn't often that Arlo lamented living on top of a steep hill but he certainly did now as he and the rest of the Civil Corps struggled to clear the pathway without taking a sliding tumble down said hill; after several hours of work they'd only managed to clear to the topmost landing of the sidewalk ramp and they were all soaked, tired, and bruised up from repeated slips and slides -- if this was a sign of what kind of winter they were going to have this year then it wasn't going to be a pleasant one, and they'd likely need more than the one old shovel and broom they'd pulled out of the closet to get through the season. ((Continued below cut))

Arlo himself was armed with that broom and shovel and was quickly tiring of moving the seven inches of snow that sat on top of the three inches of ice and had, within the last hour, stopped piling it neatly alongside the path they were clearing and instead was just happy to move it out of the way however he could.

Behind him, as he cleared away the top layer of snow, Sam and Remington worked together on the ice - Remington cracking and lifting, and Sam getting it out of the way. Theirs was perhaps the harder job even if Arlo technically had more to move by volume, and after a while (after she chucked a double handful of ice chunks off to the side) Sam straightened from where she'd been bent over, rubbing at her lower back. "Man, even with my gloves on I can't feel my fingers."

"This is weather only Papa Bear's suited for," Remington grumbled as he wedged the blunt end of the pickaxe under the edge of the next section of a freshly-revealed layer of ice. They'd tried earlier to use the actual pick end of the pickaxe to try and shatter the ice but had, in the process, accidentally gouged the sidewalk a few times; the only way to prevent any further damage was to use the other end as a makeshift pry bar - it was harder and would take longer but was better than the alternative.

Remington grunted and threw his weight against the haft of the pickaxe and there was a crackling sound as the ice began to splinter and pull away from the stone beneath it. As the sheet lifted Sam bent again to slide her hands under into the gap between ground and ice. "--think Selene could rig something up to make this any easier?" she grunted as she lifted in tandem with Remington's prying.

"Think of it as strength training," Arlo replied. "We can't run today so this'll have to do."

"Let me rephrase that - think Selene could rig something to make this faster?" Sam went on, huffing a bit and stumbling as the ice came loose and she shoved it off to the side. "It's going to take a couple days just to get this ramp cleared off at the rate we're going."

Remington rested the head of the pickaxe on the ground and leaned against the handle, panting. "Let's switch gears and get the snow out of the way - maybe with some sunlight on it the ice'll melt enough to not be such a pain to pop loose."

"Sounds like a plan to me - give me that broom."

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

For the last three days, thankfully, the weather had been clear and sunny, if still frigid. Remington had been right regarding the sun and the ice -even with the arctic temperatures it had thinned out enough that they'd managed to clear down to the landing near Gale's house and also the ramp and stairs that connected with Central Plaza. There they'd linked up with Paulie and managed to get a narrow footpath carved out around the border of the plaza leading north to the research center and south to Martha's bakery within an afternoon of work.

There were, out of sheer necessity, already compacted paths along Main Street made by Portia's townsfolk and the few stranded tourists present; once they'd gotten walkways open to Martha's and the research center they'd started working on what had already been worn in by stomping boots around town. It was a bit easier to bust up the compacted pathways and if more willing hands joined them they'd have it done soon enough -- Arlo had estimated another four or five days at most to get it clear even if it was just the three of them the entire time (assuming it didn't snow again). Knowing there was an end coming helped keep spirits high as they shoveled, slowly digging Portia out from under the worst storm anyone could recall in recent memory.

"At least the kids seem to be having a blast," Remington had chuckled as Toby and Polly went whizzing by on polished wooden sleds to thud into a pile of snow they'd left mounded at the base of the tree planter in the center of the plaza. "Going to have to keep an eye on them, make sure if they go out into the countryside they don't go flying out on top of the river - don't need anyone falling through."

From off to their left they heard a sudden cry then, and turned in time to see Erwa lose his footing and fall backwards onto his rump; with the snow mostly cushioning his fall he at least didn't go sliding down the incline behind the two kids but the ice under the snow left him floundering right at Martha's doorstep, unable to get enough purchase to get his feet back under him.

"-speaking of someone falling," Sam grinned. "Come on, let's go help him out."

Arlo turned his back to hide his smile - it felt impolite to laugh at Erwa rolling around in the snow - and kept shoveling, listening as Sam and Remington's footsteps crunched over toward the portly man. The crunching eventually stopped, as did the sound of shoes scratching against ice, and for a brief moment there was the sound of a conversation that was slightly too far off to hear -- the sort of noise where you could recognize someone was talking but not actually make out the individual words.

"'ey, Arlo - have YOU seen Dawa yet today?"

Well, he definitely could hear that. "Can't say I have. Why?" He jammed the tip of the shovel into the snow and turned toward the trio in the distance - Erwa was back on his feet and had his hands out to his sides for balance.

"Because I can't find him, is why," came Erwa's answer. "He wasn't home when I popped in yesterday, and he's not home right now, and I didn't see any new footprints in the snow aside from mine so it doesn't look like I've just missed him each time. It's not like him to NOT be at the tree farm - not for any length of time, anyway. No one else has seen him either."

Arlo frowned - this was NOT the kind of weather anyone should be wandering around in. "Right. We'll look for him. Did anyone see him recently?"

"Not since the day after that storm hit - Emily said she saw him busting ice off the gates to the farm but she's the only one since then."

"Guess we'll start at the farm then and work our way out from there. Let's get moving," Sam said. She took a careful step around Erwa and began to pick her way up the path, trying to stick to the well-worn and frozen over footprints in the snow. Erwa wobbled a bit in place and Remington steadied him with a hand on the shoulder and then Remington was off up the hill too.

Sticking to the path they'd made Arlo headed toward Paulie's store first and left the broom and shovel leaning against the counter, then he too began to carefully climb up the path and toward Peach Plaza. He didn't see anyone else along the way (not that he blamed them - it was bitterly cold) and it didn't take long to meet up with Sam and Remington at the city gates and head out as a group toward the tree farm.

Erwa was right in that there didn't seem to be any new tracks up this way; Arlo could pick out a single set, shaped in such a way that it looked like everyone who'd walked it had all stuck to the same footprints. They too stayed within the tracks, walking in single file all the way up to the farm's gates and beyond, following the footprints up toward the house where the trail then split into five different ones with only one leading up the steps to the building and the others angled out in various directions all seeming to lead out into the groves.

Arlo eyed the tracks - they were all spaced out enough that he doubted any of them met up anywhere close. "Everyone pick a trail and see where it leads. We'll meet back here in a half hour and see what we've found."

Remington picked a trail that headed along the fence line, and Arlo watched the snow fall from the fencing as the man kept a hand on it to steady himself as he headed off. 'Hope his knee isn't bothering him too much,' he found himself thinking -- he tried not to let it slip his mind that Remington's knee wasn't in the best shape but the man went out of his way to hide when the joint was aching anyway. He'd gotten on his case about hiding injuries or aches before but it always seemed to go in one ear and out the other. 'At least we don't lack for ice packs at the moment.'

Arlo shook himself from his thoughts; Sam appeared to have picked a trail that led out to the middle of the tree farm so Arlo chose one that was nearer to the house but angled to the west, and then seemed to veer to skirt along the northern border of the farm. He knew Dawa liked to walk the property a lot -- he needed to, to be able to catch any issues or potential signs of disease in the trees early enough to do anything about it, so him walking about was a usual occurrence...it COULD be that Erwa had just missed him each time he'd visited, and with the weather being so cold no one was really going outside unless they had to so it was possible Dawa had been outside when no one else was around to see him. Both of those were equally as possible as the man being in trouble somewhere out here and Arlo preferred to hope for sheer poorly timed coincidence as he plodded along.

The branches around him sagged and creaked under the weight of the ice, and the further he went the more trees he spotted that were wrapped in heavy rope and what looked like burlap, and in a few places he saw a couple of trees that looked to be slowly splitting in half; one of them he recognized as a tree that had been struck by lightning a few summers ago -- there were thick metal rods connecting the two halves of the tree, and steel cables up in the crown of the tree holding the two halves together. The repair, as ghoulish as it looked, appeared to have actually saved the tree as, once he got up near it, he could see signs where the bark had grown over and bulged out near the bolts that held the rods in place.

Dawa's tracks led right up to this particular tree and went in a circle at its base so clearly the man was keeping a close eye on this one; Arlo edged around the tree and kept going, eying the trail ahead of him and noting how it stopped its meandering among the trees and, about fifty feet ahead of him, straightened out to...hmm.

To the northeast of here Arlo knew was a bridge that crossed the lake that separated the Somber Marsh from the northern shore of Portia's territory along that lake. Unless he was mistaken it sort of looked like Dawa's path was going to lead him directly to that bridge -- the trail had definitely straightened out enough for that to be a viable destination unless it suddenly veered away far enough ahead that Arlo couldn't spot it from here.

It certainly seemed to be case as he drew nearer to the abandoned Old World building that made up part of the northwestern border for the tree farm, and sure enough as soon as he'd walked the length of that building and gotten to the far side of it he could see the bridge in the distance, and Dawa's tracks bee-lined straight for it.

"Why would he go out there..." he wondered aloud. It didn't make sense to go out to the marsh - there wasn't anything out there except monsters and ruins (even the fishing out there was poor). Dawa wasn't the sort to go anywhere near a ruin, he didn't fish, and so far as Arlo knew he'd never gone after monster-based resources on his own -- he wasn't even the sort to deal with monsters when they happened to invade his farm: he'd always enlisted someone else's help to shoo them away or exterminate them.

As he hurried along Arlo mentally cursed the weather as he didn't dare move at a pace faster than a brisk walk unless he wanted to take a tumble; it felt like it took an age to reach the bridge and even longer to carefully climb up the ice-coated wooden ramp and metal steps. Up at the top he could see the tracks heading straight across the bridge; he followed them across and then began to follow a path that seemed to crisscross at random between crumbling rock wall sections, rusted old buildings, and even a couple of gigantic trees that had gaps between exposed roots.

It almost seemed like Dawa was searching for something...but what? What could possibly be out here that he'd be looking for?

The bridge he'd crossed led to one of two large islands in the marsh's lake -- this particular island was known for the two ruins on it: the Deepest Ruin and the Somber Marsh Abandoned Ruins. Dawa's tracks at least didn't lead up to either of those (not that Arlo thought he'd have any reason to go inside either) but eventually the tracks ventured outside of the crumbling, circular stone walls that partially enclosed the ruins, and once those tracks weren't sheltered by the walls they quickly disappeared -- erased by the cutting wind out here that had blown most of the snow away and exposed the ice to the sun (in fact he could almost see dead grass in several spots where the ice had almost melted through).

So Dawa had come out here, searched around, and then headed out of the walls to... The only other places out beyond the walls was another ruined building and a crashed ship that doubled as a bridge to the far side of the marsh, but surely Dawa hadn't gone out THAT far, right?

Rather than trek out there Arlo instead turned to look at the walls -- they were tall enough that maybe they'd give him enough of a vantage point to see if it was even worth it to check the other side of the lake. He fumbled a few times as he climbed (numb fingers - this cold weather was beginning to get on his nerves) and once he was at the top of the wall he saw an unmistakable black smudge on the far shore to the northeast. It was just far enough away that between distance and the glare of the sun off the snow Arlo couldn't make out much more than a dark mark on the ground but whatever it was was pretty big.

He'd definitely need to head over there now, if only to see what that was.

It was too steep to climb down the outer side of the wall so he had to go back the way he'd come up and then take the long way around; the wooden foot bridge that spanned across the two halves of the crashed ship was thankfully still intact and was even mostly thawed out so he got across without issue, and then it was just a matter of getting over to whatever the big black smudge was.

The trees were thick on this side of the lake, both in number and in canopy cover, and the snow had the branches sagging low so it was difficult to see through them; the big black smudge remained a big black smudge until finally Arlo was almost on top of it, and there he noticed two things.

One: the big black smudge was a freshly opened sink hole.

And two: there were footprints in the mud that ringed the opening that led to a long skidmark suggesting someone had slid in.

The sinkhole wasn't perfectly circular and was about twenty feet across at its widest point, surrounded by upturned rocks and broken tree roots, and the wind whistled eerily over the gaping hole. The earth around the sinkhole was sludgy and angled sharply downward toward the opening as well - he didn't dare get close enough to look into the sinkhole or else he'd risk falling in himself.

'I guess Dawa must have heard this thing opening up and came looking for what caused the noise, and fell in.'

"Dawa?" he yelled toward the opening. His voice echoed back to him; there wasn't a response. "Dawa?" he tried again, louder. Again there was no answer aside from the howl of the wind in the hole.

...if the wrapped trees were any indication then Dawa had to have rope stored somewhere on the farm, and there were trees enough here to tie off to provide a handhold to get close enough to investigate.

Arlo turned and began to hurry back the way he'd come -- by now Sam and Remington would probably be waiting for him anyway, and he'd need their help to get down into the hole.

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

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah. You and Sam got me beat in the raw strength category, and if I do find Dawa down there he might need the help to haul him out. I'm pretty sure I can get down there and back out without a problem but I can't promise about him - especially if we don't know how far down this thing goes."

Arlo nodded at Remington; he did have a point - they had no way of knowing if Dawa was in any shape to climb out of there. "All right. Sam and I will wait up here - tug on that rope four times if you need us to help pull you up."

"Give me that other coil, there -- no telling how deep this goes."

Sam handed over a spare coil of rope which Remington slung over his shoulder bandolier-style, then with a nod he grabbed hold of the other rope - the one carefully tied to a nearby tree - and began to carefully edge his way forward toward the sinkhole's edge; the mud here went up to his ankles and then midway up his shins before he got to where he could slip over the edge and begin to carefully rappel down into the darkness.

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Once he was over the lip and down about fifteen feet the incessant howl of the wind across the sinkhole's opening ceased, and now all Remington could hear as he picked his way down was the crumbling of dirt and rock each time his boots touched the wall, and somewhere he could hear a trickle of dripping water -- probably melting snow, and the last thing this sinkhole needed was more moisture to cause a further collapse.

He estimated he was about thirty feet down when he wrapped his legs and one arm around the rope to hold himself in place long enough to use his other hand to click on the little headlamp they'd borrowed from Selene; around him the dark dirt seemed to swallow up the pale yellow light and as he looked down his heart jumped a bit as the lamp illuminated roots and vines that jutted out of the sinkhole's walls.

And the vines looked like they'd once been thick and had choked this entire area out but now there was a large gap through their center, and he could see the glimmer of sap leaking out of hundreds of split and broken ends of the plants as he steadily lowered himself toward them.

"Well, at least something slowed the fall," he mumbled as he went -- he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been silently panicking a little bit as the depth of this hole began to sink in (no pun intended) coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen Dawa or even signs of him until this point. If the vines had slowed and cushioned the man's fall then there was a pretty good chance he'd survived the drop.

Remington kept at it with his steady rhythm as he rappelled, and then just above where the vines began his boots hit the wall with a muffled thump; again he held himself in place as he experimentally stomped a boot against the wall and again got the thump -- it almost sounded like metal. He let himself drop a few feet more and then used a hand to dig and pry at the wall ahead of him; something bit into his finger and he yanked his hand back and (perhaps stupidly) stuck his fingers into his mouth but there in the light of his headlamp was a dull, reflective metal visible through the grime he'd scraped free.

This sinkhole must have opened into an underground ruins.

The way down became more difficult as now he had to pick his way through the vines that crisscrossed what he suspected was some sort of ancient elevator shaft as he was starting to see door-like shapes at through the gloom and vine cover regular intervals as he went. Eventually he reached the end of the rope he'd been using to climb down and he wedged himself into a little gap in front of what he was now sure was a doorway, and tied off the rope's end to the coil he'd brought down with him. When he was certain it was securely tied he let the coil drop and listened as it hit something not too far away beneath him -- apparently there WAS an intact bottom to this shaft, and it was a lot closer than he'd thought.

He went the distance of four more "floors" and then finally he was almost on top of a rusted out elevator...pod? Car? What did the Old World call these things? It was the thing that carried people up and down the cables - whatever it was called didn't really matter at the moment, honestly.

From here he could see the ragged hole in the top where Dawa must have either fallen or climbed through, and the metal around that hole was sagging under the weight of the rope coil he'd tossed down; without a doubt it would fully collapse under his weight, so Remington was careful to aim himself at that hole and slide down through it, pulling the coil of rope with him and finally getting his boots back on solid ground within the elevator...thingy.

The air down here was heavy and smelled of dirt and rot; Dawa had already forced the elevator doors open and beyond it was a hallway full of dust and moldering old carpet. Remington could see footprints in the dust (really, the carpet had mostly rotted into dust itself) and began to follow them...not that he really needed them as there wasn't anywhere he could see to go except down the hallway, though there were doors to his left and right. He did stop to try one of the doors and couldn't see a way to get it open -- they had no handles and were almost flush with the walls.

"Dawa? You down here?" he called ahead of him.

There wasn't anything except his own echo so he kept going. Ahead of him the hallway turned to the left, and the closer he came to the corner the more apparent a thudding, dragging noise was beginning to become, until finally--

"Dawa!"

There around the corner was Dawa -- he had his hand up shielding his eye's from the glare of Remington's headlamp, and was dotted with bruises and cuts that left dozens of bloody spots across his clothing. "Never been happier to see someone in my life, I was running out of matches," came the man's reply.

"The feeling's mutual - had no idea what to expect to find down here," Remington laughed. He reached up to slide the headlamp over to his temple so he could look at Dawa without blinding him. "You in one shape, more or less?"

"I've been better - not worried about a few bruises but I'm ready to eat an entire cow by myself."

Remington nodded. "I bet. Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Yeah, about that... Don't know that I can climb out of here. Not on my leg, anyway."

Dawa gestured toward his left leg and Remington brought the headlamp around again; the yellow of the lamp made the bruised and swollen ankle look ten times worse than it probably was, but even still it was the size of a small melon and looked rather painful. "Ah. Hmm. Well, we've got Sam and Arlo up there ready to pull you out."

"Don't know if I'd trust that -- I mean, don't get me wrong, I trust THEM. But at current I don't trust gravity, friction, or the structural integrity of a regular ol' rope. Not even sure I could hold on the entire time to make it out of here either."

"How'd you end up down here anyway?"

Dawa huffed out an annoyed sound. "It's dumb. It's really dumb. So, I heard a noise out here and went looking - you know how I've been keeping an eye out for Aadit, after that Knight scared him off. So I hear this noise and I think to myself, maybe it's him, or maybe it's that damned Knight come back and is up to no good. I wait out the storm then walk out here and it takes awhile to find anything weird - but eventually I find this hole, and when I went to look at it it became a bigger hole and I fell right in."

Remington blinked at him. "Became a BIGGER hole?"

"Yeah, a bigger hole - it was barely bigger than I am when I spotted it. I guess it'd started opening before all the snow and ice hit, and the storm must've formed a crust over the actual size of the hole because I definitely wasn't near the opening when it all broke loose under me and dumped me in." He paused and looked around them. "Who knew there was an old ruin out here completely underground? Usually these things have some sort of above ground entrance. Wouldn't have gotten near if I'd thought it'd lead to this."

"Yeah...wouldn't have expected something like this." Remington rubbed at his chin, thinking -- if Dawa couldn't make it out on his own and didn't think the others could pull him out, then they'd need to find another way up. "You know, on the way down here I saw a lot of elevator doors lining the shaft. We're down pretty deep but maybe we can find a way to link up with a floor that's higher up and climb up out of that floor's door."

"Yeah...yeah, I like that idea. I think I could do a shorter climb, no problem. And I DID find another elevator back that way-" Dawa jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Couldn't get the door open though, and even if I could've I don't think there's any power going to it anymore."

Remington nodded and then dropped to a knee to swing his pack off his back; he rummaged through it and pulled out an old, battered water bottle. "All right, here's the plan then: I'm going to climb back up and let Sam and Arlo know you're all right, and have one of them get Selene or Higgins so we can get this elevator back up and running." He handed the bottle to Dawa, who began to chug from it noisily. "-I'll also get them to bring you something to eat, too."

"You're a lifesaver, Remington. In this case literally."

With a chuckle Remington pulled his pack back on and tightened the straps. "S'what we do. You need anything else in the meantime?"

"Don't think so. It's actually not so bad down here if you get away from the shaft and around the corner."

"What's ahead of here?"

"There's this big room back there - it's got some old furniture in it, some tables and chairs and a counter. Might've been some old cafeteria or something. Been back there since it's warmer."

"All right, then. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Remington heard a 'don't slip' behind him as he turned to head off; it was going to be a long climb back up.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 1 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Erwa #Dawa #Builder #My Time at Portia

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elizabethemerald · 6 years ago

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@yellowmagicalgirl had the amazing idea of what if Nancy Domzalski killed James Lake Sr because she realized he was no good.

I couldn't resist writing something based on the idea.

TW: Abuse

Nancy Domzalski was kind, empathetic and observant. And she would do whatever it took to protect the small group of people she cared for. Few knew that she had been a spy during the Great War. Fewer still knew how willing she was to use those skills to protect those people she was close to.

At first it was just her husband. Then her husband and child. Then her son's wife, followed shortly by her infant grandson. When her husband passed, there was no one to blame but time. When the cruise ship sank carrying her son and daughter-in-law she found herself caring for her grandson. She knew protecting him was the most important thing she could do for her son's memory. For a while Nancy thought her Toby Pie would be the last person to fall under her protection. That was until a young couple moved in across the street.

The wife introduced herself as Barbara. She was already very pregnant. As her husband, James unpacked boxes in the house Nancy sat with Barbara and enjoyed a cup of tea. It was during this very first conversation that Nancy decided she had to protect Barbara Lake.

[[MORE]]

Barbara was young, very young in fact. Pregnant at only 21. James was more than ten years her senior, possibly closer to fifteen. Apparently they had met and started dating five years ago. Nancy carefully hid how much that concerned her.

James had married her as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Then moved her across the country. Away from her family and all of her friends. Nancy could see how he was trying to isolate Barbara and worked to prevent that.

Nancy made sure tea was a weekly affair with Barbara. She made sure that Barbara always knew she could come across the street if she ever needed anything. And she made sure to keep track of everything that happened in the Lake house.

The first handprint on an arm. The first bruise carefully hidden under makeup. The long sleeve shirt on a hot summer day.

Nancy Domzalski was kind, empathetic and observant. And she knew every trick in the book.

She knew every trick Barbara would use to try and hide the abuse. She knew every trick James would use to gaslight the two of them into believing everything was as it should be.

Nancy also had her own tricks. She knew how much to nag to get James to concede to her without exposing her agenda. She knew how to appear senile so he wouldn't be concerned about her nosy nature.

She made sure she was there every time Barbara needed her during the pregnancy. And she made sure she was always there when young James Lake Jr was born. She was there to shelter him from the worst of what happened at the Lake House.

Barbara would bring Jim over to play with Toby, sometimes she would stay and have tea, sometimes she would leave Jim in Nancy’s care and return across the street. When James would come home with a bottle, poorly concealed in a brown paper bag, Barbara would hurry over with Jim. If James had already started on the bottle she would stay the night, sleeping on Nancy’s couch. If the bottle was unopened Barbara knew she would have to run back across the street after dropping off Jim.

Nancy kept careful track of every bruise, mark or complaint. It would take time but she would have enough information to fill out a police report and have James put away. The whole time she was also subtly working with Barbara on undoing the brainwashing James had done to her. She did everything she could to remind the young mother that she was smart and capable and that James did not need to run her life.

Nancy Domzalski was kind, empathetic and observant. When she needed to be she could also be ruthless.

She decided filing the police report would take too long when Jim came over to her house with a broken arm. It took multiple cookies and ice cream to convince the boy to tell her what happened. She went with Barbara to the hospital to get his arm in a cast.

Barbara was furious. It was clear that James had crossed a line. She had implied that James could do whatever he wanted to her, but she would not stand by and let her son get hurt. Nancy grieved for Jim, having to live through his father breaking his arm, but was happy that Barbara had finally drawn the line.

That happiness dimmed quickly. Barbara didn’t have the patience that Nancy had learned. She was a spitfire when her son was concerned, and she made it clear to James how she felt about him. There was an immediate increase in bruises and marks on her body. She could hear them screaming at each other almost every night. Nancy was afraid that if she didn’t act soon that James would kill her. So she came up with a plan, and put it into action as soon as she could.

It was a simple matter to convince James to come over to her house. She found him outside the Lake House, Jim was in the garage looking at a bike kit. All she had to do was imply that she had evidence that James was abusing Barbara, before he got angry she said that she wanted to hear his side of the story.

James liked to imagine that he was a master manipulator. Nancy sat him down in her house and spun quite the tale. That Barbara was deranged, that her injuries were self inflicted. So many lies.

The whole time he was telling his lies Nancy plied him with more and more tea. Constantly refilling his cup. She pretended to believe him, pretended to be sympathetic to his situation. Continued to pretend even as he started to choke.

The poison acted quickly. When he stood up, desperately trying to breathe, she led him to her basement. He died before he hit the bottom step. She carefully tucked his body away. Later that night she would take care of it.

The man’s car disappeared a few hours later while Barbara was at the grocery store with Jim. Nancy made sure to pack a suitcase of James’ clothes, to make it obvious that James had decided to leave them. They would come home and find the house empty and would never see James again.

Nancy watched them come home. Watched Barbara realize what had happened. Nancy made sure she knew exactly how upset they were, because she knew, even if it was for the best, this was her doing. She didn’t realize until that afternoon that it was Jim’s birthday. Toby went over to help him celebrate, only to find his best friend sobbing in his living room. Nancy hung her head, she had accounted for everything in her plan, but in her rush had forgotten that to day was the boy’s birthday, the day he would now remember as the day his father left him.

Nancy Domzalski was kind, empathetic and observant. And though no one would ever get her to admit it, this was not the first time she had to hide a body.

She knew that there were...things...in the woods. Things that went after her cats, and didn’t even leave bones. Things that were meticulous in hiding any trace of their presence. Things that made for the perfect way to dispose of a body.

Late at night after everyone else had fallen asleep, Nancy carefully dragged James’ body out of the backyard and into the green belt that surrounded the cult-de-sac. She left the body in the woods, and knew that it would be gone within the week.

After James was gone, the priority was recovery. Nancy did everything she could to help Barbara and Jim move on and get back on their feet. She convinced Barbara to meet with some of the other ladies of Arcadia so she would have more friends and a better support network. Eventually she talked her into finishing the degree that James had insisted she wasn’t smart enough to complete. She had playdates every week with Jim and Toby so the boys would be there for each other as well. And she made sure to never ever mention what actually happened to James Lake Sr.

Nancy Domzalski was kind, empathetic and observant. And she would do whatever it took to protect the small group of people she cared for. She would move heaven and earth. She would walk through fire. If she needed to, she would murder an abusive husband, and leave his body in the woods for whatever creeps there.

#nancy domzalski #barbara lake #jim lake junior #james lake sr #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #writing emerald #tw abuse

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raendown · 6 years ago

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3954 Chapter: 10/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 10

Despite sharing an office with two other Senju who had chosen to devote themselves to administrative duties over active missions, on a day to day basis Tobirama found himself alone more often than not. His two office-mates were both the busybody type prone to sticking their noses in to other people’s business but it served them well when they had both also taken on perhaps more duties than wise. Most of their time was spent in other people’s offices speaking about one project or another, sometimes milling around in what was coming to be known as the Mission Room to gather information from their returning soldiers.

Usually Tobirama had very little problems with the way this worked out for him. The rare occasions when one of his office partners took it in to their heads to bother him about his own work were well worth suffering through to earn his own quiet space the large majority of the time. In fact, it was only now as he sat staring across the desk at a middle-aged woman with all the markings of a civilian that he realized there might be one downside to having the room to himself.

He didn’t have anyone to fall back on for picking up his slack with socializing.

Though he tried his best not to look too intimidating or disinterested, there was only so much he could do without slipping over in to Hashirama territory and greeting her with a hug or some other garish nonsense. The woman stared back at him as one does when faced with a particularly daunting task and visibly steeled herself before stepping further in to the room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said and Tobirama shook his head.

“Paperwork is patient – sometimes. How may I help you?”

“Oh I don’t – um. I don’t need any help. Actually I was hoping to present Tobirama-sama with a gift if that- if that’s okay?” Clearly nervous, she still managed to gather the courage to step a little closer and clutch tightly at the satchel she was wearing on one side.

Intrigued, Tobirama blinked. “A gift? I’m not sure I’ve done anything to earn such things.”

“Well, um, Tobirama-sama might think of it as more of an apology.”

At the curious tilt of his head the woman rummaged through her satchel in a flurry of motion before holding out a small package with both hands shaking ever so slightly from the tension in her body. The package itself was wrapped in plain blue cloth and tied neatly with a white bow. Tobirama took it from her more because he was worried she might think he was rejecting her offer than anything else, a little too stunned to know how he should be reacting himself.

“I can’t imagine what you need to apologize for,” he murmured, one eye on the package and the other on his guest. Her looks were distinctly Uchiha if one were able to see past the softness of her civilian musculature and the unusually light shade of her hair.

“When Tobirama-sama came to the clan we did our best to respect your traditions and treat you as we thought you would expect to be treated. Madara-sama has spoken to us and told us of the insult we gave by accident. We didn’t mean to!” Her buried bow rather neatly covered the way Tobirama’s jaw hung loose with shock. “Please consider this gift an apology from my friends and me in the marketplace. We only sought to make Tobirama-sama more comfortable but in our ignorance we–”

“Please,” Tobirama interrupted her, half standing from his chair and reaching out as though to physical stop her from bowing. “There’s no need to apologize. I was never angry.” Well, not after the situation was explained to him and he’d had time to calm down. He’d been sad, of course, but he wasn’t going to mention that to this earnest woman here trying to make amends for something that wasn’t her fault. Feeling extraordinarily awkward, Tobirama looked down at the gift in his hands and murmured, “You really didn’t have to get me something.”

With slow words the woman pursed her lips and asked, “Does Tobirama-sama wish for me to take the gift back?”

“Let’s not start a loop of accidentally offending each other, I beg you.” Rubbing the space between his brows, he nearly missed it when his guest began to laugh.

“Of course not, my lord.”

He opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t need to call him lord or anything of the kind but she spoke just before he could, dismissing herself and bowing out of the room with well wishes and urgings for him to enjoy the present. Tobirama slumped back in to his seat without really knowing how he felt.

The gift itself was surprise enough but to know that Madara had spoken to his people, presumably at one of the clan meetings Tobirama had never bothered to attend, and explained how their good intentions had gone wrong? Of all the kindnesses he never would have expected from his husband that was something he wouldn’t have even thought to put on the list. It was downright thoughtful.

Such a gesture deserved one in return, of course. Tobirama knew enough from observing other marriages in his own clan to know that give deserved take. The main problem was that he had no idea what gesture he could make in return. All the things he thought he knew about Madara from exchanging letters had been rendered unreliable by the discovery that it hadn’t been Madara he’d written to after all and it wasn’t as though he’d spent a great deal of time getting to know the man since their wedding night. If the last couple of weeks had told him anything it was that he should probably do so now. Better late than never.

First, however, he needed to open the bundle he was still holding absently between both hands. Soft blue cloth rustled softly as he gently set it down to fiddle with the bow. Just cutting the white ribbon felt like a disservice despite there being no one here to judge him for his present opening habits so Tobirama took a moment to pick the bow apart and slide it off, allowing the cloth wrapping to slough down and reveal the contents. He recognized the packaging as soon as he laid his eyes on it and smiled. Surely it must have been nothing more than a lucky guess for the woman and her friends to pick out his favorite incense, the same scent he’d been burning since his mother passed away because it carried so many memories of her, but he could appreciate lucky guesses when they hit the mark so well.

The gift included a new burner which Tobirama very carefully put away in his desk drawer so he could decide where to set it up later. He didn’t want his officemates using it without asking and there was little point in setting it up in either his lab or his home since one was not an environment for open heat sources and the other he still didn’t devote more time to than necessary.

It was with that in mind that he checked the time and stretched his senses in search of Madara. Unusually considering it was the end of the work day his husband was making his way up to the top floor of the tower to drop off whatever files he needed to in his father’s office, something he normally did at lunch. Tobirama did not envy him that duty. Tensions had been high between the two founders of their village over the past little while leaving everyone but the two heirs grateful that they were afforded the distance of sending their work by courier. The runners, at least, never seemed to get yelled at for bearing bad news. It was easy enough to have everything of his own work squared away by the time Madara's chakra signature backed out of Tajima’s office to descend the main staircase.

At first sight his husband paid him no more attention than they usually afforded each other when passing in the hallways. Tobirama figured he had only himself to blame for the necessity of turning quickly on his heel to fall in step with the man he was looking for.

“Did you need something?” Madara's voice carried the faintest overtones of apology and Tobirama very carefully looked straight ahead as he answered.

“Nothing,” he admitted. “We’re both leaving. I just thought we might walk together – if you are headed towards home, that is.” Too late it occurred to him that Madara might have made other plans for his evening than hanging around in a house where he usually found himself alone.

Just in time to be as annoying as all older siblings were destined to be, Hashirama appeared between them a moment later and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Ah.” Tobirama desperately hoped he didn’t look quite as awkward as he felt.

“Oh, I almost didn’t see you there, Tobi!” Hashirama smiled and tried to clap him on the shoulder as well, a gesture he brushed away before it could connect.

“Get your eyes checked, I’m not even the same color as anything in this hallway.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring that pout was easy after a lifetime of practice. Tobirama blinked past him at Madara and decided he didn’t even want to make an attempt to figure out what thoughts were going on behind that strange expression. He’d already embarrassed himself, the best thing to do now if he wanted to salvage his pride would be to bow out with grace and not make a scene.

Madara had other ideas, apparently.

“Go away, Hashirama,” he grunted shortly. Tobirama blinked while Hashirama clasped his chest like he’d been stabbed.

“But we were going for tea!”

Trying to be subtle, Tobirama shook his head and murmured, “You are free to go enjoy your tea.”

“I said go away. We can have tea tomorrow.” Madara retaliated to the kindly greeting his friend had given him by clapping Hashirama so hard between the shoulder blades that he stumbled and then stepped around him to pull Tobirama away by the sleeve. “Don’t give me those sad eyes, you just spent all day with me! You’ll survive without tea. Go home to your wife.”

“You didn’t have to ruin your plans,” Tobirama told him as soon as they stepped outside and left Hashirama out of earshot. “I really didn’t need anything important.”

“Maybe I was just tired of his face.” Underneath the gruff bravado Madara's voice still sounded vaguely apologetic and that was just embarrassing enough for Tobirama to shut his mouth with a light cough. He was the one who had interrupted previously made plans but there was no way he was having this ‘no need to apologize’ conversation twice in one day.

He settled for an awkward nod and trying to remember what he was supposed to do with his arms while walking. Why, he asked himself as they both joined the crowds choking the streets, had he thought this was a nice gesture? Not a single topic of conversation occurred to him no matter how desperately he wished to fill the silence. Instead they rounded two corners and crossed at least a quarter of the distance back to their shared domicile in utter silence, occasionally peeking over at each other only to look away in a hurry when their eyes met unexpectedly.

At some point the crowds began to thin and by the time they passed out of the village center in to the more residential areas they were nearly alone on each street. Tobirama continued to wrack his brain for something to say all the way up until Madara finally broke the tension.

“Were you…planning to stay in tonight?” he asked. Tobirama was glad they weren’t standing still, which made it much easier to resist the urge to shuffle his feet like a nervous child.

“Unless you were hoping to invite guests. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

“S’your house too,” Madara said under his breath.

An odd thrill ran through Tobirama’s limbs when he heard that and he found himself asking, “Is there anything in particular you might like for dinner? I wouldn’t mind cooking.”

“Oh. Uh. I don’t know, whatever you feel like making should be fine.”

He was indescribably grateful that Madara didn’t bother with any polite refusals or asking if he was sure because just making the offer in the first place had taken enough courage and he wasn’t sure he could have defended his own decision. Not when convincing himself to make it in the first place had already needed so much effort. The thrill of success felt a little like electricity at his fingertips, though, and he found that his thoughts were much clearer now that the silence wasn’t quite so stifling between them.

“I was thinking gyudon. Not that difficult to make and it’s nice to have something other than fish at least every once in a while.” Also from what he could remember of the last time he poked his nose in to the kitchen for a quick meal he was fairly sure they had everything he would need to make gyudon.

“That sounds fine. You…like fish?”

“My favorite. Any kind of fish, really, but there’s this one kind I tried the last time I was in Uzushio–” Without even realizing what he was doing Tobirama hared off on a tangent about one of his biggest passions outside of anything related to battle: the many and varied seafood dishes he had enjoyed in his lifetime. Madara actually asked a few questions so it wasn’t until he saw their house down the street that he realized he’d just babbled away their entire journey about fish. In his efforts to build more positive relations between them he had probably just alienated the man by painting himself as a boring idiot with nothing better to talk about.

A great deal of effort went in to snapping his jaw shut to cut off the flow of inane chatter and Tobirama silently made a few unflattering comparisons between himself and his brother as they stepped in to the house together. They busied themselves with kicking off their regulation sandals and setting them in neat little pairs on opposite sides of the genkan. While Madara pulled off the light coat he’d thrown over his typical robes and hung it up Tobirama scurried out of the way and turned towards the kitchen.

The first thing he did was open the fridge and shove his head out of sight behind the door where he could squeeze his eyes shut and berate himself for being so stubbornly awkward. Never before had he had such trouble communicating with other people – and that was saying something considering how stiff and unapproachable even his own reserved clan tended to find him. Yet here he was with a husband of his own and years of lessons in the Senju traditions all running through his mind telling him exactly how to charm his spouse, make the best of the life he had been given, and still he found his brain as empty as a leaking sieve.

Before he could do anything as telling as give himself a tight slap across the mouth to get his thoughts in order Madara stepped hesitantly in to the kitchen as well, forcing Tobirama to scramble for the ingredients he would need and pull away from his hiding spot.

“Would you like some help?” Madara offered. “I can prepare the vegetables if you prepare the beef.”

“Oh. Yes. I would- thank you.”

The break in his words seemed to amuse Madara, if nothing else. Tobirama supposed laughing at him for tripping on his own speech was better than scowling darkly at him for daring to step foot inside the home before night had fallen.

With a startling amount of ease the two of them danced around each other in the limited kitchen space, each attending to their own half of the preparations. Tobirama could have sworn he felt Madara's eyes on him a few times as he sliced the meat and cracked a few eggs in to a clean bowl but each time he turned to look he found the man’s eyes locked on to the onions and scallions before him. Either he was imagining things or his hyper awareness of every move they both made was playing tricks on his mind.

He had only just added the onions to the pan he’d been heating when Madara once again proved himself the braver of the two of them in social situations like this, keeping his attention on the sauce ingredients he was measuring out.

“I understand you were part of the meeting with the Inuzuka delegation?” he waited until Tobirama nodded the affirmative before going on. “What’s your impression of them?” Tobirama kept his face towards the onions to cover up the shock that his opinion might count for something.

“Loud,” he murmured because that was the first thing that came to mind. “An uncouth bunch from my experiences, although they make excellent trackers and their skills on the battlefield are not to be sneezed at. If they are allotted a separate compound as most of the other larger clans have asked for then I don’t foresee many problems with their integration beyond the usual phase of finding where they fit in best and who they get along with the easiest.”

“The adjustment period.” Madara nodded agreeably.

“Precisely.”

Stirring his onions and pulling the sliced beef a bit closer in preparation, Tobirama dared to peek over at his husband. Not so much at his expression, thoughtful and focused on their conversation as he appeared to be, but rather at the man himself. Long dark lashes framing deep set eyes with permanent dark circles that would not have worked on any other face. Cheeks that never quite lost the final bit of baby fat, puffing out with indignation and rage almost every time he left the house. Small bits of hair broke off from the thick tangle flowing down his back to hang down and frame his face like a living portrait. All in all he made quite the image. Enough so that Tobirama came very close to getting lost in that image until Madara turned to him with a questioning lift of one brow.

“No qualms with them, then? You’ll welcome them in to the village once they finally sign the treaty like everyone else?”

“Well…I could live without the dogs they insist on taking with them everywhere.” Tobirama wrinkled his nose. He understood the bonds they made with their companions but…

“If they kept cats I would be much more enthusiastic to have them here.”

He blinked, not expecting to have his thoughts given voice. “I feel much the same. Cats are cleaner, quieter, and much more suited to the life of a shinobi who doesn’t wish to announce their presence ten minutes before they arrive anywhere.”

“Exactly! I’m sure there must be some nice folk among the Inuzuka but…they’re just so loud, them and the dogs both. We’re not likely to make great friends off of the battlefield.” Madara shook his head.

“Your territory was a little closer to theirs than ours was before the village was built and I have to say”-Tobirama paused to smirk-“I don’t envy you that. Allow me to thank you now for keeping them occupied and saving me the headache of dealing with them more often.”

“Little shit.” Madara rolled his eyes but he too was smiling and Tobirama felt like he’d won a medal.

“I already had Hashirama to deal with. Adding the Inuzuka in to the mix would have driven me crazy before I reached double digits.” Just thinking about it made him shudder. He couldn’t imagine what sort of madness he would have had to put up with if he’d had to battle Hashirama’s frequent idiocies on top of smelling the Inuzuka’s dogs every time he stepped outside the compound walls.

He doubted any of them had even tried owning cats, the heartless bastards.

Madara, on the other hand, appeared to be a smarter man than Tobirama knew in that he also preferred cats to dogs. On the list of things he thought they might have in common he really should have expected that one considering the relationship between the Uchiha clan and the ninneko hidden beneath the streets of Sora-ku. Tobirama had never been able to keep a pet cat before, not wanting to set off Hashirama’s allergies, but he wondered if maybe now Madara might be okay with it. Village life lent itself much better to keeping pets anyway.

“That’s very fair. Much as your brother has become a very dear friend I don’t know that I would survive living with him.” His husband laughed and Tobirama was surprised to feel jealously at his words. A friend, Madara had called him, and he trusted that Hashirama felt only the same in return. There was no need to worry himself about whatever relationship was building between the two of them but they had at least a kind of relationship and for that he envied his own sibling.

“If I know my brother then he’s probably invited you to stay the night after dinner several times.” Tobirama finally deemed the beef cooked well enough and slowly began to add in the ingredients for the sauce. “Perhaps you should take him up on the offer sometime and experience for yourself the horrors I’ve had to put up with.”

“Like?”

“Ugh, like his morning breath.”

Apparently that wasn’t the sort of answer Madara was expecting because it startled a booming laugh out of him, unselfconscious and free in a way Tobirama was sure he himself had never managed in his life. Mirth painted twin circles of pink across Madara's cheeks and the look was so nice on him that Tobirama nearly forgot to stir the gyudon to keep their dinner from burning. Unsurprising, that. Physical attraction had never been the problem between them; Tobirama could remember having to control his face very strictly upon catching his first glimpse of the beauty he was to be married to. The trouble had been their spectacular skills in miscommunication up until recently.

When their meal was finally ready he was pleased to have kept the conversation going with the same light tone and not a single argument yet. By the time he had served two generous bowls and sat down with the drinks Madara poured for them he was feeling more optimistic about the future than he had in half a year. With just a little extra effort it seemed they were able to get along after all, which gave him hope for the things he had been groomed to wait his entire life for.

A happy home and a partner to lean on when the days were long, what more could anyone ask for in life? If he tried hard to keep things moving as they had been lately he, too, might have those things. Watching the smile on Madara's face as they circled back to a happy discussion of why cats were far superior to dogs, seeing the languid way he sat in his chair as though they had no reason to be ill at ease around each other, Tobirama thought to himself that for the first time since their wedding he could finally see the man who might someday become a proper husband.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction

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leelee10898 · 6 years ago

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Fast cars & Freedom: Cant help falling in love (8/?) Part 2.

Here it is.. part 2 of chapter 8... is that really Logans mom? How does Ellies dad react to the news she is married to Colt??? You can catch up HERE. And as always, if you want to be added to the tags, drop me a line.

Pairing: Logan x Ellie, Colt x Ellie

Rating: Mature

Song inspiration:

“Riya! Damnit.” Ellie gasped, Riya instantly cupping her mouth. Ellie Stood making her way over to her father.

Colt stood behind Logan, schock written all over his face at the series of events. Riya just announced to everyone that He and Ellie were married. Her father being an ex cop, was probably about to kill him, sure he had a gun or two, or three laying around. And did Logan just say Mom?

Logan stood there, completely stunned, baked beans covering his shoes. Was he imagining things? Because the woman standing there next to Ellie's dad looked an awful lot like his mother. He remembered seeing her when the foster parents would bring him to the jail to visit. That all changed when he got sent to live with a shitty set and he ran away, never looking back.

“Logan? Logan is that you?” Sally spoke, tears in her eyes.

Frank looked between the two, dumbfounded. Of all the women in the world he would fall for, he had to pick the one who was possibly the father of his grandchild, and an ex criminal. His eyes darted past Logan and locked right onto Colt, who stood frozen in place. “You!” He seethed, Pointing a finger at him. “Oh shit.” Colt quickly placed the pan he was holding down on the table and took off into the house.

“Oh no you dont, get back here.” Frank took off running after him, coleslaw dripping from his pants. “Dad, wait.” Ellie followed the two into the house. “Dad, just wait. You don't understand.” He froze in place “what don't I understand? How you ended up married to him,” He pointed to Colt who stood at the door. “Because that I don't understand. How did this happen? When did this happen?”

“6 years ago. In vegas.” Her dad's eyes went wide. “iIt was the night before, well everything went down with the brotherhood.” Her dad slumped down on the couch, the feelings of that time crashing down on him. “She asked for an annulment Mr Martin. This isn't Ellies fault, I didn't file it. If you want to blame anyone, blame me, not her.” Colt stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.

Her dad let out a long sigh “Well, at least if He's Lucas father, you'll be married.” Ellie closed her eyes “I'm filing for divorce.” Her dads face reddened. “Colt, why don't you go outside and help out. I need a word with my daughter.” Colt hesitated, waiting for her command. She was his queen, she would always be his queen no matter what, and he would do anything she asked of him, but he wouldn't willingly divorce her. “Go ahead colt.” He nodded walking back out to the back yard, leaving Ellie and her dad to have a serious discussion.

Logan blinked, stunned. “What. How did you.” He couldn't form the words.

“Logan, I have been looking for you ever since i got out of jail.” Colt stopped immediately, backing up a pace to hear what was going on. “Oh really? And when was that? Because it seems you haven't done a great job of it.” Logan stood arms folded. “well, there wasn't much of a trail to follow, you stayed pretty well hidden. The last bit of information I got you were in California, so I came out here.” Logan stared at her, still in Shock that his mother was there. “Can we talk? Please Logan, you have no idea how long I have been waiting to see you.” Logan nodded and the two walked off alone.

Colt looked over to where toby and Luca were sitting at the kiddie pool, he walked over “Hey squirt, why the long face?” “Is grampy mad at you?” she sniffled. “No, he's not mad at me sweetie. Everything is ok.” he assured her. “Hey Colt, um aunt Riya said you and mommy are married. Does that mean you're my daddy?”

"Eliana Renne Martin, what the hell do you mean you're filing for divorce?" Frank shouted. "Dad, calm down." "I thought you would be more mad at the fact Ive been married for 6 years and didn't tell you."

"Dont rock the boat Ellie. What is your reasoning for divorcing? Our family does not divorce, trust me it would have been easier to divorce your mother when she got bad, but I didnt did I?"

"No. You didnt. I just, dad we were 18 and 19, we were young and uncertain if we would be in jail or dead." Her father shutteres at the memory.

"I cant talk to you about this. I think youre makimg a huge mistake, but youre my daughter and I love you. Just please, please think about it."

Colt stood there in Shock, not sure how to handle or answer it. He was relieved when he seen Ellie come out of the house, luckily she was headed right for them. “What's going on?” She noticed the uncertain look on Colts face. “Someone heard the announcement, and has a question.” Ellie looked down at her daughter “Mommy, if you're married to Colt, does that mean he's my daddy?” Her eyes went wide, she looked between the two,she had no idea how to answer without generating a lot more questions. “Well, sweetie i'm not sure. But how about, how about you go to see what grampy is doing ok?” Luca nodded and walked away, they look on her face told her this wasn't the last she would hear about it.

“Im sorry el, She just came out of nowhere. I didn't know what to say.” Colt ran his hand over his face. “Its ok. I didn't either. Lets just hope we get these results back soon. So we know for sure.” Ellie looked over at Logan sitting by himself, a beer in hand. “I should probably go check in on him.” Colt nodded as she walked away.

“Mind some company?” He looked up, and patted the seat next to him. “So. I guess you heard my mom is dating your dad.” he snorted.

“I heard something like that. How crazy is that?” he let out a half hearted laugh. “But seriously, how are you handling it?”

“I don't know. I'm kind of excited to finally have my mom around. On the other hand, i'm scared.”

Logan told her how his mom was in a car with his dad and a friend. She had been dating him for a little while and they stopped at a bank, his dad apparently robbed it and she was locked up as an accessory. When she got out finally Logan had ran away from foster care and hid himself pretty well. “I guess It's nice to not be alone anymore.” Ellie grabbed his hand “hey, you're not alone. All these people here, the crew, me, Luca. We're you family. You haven't been alone because wherever you go, were with u. Right here.” She placed her hand on his heart. “Thanks Ellie. The same goes for me. I'll always be there for you, no matter what.” He kissed her cheek, and walked over to where Mona and Ximena were standing.

Ellie sat there watching her dad and Sally talk, for a few minutes before hugging and kissing. She turned her head, not wanting to see that. She wondered if her dad knew about Sallys past. She seemed like a very nice woman, and she had not seen her dad so happy. Not in a long time, not since before her mother died. She learned years ago not to judge a book by its cover, so she would give her the benefit of the doubt. If she hurt Logan, she would hunt her down and handle her, herself.

The day went on, the drama of day seemed to fade away, and everyone ate and were enjoying themselves. They had a corn hole tournament going on in one corner. Toby lounged in Lucas swimming pool, buzzed and sunburnt, but happy as hell. Logan and Mona were on one team, while Ximena and Darius were on another. Stacie, and Sally sat around watching them.

Colt relaxed in a lounge chair, Luca asleep in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “You're seriously holding her while she sleeps?” Colt chuckled “well Logan was holding her, he passed her off to me when it was his turn in Corn hole. She just, fell asleep.” Ellie shook her head. “Suns starting to set, we should probably wake her soon so we can head over to the field and see the fireworks.” “yeah, my arms dead, so sounds good to me.”

“Luca honey, time to wake up.” Ellie stroked her hair. She started to stir a bit. “He squirt, it's almost time for fireworks. Get up.” Lucas eyes fluttered open. “Can I have some ice cream?” she spoke with a yawn. “Yup. Come on, I'll take you.” Colt stood shaking the sleep from his arm as they disappeared into the house.

Riya slid up next to her. “Watching those two fawn all over Luca has got to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen.” Ellie's mouth flew open. “Ri, you're married and have a son.”

“I know. But seriously, I'm not even sure why you want to divorce Colt. He's clearly still in love with you. Unless.”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you want to be with Logan instead.” Riya waggled her eyes at her.

“I don't know what I want. It's just the right thing to do, divorcing colt. We were so young.”

She rolled her eyes “Whatever you say Ellie.”

“Are you Drunk Riya? And where is Marcus?”

“Mayyyybeeeee.” She giggled. “Dare set the pack n play up in the house, hes sleeping mom sheesh.” Ellie playfully pushed Riyas arm.

They headed out to the field to watch the fireworks display. Toby playing music to go with the show. “Uncle Logie, dance with me.” Luca stood up yanking on his shirt. “Oh sweetie, Stacie asked me to dance first.” Luca puffed out her bottom lip “Ok.” she turned to walk away “Lulu wait. Of course I'll dance with you. Stacie said its ok.” Luca beamed as Logan spun her around. Countless awes coming from the women watching. “Logan is such a good dancer.” Ellie sighed as she watch him float across the black top with her daughter.

Colt cocked his brow. “Hey. I remember us having some pretty good moves.”

“Of course we did. Are you. Are you Jealous Colt?” she eyed him suspiciously.

“Dance with me Ellie.” she smirked taking his hand. “Oh I guess For old times sakes.” the song changed as Colt pulled her closer. “You remember this song?”

“How could I forget it.”

Her mind went back to that night in Vegas.

*****

Ellie stood in the empty room, her shaking hands flattened the front of the short white dress she picked up at chapel boutique. Under better circumstances she would have had her father there to give her away, Riya as her maid of honor. She would have spent months picking out her flowers, the dress, the colors, food. But this right here, was what she wanted to do in the moment. Not knowing what the next day would hold. Would she be in jail, dead? She wanted to experience getting married, she loved Colt, and Colt Loved her. A knock came at the door. “You ready sugar?” An older lady dressed in a tight patent leather dress asked her as she handed her a bouquet.

Ellie nodded as she stepped out of the room. A soft melody began to play as she stepped onto the aisle runner, her eyes locking with Colts.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. He looked handsome wearing a black suit, he fidgeted with his fingers, anxious to take her hands in his. She stood before him, as they joined hands. “Ellie, you are breathtaking.” his voice cracked with emotion, making her tear up. “You look so handsome Colt.”

They turned towards the officiant, dressed head to toe like Elvis. “Dearly Beloved. Uh huh. We are gathered here today to join these two hearts together.” They tried to stifle their laughter, quickly composing themselves. “Do you Colton Take Eliana to be your wife?” Colt slid the ring on her finger “I do.”

“And do you Eliana take Colton to be your Husband?” She slid the ring onto his finger “I do.”

“By the state of Nevada and the King, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride. Uh huh.” He shifted his hips in true Elvis fashion. As Colt took her in his arms, their lips meeting in a sensual, sweet kiss.

They shared a first dance, in the chapel. Colt pulling her close to him.

Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you.

“You know. I think the king was onto something with this song.” Colt smirked. “Oh? And what's that Mr Kaneko?”

“I couldn't help falling in love with you, Mrs Kaneko.”

*****

“I wish you would reconsider the divorce El.” Colts words pulling her from the memory.

Take my hand, take my whole life too. But I can't help, falling in love with you.

“Colt. It's just the right thing to do.”

“the right thing for who? Because I still Love you Ellie. Can you honestly say you don't still Love me?” She stared at him for a moment, stunned. “I… I…” A loud boom went off above them, Luca came running up “Mommy. Mommy. Its starting.” She grabbed her hand “come on Colt, sit with us.” Her free hand grabbing his.

The next morning Ellie drove into town, she entered the building and stood in line. Her mind swirling from the night before, the dance with Colt, watching Logan dance with Luca. She was so confused, so lost. “Next.” She heard the woman call out. She walked up the desk

“How can I help you?”

She took a deep breath. “I need to file for divorce.”

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jbuffyangel · 7 years ago

Text

Weekly Rundown 10/21/18-10/26/18

Time to rundown what I’m watching, loving, hating and everything in between! Spoilers ahead! Full episode reviews and reactions are linked in the titles.

Daredevil Season 3

Just so y’all know - most nuns do not wear their habits in public anymore. It’s been that way since Vatican II, but TV refuses to catch up.

The action is amaaaaazing again. I love how Matt actually gets tired when he’s fighting.

I don’t want Matt to put that ugly Daredevil suit on again he looks ridiculous. Keep the black mask and call it a day.

I want Foggy to propose very badly. I need a Foggy wedding in Season 4.

Is there any particular reason why Karen didn’t haul ass to Frank’s Punisher lair when her life was in danger and Matty Mcbrown eyes was off Daredeviling an existential crisis? That’s where I’d go.

Matt refusing to ask the other Defenders help because “it’s not their fight” is the stupidest reason ever.

Arrow (“The Longbow Hunters”)

It is a bit creepy when Stan says, “I bet a guy like that would do anything to keep his family safe.” Maybe Stan is a nuthouse, but leave me to my dream for now.

Is it me or did Yorke look older than 40? 1978????

Deputy Director Bell is evil. Calling it now.

The Longbow Hunters don’t actually use bows. This is a twist I did not see coming.

Bl*ck S*ren can’t lawyer worth a damn, but she can wear a suit.

“Stay behind me.” That was oddly hot Rene. I’m wildly uncomfortable that I find you attractive right now, but it is what it is.

Rene: Been back in town a week and you’re already sneaking out of A.R.G.U.S. behind Papa Dig’s back? I’m so proud.

Felicity: Thanks man.

This whole exchange was delightful and not remotely derogatory like “Blondie.” THY NAME IS CHARACTER GROWTH.

“Grab your balls Curtis, we’re going in.” If the Rene character only exists to say this one line of dialogue then it was worth it.

Why didn’t BS and Dinah go after the Longbow Hunter? What is up with allowing all these criminals to run away at a moderately brisk pace and our people acting like they can’t catch them? They are called legs! Move your ass!

BITCH YOU BETTER NOT STEP ON THAT PHOTO!!!!!!!

Legends of Tomorrow (“The Virgin Gary”)

Legends Season 4 premiere is fantastic and full of all the hi-jinks I’ve missed over hiatus.

“Speaking of the same old crap isn’t that what he did last year?”Legends gets points for acknowledging that Wally gets the storyline shaft a lot.

When you are officially a hero the time bureau gives you a medal, but I was more excited about the balloons.

It would be super weird if the Legends spent more than a day in 2018.

Remember when Oliver asked Sara to move in with him and she went running screaming in the other direction? It all worked out because Sara knew he was really in love with Felicity. I’m just saying she’s come a looooong way.

I want to be clear about one thing and it’s not up for debate. Ready? The best thing about Legends is Mick. It’s always Mick. That is all.

OMG NATE’S FATHER IS BIFF FROM BACK TO THE FUTURE?????!!!!!!!! THIS IS SPECTACULAR CASTING!!!

Manifest “Connecting Flights”

It was nice to fill in the back story of the characters left behind after the plane went missing, however the show is starting to lose my attention. I need more movement on these character relationships. Manifest is hitting a lot of the same notes week after week.

This Is Us (“Toby”)

Randall is going ahead with the city council job? Are they independently wealthy Does no one have to work?

Baby Toby is the cutest.

Holy crap is this how in vitro really works? It’s so friggin expensive and no guarantees. Wow, my sympathies to all those who have gone through this excruciating process.

Randall unbuttoning his shirt is all the reason I need to vote for him. Done deal.

Toby used his wonderful sense of humor to cheer up his depressed Mom. Ugh my heart.

But for real though sometimes you need just “one damn day.” #MomLife

Three hours to get ready Kate? Just as an FYI - that’s all over when you have a baby. You’ll be lucky to get a shower.

Miguel carried a piano up stairs to cheer Rebecca up. That’s love.

“There’s so much of her in you it scares me.” THAT IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SAY TO YOUR CHILD ASSHOLE.

A+ on the prom dresses. Absolutely what I wore in high school. We were fashionista slaves in the late nineties.

Kate’s impression of Adele is dead on.

Miguel tries so hard. He’s just trying to keep his promise to Jack.

Rebecca is such an amazing mom. Kate doesn’t give her nearly enough credit.

KATE IS PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Rookie (Pilot” and “Crash Course”)

I really loved The Rookie. I typically don’t hate procedurals, but this one has surprised me thus far. It’s fast paced, so it held my attention more. I hope it stays that way.

I love how it is the rookies versus the training officers. It fills my Rookie Blue void.

I am not invested in any ships yet. I am not buying the romance between Nolan and Lucy so far. I actually think Lucy has more chemistry with Bradford and Nolan with the Captain.

A Million Little Things (“Friday Night Dinner” and “The Game of Your Life”)

I want to love this show, but they are making it next to impossible. I hate cheating storylines in any show. It’s one of the main reasons I quit watching Shonda Rhimes’ shows because she is unable to write one without including adultery. Arrow’s original love story revolved around cheating and was an absolute mess. It feels like a lazy way to inject drama. This cheating storyline between Eddie and Delilah is making two characters who are otherwise very likable extremely unlikable.

Instead of jettisoning this plot into the atmosphere where it belongs and never speaking of it again, A Million Little Things is double down on it. Delilah is pregnant! Oh wonderful, now we get to play “Who’s the Daddy?” for several weeks.

Apparently, the writers come from The Fl*sh school of writing. Characters can only be mad at other characters for one episode. All the friends found out about Eddie and Delilah’s affair and the very next week they are sitting down to pizza. It’s at Delilah’s house and Eddie’s wife Katherine comes too because FRIENDS. No. Just no.

Instead of being angry at Eddie and Delilah, the friends make excuses for them. Regina’s conversation with Delilah turned into a huge “I didn’t see your pain” apology, which is flat out ridiculous. What Delilah did was so off the charts wrong there is no excuse for it. If you are in pain see a therapist. It’s not an excuse to cheat on your husband. Also, Regina you are not to blame for Delilah lying to everyone for over two years.

Gary, who has been the angriest, decides he’s being too hard on Eddie (ya know by actually holding him accountable for his actions) and lets Eddie move in with him after his wife finally kicked him out. Are you freaking kidding me with this? I was already mildly irked at Gary for giving Delilah a free pass, but I understood his reasoning because her husband just jumped off a building. She has been punished quite a lot. But Eddie? I think we could muster a couple episodes of anger towards Eddie.

The writers attempted drum up sympathy for Delilah by shining a little light on her seemingly perfect marriage with Jon. It’s not really perfect, but what marriage is? Jon was short with Delilah during a family dinner. He took a phone call from work and snapped, “Everything I do is for this family.” What a bastard. Of course, that is reason enough for Delilah to jump into bed with Eddie, her husband’s best friend. GIVE. ME. A. FRIGGIN. BREAK. If my husband slept with someone else every time I was cranky with him, he’d have a harem.

So, on top of being suicide apologists, the writers are adding cheating apologists. There is no reason to cheat. It’s just mean. Nobody has put a gun to your head. If you want out of your marriage you march to an attorney’s office and file for divorce. Not sure if you want a divorce? Then go to counseling. But cheating, under any circumstances, is wrong. It’s cruel and selfish. It’s trying to have your cake and eat it too. A Million Little Things trying to excuse away Eddie and Delilah’s heinous behavior is almost as bad as the cheating itself. Trying to make suicide and cheating okay with excuses is dangerous behavior. I AM NOT A FAN.

Stray Thought - on what planet is a school program presented in the middle of the freaking day? What kind of ridiculous school do Eddie and Katherine send their son to?

Blindspot (“The Quantico Affair”)

Zapata has a very interesting running stride. Sorry I was in cross country. That stuff interests me

Roman saying "He knows. This is it. Kill him" underscores the dramatic tension.

I’m gonna need someone on Team Blindspot to pick up on Remi's side eye. Y'all are FBI agents for goodness sake.

I don't actually know what Patterson's name is, but I feel confident it is not Lisa.

I think Martin Gero saw me write "Where is Patterson's storyline?" in my last review. I could have opted for patience, but complaining loudly via written word felt like a better plan.

Hey watch the condemnation Remi aka Jane aka double secret agent who told so many lies I can't keep it straight anymore.

OMG Rich not explaining how the tattoo was solved is the best thing ever. PLEASE DO THIS EVERY WEEK

I wanna talk about the Book of Secrets mostly because Rich calls it the Book of Secrets.

Hahaha. Her one night stand showed up at work. This is how Meredith and McDreamy began. I highly recommend elevator scenes too.

One night stand boy is Weitz's nephew. IT. JUST. GOT. BETTER

Sure Madeline come on in and check out our super secret tattoo murder board.

"Thundercats ho!" OMG was that an ad lib?

Totally ship Patterson and this dude. I should probably learn his name.

Somebody tell Rich about the one night stand. Pleeeeeeeease.

I'm not calling him Lincoln. He shall be known as "Slab of Man-Ham" forevermore.

Patterson and Rich are the perfect work wife/husband team. Remember Rich is the work wife

How does Weitz maintain employment? This may be the greatest of all Blindspot's mysteries.

Of course "Jane" and Weller are on the train Weitz. IT'S THEIR JOB. Seriously someone get this dude a DVD of #Blindspot S1-S3

Patterson girl, Jane is never that cranky with you when she's diffusing bombs. SOMEBODY NOTICE PERSONALITY CHANGES PLEASE!!!

"You're new here." ALL KNEEL TO PATTERSON.

#daredevil #arrow #this is us #legends of tomorrow #a million little things #blindspot #weekly rundown reviews #weekly rundown

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avenger-hawk · 8 years ago

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What do you think of the theory that Itachi was initiated to be a true villain but while the story progress Kishi or his editor change their plans to make him a good guy for more drama? I read sasuke-prevails analysis of Itachi.

I didn’t read anything about this. Anyway I think that Itachi wasn’t supposed to be a true villain.

(anti-kishimoto, anti-ending under the cut)

The majority of Naruto’s villains aren’t true villains anyway. They’re given a sad story so that Naruto can relate to them, thus he can shine brighter. It’s not just Nagato and Obito, it started with Zabuza and Haku. It’s what makes Naruto’s popularity, the lack of clear distinctions between certain villains and certain good guys, whose main difference is in their motivation and most of it all their allegiance. Basically if you’re in Konoha you’re good, otherwise you’re not, no matter what you do.

The main reason that makes me think this is the way manga industry works. If you didn’t read the manga Bakuman I recommend it, it’s a realistic story about becoming a mangaka, and it explains very well the manga industry, the relationship between author and editor, how a mangaka plans their story, how much they depends on weekly reader polls, and why they affect a manga/story arc to be changed or dragged on or ended earlier than intended. Knowing this explains a lot of things, like why certain characters are first given space but then forgotten or put in the background, like Team Taka or even Kakashi, when his popularity was outshining Naruto’s in part1.

No one will ever know kishi’s creative process (or lack of) for sure. From his interviews and “author notes” in the manga books he gives me the impression of being an average writer with average ideas, who was greatly helped by his staff, who improved thanks to them, and who revealed his value, or lack of, with an ending that defining below average would be a compliment. It’s known that his editor suggested Sasuke’s creation and concept, so he might be behind Itachi’s as well.

I don’t think that Itachi wasn’t well flashed out at first, like most characters. A seemingly good character betraying their loved one and turning to the dark side, but then revealing that they were just trying to protect them, isn’t a unique trope that only happened in Naruto, even Gin from Bleach had a similar backstory, only less detailed and poignant. I’m sure there are others, although I doubt that they’re as heartbreaking and tragic. Editors and authors brainstorm and plan long ahead of the moment a chapter is out: they might have given Itachi a mysterious aura because it was cool, but it’s more likely that they came up with some vague “what if it turns out that Sasuke’s brother had always been a good guy? In fact he wanted to protect him?” then filed the idea for when it would be needed. Mangakas must keep the most doors open, in case things don’t go as well as they hope, or in case tey go better than they expect. Maybe if the inn scene hadn’t gotten a positive response from the readers they would have given less space to Itachi in the future, just like, if Taka had gotten a more positive response they would have had more space and the whole “savior” Sasuke narrative would have happened.

Shifting the narration to highlight the Uchiha clan, adding Tobi/Madara and revealing Itachi as a good character, was one of the best moves kishi made. Danzo had already been introduced as evil, blaming him for the massacre was perfect because it tied loose ends, it gave Itachi a new tragic layer and it gave Sasuke another reason to move, and with him the story gained a new arc, more than one actually. Not to mention it became deeper and more thought provoking.

#Anonymous #anti-kishimoto #anti-ending #vivalarevolution #vivalarevolution: in his defense

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techcrunchappcom · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/how-messaging-technology-is-helping-fuel-global-protests-technology-news-ettech/

How messaging technology is helping fuel global protests, Technology News, ETtech

Representative image only/Image Source: Joe Burbank/Orlando Sentinel via AP

When a friend shared a Facebook post with Michelle Burris inviting her to protest in downtown Washington, D.C., last Saturday, she knew she had to go. So she bought a Black Lives Matter mask from a street vendor before marching the streets of the district with a “No Justice, No Peace” sign.

After that march ended, she pulled up details on Instagram for a car caravan demonstration just a few blocks away. “It was extremely powerful, not only Facebook but Instagram,” Burris said. “It was very easy to mobilize.”

Protesters are using a variety of technology tools to organize rallies, record police violence and communicate during the marches sweeping the U.S. and other countries following the death of George Floyd. Some of that involves secure messaging services like WhatsApp, Signal and Telegram, which can encrypt messages to thwart spies. Those apps, along with others for listening to police scanners and recording video, are enjoying an uptick in popularity.

But experts say convenience and reach are key. “Reaching as many people as possible is the number one criterion for which platform someone is going to use,” said Steve Jones, a University of Illinois at Chicago media researcher who studies communication technology.

That means Twitter, Facebook and Facebook-owned Instagram remain the easiest ways for people to organize and document the mass protests. Facebook’s tools remain popular despite a barrage of criticism over the platform’s inaction after President Donald Trump posted a message that suggested protesters in Minneapolis could be shot.

“I don’t want to support or be a part of something that is possibly supporting Trump and his racist, hate filed spew,” said Sarah Wildman, who’s been to three protests in Atlanta and has used Instagram exclusively to locate and to document the demonstrations she attended. But she said she feels that, at this point, “the benefits of Instagram outweigh not using it.”

Half a century ago during the civil rights protests, Jones said, it was almost impossible to know what was going on during a protest. “There was a lot of rumor, a lot of hearsay,” he said. “Now you can reach everyone almost instantaneously.”

Wildman said she uses Instagram’s “live” function to find out what is happening during protests, especially when protesters in the back might not know what’s happening at the front. At one, she said, people started yelling that police were using tear gas – but it wasn’t true, which she learned by checking Instagram.

Organizers are also using Telegram, an app that allows private messages to be sent to thousands of people at once, creating channels for specific cities to give updates on protest times and locations, as well as updates on where police are making arrests or staging. One New York City Telegram channel for the protests grew from just under 300 subscribers on Monday to nearly 2,500 by Friday.

During a peaceful rally in Providence, Rhode Island, on Friday, Anjel Newmann, 32, said that while she’s mostly using Instagram and Facebook to organize, younger people are using Snapchat. The main problem: It’s hard to tell which online flyers are legitimate. “That’s one of the things we haven’t figured out yet,” she said. “There was a flyer going around saying this was canceled today.”

The simplicity of shooting and sharing video has also made possible recordings of violence that can spread to millions within moments. A smartphone video of Floyd’s death helped spark the broad outrage that led to the protests.

Apps like Signal are seeing an uptick in downloads according to Apptopia, which tracks such data. Signal was downloaded 37,000 times over the weekend in the U.S., it said, more than at any other point since it launched in 2014. Other private messaging apps, such as Telegram and Wickr, have not seen a similar uptick.

One new user is Toby Anderson, 30, who also attended the Providence rally on Friday. Anderson, who is biracial, said he downloaded the encrypted Signal app several days earlier at the request of his mom. “She’s a black woman in America,” he said, worried about his safety and eager to grasp any additional measure of security she could.

Meanwhile, apps like Police Scanner and 5-0 Police Scanner, which allow anyone to listen to live police dispatch chatter – and may be illegal in some states – racked up 213,000 downloads over the weekend, Apptopia said. That is 125% more than the weekend before and a record for the category. Citizen, which sends real-time alerts and lets users post live video of protests and crime scenes, was downloaded 49,000 times.

On the down side, the Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism said in a blog post this week that it has found white nationalists using Telegram to try to wreak havoc during the protests.

“Some, especially those in the accelerationist camp, are celebrating the prospect of increased violence, which they hope will lead to a long-promised ‘race war,'” the ADL said Monday. “They are extremely active online, urging other white supremacists to take full advantage of the moment.”

In one Telegram channel, the ADL found, participants suggested murdering protesters, then spreading rumors to blame the deaths on police snipers.

Others want to further exacerbate racial tensions. “Good time to stroke race relations” and “post black live’s don’t matter stickers,” a user posted – with misspellings – to the Reformthestates Telegram channel, according to the ADL.

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#Technology

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ghostbustermelanieking · 8 years ago

Text

joy to the world

prompt: mulder and scully get william back as a baby/toddler

They've grown apart in the recent weeks.

The first few days were a whirlwind of time on the run, in the car. Suffocating space, Scully clutching his hand in both of hers over the console. Pressed together under hotel comforters, holding each other tightly. They didn't talk about their son, and it was okay. Their son remains the inevitable ghost between them, even though he is not dead. There are so many dead people between them - the dead are not lost to us, he said, and they aren’t, but William is not dead and is lost. He’s out there somewhere, and the selfish part of Mulder is angry. The selfless part is glad he is safe above all else. But the selfish part wins out too often. He wants to know, wants him back.

They didn’t talk about their son, and then Mulder made the mistake of asking about him one night, when they were sitting on the bed together, curled into each other. Because he wants to know. He immediately wished he hadn’t. The things left unsaid between them hung heavy, but at least they were still void, thoughtless ideas. Now it was real and solidified. They had to face it.

Her jaw had clenched and she huddled back against the hotel pillows, away from him. She let go of his hand. “I can't talk about that,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

“Scully, please…” he tried, his voice thinning out. (He didn't - doesn't - blame her, but he couldn't stop picturing his son. In the hands of cultists. Monsters who want him dead. Blood on the pillow. And the inevitable question: is he really safe?) “I need to know…”

“I can't,” she said fiercely. “I can’t do it, Mulder. Please don’t ask me about him again.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked into the bathroom without another word. He could hear her crying through the door a few minutes later. He didn't try to comfort her. He didn't know what he could say that would comfort her, and a very small part of him resented her. His son. He'd never see his son again. He didn't know what to say.

So they've grown apart, because he asked and she had no answer. Because he left and left and she had no choice. Because she gave away his son while he was gone. There's a chasm, and Mulder has no idea how to repair it. He loves her, needs her. But the resentment is there, in both of them, and he doesn't know how to get past it.

He doesn't know if they can.

---

The Van de Kamps and their temporary son. Now there's some shit that can go on a holiday card.

They (the Van de Kamps) have been the protectors for such a long time that they would've suspected that the kids would start to run together at this point. But they've remembered all of their (temporary) kids by name, age, personality. They are halfway parents, foster parents in the fight for the apocalypse, and they house the experiments, the abductees. The children of abductees.

“I didn't mean to get attached to him,” Lillian Van de Kamp says quietly one night when she's feeding William Scully, another one of their temporary children.

Her husband kisses the top of her head, squeezing her shoulder. “You never do, hon,” he says softly. “But we both do it anyway. I know it's hard.”

They never intended to be this, temporary caretakers for the fighters of a government conspiracy. But that was before Lillian’s cousin, one Susanne Modeski, disappeared off the face of the earth. She reappeared years later and told them her story. What was going on in the government. What they could do to stop it. And the Van de Kamps, quiet Wyoming farmers with boring lives, had agreed.

Lillian and Susanne had been as close as sisters growing up. She couldn't deny her anything. “This is important, Toby,” she'd told her husband the night they'd decided. “We can make a difference in the world. Save people.”

Toby had been sitting on the floor, looking at the papers Susanne had brought. The proof. “Jesus Christ, Lil,” he'd muttered. “What are we getting ourselves into?”

“You don't want to do it?” she asked him from the bed.

“Of course I want to do it,” he sighed. And so they did.

They couldn't do much - they were untrained, better to stay off the radar and out of suspicion. But their isolation worked in their favor. So the Van de Kamp farm became a safe house - for fugitives from the shadowy Syndicate, mainly. A lot of kids who didn’t have anyone to keep them safe. Lillian had guest rooms made over with fluffy beds and toys and books, like she was a favorite aunt with a rotating number of nieces and nephews. (That's how she thought of herself, at least. It helped. It helped a little.)

They hadn't had any guests for a while when Susanne called. Her fiance and his two best friends, she said, had just faked their deaths and dropped off the map. The ones who knew Fox Mulder, of MUFON fame, and whose current whereabouts were unknown. They'd gotten intel that Mulder's son was in constant danger. And that his mother, Dana Scully (of similar MUFON fame), was planning to give him up for adoption to keep him safe. “John doesn't think it's a good idea,” Susanne said. “He says Scully isn't thinking straight - and besides that, it's unlikely that the child will be safer with a family who has no idea how to protect him. Frohike and Langly say they can hack into the adoption agency's mainframe and put your name on the waiting list and bump you up so you'll be the ones to adopt William. Temporarily, at least. Will you take him?”

Lillian had leaned against the kitchen counter hard, twisting the phone cord around her finger. A baby. She wondered if it'd be any easier to let go if it was a baby. Probably not, she rationalized, but that wasn't going to stop her. “Of course,” she said. “Tell me what we need to do.”

There were certain benefits to being a part of this unofficial project, including guaranteed protection if/when the apocalypse struck. There were also certain painful things involve. Lillian and Toby bought a crib for their temporary baby. Toys, clothes, baby food stocking their fridge. They took on the persona of parents about to adopt a baby boy. (Toby even put on the act of being concerned that the birth mother gave him up, an extra little flair.) And so it went. William Scully moved into their house, and Lillian tried her best to be a good aunt/temporary mother figure.

(“You're not staying here forever,” she told William firmly his first night. “You're going back to your parents eventually.”

“Gaaa,” he'd replied, tugging a handful of her shirt. And that was that.)

The MUFON chat rooms would be buzzing if they knew that Fox Mulder and Dana Scully's son was staying in their house. Agents Mulder and Scully are practically celebrities in the MUFON community, and the lore concerning their son is plentiful. “This kid has got so many powers, I'm surprised he's not Jesus,” Toby had joked when doing research on him, and Lillian had shot him a glare from the doorway. But William isn't the Messiah, or anything resembling it. He's just William. A normal kid like Toby’s sister's kids. A kid who likes to play and listen to old music and crawl around the living room. A kid who might be in danger, but who is still a kid. Lillian is a bit starstruck at first (okay, yes, she's done her research on the famed X-Files), but it fades quickly. They fall into some sort of normal. They've done this a thousand times before, but it doesn't get any easier. It's impossible not to love him, like it's impossible not to love all the other kids that come through. They just… do.

One night, they are watching the news and it is announced that former FBI agent Fox Mulder has been arrested for the murder of a military man. “Oh my God!” Lillian gasps, dropping her knitting.

Toby is bouncing William on his knee. When he sees the screen, he says, “There's your dad, kid,” in an affectionate tone. William gnaws his finger in reply.

“Toby,” Lillian says, part disapproving and part concerned, gathering the tangle of yarn in her lap. Susanne and John Byers had told them that William would only be with them until they could locate Mulder and reunite him with Agent Scully when it was safe. “What does this mean?” If Mulder's arrested - or god forbid, executed - that won't be possible. William would need to stay.

Toby’s silent for a minute. “I don't know, Lil,” he says finally. He strokes William's downy head. “But you know us. We'll go with the flow.”

A week and a half later, the news is announcing Death Row Criminal Fox Mulder's Mysterious Escape From Federal Prison (Former Partner and Mother of His Child, Dana Scully, Also Missing), and Lillian feels a thunk of something between relief and disappointment in the pit of her stomach. “You'll be going home soon,” she whispers to the top of William's head, trying to push aside her tangled emotions.

And sure enough, Susanne is showing up at their doorstep a few weeks later. “John says it's safe,” she tells them in the kitchen, when Toby has William in the high chair and a spoonful of pureed carrots in his mouth. “I've come to take him back to Mulder and Scully.”

William squeals, as if he knows what's going on, and knocks the baby food over. Lillian blinks like she's surprised.

She's used to this, she's packed up more than one kid, made them a sandwich and kissed their heads and sent them into the dark with mysterious Susanne. But William is so little. I didn't mean to get attached to him, she had said, and Toby had said, I know, hon. But she did, of course. She did.

“I'm coming with you,” she says. “I want to make sure he gets to his parents safe.”

Susanne barely bats an eye, tells her to make sure to get the gun. Toby wants to argue, though, follows her into William's room while she packs his things. “Hon, are you sure…” he starts, uncertainly.

“I need to do this, Tobe.” She folds onesie after onesie.

His hand brushes her hip. “Lil, you're not his mother,” he says softly.

Technically, I should be, she thinks darkly. His mother gave him up, even if it was for his safety. Even if she is Dana Scully. She might not want him. I want him, the same way I've wanted every kid before him to stay forever. I want to raise him. I want to knit him mittens.

“I know,” she finally replies. “But I owe him something. I can do this. I can see this through.”

Her husband wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his head in the space between her shoulder blades. “We'll be parents someday,” he mumbles. “And right now, we're making a difference. You know we are. These kids need us.”

She kisses the fleshy spot below his thumb. “I know,” she whispers. She takes his hand and squeezes it. “Go feed William. It'll be a long trip.”

Lillian Van de Kamp packs clothes, toys, his favorite pacifier that his mother sent with him, in a tiny suitcase. She dresses William in the UFO onesie he'd worn his first night here (she has a love of the ironic) and a hat covered in stars. She lets Toby say goodbye at the door and straps the baby into his car seat. I'll take care of you, she thinks. All the way to the end.

---

Lillian knits all the way to Delaware. She's making William mittens. She and Susanne and William stay in several hotel rooms. They stop at the sights briefly, and Lillian holds William up so he can see. He waves his fist excitedly at every single one.

They find Fox Mulder at a convenience store in the middle of the night three days later. He's dressed nothing like his pictures, bearded and worn jacket instead of suit and neat haircut, shoulders slumped. Defeated. Lillian holds William on her hip and watches him from the car. There's your daddy, she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. She just now wonders if he's a good father.

“This is the best chance we'll have, “ Susanne is whispering, pulling her sleeve. “Let's go…”

Lillian climbs out of the car with the baby on her hip and her purse with a gun inside dangling from one arm. She follows Fox Mulder quietly. He doesn't turn back to look at her, heads straight to his car with a brown paper bag in his arms. Maybe he's used to being followed. “Agent Fox Mulder?” she calls.

The paper bag hits the ground. The cornered man has his gun pulled on her before she can blink twice. But his eyes widen when he turns and sees the baby. His hands tremble.

“Don'tshoot,” Lillian gasps. Her arms tighten around William. “I'm on your side, it's okay. Please don't shoot.”

Mulder wordlessly drops the gun. His eyes are fixated on the baby. William gurgles and tucks a handful of her hair. She sways slightly to try and keep him calm, keeping her eyes on Mulder. “I'm on your side,” she repeats. “I've been keeping your son safe for you.”

Mulder is nearly trembling. “My son?” he repeats softly. A question.

Susanne materializes at her side. “I can vouch for Lil, Agent Mulder,” she says. “She's my cousin.”

Mulder's eyes swivel, somewhat reluctantly, to Susanne. “Susanne Modeski?” he asks, dumbfounded. “What… how the hell?”

“It's a long story,” she says. “I have confirmation you can trust us, though. Old friends.”

Susanne steps closer and passes Mulder a cell phone. Cautiously, he takes it and brings it to his ear, saying, “Hello?” He listens to a minute before laughing tearfully. “Fuck you, I thought you were dead,” he mumbles, a small smile breaking out on his face. “All of you are all right? All of you?” He sighs. “Thank fuck. I thought… I should've known you bastards were behind it all. Scully's going to be so relieved…” His voice cracks and he stops. His eyes are riveted on William once again. He has some look of awe and immense relief on his face.

Mulder talks on the phone for a few more minutes before hanging up and passing the phone back to Susanne. “The guys…” He stops, voice shaking, and clears his throat before starting again. “The guys said we could trust you. They said…” He's addressing Lillian directly now. “They said you and your husband took care of William. That you kept him safe.”

“We did,” Lillian says. She strokes William's head, unable to help herself. “It was our pleasure.”

Mulder's eyes slip closed. “I don't know how to thank you,” he whispers.

“Thank you… for fighting what's right. To keep people safe.” This is the correct answer. And this would be the correct time to hand William over, but she's afraid she won't be able to. That she won’t be able to let go. But Agent Mulder is watching her, almost has his arms held out expectantly. She presses a long kiss to William's head (which is probably impolite, but she doesn't particularly care) before handing him over.

Mulder cradles him gingerly, like he's afraid William will break, but the love is there, visible and immense, on his face. “He's so big,” he mutters lovingly. “I haven't seen him since he was three days old.”

Lillian tries to be selfless. She reaches out and touches William's soft cheek. “Mr. Mulder,” she says. “I know it can't be easy to think about other people taking care of your son. But understand that we would do anything for William, if needed. And if it's ever not safe again… if William or you or William's mother ever need somewhere to go, to hide… know that any of you are welcome at our farm.” She means it. Sincerely.

Mulder presses his nose into his son's head and thanks her again. He's still trembling, but he holds his son close. William looks slightly confused, but not uncomfortable. He pats his father's shoulder with a tiny hand. Lillian tries not to cry.

Susanne quickly transfers the suitcases to Mulder's car, and Lillian moves the car seat and demonstrates to Mulder how to strap him in. Mulder looks embarrassed at his parental incompetence. “His mother will know how…” he explains sheepishly. “I'll get better. I want to do right by him.”

“I know you do,” Lillian says. She thinks she finally feels better about leaving William. He'll be in good hands.

Mulder checks on William about ten times before shaking Susanne’s and Lillian’s hands. “I don't know how to thank you,” he keeps saying.

“John says that they'll be in touch,” Susanne says. Her engagement ring glints in the dim streetlamps. “He says there's things to discuss, later. Right now you and Scully need to get to safety.”

“Right, right,” Mulder says. He checks on William one more time before climbing into the front seat and pulling away. Lillian suddenly notices he forgot his groceries.

She goes back to knitting in the car. Something for the next kid that will grace her doorstep. She will move on, eventually. But still, tears sting the corner of her eyes.

Susanne’s phone rings and she talks as she drives. Lillian tries not to listen. Knit one purl two. “Got another kid for you, Lil,” Susanne says when she hangs up. “Permanent this time.”

Lillian’s heart flutters in her chest. “Permanent?” she whispers, not daring to hope.

“Older kid named Gibson Praise. You've probably heard of him - the chess prodigy who can read minds. His parents have no interest in him, and he needs a stable home. I told John we had a safe place for him.”

A permanent resident. An older kid, sure, but one who might not have to leave in the middle of the night. Someone else to help. Someone they might could be parents to. It's something.

Lillian smiles broadly, yarn tangling around her fingers. “Of course. Of course you do.”

---

Mulder drives probably more careful than he's ever driven in his life. He looks constantly back at William, who seems content strapped into his car seat. Not scared. Mulder, however, is terrified. Terrified of hurting his son. Terrified of fucking this up. Terrified that someone will come to take him away from them. He doesn’t think he could handle losing his son again.

His hands shake the entire way back to the hotel, and they don't quite stop until he gets out of the car and rounds it to scoop William up into his arms. The kid looks slightly suspicious, but exhaustion outweighs it and he rests his head against Mulder's shoulder wearily. Mulder kisses his small furrowed forehead. “Your mom's right inside,” he whispers.

“Maaaa.”

“Uh-huh. She's missed you.” He rubs William's little back. “I've missed you, too, buddy,” he whispers. “So much.” William tips his head onto Mulder's collarbone and looks at up with Scully's bright blue eyes. Mulder kisses him again before turning towards the shabby hotel room.

Scully is asleep in a tangle of blankets when he gets in, dark hair just barely visible over the dusty comforter. “Scully,” Mulder whispers, trying not to scare William. “Hey, Scully, it's me.”

“Mmf,” she mutters, not looking up. “Not now, Mulder. I'm exhausted.”

“Scully…” he tries.

“I can't do this right now!” Her voice snaps across the room, loud and angry, and William jolts in surprise, eyes wide. He whimpers, loud enough to hear, and Scully freezes. Mulder can't see her face, but he can tell she's awake. Knows she's heard the sound and recognized it. Their son.

“Scully,” he says again, softer. “I've got William here with me.”

The comforter moves, Scully shoving it aside and struggling to sit up. “William?” she whispers tearfully, searching the room, eyes full of terror.

Mulder approaches the bed carefully. “William,” he confirms. “He's right here, Scully, he's just fine.”

She sniffles, sitting up on the bed. Her eyes are fixed on William, but she makes no move to take him. “How?” she whispers. “Mulder, what…”

“His guardians were allies of ours. Cousin of Susanne Modeski, remember her, Scully… Scully, the Gunmen are alive. I talked to them.” She covers her mouth with one hand, a tear trickling down her cheek. “They kept him safe for us,” Mulder says softly. “And then they brought him here.”

Scully reaches for him all at once and Mulder shifts him forward. William still looks confused for a split second before he recognizes her - she's dyed her hair, but underneath it all she is still Scully, still his mother - and he eagerly snuggles into her. Scully is crying, about two steps away from hysterical, and hugging him tightly. She kisses him again and again, whispering his name to the top of his head: “William, William, William…”

“Mama,” William says, tugging Scully's t-shirt in his tiny fist. “Mamama…”

Scully sniffles, pressing her nose to his head. “Scully,” Mulder whispers, touching her hair. “Scully…” He leans in to kiss her forehead, cupping William's head in his palm. (He can't believe they're both here.) “Was that… were those… was that his first word?”

Scully sniffles again. “It's not his first word,” she whispers, rocking William. The mattress ripples with their motions. “He's just babbling… and whether it is or it isn't, I wouldn't know, Mulder, because I haven't seen him for months… I gave him away. God. I gave him away.”

He's crying, too, his eyes and nose burning. “Shh,” he tries to soothe, wrapping his arms around them both. Scully tucks her head into the crook of his neck, still clutching William tightly, and William leans back into his chest with ease. “It's okay, Scully,” he whispers.

She's shaking with the force of her sobs. “Don't you realize, Mulder, that if the, the Gunmen or whoever hadn't interfered that we never would've seen him again? Our son. And it's my fault… I sent him away, my god.” A prayer to God or to William, he isn't sure. But she is asking forgiveness either way.

“You just wanted to keep him safe,” Mulder whispers. William's little nose is turned into his chest, and the small contact makes him want to shatter. He sniffles. “You can't… can't fault yourself for that.”

“I regretted it,” Scully says. Her shoulders tremble under his arms. “As soon as that social worker took him away, I regretted it… I wanted to tell her to come back, that I'd changed my mind…”

“I know, I know.” He cups the back of her head, stroking her hair with his thumbs.

“You resented me,” she mumbles. “You blamed me, I know you did.”

It's true. He doesn't want to say it, but it's true. “He's here now,” he says instead.

“So it's easy for you to forgive me because you don't have to face what I did.”

“I would've forgiven you either way,” he says, and he would've. He would've, eventually - maybe because he needed her and he didn't have a choice, but he would've. “It was as much my fault as yours. I left you. I left you. You didn't have a choice. We both fucked up, but it's in the past. We can't change it. And he's here now. What happened before doesn't matter because he's here and he's just fine.” He pulls back a little bit to kiss the top of William's head. His tears dot his son's downy hair. “He's perfect, Scully. Look what we did.” Mulder thumbs a tear away from the corner of her eye.

“He's so perfect,” Scully whispers. “I never should've let him go.”

“It's okay.” He strokes her cheek. “It's over now. We can put it behind us and move on.”

“Mulder…”

“I love you.” He kisses her, slowly, on the mouth, and then William again on the top of the head. “I forgive you. William forgives you. It's okay.”

Scully sniffles, kisses him before lowering her face back to William's head. “I'm so sorry, baby,” she whispers. “I'm so, so sorry.”

“Mama,” says William, patting her face. Scully laughs a tear-choked laugh and scoots backwards on the bed to lean against the pillows. Mulder crawls in beside her, wrapping his arms back around her. Scully leans into him. He holds her and she holds their son and they sit there like that for a long, long time.

William dozes off sweetly on his mother's chest, little fingers tangled into her hair. Scully falls asleep, too, her head lolling against Mulder's shoulder. Mulder arranges the blankets over them. It's one of the more peaceful moments in his life. And the happiest - definitely one of the happiest. He loves them both so much it hurts. It seems, in the moment, like the entire world, right here in this hotel room. His whole family.

It was hard to decide how to portray the Van de Kamps here, since I wanted to do it in a way that was fair to them. Making them allies who were keeping William safe seemed like the smartest route. It was interesting to explore this alternative possibility and characterize the VDKs as such.

#i wrote this #xf fanfic

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whispersafterdusk · 5 years ago

Text

Lost in Time - ch 11

With Stewart's list of names and locations they were able to carefully separate out who they could confidently identify and those thirteen persons were given a plot in Portia's graveyard separate from the mass grave that was being dug outside of the city gates.

Sophie had loaned them a wagon and McDonald loaned a large draft horse Eli had nicknamed Bruiser; when the big grave was dug and the headstone had been carved and placed (a joint effort between Gust, Selene, and Higgins) it then took eight trips to get all the skeletal remains out of the facility and into the ground.

Giving a eulogy wasn't something Eli had ever seen herself doing...honestly (and she had even discussed this exact topic with Darren) she'd assumed that the rest of her family would outlive her. Being a ranger carried a lot of risk and that risk had only grown as things had started breaking down across the nations. There were a lot of things she'd mentally filed in the "probably going to kill me" category and because of that she'd tried to approach everything with the same level of caution; it was a thought she carried with her everywhere - that her family and friends may eventually be planning her funeral, no matter how careful she was. And now, three hundred years in the future...here she was, planning THEIRS. ((Continued below cut)))

When it came to death, sudden or otherwise, the Three decreed that the deceased's story be shared where possible; funerals were long affairs with dozens of family members and friends chosen to speak on the dead's behalf. All of existence would remember that person whether there were people gathered to remember or not but it was a comforting measure to have everyone together "sharing the pages," as it was called: sharing their memories of that person's life story. She could do that for Darren, and for her squad mates...but everyone else were all people she didn't know, and she was the only one left alive who could speak for them. And even if she'd known each and every one of them it would take her months to do their stories justice.

There was also the (depressing) fact that it hadn't just been those in the facility that had died here.

There was no way to tell how many had perished in the orbital attacks, and Portia was built upon the ruins of Dubei in general. If she was going to properly put the dead to rest she should speak not only of Darren and her squad and those in the facility but of all of Dubei's residents who had died too. And what of all the people outside of Dubei?

It was one thing to write about and remember someone you'd known and loved dearly but how could you remember a city and everyone in it? How did you properly eulogize an entire world? What details should be included to give even a glimpse of all those lives that had existed and now lay buried somewhere beneath their feet? Wasn't she sort of doing that already just by answering random questions? Every answer was a part of a story of the past even if she was just giving a quick response to something as simple as a question about breakfast foods. With everything gone wouldn't even the smallest detail be important to the whole picture?

It was confusing and painful and tiring. And she only had two days to figure it out and get it written.

One small silver lining at the moment was Stewart had taken over answering most of the scholars's questions; with power restored his central intercom system was back online and, so long as the audio equipment (usually in the ceilings of every room) was still functional, he was able to listen in and attend to them without needing to physically be in the room. That meant Eli, Selene, Merlin, and Petra were free to roam about and do minor repairs as well as hunt down the closets and rooms that Stewart's logs showed should still have things in it. Depending on what they found Eli was determined to try and cobble together a couple of things (even a self-contained Hi-Def would be welcome) but also they needed to know what they had to work with if they were going to have any chance of moving Stewart out of here. If she could find a multi-screen, or even a teleportation module, and a couple of solar detectors and a battery mount...

It was a lot easier to get distracted by what she could potentially do compared to what she needed to do.

Whatever. She needed a break.

She had a little notebook (a gift from Selene) that she'd been carrying around for most of the day; her hope had been inspiration of some sort would strike and she'd know exactly which words to use and what order everything should go in...so far though there'd been nothing, and the notebook was still in the breast pocket of her jacket when she walked into the Round Table.

"Evening there, Eli." Django was at the front counter stacking up some dirty plates - whoever had eaten there was already gone, and the restaurant was mosty empty as well.

"Evening. Without meaning to sound weird, what do you have for alcohol these days?"

The man chuckled and moved the plates into a small bin that he then sat behind the counter. "Been that kind of day, huh?"

Eli nodded and settled on one of the bar stools. "Been that kind of...however long I've been awake, if I'm being honest."

"I don't think anyone will blame you for that. Let's see... We have some Duvos Winter Punch. It's fairly weak in both alcohol and taste - I'm not the biggest fan of it but there's a fair few here in town that love it. I've got some plain vodka I can add to some juice or the bitter melon mix, and a couple bottles left of the Barnarock Black beer - stuff's so thick you could chew it. Doesn't help you now but come spring I'll make a couple batches of snakeberry wine if you wanted me to save you a bottle. Portia's folks don't really drink much so it's not something I keep on hand in large quantities...usually goes bad before the entire bottle or jug gets finished."

Eli nodded - technically she wasn't much of a drinker either so she could understand the sentiment. "Fair enough. I'll give the Barnarock stuff a try. What kind of meaty dish would you suggest I get with it?"

Django rubbed his chin and didn't immediately answer. "...specifically meaty? I'd go with my braised meat bowl - all the flavors should pair up nicely, haha."

She smiled at that. "I shall trust the master. -- oh, and could I also get the bamboo and egg thing too? I think that's becoming a favorite."

"Can do," was his reply. He took the bin of dishes and disappeared into the back of the restaurant.

She watched him go; he'd mentioned before that there was a game room in the back, and she assumed behind that was the kitchen area. Maybe a couple games of...whatever was there, would help lift her mood. Or provide another distraction, or maybe it'd be mindless enough she could play while also thinking on the other things - any of those options seemed acceptable.

She couldn't see Sonia anywhere but the pink-haired young man she usually saw her talking to was here; he was sitting with Albert and a bespectacled man she recognized from the Commerce Guild but hadn't actually met yet so she wasn't certain on his name. As she turned back around to the counter the doors opened and Arlo and Asher came in; both of them had spent the day down in the facility helping Merlin and Petra carry around tools as well as carrying out the rest of the medical texts and manuals while Eli had been helping Selene replace a faulty speaker.

There was a clear questioning look on Asher's face and in response she jerked her head toward the stools to her right; the man immediately accepted the invitation and sat down, and after a moment to consider Arlo followed suit but sat on the stool to her left, sandwiching her between them.

"Evening, you two." Django had returned already and sat an amber-colored single serve bottle on the counter in front of her. "Your order'll be up in a few moments. What are you two having?"

"My usual," came Arlo's reply.

"No idea yet," was Asher's. The stool creaked under him as he reached to tug a battered menu toward himself.

Eli gingerly grabbed the bottle and looked it over; it was chill to the touch and already forming condensation, and the cap was thankfully a screw-top. It didn't take much to twist it open and she idly shuffled the bottle cap around between the fingers of her free hand as she took her first sip; it was a smooth taste - chocolatey, along with a faint nutty undertone. Beer wasn't her usual go-to alcoholic drink but this one wasn't all that bad.

Django waited until she'd swallowed. "So I hear you've made a deal with Martha and Toby."

She sat the bottle back on the counter, chuckling a bit. "Yeah, you could say that. The plan is to dissuade him from the adventuring life."

"I don't think that's the result you're going to get," Django laughed. "I'm told all he's done these last few days is talk about it."

Arlo glanced over to her curiously. "What deal?"

"I told him if he got top grades for two quarters - or however long half a school year is nowadays - that I'd teach him a few things. His mom is wanting to put an end to the adventuring fixation so I'll be making it as boring and difficult as possible."

Beside her Asher snorted; he didn't look up from the menu but was clearly listening in. "Think you could teach the rest of us a thing or two in the meantime?"

"...such as?"

Asher flipped the menu closed and put it back on the pile on the counter. "I'll have an order of the creamy noodles with bacon and a half order of the mapo tofu please." He then turned his attention to Eli. "Anything, really. I know I'm not the only one curious about what it was like back then, being a soldier."

"I think I'd be interested in that too," Arlo said into the pause that followed. "I'm always looking for better ways to train and become stronger."

Eli looked between the two of them; how was it going to look to Toby if she was teaching actual adventurers? Maybe she could shuffle his attention to the Civil Corps instead... "Uh. Well. Sure? I guess? Assuming you boys get top marks on your homework too."

She grinned at them, and all three men started laughing; after catching his breath Django then excused himself and headed off to take care of the orders. Eli took another sip of the beer before continuing. "-but in all seriousness, I can, yes. But you're not going to like it. I'm not sure I'm ready to torpedo any friendships yet."

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Asher asked.

"The basic training for rank and file wasn't too terrible. The training for a ranger though...that'll probably have you cursing my name up, down, and sideways."

"I'm willing to risk it," Arlo replied. "And I doubt there's anything you can make me do that would ruin a friendship."

"Uh huh," Asher said, chuckling faintly. "His pride can take a stomping unlike anything you've seen."

Arlo's face flushed bright red and he let out a small huff; it was clear Asher hadn't meant anything malicious by it but whatever history he was alluding to had definitely stung.

"Right, well," Eli hurried on, trying to dispel the sudden awkward silence. "Before I can train anyone else I need to get myself back to normal. I'm getting there but it'll probably be a few months yet before I'm satisfied." She glanced over to Asher again. "How long are you out here?"

"At least another two months. Mali was wanting to rotate us out when the scholars were ready to head back to Atara for a break -- it's looking like you won't need all five of us for too much longer anyway so I'm not sure what she might be planning now. I know if I tell her I want to stay for the long haul she won't mind though."

"Is Mali your leader, then?"

"Not officially but she's well known in the guild and has a knack for picking the right people for the right job. And usually she's the one who runs the yearly entrance exams for prospective members."

Asher ever-so-slightly leaned forward to glance toward Arlo and Eli now had an inkling as to what the 'history' was. "So what you're saying is she can't make you stay or go, more or less."

"Pretty much. I'll only be paid out to the estimated end of the contract I agreed to, which ends in two months, but I could easily stay out here another four months beyond that if I wanted before I'd need to go back home to stock back up on pocket money." He paused as Django came back with Eli's order, giving the food an appraising eye. "...I probably should've ordered that. Anyway - I do kind of like it out here. And it'd be well worth the stay if I get to learn something new."

"I guarantee I will run you off in a week," Eli said, laughing a bit as she picked up her fork. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

She picked at her food and only really tucked in once the other two had theirs brought over; for one brief moment she could imagine she was in the mess hall elbow to elbow with her squad. It was a bittersweet thought and reminded her of what she still had to write; suddenly the beer and the food didn't taste so great.

Before her mood dipped too far though the door opened again and Adam came in; he was a short, wiry man with bushy, bright red eyebrows and a shaved head. She could track his gaze as he scanned the room briefly before marching up to them at the counter. "Oi, Arlo - question. Do you Corps folks patrol at night?"

"Not always. Why?"

"A'right, lemme rephrase: did you have any patrols scheduled for tonight?"

"What's up?" Asher asked, pushing himself back from the counter.

"Greg's certain he saw someone at the far edge of the marsh looking 'is way. We need to know if it's one of your folks or not."

Arlo shook his head and then stood. "No, it's not one of ours. Where did he see this person?"

"Said out to the east. Cliffs."

Out to the east...from what she remembered of maps of the area there wasn't much out to the east and not really a way to get over to the far side of the lake unless you crossed the western bridge near the tree farm. "That's not a place someone could get to easily from this side. Has there been any sign of tracks passing through the sink hole area?"

Adam shook his head. "Neither hair nor hide. Only ones we've seen out there have come from us."

Arlo sighed, crossing his arms as his brow furrowed in thought. "If this person was seen on the cliffs they probably came from the north somewhere. Would explain why there's no new tracks."

"Whoever it was wasn't paying attention and got himself silhouetted against the moon. Greg wouldn't have spotted 'im otherwise."

Asher shoved a forkful of tofu into his mouth and then stood, digging for gols. "Hate to eat and run but this is something I ought to be helping with," he mumbled through the mouthful.

Django held up a hand. "No worries - I'll bag it up and have it waiting for you. Assuming you mean to come back."

"Yeah, that works," Asher replied. He strode toward the door and Adam spun to follow at his heels.

Arlo also dropped money on the counter. "Same for me - I'll be back soon."

Eli was already over halfway done with her food; the beer would go flat, but oh well. "I may as well head out with them. Tracking is one of my talents."

Django chuckled as she too paid and then headed out the door after the men; the moon wasn't completely full but it was bright enough in the cloudless sky that they didn't need any extra light to make it back to the sinkhole and camp. Greg was crouched near the edge of the tent, partially hidden in the shadows near one of its corner poles, and was looking out toward the east with a pair of binoculars.

"Seen 'em again?" Adam asked.

Greg lowered the binoculars but didn't turn toward them - from Eli's point of view he was hardly more than a puffy coat and fluffy woolen cap. "Not since I spotted them the first time. Whoever it was backed up and disappeared over the bluff's edge."

Asher looked around. "Where's Mali and Maddie?"

"Already headed out to have a look," was Greg's answer. He finally turned his face toward them; he had a big, brown, bushy beard that almost blended in with fur trimming around the collar of his jacket. "I've been keeping watch to make sure nothing jumps out at them."

With that he raised the binoculars again and trained them out toward the east. Eli paced away from the campfire to put it at her back, squinting out into the moonlit night; she could just barely make out moving figures ahead of her and assumed that had to be Mali and Maddie. Biting her lower lip she turned to the north to eye the cliffs; further east it became less rocky and more steep and sheer though the height of the bluffs remained about the same stretching from here to there.

"You guys got rope and pitons?" she asked, turning back around and shielding her eyes from the campfire's glow. "A couple of us can go up on this side and cross east on the top."

"We do, and even if we didn't Adam here is part squirrel," came Greg's response (though again he didn't turn to face them). "Second pair of eyes in the leather case in there - decide who's going up and leave one person here to keep look out for you."

"Arlo stays," Asher said immediately. "You were pretty good at spotting trouble coming, last I saw."

Arlo simply nodded - there wasn't an indication of embarrassment this time. "All right."

He followed Adam into the Pigs's tent; while Asher waited Eli started heading toward the cliffs. There were sheets of ice and icicles dotting overhangs and rock faces; it looked like melted run off from above had re-frozen when the sun had gone down. With the thaw-melt-refreeze cycle of winter she imagined there'd be some unstable spots on their climb up the cliff.

Adam came out of the tent a few minutes later with a bag that rattled. Out of that bag came a hammer and pitons followed by two coils of rope, one of which he handed to Eli when he caught up to her; the three of them headed for the cliffs and began a slow climb up with Adam insisting he should go up first. Asher was correct in that the man seemed to be half squirrel as he climbed quickly and with far more confidence (or recklessness) than Eli would have had for a climb in a new area and mostly in the dark.

"You guys smell that down there?"

Eli glanced above her at Adam's shout; he was almost three fourths of the way up the cliff, with Eli on the ropes behind him and Asher keeping the ropes pulled almost taut on the ground below them. "Smell what?"

"Smoke. And it ain't wood smoke."

Her hands were going numb but she managed to pick up the pace and get up the cliff moments after Adam had crested the top; they both drove in pitons to tie the rope off to, and then helped rapidly haul Asher up behind them before they set off together across the top of the bluffs. There wasn't much up here; this strip of land looked like a desert and a forest had mingled together but the trees were short with barrel-like thick trunks and spindly limbs, and frozen scrub grass crunched under their feet as they walked.

Now that they were up here they could all smell smoke on the wind; it had an acrid undertone to it -- Adam was right in that it wasn't wood smoke but what it could be none of them could guess at.

"Going to be impossible to sneak up on anyone like this, unless we want to move at a glacier's pace," Asher grumbled quietly. "And even then we're just as likely to be spotted because it's not pitch dark."

"Hush up, I hear something popping," Adam interrupted him.

They all stopped and strained their ears; Eli thought she too heard the sounds of a crackling fire but she couldn't see any firelight from where they stood. After several moments of listening Asher gestured for them to stay put and began to creep ahead; despite how carefully he tried putting his feet he couldn't move silently on the frozen grass and his footsteps drowned out the sound of distant pops.

Eli gave their surroundings a closer look; they were on top of the cliffs and there were rocky hills and the squat trees all around. She couldn't pinpoint the crackling noises except for knowing they were coming from ahead of them somewhere; she caught Adam's eye and pointed to herself, then jerked her head toward the north: she was going to move up and try to find a higher perch to see from. He nodded at her and crouched with his attention moving between Asher and her.

Very carefully she made her way to the north, cautiously moving around the trees and the biggest patches of scrub grass. Still she didn't see any sign of a fire but the sound was starting to clue her in a bit -- it was still to the northeast somewhere but it sounded like it was more north than east. She went up another small hill and around a tall rocky outcrop; Adam was out of sight now, as was Asher. The further north she went the more the land sloped upward and then, finally, she caught the barest flicker of orange against...something. Rock, or maybe an especially wide tree trunk. Whatever it was reflecting off of didn't matter too much -- all that mattered was there was a fire ahead, further up another steep hill. And where there was fire would probably be a person.

She backtracked enough to signal to Adam, as Asher was too far away and had his back to her; when the man had joined her she wordlessly put a finger in front of his nose and then slowly moved it to point his gaze directly at where the fire was. From here it was much, much less noticeable but after a moment he gave her a sharp nod and began to pick his way over toward it.

Those popping noises they'd heard before were picking up in volume; as they crept closer Eli could make out a stone overhang, or maybe it was the entrance to a cave. Next to it was another rocky outcrop that had a sheen of ice over it (which was what she'd seen the orange flickers on - that ice was reflecting the fire's light) and scattered all around was shattered rock and disturbed (but frozen) dirt as though there'd been a recent landslide here. Adam gestured to indicate he was going to circle up to the right side - the side with the reflective ice - and pointed in a way she assumed meant he wanted her to go left.

There wasn't any reason to say no to the "plan" so she did; on the top left of the overhang was a crater made by a mostly uprooted tree whose crown was now partially buried in what definitely had to have been a landslide. The overhang itself was a wide stone slab that had broken off from somewhere further north and tumbled down to come to a rest against another stone and this tree, and had formed a sheltered pocket that was rock, dirt, and dead wood on three sides -- inside this cozy little spot was the fire and possibly its creator.

But, she could see that Adam had already poked his head into the claustrophobic opening of the little nook. Since he wasn't yelling in alarm she assumed no one was home, and came around to join him.

Inside the recently made "cavern" was the remains of a campsite, and all of it was ablaze; she could sort of make out a firepit in front of it all, with a narrow path that wound around the pit and led to the back of the hole where an A-frame tent was pegged to the ground and also to the tree -- it was engulfed in flames and the fire was starting to spread to the tree. At the firepit's edge she could see melting tin cans - both empty as well as several full ones - along with shiny spots that looked like melted plastic, and blowing up into the roof of the sheltered hole were flaky fragments that suggested there'd been paper tossed in here too.

There wasn't, thankfully, any sign of a person IN the fire.

Eli straightened and looked around their immediate area. The ground was too hard for there to be actual footprints but she could see a trail of scuff marks and trampled grass that led off into the night.

"Someone beat it out of here in a hurry," Adam grunted.

"Which means they, without doubt, weren't supposed to be here. Innocent people don't run - and they definitely don't run FROM people if they were looking for help for a sudden fire, but I doubt this was accidental," she said after a moment. "And since we didn't hear anyone running off from here they must have set the fire and run off while we were climbing the cliff."

"They're not going to get far in the cold."

Eli nodded and pointed to the trail of trampled grass. "No, they're not. And I bet we can catch up if we start moving now."

At that Adam looked a little unsure. "Well...yeah, true. But what about the others? Don't know how many were actually up here, right?"

"In a bolt hole this small it was either one person or they liked each other a lot," Eli answered. "You can go back for Asher but I'm going to follow this trail and see where it goes."

"All right, fine - we'll catch up quick. Be careful."

He disappeared back down the hill and Eli turned her attention to the trail on the ground. It went almost straight to the east; following it was fairly simple - enough so that she was able to jog along and only need to periodically glance down to make sure she was still on track. There wasn't any way to be stealthy so she was more focused on being highly aware of her surroundings and found herself looking at each rock, shrub, and tree with suspicion. So long as the trail kept winding among them and didn't...stop...

There. The trail went around a tree - specifically around to its far side, whereas the others had zigzagged only enough to get around them and hadn't hugged them so closely.

Eli slowed to a lumbering jog; whoever was up ahead likely knew they were being followed - she needed to decide what to do about that. Either this was an ambush waiting to happen or whoever this was had thought they'd gotten far enough away that hiding was an option.

She decided on a direct approach. "Come on out," she called ahead. "I know you're there and we both know you're not going to have an easy night out in the elements without shelter."

All she got was a resounding silence as an answer; she came to a stop about ten feet from the tree. From where she stood she could tell that the trail didn't continue beyond this point -- SOMEONE was on the other side. She wasn't overly worried about trying to apprehend one person on her own, especially since she knew exactly where this person was (and besides, Adam and Asher were coming to back her up).

"Come on. Let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

There was a shuffling noise and then a flash of movement as the man came around the tree; she caught the briefest glimpse of something glinting in the moonlight and instinct took over -- she was moving before she'd fully registered what was in the man's leading hand and as he fully stepped around the trunk she was dashing forward to slam the palm of her hand into his chin. Something flew out of his hand and skittered across the rocky ground; her initial blow hadn't stunned him much and Eli ducked under a clumsily swung fist that came a lot quicker than she'd anticipated. The next fist she caught and deflected with an open palm and used the momentum to pirouette and bring her left leg around in a roundhouse kick that the man tried to dodge by twisting aside but without enough backward movement so the toe of her boot caught him in the elbow and it was accompanied with a popping noise and a shout of pain.

As he staggered back and held his arm close to his chest she set her feet and dropped into a combat stance. "For what it's worth, I didn't mean to do that," she said.

Something whistled passed her and a split second later she saw a rock ricocheting off the man's collarbone and dropping to the earth; he stumbled backward and tripped over a tree root then fell to the ground on his back. From either side of her came Asher and Adam hurrying forward to fall on the man before he got a chance to get his feet back under him.

"For what it's worth, I DID" she heard Asher grunt as the three men wrestled on the ground.

With only one good arm it didn't take long the subdue the man, and Asher hauled him up to his feet without much resistance; Adam was already grabbing for his wrists to tie his hands behind his back.

Eli held up a hand. "Wait, hang on - don't do that."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because if his hands are behind him it's going to be a massive pain in the ass to get him down the cliff."

Both men paused a moment, then Asher nodded in agreement and shook the man roughly. "Hear that? Any trouble and down the cliff you go - we can get to the bottom gently or we can see how high you bounce."

Still the man didn't respond aside from a pained and annoyed noise.

It the moonlight he seemed to be a thin man with a leather cap on that hid his hair. He wore a dark leather jacket and cargo pants tucked into heavy boots, and when he locked gazes with Eli she could make out the line of a strong jaw and a few missing teeth when he actually hissed at her like an animal.

"Right. Let's get this jerk back to town - you've got a jail cell, right?"

"I...assume so?" Eli answered, looking to Asher. "I'd hope so. No idea where it is though. Should also let Dr. Xu know we've got an injury."

"Eh, let him stew with it," Adam growled. Since the injured arm was on his side he grabbed the man by the waistband instead and moved in unison with Asher as they began to roughly march the man back the way they'd come; he resisted for the first ten feet or so then gave up and walked with them, his head down.

Eli went to follow them and then remembered that there had been a weapon or something that she'd knocked out of the man's hands. It took several minutes to find as it had slid under a nearby bush but soon she was looking over a revolver.

It only had a three-shot barrel, the caliber wasn't all that big, and the barrel had a plug of sand and rock wedged in its end from the fall - it was ugly and fairly inefficient compared to what she was used to but assuming she could get that rock loose (and that it wasn't a cheap gun that'd explode after only a few shots) she could probably make personal use of it. Did Selene know what a reloading bench was? If this revolver existed (it wasn't a design she knew had come from her time period) clearly guns were still around in some form or fashion. Maybe she could engineer a rifle with Selene's help... She went to put it in her breast pocket and the muzzle of the gun scraped along the notebook's outer cover.

Oh, right -- she'd forgotten that was in there. Since both gun and notebook wouldn't fit together in the pocket and the other pockets of her jacket weren't deep enough to securely hold the gun Eli unloaded it and stuck it in her right pocket with the three bullets going in her left and hoped neither of them would fall out on the climb back down.

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

The morning of the funerals came; it was bright and sunny but still bitterly cold. Arlo was more than ready for spring to come back but was thankful that the weather hadn't taken a nasty turn since today was pretty important.

Eli and Gale had worked out two ceremonies - one at the mass grave and one for the thirteen that had been buried in Portia's cemetery. He could only imagine how rough this day was going to be for Eli; Arlo had never had to bury anyone he personally knew -- both sets of grandparents had already passed on by the time he was born and both his parents were still alive but had relocated from Portia's countryside south to Tallsky for the milder weather. He didn't have a spouse to worry about either since he wasn't married -- he wasn't even sure what to call whatever it was he had with Nora. Were they dating? Were they still deciding that? He had a heart knot hidden in his room but hadn't felt especially driven to deliver it to her yet...he wasn't confident at all that she'd accept it.

Especially now, since the amount of time they'd been spending together had been decreasing since Eli had been found. At first it was out of necessity - he HAD to stand guard at the facility - but once Mali and the Pigs had arrived he hadn't needed to spend as much time out there like before, and had mostly moved back to his usual routine... Nora had been a bit unhappy at the disruption to his schedule in the beginning but even now with it back to normal she hadn't-

No. He didn't need to be worrying over this. Not today.

And besides, he'd be just as upset at Nora's funeral as he would at Sam's, or Remington's, or anyone else in Portia. He didn't need to be married or related to someone to mourn them.

He left his room and, since the cell was right there, checked on their prisoner; the man had still refused to speak beyond hissing and grunting at everyone but had accepted medical attention, food, and water. Currently the man was sitting on a stool facing the back corner of the holding cell and didn't react when Arlo asked how he was feeling today.

Mali had recognized him; he was a wanted criminal in Meidi -- for espionage and three murders. They all were pretty certain they knew who had hired and sent him out here but with his camp in ashes they couldn't pin down just how long he'd been camped out there, and he definitely wasn't offering any answers of his own and hadn't been carrying anything useful or especially incriminating on himself either. Gale had contacted Meidi's representatives in Atara and then had passed making transport arrangements on to Mali since she, Maddie, and Adam would be escorting the man back there to face punishment.

To all appearances it seemed Duvos was wasting no time in investigating the discovery of the facility.

Adam had volunteered to tend to their unexpected guest today so Arlo continued on and headed down to Portia's gates; benches, stools, and spare chairs had all been arranged on the road in a loose semi circle facing the large grave. Most of Portia's residents were already there but few were seated; they were standing in small clusters chatting away, and he didn't see Eli or Gale among them.

Selene and Paulie were standing at the edge of the crowd, both studying something in a notebook Selene held in hand; he walked up and nodded to Paulie who in return clapped a friendly hand to his shoulder but didn't speak as Selene seemed to be on a roll explaining whatever she had sketched out.

"-and after that all we'd need is you to move it all in. Easy enough, right?"

"What're you two planning now?" Arlo asked when Selene paused to take a breath.

"Our builder here is trying to plan out the carpentry and furniture needs for an expansion to the clinic," Paulie answered. "She'll be handling the metalwork, and I'll be handling any woodwork."

"So Xu decided to expand after all?"

Selene nodded as she shut the notebook and tucked it under an arm. "Just this morning. At first he was worried about cost but Gale said Atara had pledged some funds to assist and of course Portia has a general fund for new construction and also a repair budget that Gale can shift money from. Now that he knows it's not coming entirely out of his pocket he's jumping at the chance to work alongside an All Source."

"And what about security measures?" Arlo asked, raising an eyebrow. They'd been worried about that even before they'd found their little Duvos visitor on the cliffs...

The builder huffed at him. "You really think I'd draw up potential building plans and not think about protecting what was inside? I need to double check space requirements with Eli and Stewart before I finalize anything but I've got more than a few ideas on how to keep people out of that building if they're not supposed to be there."

Before he could respond movement drew his attention and he watched as Eli and Gale walked up from the gates and to the edge of the grave, in front of all the chairs and benches. The chatter died down quickly and people moved to find a seat, or else moved out of the way and to the edges of the crowd so they could see without obstructing anyone else's view. Arlo opted to remain standing himself, as did Paulie and Selene; Gale cleared his throat and scanned the crowd. Arlo looked over the group again as well, and it occurred to him that he didn't see Nora or Lee.

He frowned and double checked and yes, neither of them were here. Were they running late? He wanted to give them the benefit of doubt but knowing Lee... The man wasn't typically vindictive or disrespectful, and he hadn't gone out of his way to harass or badmouth Eli that Arlo had noticed (and if Lee had then Eli hadn't mentioned it), but to avoid a funeral felt cruel and spiteful.

With a long sigh Arlo shook his head and returned his attention to Gale.

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

Gale had offered a small explanation to the crowd - that she would be conducting the funeral according to her personal religious beliefs. That got her more than a couple curious looks and by the time Gale surrendered the metaphorical floor to her and seated himself with the others she finally settled on what to say here, and how to say it.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands behind her back; it was old habit to stand at parade rest and it probably wasn't entirely appropriate for a funeral but it was comfortable and familiar and she needed that at the moment.

"Good morning, everyone," she began. "I know that, between my time period and this one, a lot of things were lost. People, history, technology...religion. My religion is called the Foundational Three - named such due to the three guiding forces of Fate, Balance, and Judgement. Fate ensures every person born has a story to tell and that when they pass the cosmos itself remembers them, Balance makes certain that that story isn't too simple or too difficult to bear, and Judgement renders assistance or punishment as needed because sometimes others decide to intervene in stories they haven't been invited to. I tell you this, before I say anything else, because I'd like you all to understand first why I choose to remember these people as I do, and also so there's no sadness when you contemplate lives lost, whether it's those that came before, those that you may have lost in recent memory, or those you know you'll lose naturally in the distant future."

She paused and glanced around to gauge the general feel of the crowd; everyone's attention was on her and she saw mostly intent faces and a few neutral ones that were hard to read.

"Portia, as you know, is built upon Dubei's ruins. And Dubei was my home. It was full of people - full of stories. Millions of them, in fact. I could try to tell those stories but I'd be talking until the heat death of the universe happened, but even then, that really wouldn't matter - it's not my voice that will persist to tell them. That's Fate's duty, and Fate carries out that duty by speaking through the simplest of things: a howling wind, a bubbling river, the rasp of grass fields in a breeze, the drip of water, a sudden spout of laughter, a few quiet tears, the pattern clouds trace across the sky, the endless march of the passing seasons, the light of the stars. In every aspect of existence there is a story and we hear it with conscious and unconscious ears. These stories are in the items left behind, the whispers of legend and folklore, the written word, the spoken traditions, the family gatherings, and of course...when your life is shared with another - your pages entwine with the story of someone else. There are countless ways Fate shares the lives of those before us with those that still remain, and in this way these people are never truly gone from us."

Again she paused, turning to regard the gigantic headstone. It was finely polished marble with a trapezoidal base that joined into a tear drop-esque shape on top. The names were evenly arranged in two columns that then became three that then ended in four, from top to bottom of the tear drop to the trapezoid, and had mirrored images of a flowering tree in bloom curving up either side; Gust had designed it and Eli appreciated its simple elegance.

"None of us knew these people," she went on. "I lived during the same time period and I never met any of them. But I know that, should I choose to listen to the world around me, I will hear their stories echoing. And not just theirs but those of the people that came before them, and then those people that came before that, and then those before that. Fate is the Great Curator, and none of our stories will be lost to time whether we gather to share them or not. Today, I lack the pages to share the specifics with you for these people...but, give it time, and Fate will take care of that for me. Ours are stories that go on forever even if the people can't."

With that she went silent and stood there for a moment; finally she dipped her head and walked away from the front of the crowd and once she'd reached the road those gathered there erupted into dozens of murmured conversations.

"This concludes this remembrance ceremony" she heard Gale announce behind her. "If you all would like to take a moment to warm up some there's coffee and hot chocolate available, for free, at the Round Table. The second ceremony will be in one hour's time in Portia's cemetery."

It took several minutes but at last the crowd began to disperse; Eli stayed where she was at the edge of the sitting area and was surprised when the group seemed to be...queuing up to talk to her. There were a lot of faces she knew, some she only knew by name but hadn't really talked to before today (and she also met the rest of the septuplets finally with them joking about how they'd purposely lined up from oldest to youngest for her convenience). There were also a lot of compliments on her speech and there was a young woman who introduced herself as Alice who was curious about the Three specifically.

And so concluded the easy part. The next one was going to be a lot harder.

Most of the townsfolk moved off to share their coffees and chocolates; Selene, Paulie, Arlo, Remington, and five of the Hulu brothers (the only one she was confident she had the right name for was Dawa, because he was taller than his brothers) stayed behind to cart the benches and chairs up to the graveyard and carefully arrange them around and near the thirteen fresh graves.

"We still have some time," Selene said once they'd gotten everything in place. "Do we want to head down to the Round Table and get a drink?"

"You guys go ahead. I think I'll stay here," Eli replied after a moment.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

The builder woman didn't look convinced but headed off anyway; Paulie and Arlo followed along with her and shortly thereafter the Hulu brothers and Remington went together down the hill as well.

That left her alone with Darren, and her squad.

She edged around the chairs and benches and walked up to Darren's tombstone; Gust had designed all of these too and they all bore various designs of flowering trees, plants, and vines. She'd been shown the designs before the tombstones were made and he'd explained that, having heard that Dubei had had so much plantlife incorporated into its structures, he wanted to embrace that detail and combine it with sweeping shapes and gentle curves and create something memorable as well as beautiful. And looking over their shapes she could see a bit of Dubei in them - everything back then might have been sleek forms, polished metal, and shining glass but you couldn't go five feet without seeing an ornamental tree or flower bed or vines cascading down every building, and he'd perfectly captured that feeling of 'wild and free' combined with modern.

She trailed her fingers over the scalloped top of Darren's stone; it wasn't supposed to have been like this, and immediately following that thought came a pang of guilt -- how selfish of her, to be wishing the roles were reversed and that HE was the one dealing with the emotional turmoil while she rested peacefully under the soil.

That particular train of thought was disrupted by the sounds of footsteps coming up the hill behind her. As she turned her hand fell away from the tombstone and after a breath she stuck both hands into her pockets; Arlo, Selene, and Asher were walking up the hill with steaming mugs in hand, and she noted Arlo was carrying two of them.

As she was expecting that second mug was for her; from the smell it was a hot chocolate and there was a rapidly melting dollop of cream on top. "Thanks."

"Thought you could use it," was Arlo's reply. His mug looked untouched but he did take a sip after she'd accepted the other one from him. "We still have about a half hour."

Eli nodded and took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate; true to its name it was VERY hot but in that brief moment between her tongue registering flavor and then being torched by the scalding liquid it was a very rich taste and the cream was only semi-sweet - not like the stuff she was used to. She couldn't tell if it was Asher or Selene who had the coffee but it was very fragrant.

"Any confirmations from Mali yet?" Eli asked.

Asher shook his head. "Not yet. She's coordinating with Meidi still -- they've been having more, and worse, winter storms than usual lately and all the places she could land the plane are buried under almost a foot of ice and snow. When the word comes that they've cleared a spot for her to land she's going to have to drop everything and leave."

She took another careful sip from her mug (it didn't burn as badly this time but that also might be because the first one had killed all sensation in her tongue). Over their shoulders she could see a few people heading toward them; at their head and moving considerably faster than everyone else, was Toby.

Seeing the kid reminded her of the agreement she'd made, and then of Asher's request. Considering they'd caught one spy...

"Have you mentioned to anyone else yet that you want to learn some ranger techniques?" she asked, looking between Arlo and Asher.

"Not yet but I bet Sam and Remington would like to join in," Arlo answered.

"I did but the others aren't sure they could rearrange their schedules yet," Asher said. He gestured in the general direction of the Civil Corps building. "I know Adam mentioned he'd like to make it happen. Both Greg and Maddie are married with kids -- uh, not to each other, but still, they can't just drop everything and stay here longer than planned."

"Understood. The reason I ask is, with the discovery of our friend up on the bluffs, I don't think it'd be wise to wait a couple months until I'm in top shape."

Asher looked to her curiously. "So you want to start early?"

She nodded. "VERY early. I was thinking tomorrow morning -- I can get back in shape while also dragging the rest of you up to my level."

Asher's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Oh, uh. All right. Guess I should've opted for less sugar in this then..." He peered into his mug, nose wrinkling.

"Hi Eli!" came Toby's yell then; he rushed up beside them and bounced on the balls of his feet near her elbow.

"Hey kid. How'd the math test go?"

Toby scrunched up his face. "It - it was fine. I did ok. I don't like math."

"Not many do but it's pretty important to learn. Just do your best and ask for help where you need it. Nothing wrong with asking for help," Eli said, nodding down at him.

The scrunched up look relaxed into a happier one and Eli moved her mug to her opposite hand so the excitable boy wouldn't accidentally jostle it. Moving up the hill behind the kid was a larger group than Eli had initially thought - from where she stood her view was partially blocked - and she steeled herself for the next part. It would be a longer ceremony, and more difficult to get through.

It was easy to say there shouldn't be any sadness in remembering the lost. It was an entirely different thing to try and cling to.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 11 #Arlo #Builder #Flying Pigs #Toby #Paulie #Duvos #My Time at Portia

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sceawere · 8 years ago

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another time pt. 10 | alfie solomons

[PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR] [PART FIVE] [PART SIX] [PART SEVEN] [PART EIGHT] [PART NINE]

Echoes. It’s all you’d heard for as long as you could remember. The sun had set and rose again, the echoes chasing you into sleep and dragging you out of it. Now they were joined by the hum that came from near silence – your ears desperately trying to fill the gap, to scan for input.

Echoes. Of shouts. Of doors. Banging. Then silence.

It wasn’t an interview room like you thought it would be. Not even an old timey version of one. It was more like a prison cell. A hollow, concrete block that you’d be shoved in and abandoned. There was a bench, little else.

Your cheek throbbed, squinting as you moved your jaw and pulled the skin. Alfie had roared when the officer had ‘accidentally’ swung you round a little too close to the doorframe. They’d done it on purpose, tried to rile him up. You heard the slam as they threw him back against the wall, held him there while they marched you out. Heard them laughing about the threats he’d spewed as they’d driven you away from the house on the river. To a cell.

You’d tried to fill the time – not knowing how long it would be until someone walked through the door. Tried to get your story straight. Tried to go over your lines in your head. Turned them over and over and over. Until they were echoes.

There were footsteps now, eyes circling over the damp floor as you tried to discern whether they were coming to you. The clink of the door mechanism showed they were.

“Up, let’s go” It was a new guard. One you didn’t recognise. You were tired and sore and it took a few minutes to get your limbs moving. Throat bobbing. Eyes stinging. Fingers shaking. You followed him out, eyes flicking back and forth as he escorted you into a big office. The windows were huge, almost floor to ceiling. It was bright. Open. Beautiful. It was hard to believe you were in the same building.

You turned your head as though you were a puppy, marvelling at a beam of light that dance through a paperweight on the desk before you. As though it was targeting it. Beaming through the bubbles under the surface, churning and dancing through them. Your cheek pulsed as a smile dragged over your cheek but you didn’t mind. After staring at a concrete slab half the night, it was incredible.

The door shut behind you and the guard was gone, replaced by a man in a suit. He was holding a folder, which is where his eyes were, as he walked past you to the desk.

“Sit down, Miss…” he flicked a page and doubled checked the file for your name. You didn’t sit until he did, lowering yourself slowly as if someone were going to rip the chair out from under you.

“Don’t look so worried” he continued, having not even looked up to check your expression. You swallowed, sat a little straighter. Tried to be brave.

Alfie’s lawyer would be here soon. He promised. He promised last night. Soon.

“You’re a secretary, is that correct?” the stranger questioned.

“I’m – No, ‘Day Manager’ is my official title” he started laughing, shaking his head. He scribbled something on the paper, finally looking up to you. His eyes fell on your cheek and he winced a little. Fuck, you probably looked a sight.

“What’d you have to do to get that promotion?” He settled back in the chair, eyes boring into you. Mask back where it was. Don your own. Be brave.

“A damn lot of paperwork” he hummed in response, smiling at the snark in your tone.

“What does Alfie Solomons call you? Do you have an official title there?” he tapped his finger on the leather rest throughout his questioning “or is there still opportunity for a promotion?”

There was a clock ticking somewhere. You hadn’t noticed until now. Either that or your brain had completely given up on silence and was inventing the striking that repeated. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“You are living together?” he scowled, not put off by your silence. He sat forward, turning a page, “17 Canal Street. Number…5?”

He was trying to unsettle you. He was trying to dive into your mind and start swirling it all around. Targeting you. Churning through the insides. You’d never been arrested before. Not properly. Told off and sent on your way, yes – but never interrogated. You had no frame of reference for this. Quiet was probably the best way to go. Give him nothing for him to twist around and strangle you with.

He flicked the page back down, looking you over.

“Does he like you quiet?”

It took a lot to swallow the retort you wanted to spit at him. He smirked.

“You’d have to ask Mr Solomons” you managed, trying to keep your tone measured.

“I would but the man keeps an army around him and he’s decided I’m not a friend of his. Look here-,” he opened a drawer, lifting an identical file.

He opened it and slid out some papers, pinching one between each hand. He turned and lifted them, placing one either side of his face. They were mugshots – Aaron and Toby’s. They were younger there and Toby had a shiner of his own. You swallowed the beginnings of a smile when you saw the bandage around Aaron’s fingers. When he said Toby had given him his scar maybe he meant Toby’s face had.

You hummed, raising your fingers to scratch at your lip. The man seemed to think you were enjoying his joke on the mugshots and cracked his own smile, dropping the photos to the table. Assuming he’d gotten an in.

“Recognise them?”

“Should I?” you squinted at him, shifting in the chair when the light moved.

“They’re Solomons’…generals, if you will. Follow him around like puppies, if they had convictions for bodily harm”

“Some of them bite” you moved your eyes from the painting above his head that dwarfed him in his seat. He still unsettled you. Even two metres over the desk you felt as though he was right before you, invading your space. This felt personal. “Just to clarify – I’m not especially up to date on my military hierarchies - who is Mr Solomons in this equation…is he…the King? He’ll be ever so pleased if he is”

The man returned a mock of a smile and you weren’t sure whether your nervous sarcasm was swiftly moving you towards another accident. You’d been in that cell talking to only yourself and the walls for too long. You needed to vent. Like word vomit. But this was not the time or place.

“You’re new to the city – are you not?” he continued, probing again.

“I wasn’t born here”

“No…further north, wasn’t it?”

“There’s a lot more of the country up there, really, so…chances are that’s a good guess if you had to make one”

He nodded at your response, like he was starting to work out your pattern. The only way to give him less to work with would be to shut up but you’d already tried that.

“You are guessing, aren’t you?” you continued, deciding to pry for yourself.

He hummed, sitting back a little and flipping the folder shut. He rose from the chair, stepping slowly around the table. Strolling. Every step clacking against the polished slats. You shifted back in the chair. Shit. Fuck. He dragged a chair over to place next to yours. Dropped into it. Leaned over the rest, right into your personal space. You kept your eyes up to the painting, trying not to respond to the tingle on your arm.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Mr Solomons for quite a while now. And I’m not sure if you know exactly who and what he is. But I’ll tell you, he’s a piece of work.

And then you showed up. Out of nowhere. Straight-“he moved his arm out to motion in front of you both “into his home. Now I’ve never seen him do that before. Which must make you someone special. Someone I should keep my eye on, also”

You swallowed, flicking your eyes down to the floor. Waiting for his next move.

“And I will. I’m going to be watching you very closely,” you could hear the echoes of steps out in the corridor and hoped to heaven it was someone coming for you, even if only to take you back to the cell.

“If only for your own protection” he added hurriedly, and stood. He buried his hands in his pockets and waited for the door to open.

“Her lawyer’s here” the guard informed him and it was your turn to smirk. The man glared at you as he exited the room. You waited a few seconds. One, two, three clicks, before launching yourself across to the desk. You spun the folder around, trying to commit everything you could to memory. If only you had your phone you could just take pictures of the pages. The folder was surprisingly sparse – most of it notes, conjecture, rather than information. You were right, he was guessing, grasping. He’d have to watch you because he had almost nothing so far. Possible leads were circled, question marks dotted around them.

He did have a foundation. The name was right, the address. That you worked at the club. That you lived with Alfie. You turned to the last few pages, and took a deep breath as you swiped them, folding them up as tight as you could and stuffing it into your garter. Useful for something after all. You ran your hand frantically over the bump in your skirt, trying to smooth the line as much as you could.

Footsteps were nearing again and you were grateful for the old wooden floors as it gave you time to spin the folder back around and make like you’d been pacing about the room when they returned. There was another man with him now, one you didn’t recognise. He nodded to you, walking over. He leaned in close, whispered a ‘Mr Solomons sent me’, and took you by the elbow, escorting you out.

“That’s it?” you stuttered.

“That’s it. They were holding you on a bullshit charge. Once that was overturned” he shrugged as he walked ahead and you paused.

“Then why did it take all night?” you spat.

He turned to you, shrugging off his coat. He passed it to you, waiting as you eyed it with distain. You were pissed and he was being nice. Somehow that angered you more. Blame the exhaustion and the adrenaline. Alfie was going to get an earful when you got home.

You relented and took the coat, swinging it around yourself.

“They were playing hide-and-seek with you. I had to find out where you were. Then I had to find out where you really were. Then I had to find out where you actually were” he explained and you scoffed, storming out of the station.

You’d spent all night waiting for Alfie to come and get you, wanting to go home. But seeing him leaning up against the car as you descended the steps, something in you switched. He pushed himself forward, onto the curb. You scoffed, surging off to the right, pacing down the street.

“Love, come on!” he shouted after you.

“Fuck off, Alfie!” you lifted your hand to flip him off over your shoulder, keeping your pace. He could meet you at home. You needed to vent.

Marching through the rain, trying not to cry seemed to be your new pastime. You’d considered turning back three streets away – you were still wearing the lawyer’s coat, after all. But you’d surged ahead. You weren’t quite sure why you were angry with Alfie. You believed the lawyer when he said they’d been running rings. But your mind had somehow distilled every shitty thing that had happened in the last weeks and decided to focus it on Alfie, full force. There was nowhere else for it to go.

Somehow you managed to get home before they did. They were probably driving around trying to find you instead of making a straight line back. You slammed the door in the lobby, waving a silent ‘sorry’ to one of the old ladies who was peeking out of her doorway. You pocketed the spare keys, not feeling safe to leave them in the hiding place outside anymore. Trudging up the stairs felt like scaling a mountain and you abandoned the plan you’d had to march on up to Esther’s and let rip on that stupid son of hers.

You paused in the doorway of the flat, pushing the door with your fingertips so it slid open in front of you. Your eyes blinked at the patterns in the wallpaper opposite, waiting. They’d disturbed the place. Your peace. Another look down the corridor before you pushed forward, making sure to lock the door behind you and flick across the bolt that you’d always thought was overkill before. Now it felt inadequate.

You sat on the floor in the living room for a while, back against the seat. The papers you’d snatched were slowly unfolding themselves on the coffee table. Pushing themselves into the space. Pickles cuddled into your lap, starting whenever a bird flew up from the canal and perched on the window edge. He barked at them, stared them down. You smiled and scratched his ear, thanking him for his guard duty.

Feeding him, making yourself a cup of tea, rinsing off the glasses that were in the sink and the plates that were on the table – all little acts towards re-establishing this place as yours. The keys in the door made you jump, and Pickles went mad. You could hear him scratching up at the glass. You crawled over to the doorway, staying low. There was a shadow moving against the wall, banging the door in the frame. You held your breath.

“Love!” you released the breath at Alfie’s voice, slumping before pushing yourself up. Pickles gave a howl at it and Alfie knocked him finger against the glass before him, his fractured shape shifting through the frosting “Oi, don’t go giving me none of that. Go get your mother to take this bolt off, go on. Go tell her”

You leant against the partition, considering letting him sit on the landing for a while, but if you were honest you wanted him in here. You clicked your fingers, vocalising to try and get Pickles attention. He abandoned his task, bolting down the corridor to jump up at your thighs.

“What do you think, buddy? Shall we let him in?” he licked up at your hand as you swiped over his nose, scratching at his chin. You hummed, lifting his foot so he’d move down to the floor again. Alfie knocked on the window again and you rolled your eyes, padding down the corridor. You stood on the other side of the glass, arms crossed as you watched him press his forehead to the door. He jiggled the keys in the lock again.

“Can you let me in my house please?” another jiggle. He sounded tired and you realised he mustn’t have really slept either, busy sending people out to get you, sorting things out for you. Least you could do was let the man enter his own home. You dragged the bolt across, taking off before he could make his way in.

“Thank you” he emphasised as you walked away, dropping back to your seat on the rug. He made his way down the hallway after you, throwing his coat over the back of the chair to your side. You saw him stand in your periphery, rolling up his sleeves as you stroked Pickles.

“He loves you more than me” he muttered.

“Pickles, tell your dad you love him” he barked in response, making his way over to climb onto Alfie’s knees as he sat in the seat. You watched him scratching at his ears, tears brimming in your eyes. You swallowed heavily, turning your head.

“I stole some of the folder they have on me. Just a couple of pages – there’s some stuff about you on there. I thought it might be useful” you nodded to the pile on the table before you, pulling your knees up to hug them.

“You stole it?” he sounded incredulous.

“He knew you – the guy who questioned me. He had a file with Toby and Aaron in it. I think you’d know him”

“Yeah, my guy told me who it was. Don’t worry about him, love. He’s nobody”

“He said he’d watch me. He said he’d be watching me”

“He’s trying to scare you” he consoled but you shook your head.

“He’d been watching us, Alfie. I know it. It makes sense now. People I’ve seen – I told myself I was being paranoid”

“You are being”

“No, Alfie. I mean it, we need to be careful”

“I’ll keep us safe” he assured.

You hummed, dropping your chin to your knees.

“You alright?” Alfie asked, voice apprehensive.

“No”

He sighed, pushing Pickles’ head away lightly so he could stand and walk over to you. He crouched in front of you, running his hand over your hair.

“Did-“you lifted your head and he paused, eyes hollowing as he clocked your cheek. His fingers tightened around the side of your neck and you swallowed. He fell to his knees as you rolled your eyes up, a tear breaking free. He brought his hand up to pinch at your chin lightly, turning your head ever so slightly. You lifted yours to wrap around his, moving his hand away from your face as you pulled yourself up to sit on the sofa.

“It’s alright”

“That’s not fucking alright – have you seen your damn face?” he growled.

“No…a little bit. In a window,” you shook your head, wiping away a tear as it stung your cheekbone “is it bad?”

“It looks like they tried to cave your fucking cheek in” he growled, pushing forward onto his knees as he tried to turn your face again. You scoffed and rose, pushing his arm away.

“Don’t be so dramatic” you spat, moving your way through the flat to the bathroom.

“They do that in there?” he shouted after you. You batted the door, lifting your hair back as you turned to face the mirror.

“No, it was the door on the way out - Shit” you whispered. He was right. You looked a state. A thick stripe across your bone, it had actually split a little at one point, or scuffed enough to open up some skin. The bruising pooled around it, trying to creep its way up to your eye. You grimaced, prodding at it. You hissed, freezing as you waited for the roll of pain to pass.

Alfie came crashing in, slamming the cabinet open to grab a box.

“Alfie” you whispered, eyes still shut. You turned to him as he carried on crashing about.

“I’m gonna split him fucking open-” he flipped the box open, a first aid kit inside.

“Alfie”

“Hang him with his own innards” he about spilled the contents out on the side, picking out what he needed as he turned back to you.

“Alfie”

“Sit down,” he nodded to the edge of the bath and you went with it “I’m gonna shove a railing through his eye socket, leave him flapping like a flag”

“Alfie!” you insisted. He lifted his eyes from where he was uncapping a bottle of anti-septic, meeting yours “Stop, please! I’m tired and I’m scared and I don’t want to hear about intestines and decapitation and-“

“I never said nothing about decapitation. Although it’s not a bad idea” he pointed the cloth he was coating at you and you tilted your head.

“Alfie!” he slammed the bottle down on the sink back, tilting your chin as he dotted at it with a cloth. You grimaced, pushing down onto the edge of the bath.

“They do anything to you in there?” he tried, voice much more controlled.

“No. They just…tried to scare me” he hummed in response, dabbing carefully at your skin. He cleaned it up, crouching so he could make sure the plaster was on properly. He ran his thumb over the cover, fingers swiping your hair back.

“I’m gonna keep us safe” he repeated and you nodded, eyes closed again.

“Love, look at me”

It took you a few seconds to flutter your lashes open, turning your eyes to him.

“I’m gonna keep us safe” he assured.

You told Alfie you wanted a bath, wanted to wash away last night, and he left you for a while. You soaked and soaked, scrubbed and scrubbed. And cried.

Your fingers gripped around the edge of the bath as a knock came at the door.

“Toby and Aaron are here” the water sloshed as you sat up, eyes fixed to the door “they’re going to sleep here for a few days, keep an eyes out – if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah” you cleared your throat, your voice having broken halfway through the word and making it almost unintelligible “Yeah, I’d like that”

“Alright. You alright?”

You scrunched your eyes shut, swallowing away your tears.

“Yeah – I’m alright”

The tears were evident in your voice and you looked away, even though you were alone in the hazy room.

“Love?” you heard the muffled jangle as he lifted his arm to lean against the frame, lifting your knee to rest your forehead against it. Your reflection in the water was dancing, shadowed slightly by your bent head.

“Alright,” the door creaked and you threw your head up, thinking he was coming in for a second. A shadow crept under the door and you realised he was sitting on the other side, back braced against the wood.

“I’m gonna sit here, alright? I’m right out here. Me and Pickles”

Your smile broke through your sob, nodding to yourself.

“Pickles, tell your mother you love her” Alfie instructed and a bark came through the door.

You laughed to yourself, wincing as the skin on your cheek pulled.

“I love you too” you croaked out, pausing as Alfie’s shadow stilled under the door. You blinked it away, settling back into the water.

#|writing #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine

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raendown · 6 years ago

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Trying out a new pairing because of @officerjennie. Someone send help, I think I actually ship it.

Day 25 Pairing: Hashirama/Kagami Word count: 1016 Word: Arcuate - arched; bow-shaped

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Arcuate - Hashirama/Kagami

“They’re just so pretty. How did I never notice before? I must have been blind, I swear.”

“Anija, stop.”

“But Tobi, how did I not see before? How can anyone miss such perfection?”

Tobirama rubbed the space between his eyebrows with a suffering look. “I am begging you to stop.”

Hashirama subsided at last but settled in his chair to pout instead, the upper half of his body still twisted to look out the window and down at the gaggle of young men standing below. If he wasn’t allowed to say it then he would just have to keep thinking it. Each of the people outside were ranked jōnin in some capacity and had long since found their specialty, had been hanging around his younger brother for so many years it sometimes felt as though they’d been attached to his side since before the village began.

So how, for the love of the gods, had Uchiha Kagami gone under Hashirama’s radar for so long? Obviously when they first met he had been a boy much too young to consider but he was well in to his twenties now and every time he popped in to the Hokage’s office to give a mission report Hashirama heard almost nothing he said. Embarrassing as it was, he found himself distracted watching those pretty bow-sharped lips and all the delectable shapes they made as he formed his vowels.

Never in his life had Hashirama considered the letter ‘O’ to be sexy and yet now every time he watched Kagami’s lips purse together in a perfect circle he started questioning his own sanity.

“I need to bring these files down to the Archives. Can you promise me that you’ll actually get something done while I’m gone or do I need to send Madara in here to watch you?” Tobirama eyed him suspiciously even as he stepped over towards the door.

“Well there’s no need to get mean about it, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate being pulled away from his wife like that.” Hashirama wrinkled his nose. When she first arrived in the village Mito’s people had intended for her to marry him. How she ended up married to his grumpy best friend when all they ever seemed to do was yell at each other and then make out was beyond him.

Still suspicious, Tobirama grunted and took his leave anyway.

Perhaps three full minutes passed in which Hashirama honestly and truly made an effort to do as he’d been asked, paperwork spread out before him and pencil scratching away with all the energy of a man afraid to piss off his younger brother. If he hadn’t been interrupted he liked to think that he might have actually gotten enough done to avoid Tobirama’s patented look of disappointment. What a novelty it would have been, although he would never be able to say he regretted it in any way.

A quiet rattle was all the warning he got before Kagami suddenly came tumbling in through the window looking out of breath and grinning like a lunatic.

“Can I hide in here?” he asked with a brilliant grin. Hashirama swallowed thickly.

“Any time. I mean, yes! Of course!”

“Excellent, Torifu was about to go for blood. Do you think maybe I shouldn’t have hidden dye in his shampoo?”

Hashirama bit his lip. “I…I love that prank…”

“Right? Classic!”

The two of them beamed at each other across the few short feet between them until Kagami inched away from the window and came around to stand at his Hokage’s side. “What are you working on? I thought I felt sensei in here; thank kami he left because he hates my pranks.”

“Oh he’s just mad because he used to fall for my pranks all the time.”

“No way! You’ve caught sensei with this stuff? Teach me your ways!” Kagami bent down to smile at him as though he’d said he had all the secrets in the world at his fingertips.

Hashirama wanted to reply but instead he felt trapped by the pretty mouth hovering so temptingly right there only a few inches away from his own. It would be so easy to just lean forward and have a little taste. Just once! He was curious, could anyone really blame him? Since the day he finally saw what had always been right there in front of him it was like he couldn’t stop looking. They were so close. One little kiss really couldn’t hurt anything as long as it was just inside his own imagination.

Except it wasn’t just inside his imagination. Hashirama’s eyes blew wide open when he came out of his head and realized he was kissing Kagami without permission. Immediately he threw himself backwards in his chair so violently it rolled a foot or so away.

“I’m so sorry! That was inappropriate! Please forgive me! I was just – you were so close and I was thinking about what it would be like and I – your lips! They’re so pretty! Like a little bow on a pretty, pretty package…” he trailed off and licked his own lips as the thoughts rose up again before slapping his own forehead in despair. He could control himself better than this!

“You were thinking about it too?”

“What!?”

“Uhm…” Kagami chuckled sheepishly. “Wow. I never would have thought you’d look at me like that too. I mean, well, you’re you. And I’m just me.”

Hashirama stared at him for a moment. “You are so much more than ‘just’.”

Throwing caution to the wind he stood from his chair and pulled Kagami in to the fiery kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks now. Every nerve ending in his body lit up like a firework show when he felt Kagami kiss him back with a soft noise of appreciation.

“Oh wow. Yeah. Let’s keep doing that and we can talk about pranks later?”

“Absolutely,” Hashirama breathed, ducking in for a third kiss.

Tobirama was going to kill him when he came back but by all the gods there had never been anything more worth such a good death.

#rae writes #march of the drabbles #hashikaga #hashirama #kagami #fanfiction

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bellabooks · 8 years ago

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“Pretty Little Liars” recap S7 Ep18: Chose or lose

Previously on Pretty Little Liars, Aria had the most glorious fever dream involving Mona singing and dancing as a prison guard, and it was so good that it almost made me forget about Mona and Emily pretending to be a couple. Making out with Emily Fields is the cure for morning sickness Alison is back in town and cuddling on the couch with Emily, who tells her she’s pretty and instigates some morning sex. They kiss and stumble into the bedroom, but OF COURSE they are twat-blocked by that damn board game, which is taking up space in the bed. Is that thing a drone? How does it keep moving so fast? Suddenly, the police bust in with a search warrant and start packing up evidence, including their phones. This is a coordinated effort across Rosewood, as the rest of the Liars are forced to turn over their phones and belongings to the cops. Aria manages to shred the last page of her file literally as the police walk in. The Liars wind up at the police station, where they’re met with Detective Tanner. Hi Tanner! Welcome back to Rosewood. Tanner quickly explains that Marco has recused himself from the case, what with sexing up Spencer and all. Wow, doesn’t he know that Rosewood has an open door policy on cops hooking up with suspects? It must be in the handbook. Tanner is smug as all hell and ready to lock up the Liars, which is pretty bold considering she knows their backstory and rescued them from the dollhouse. “Rescued” is a strong word, she merely let Caleb use police software and complained the entire time. She assures the Liars that she’s going to nail them on something, because the second rule of Rosewood Policing (after sleep with your suspects) is to always blame the victims. I’m here to chew bubble gum and make accusations, and I’m all out of bubble gum. Back at the Brew, Aria finds a hidden cell phone in the wall…a gift from A.D. Aria demands to meet them, and A.D. agrees to meet that night, telling Aria to wear the uniform. We then cut to Mona’s apartment, where she has been listening in on the call this entire time. Hanna shows up at Radley, where Ashley is waiting for her with a suite for the Liars. She demands that Hanna tell her the truth so she can Mama Bear the situation, but Hanna refuses to involve her because she loves her too much to make her an accomplice. Ashley Marin is the best mom in Rosewood, which is a low bar, but a bar nonetheless. One day I’ll own my own vineyard and be free of this nonsense The Liars and Caleb are holed up in the suite, trying to plan their next move. Spencer gives everyone a burner phone, because she is never not prepared. I would not be surprised if Spencer just has a stash of like, 20 burners on hand at all times. Emily tells the gang that A.D. was watching her and Ali sleep last night, and Hanna is the only one who is like, “y’all sleeping together? Nice!”. All we need is Sparia to come to their senses, then we’ll all be #queerendgame Caleb tries to track the missing board game on his laptop, when Hanna finds the board game phone on the room service cart. The phone tells them that they have 36 hours to decide: either one of them turns themselves in, or they all go down. Just then, Mona walks in and tells them that she thinks Aria has switched teams. At first the Liars refuse to believe her, but Mona came with proof. I magically manifest whenever someone says #queerendgame Spencer runs into Toby in the Radley lobby, who has been brought into town for questioning. He’s been living in a cabin in the woods, with a mountain man beard to prove it. He invites her to visit him, and asks what is going on, but Spencer assures him that it’s better if he doesn’t know. Ah, just like old times. Aria sneaks out of the house and goes to meet A.D. in the woods, where she is of course busted by all the Liars. She tries to explain herself, but everyone is furious, especially poor sweet Emily. Aria asks them if they remember when Ezra spied on them and exploited them for a book, as if that’s something anyone would forget. She tells the Liars that she was so mad she wrote a police report against Ezra for being a pedophile, but never filed it. She claims that she had no choice, but everyone rightly calls her out for putting Ezra’s needs above the group. But…but…but…my boyfriend tho Aria reminds them that they’ve all done terrible things for A, like that time Spencer kidnapped a kid (which I totally forgot about) but Spencer fires back that her parents are getting a divorce because of Aria’s actions. I mean…let’s be real: this divorce is a solid move. I think it has less to do with Aria than it does with Peter screwing every mom in Rosewood. But I digress. The Liars storm off, leaving a devastated Aria alone in the woods. The Liars are summoned to the police station, where they ice out Aria. Tanner sits them all down and lays out the evidence she’s gathered: bloody windshield glass in the shower drain, plus windshield fragments under Archer’s finger, plus video footage. It doesn’t look good. Tanner says she wants to give them a chance to tell their story, and claims that, had they been honest from the beginning, they never would have been kidnapped. God I wish I had cheese fries right now The Liars stonewall Tanner, who reluctantly lets them go. In the car, Aria calls A.D. and yells at them for ruining her life. She’s about to throw her phone out the window when A.D. tells her to wait. Okay, aside from bloody glass, video footage, and fingerprints galore, what evidence do you have? The rest of the Liars convene at the hotel and watch as the phone counts down. Hanna offers to confess, since she was the one driving. Spencer then offers, since it was her credit card mistake that nailed them. Ali expresses guilt that she married him in the first place. Emily tells the Liars that this is A.D.’s plan, for them to bicker and fight and fall apart. They already succeeded with Aria. Spencer blames Aria for her part in it, but Emily reminds her that she also played for the A team, and that they’ve all been forced to do terrible things. Meanwhile, Ashley confronts Caleb and demands the truth…and he tells her what happened. I mean, at this point, why not? Spencer goes to Aria’s place, and Aria begs for her forgiveness. They seem to be mending their friendship, when the cops arrive to return Aria’s belongings. Apparently, there is (doctored) camera footage of Aria in New Hampshire that exonerates her, a parting gift from A.D. Spencer is furious and storms out. New plan- I got us all tickets for the next Olivia cruise leaving the country, let’s go! Aria realizes that she has to tell Ezra the truth, but he already read the file before she shredded it. She tries to apologize (FOR WHAT THO) and Ezra tells her that he doesn’t blame her, and that he probs deserves to go to jail. This is the only smart and self aware thing Ezra has ever said. Aria is ready to tell him the whole damn truth, but first she wants to have a goodbye kiss/bang. Caleb brings Hanna to the courthouse, where her mom is waiting with a justice of the peace. They decide to get married because they’re running out of time, plus they won’t be forced to testify against each other. It’s a win-win! I also built a tree house with solar panels and wireless internet so we literally never have to leave the woods. Alison brings Emily into the woods, where she’s set up a beautiful romantic picnic at the kissing rock. It’s very sweet, even though none of these ladies should ever be alone in the woods. They start making out and we get a sex montage of all the Liars: Caleb and Hanna get married, Ezria has sex, Spencer goes to Toby’s cabin and seduces him, and Emily and Ali roll around together in their sex picnic. Is it sweet? Yes. Do the lesbians get a tamer scene than everyone else? Obviously. But nonetheless, it’s still a love scene, and for now we get to see Ali and Emily in love under the stars. Also, having a sex picnic in the woods is an all-star gay move. We get it Ali, you’re a top The next morning, the Liars (sans Aria) gather around the phone to watch it count down. When the clock runs out, Spencer smashes the phone with a giant rock…I mean…maybe she could have done that before the clock ran out? I don’t know, guys. They all swear to each other that no matter what happens, they will understand and forgive themselves. Meanwhile, Aria calls A.D. and tells them that she’s turning herself in…but the clock is already up. Aria has won unlimited freedom, and her friends are going down. Aria’s phone bursts into flames and she drops it on the ground. It’s a FIRE…sale Caleb and Ezra get a ping on the game, and track it to Mona’s house. They use a heat vision iPad (wait what) and see Mona cuddling up to the board game, as a jail cell rises onto the board. She’s wearing her nerdy Mona glasses and looks strung out…has the game activated her adrenalized hyperreality? Mona + glasses is my new OTP Aria is driving to the police station when she feels something rolling around in her trunk. She pops it open, and there’s Archer’s decaying body. Suddenly, a police car sirens and pulls over. Close that trunk, girl! Next week we find out who killed Charlotte. Only two episodes left! Tweet me your feels and A.D. conspiracy theories at @ChelseaProcrast http://dlvr.it/PMVlMk

#Television #PLL #Pretty Little Liars

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briannaslist · 8 years ago

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Choose or Lose

A Pretty Little Liars Recap (7x18)

Ali and Emily are about to have some sexy time, potentially in an effort to convince us that they do have some chemistry. It’s not convincing, so they cut it off to show us that the board game has moved into their bedroom. They see the new puzzle piece that was added secretly by Aria in the previous episode. Then they get interrupted by the police, who are searching all of the girls’ houses. Hanna called Aria in time to warn her and Aria shreds the police report she wrote about Ezra. When the police get to Ali and Emily’s bedroom, there is no board game.

Spencer learns that Detective Tanner is back. It would be exciting if only they hadn’t ruined her character last time. She says that Furey is off the case; he told her everything about Spencer and took himself off. That’s right; off screen, unceremoniously gone. He was too smart, with too many morals, so they just shuttled him off.

Tanner asked to head the investigation herself after Furey stepped down. She always felt like the girls were guilty of something, but never knew how. Which doesn’t seem like the proper reason to take over an investigation.

The police are taking everything, including phones. Ezra follows the police out of The Brew to ask them some questions about the search warrant and more logistics. Aria hears a phone ringing behind a vent. It’s AD calling. Aria says she wants to meet them. AD says they’ll text her the details.

Hanna packed up some stuff and goes to The Radley. She sees her mom in the lobby and Ashley tells Hanna she knows they’re being investigated and asks Hanna if she needs any help. Hanna says she does, but she isn’t letting her mom put herself on the line. She goes upstairs to a suite that Ashley set up for them. Spencer, Emily, Alison, and Caleb are there. Spencer got them all phones to use for the time being.

Emily mentions how freaked out she is since AD was probably watching her and Ali sleep last night. Everyone perks up at her phrasing and Hanna asks if they’re together. They both just give smiles in response and Hanna says it’s about time. Is it Hanna?

Hanna looks under a food tray in the kitchen and finds the phone from the game. It says “Choose or Lose. Just one plea, the rest go free. If no one steps up, you all go down.” Mona comes in and tells them if they want an explanation, they should ask Aria. Mona figured out that Aria is on the AD team. And it only took her like two days.

Mona gives her reasoning, including hearing a portion of Aria’s call to AD. She even plays part of that conversation for them. But Spencer wants more concrete proof.

Meanwhile, Detective Tanner has enough to think they could file charges within the week. They somehow found broken glass with blood in the shower drain. How a piece so small managed to stay there with blood is beyond me, but hey, there it is.

Toby runs into Spencer in the lobby at The Radley. He has long hair and a full beard. So, um… how long has Toby been gone? It’s been what, like a week, maybe two, since Yvonne died. What happened at that cabin while he was “not fishing”? Toby tells her that Detective Tanner called him in for questioning, which is why he’s in town. Spencer asks him how he’s been and he says he has good and bad days. Are they, like, every other day because they have given no indication of significant time passing? He tells her the cabin is nice since it’s away from all the noise and invites her there. Spencer responds by asking about Tanner. He tells her that it seems like Tanner is building a solid case.

Ezra catches Aria being all suspicious, wearing all black. He asks her what’s going on, but gets interrupted by a phone call. Aria takes advantage of this and leaves. Aria goes to the meeting place and is surrounded by the girls.

She tells them the truth about why she’s there. She tells them about the leverage AD had with the police report and Ali is outraged that she chose to protect Ezra over them. Why is anyone surprised? Aria’s done it before. In fact, they all have. And their significant others have too. Ali gets a phone call and steps away. Aria keeps trying to explain herself and reminds them that they’ve done terrible things at AD’s request. She reminds Spencer about how she kidnapped Ezra’s kid (I cannot remember where we landed on that one). Spencer’s response is, “Yeah but I didn't hurt him. Because of you, my parents are getting a divorce. You ruined everything I had.”

Wow. I mean where do you even start with that? First off, if anyone should be sympathetic, it should be Spencer. Both she and Toby worked for A in the past due to threats. Second, how can one ever respond to the statement that they didn’t hurt a child that they kidnapped. Like even if it wasn’t violent, that’s still a bad thing. That sounds like Charlotte’s, “But did you die?” defense. Third, how the hell is Aria responsible for Spencer’s parents breaking up? The Hastings’ household is a giant mess and always has been. Spencer even recently asked her mom why she was still married to Peter. Aria just put in a recording that AD would have played in their house regardless. AD manages to get into all their houses to move a giant board game; they can play a recording without Aria’s help. Even without the conspiracy to murder, we still have Peter fathering children with the neighbors more than once. This was an inevitability.

Ali comes back, saying the call was from Detective Tanner, who wants all five of them to come down to the station. Spencer tells Aria that she can find her own ride. Okay, so skipping over how silly that symbolic statement was considering Aria already drove herself there, how does Tanner have the number to Ali’s temporary phone? Rosewood police.

The girls get to the station and are put into a room together. Tanner shows them the windshield fragment and tells them they’re going through their internet searches. They also have some footage of the girls from The Radley. Tanner is offering them an opportunity to tell their side. Spencer speaks for all of them and refuses for all of them. I would never let Spencer speak for me. She’s the worst one. It’s cool to be annoyed at the situation, but take it down several notches Spencer. Tanner says they’re done and they all leave.

Aria calls AD while driving in her car. AD is disappointed in how sloppy Aria was. AD hasn’t been paying any attention after all; Aria was sloppy since day one. Aria accuses AD of never intending to meet her and getting her busted on purpose. She says AD has given her nothing and AD says they gave her the file. Aria says they’re done and disconnects the call.

The rest go to The Radley and openly talk about the crimes they committed while knowing they’re being watched by a master manipulator and investigated by the police. Emily says this time is different from the others because they did kill a guy. This. Is. So. Frustrating. There is no they, first of all. His death was not a joint effort. There was one driver and it was Hanna. Who also did not murder anyone. She was driving a car that he ran in front of. That’s not murder. He was in all black, in the woods, at night. She didn’t see him until he hit her car. All they had to do was call the police. Hanna was not going to go to jail for that. Look at her. They’re not arresting Hanna. In a show full of stupid, this is high up there.

They get a notification that they only have 24 hours to have someone turn themselves in. Each starts offering up why they’re the best candidate for turning themselves in. Emily points out that this is what AD wants, to tear them apart; she says they already succeeded with Aria and Spencer says Aria did it to herself. Honestly, Spencer, please fuck off. Luckily Emily calls her out and says that Spencer is the first person AD convinced to play the game.

The next morning, Ashley approaches Caleb in The Radley to ask about Hanna. As always. Caleb is probably really annoyed with Ashley asking about Hanna every time she sees him so he just tells her the truth. And he tells Hanna that he told her. Hanna is upset but he gets back in her good graces basically by being cute and sappy. She says she shouldn’t have involved him in everything and he holds her hand and says, “But you did.” And then the scene just ends. Why did we add that line?

Spencer goes to talk to Aria. She found an old picture of them and says it made her think about things. Aria says that she’s sorry and Spencer says she wishes she could forgive her. Clearly Spencer think much. She starts saying that Aria was right about her being just as bad – which also seems like unnecessary phrasing – but she gets cut off by a loud knock on Aria’s door. The police are returning Aria’s stuff. A video came in showing Aria in New Hampshire the night of Dunhill’s murder. Now Aria’s in the clear. Spencer storms out and Ezra walks in through the other entrance. Aria tells him they need to talk.

Turns out Ezra knew about the file this whole time. Aria’s not discrete and she left it out. He figured that’s what she was shredding and said he took it to the composter to be completely sure it was gone. She tries to apologize for writing it and he says she was right to do it and that he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had turned it in, then or now. He says he deserved it and maybe still does. Aria says he doesn’t and that she’s done some terrible things. Ezra tells her that she doesn’t have to tell him, but Aria insists that she does. But first she kisses him because she doesn’t know if he’ll stick around after she does tell him.

Caleb takes Hanna to the courthouse. He got them simple rings and says one day they may be able to afford nicer ones and a bigger ceremony. Plus the perk of them not having to testify against each other if they’re married. Hanna notes the time of day and says they’ll have to wait for morning. But Ashley is there and she made some calls to have the ceremony that night.

Alison set up a candlelight picnic in the middle of the woods for her and Emily. Why won’t these people stop going to the woods?

Spencer goes to Toby’s cabin. She says what will happen will happen. Toby notes the statement doesn’t sound like her. She tells him it feels like they’re always saying goodbye and asks him if he remembers the goodbye kiss they shared. You know, the one before he went off to start his life with his fiancé? The one before they got into an unfortunate accident and his fiancé was hospitalized and he married her there and she died the same day? That one. “It was nice wasn’t it?” Toby nods in agreement and they kiss again.

I feel like Toby was in a more vulnerable position and Spencer just capitalized on that. It seems wrong. But with less than 24 hours, we get a montage of Caleb and Hanna getting married while every other couple has sex. And it’s not short. Just…send them all to jail and end the show here.

At 3:59, the girls and Caleb get together. Except Aria because they don’t care about her anymore. Hanna says they should make a promise to not get mad after the countdown, no matter what anyone does. They agree. Where were those sentiments when they found out about Aria?

The timer counts down and says they lose. Spencer picks up a rock and smashes the phone. Where did she get the rock? Caleb says he got a hit on the game’s location and texted Ezra to meet him. Hang on. Ezra? So they must know that Aria told him. What, Aria gave them the heads up and they just freezed her out of their countdown party? And after she participated in the sex montage! These people are the worst.

Aria calls AD and says she’ll turn herself in and that will fix everything with her friends. Yes, the proper retribution for messing up a nursery is to admit to murder (when it wasn’t murder) and go to prison. AD says they ran out of time and the game is over. They say she won unlimited freedom and that they enjoyed the game and will miss their calls. And then the phone catches fire. Aria drops it and leaves the apartment. She leaves the burning phone on her wood floors. There are no words.

Aria calls Spencer from her car and says she’s on her way over there with an idea of how to fix everything. But then she hears a clunk. She pulls over and checks her trunk. She’s startled by a dead body in the trunk and drops her keys in there. A police car pulls up behind her and she slams the trunk closed, with the keys still inside.

Caleb and Ezra follow the signal all the way to Mona’s apartment. Mona is staring intently at the game as a jail cell pops up. She puts on her glasses. End episode.

#pretty little liars #pretty little liars recap #pll #pll 7x18 #pll7 #tv recaps

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whisper-of-a-screech · 5 years ago

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Hi hello yes did someone say ~modern naruto au shit~ No. No one did. Here you are anyway go wild my friends Sakura: • freshman (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • booksmarts • distant and demanding parents • ‘perfect daughter’ facade • boiling issues of inadequacy • and anxiety • and anger • oh yeah and self esteem • fierce like you wouldn’t BELIEVE • Bisaster but hides it Sasuke: • freshman (high school) • second son of the region’s police chief • mom is a lawyer • looks up to his older genius (slightly mentally unstable) brother • but there’s always the niggling sense of ‘I’ll never measure up’ • good grades • but his parents are always busy • and his brother already hit all those top marks • so it’s nothing special, huh • also a Bisaster and gets flustered sometimes Naruto: • freshman (high school) • half feral • no one knows how he got into high school • frequently claims he was raised by a pack of dogs and/or his foster brother (Kakashi) • bad grades • Art Kid™ • loves paint • spray paint especially • Bisaster and doesn’t bother to hide it • ace • crushing on Kiba Kiba: • freshman (high school) • wild child • mom owns a vet clinic • everyone in his family owns a dog • bad grades • rough and tumble • wrestles for fun • probably in a gang • leather jackets • no one knows if he dyes his cheeks or if he actually got tattoos or what • plot twist his mom also runs a tattoo parlor • but his sister does hardcore YouTube makeup tutorials • it’s anyone’s guess Hinata: • freshman (high school) • shy kid • trying hard but average grades • first daughter of the next region over’s police chief • under crazy pressure • stutters • oversized sweaters • genetic eye thing? • feels inferior to her younger sister • wanted to be rebellious so she tried to dye her hair • but couldn’t make herself do anything more obvious than dark blue Shino: • freshman (high school) • quiet • rumors that he’s mute • sunglasses • oversized coat • plot twist he’s covered in bug bites because he lets mosquitos suck his blood • his family is beekeepers / bug-breeders / ? • likes catching fireflies but always lets them go quickly • average grades • makes a game of how many bugs he can sneak into his pockets before the teachers notice Ino: • freshman (high school) • popular girl • good grades • gossipy but good with secrets • croptops • dad is a reporter / interviewer after retiring from ~secret agency~ • friends with everyone • knows how to cook • good at board games • crazy good at painting nails Shikamaru: • freshman (high school) • probably narcoleptic • sleeps in class • bad grades • good at board games • conspiracy theorist™ • his room is covered in bulletin boards • with pinned newspaper clippings and red string • plot twist his dad has even bigger bulletin boards • and even more newspaper clippings / red string Chouji: • freshman (high school) • loves to cook • parents run a bakery and a restaurant respectively • average grades • good at board games • him and Kiba are in the same boat with the tattoo / dye / makeup mystery • but surely sweet Chouji would never get tattoos • no • never • (plot twist Kiba’s are makeup and Chouji’s are tattoos) Tenten: • sophomore (high school) • confident • has a knife collection • father is a blacksmith / bladesmith • friendly • good grades • no mom • oddly good at styling hair • plot twist it’s bc she does Neji’s Neji: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • Hinata’s cousin • dad died on duty with Hiashi • he blames Hiashi for it • genetic eye thing? • cool • distant • has plans to move in with Tenten after he hits eighteen Lee: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • Gai’s adopted son • hardworking • tired of ‘you don’t look alike’ comments • so now he and Gai look exactly alike • super emotional • will absolutely cry when he graduates • always gives 100% of his everything, for everything Itachi: • junior (college) • straight A’s • 4.0 gpa • Halloween Fanatic™ • blank expressions all the time • doesn’t talk often • ppl are always surprised when he does bc he sounds like he gargled a gravel driveway • plot twist it’s bc he’s a hardcore smoker • everyone knows the Uchiha all have this genetic cough/scratchy throat thing that usually comes in between the ages of 18 and 25 • except plot twist the Uchiha are all just chain-smokers • the ‘woke up like this’ kid • drinks matcha tea with his dango Kisame: • senior (college) • lots of tattoos (gills / blue-gray swirls / etc.) • dyes his hair blue • gets cold easy • wears ear warmers • hair doesn’t behave • had to file his teeth for a dare and now he scares all the freshies • polite • can down the blackest of coffee like water but doesn’t often • it’s an exam special • has seven (7) pet fish, two (2) pet snails and one (1) pet marimo algae ball • works at an aquarium • regularly ‘communes’ with the sharks • (he hums at them while they swim around) • but they seem to like him? • the staff is endlessly confused but like whatever floats your boat my guy Pein (Nagato): • senior (college) • philosophy major • blank and monotone • at least nine piercings • quiet but weirdly intense • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Konan • the only person allowed to call him Nagato is Konan • unless they want to wake up drugged in a ditch an inexplicable sixty miles from town covered in paper cuts Konan: • senior (college) • majors in Accounting and / or Management (business student) • somewhat less blank than Pein • has a few piercings of her own • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Pein • origami • never anything less than composed or pristine • badass • 100% of the time, just • badass Tobi: • senior (college) • speaks in third person • embraces his inner child • clumsy af • wears a phantom of the opera mask everywhere • no one knows / can remember his eye color • falls over a lot • trips up the stairs • extreme sweet tooth • likes juice boxes / goldfish / fruit snacks / etc. • roommates with Zetsu • they play go fish when neither can sleep • somehow good grades even though no one ever sees him in class • plot twist it’s bc he goes as Obito Zetsu: • junior (college) • completely lathers themself in water-resistant black and white paint every ~3 days • dyes their hair green • wears their botany project around • what ppl don’t know is that it’s a vampiric plant hybrid they bred specially to feed off blood • ‘i can’t go to her every time she needs to be fed, so i just bring her with me’ • wears contacts • spends most of their time in the greenhouse • doesn’t sleep • local cryptid • nb • ‘any pronouns but she’ • no one ever sees them eat Deidara: • freshman (college) • spends 2.2 hours on his hair and almost a fifth of his budget on hair products • band kid • eyeliner • makeup expert • he collabs with Hana for some YouTube makeup tutorials • drums • unexpectedly good singer • loves fireworks • makes his own fireworks • 4th of July is his favorite holiday • accidentally made a kiln bomb as a kid and now he explodes things as often as possible • enjoys sculpting clay figures for raku pottery with air bubbles so they explode when heated • hates coffee with PASSION • but still visits Sasori’s favorite cafe with him • not that he ASKS but it’s always nice to have company right? • right Sasori: • senior (college) • 21 but ppl think he’s 18 • he’s got a hella baby face • Art Kid™ • enjoys woodworking • and occasionally leather-crafting • dorm room is covered in puppets • human puppets / doll puppets / animal puppets • super good puppeteer • could do his entire show with his eyes closed • tutors Kankurou • once took an archery class and can hit dead center 95% of the time • can sleep with his eyes open • can also sleep standing up • he utilizes both these skills often • everyone thinks he’s a stoic bastard • and he is but also it’s mostly because he keeps falling asleep during conversations • dyes his hair red Kakuzu: • senior (college) • no one knows how long he’s been a senior • he’s not in debt • no student loans • no one knows how he’s doing it • plot twist it’s bc he’s filthy rich from scamming half the students in his freshman year oh so long ago • but he’s stingy and miserly and still lives off instant ramen and cereal • has like three PhDs • he’s working on his fourth • his blood is coffee at this point • he wears a face mask to hide the tattoos he got on a dare as a dumb teenager • has reading glasses but never uses them • green eyes but they’re so bloodshot he looks permanently high when instead he’s averaging 1.5 hours of sleep per night • rents his place out to other college students • he gouges them and they complain but it’s still cheaper than the dorms Hidan: • senior (college) • held back three years in high school • disappears every Sunday • says he was at ‘church’ but no one’s heard of a Jashinist church before much less one in the area • wears contacts • bleached his hair on a dare and liked it so he keeps doing it • regularly / ritually paints his face / chest / arms every Sunday for ‘church’ • prays four times a day on every sixth hour (5 am, 11 am, 5 pm, 11 pm) • has a religious exemption from class for 15 minutes at 11 am to pray • plot twist the only reason he got it is because he prays whether he has it or not and the professor got sick of him loudly and passive-aggressively reciting his prayers over the lecture • always carries his rosary • smokes occasionally • but has a Thing abt hygiene • his teeth are infuriatingly white

#Naruto #College AU #Modern AU #yeah so this is the product of #well me avoiding actually writing #I’ll probably make more #request characters if you like ig

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