#ive spent an hour on this though going through different settings and filters so this is what we get

[donghuamuqing]

“Control yourself

Take only what you need from it”

[calumance]

LA Devotee - Part XIX

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, cussing, drinking

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Emily has arrived at her conference, but that doesn’t mean she can stop thinking about Calum. Nothing seems to be going right anymore, that is until she gets home.

A/N: Oof, I’m sorry this is so late. I hope you guys enjoy it! Happy reading!!!! 🥰🥰🥰 Feedback and requests are always welcomed! (Want to be notified when I post stuff? Let me know!)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII 

Masterlist

        I dropped my bags on the hotel floor and flicked on the light switch. The door shut behind me and I looked around the room. If Calum stays in rooms that look anything like this, I don’t know how he doesn’t lose his mind. After a second I walked to the window and tossed the curtains open. The view was the brick building next to the hotel, if I leaned forward and pressed my left cheek to the glass, I could see one billboard from Times Square. I closed the curtains with a sigh and sat on the end of the bed, dropping my head into my hands. This is going to be a horrible week.

        My phone dinged, and I dropped my hands and leaned back, my eyebrows furrowing. My eyebrows released and my heart started to race when I saw Calum’s name. I swiped up to unlock my phone and read the message, “Just landed in LA, hope you had a safe flight. Cal” A sigh escaped my chest and I set my phone on the bed next to me. My heart beat one more time before another message came through. Without moving my body, I reached next to me and grabbed my phone then reluctantly read the message, “I miss you so much. I can’t wait until I can hold you in my arms again, Emily. I’ll call you when I get home.” I tossed my phone behind me, letting it bounce on the mattress. After letting a few thoughts run through my head, I pushed myself off the bed and walked to the bathroom to take a shower before I had to be in a meeting in two hours.

        The mirrors in the bathroom were coated with steam. The fan in the bathroom barely worked and made a horrible screeching noise when I turned it on. After I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped the towel around my hair and body then walked out of the bathroom. The screen on my phone lit up as the ringtone sounded. My heart raced as I walked around the bed and leaned over to see who it was. Seeing Calum’s name, I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Before I could miss the call, I answered the call, “Hello?” I tried to keep the attitude suppressed, but a small amount seeped through. Noticing it, I held my breath and sat on the bed, waiting for Calum to say something.

        “Hey,” He said, the sound of the door shutting in the background. “How was your flight?” There was a thud in the background, resembling the sound of his bag hitting the floor.

        I cleared my throat, “It was good. How was your trip home?” Tears started to well in my eyes and I looked up at the ceiling. My heart hurt, I just wanted to tell him I love him, but the fear of our lives moving in two different directions over taking my feelings.

        “It was good. It feels good to be home.” His voice cracked, causing him to clear his throat and stop his thoughts.

        My chest felt tight, and the phone call suddenly got heavy. “Listen, I have to be in a meeting in an hour. I’m going to let you go so I can get ready.” He stumbled over his words before he gave me a simple ‘yeah.’ I gave him a simple goodbye and hung up, tossing my phone on the bed again. I squatted next to my suitcase and pulled out a pair of black dress pants, a gray chiffon t-shirt, and my bright red blazer. After I dried my hair and put on some makeup, I pulled on a pair of black pump wedges. I grabbed my notebook and my phone and headed to the conference room off to the right of the lobby of the hotel.

        Half way through the meeting, I could feel my phone vibrate, but I decided to ignore it. It wasn’t until they released us for a break that I checked my phone. There was a text message from Mikayla, a missed call and a voicemail from Calum. I started with Mikayla’s text message: “Holy crap I hate you not being here. Like, I know you have your own office and stuff now, but it’s completely different with you not here at all. Please come back to me. Creepy Gary is hitting on me again. S.O.S Love you!” My chest jumped with a silent laugh and I typed back “Ew, punch him, tell the boss it was self-defense (just kidding don’t do that, you’ll get fired and I can’t handle that.) Love you too!”

        My breathing became labored as I stared at the notification on my voicemail. My heart pounded in my chest and my ears as I put the phone to my ear to listen to the voicemail. “Emily,” He sounded like he had had one too many drinks, but still coherent enough to speak logically, “I guess you’re still in your meeting. Thank you for all of the groceries, and you cleaned the house.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I – “ He paused, “Call me back.” He hung up and the voicemail ended. I looked around the room to see if anyone was looking at me and wiped a tear from my face. Before I got a chance to call Calum back, they called us back into the meeting.

        When I got back to my hotel room, the first thing I wanted to do was take my shoes off. After I tossed them to the side, I stood at the end of the bed and fell backwards, allowing myself to bounce against the mattress. I tapped on Mikayla’s contact and pressed the speaker to my ear, listening to the dial tone, until she answered, “Oh thank god you called me, Creepy Gary was talking to me and I was able to walk away because my phone was ringing. How’s the conference?” Her voice was cheery, it made the pain in my chest dissipate.

        I chuckled, “Glad I could save you. It’s alright, today was a meeting about what we are going to talk about and explore while we’re here. Although it was good information, the speaker is so monotone that I thought my head was actually going to explode.” My pointer finger and thumb rubbed the ridge above my eyebrows while Mikayla laughed.

        Mikayla cleared her throat, “Have you and Calum worked everything out?” Her voice was no longer cheery and bright, it turned serious and motherly. Never in the time that I’ve known her have I regretted telling her literally everything, but right now I do, only because it’s still an open wound.

        I swallowed hard, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. It stayed lodged in my throat as I shook my head against the bed. “No, I don’t know, Mikayla. What if he tells me it’s over and we’re done? I dropped everything for him. I have nowhere to go if this is it.” I licked my lips, keeping the tears at bay.

        Mikayla sighed, “Not that I’m saying this is the end, but if that ends up happening, which let me emphasize that I don’t think it will, you can always stay with me.” She paused and sighed again, “Have you tried to talk to him about everything that happened?”

        “No, he left me a voicemail while I was in the meeting and he sounded like he was a bit tipsy, so I’m not sure right now is the best time to talk to him.” I stopped rubbing my brow ridge and covered my face with my hand, letting my elbow fall to the side. Mikayla hummed, not in agreement, but in understanding. “Hey, I’m going to go grab some food and then I’m going to get some sleep, I’m exhausted. I’ll call you tomorrow. Avoid Creepy Gary at all costs, you hear me?” She laughed in response and said goodbye before we both hung up. I allowed my phone to fall on my chest, and closed my eyes. Even though I didn’t think tonight was the best night to talk to him, not calling him back was just going to feed the fire.

        The dial tone pierced my ear drums while I waited for Calum to pick up. When he did, there was loud music for a second and then it went completely silent before he sighed my name. “Sorry I didn’t call back,” I said in a monotone voice. “The meeting was longer than I thought it was going to be. What did you need?” He started rambling something, all of his words slurring together, making him hard to understand. I sat up and sat crisscrossed on the bed and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Something about the food in the fridge and the yard being picked up. “Calum, you’re drunk and I can barely understand you.” He mumbled a few more things and then the call ended. “What the fuck was that?” I said to myself and tossed my phone onto the night stand. Leaving it there while I went to the restaurant in the lobby to grab some food.

        The entire trip resembled something of the first night. Meetings all day, every day, no time to really go out and see the city. The furthest I got to touring was going to the Red Lobster in Times Square for dinner on Friday night. Calum and I spent little time talking, and it was starting to drive me absolutely mad. My flight home leaves Monday night, and he flies out to their next destination on Monday morning. Whatever was keeping us from seeing each other was really starting to get on my last nerve.

Even though the office is closed on Sunday’s in LA, and most other places, we still had a meeting all day. After I was able to sit through the last meeting, the only thing I had to look forward to was getting to spend all day tomorrow getting ready to go home. For whatever reason, I didn’t feel like eating tonight, instead I went to the bar in the hotel. I was on my fourth long island iced tea and the alcohol was started to blur my thoughts. Blurring all of the ones except for the ones about Calum. Which, ironically, where the ones I was trying to blur. My fingers moved backwards in my hair, stopping half way so I could put the weight of my head in my hand. In a moment my phone was in my free hand, and I was staring at the picture of Calum and I still set as my background. My eyes closed, feeling the physical pain of not talking to him. My other hand dropped from my hair and to my phone as the alcohol dissolved my internal filter.

I sent the message without thinking, and my heart stopped after I read it to myself: “If you want to end our relationship, will you just do it? I don’t think my body or my heart can handle this much pain anymore.” I felt like an idiot for sending the message, but there’s no way to take it back. I started typing again, trying to back pedal. “I’m sorry I didn’t go and see you on tour. I fucked up, I keep thinking about how you told me I was selfish, and I fucking am. I’m so sorry, I know you hate me and probably don’t actually want to see me even if we do ever get the chance to see each other again, but just know I’m sorry. I can pack up all my things when I get home on tomorrow and be out of your life forever.” I sent the message and put my phone face down on the bar. My mouth found the straw and I finished the drink and asked for another one.

As I finished my fifth drink, I found the courage to look at my phone. I squinted when I saw a single text message from Calum. When I opened my phone, I held my breath as I realized it was a long message. As I exhaled, I started reading, “What? Emily. I don’t hate you, and I definitely don’t want to end our relationship. You are selfish, but It comes with being hurt. Yeah, I’m upset that you didn’t visit me and yeah, I’m mad that I haven’t seen you in two fucking months, but that does NOT mean we’re never going to see each other again. I know you’ve been through a lot of shit in the past, and so have I. Just because there’s a bit of a snag in our relationship doesn’t mean I don’t want to fight for it. I miss you so fucking bad. Baby, I’d wait ten years to see you again, if that’s what I’d have to do. Please don’t pack your things up, I never want you to leave.” I dropped my phone face down and held my breath to not cry in front of every person sitting in the bar. Before I broke, I asked for my check and bounced my leg to contain myself. I made it to the elevator but once the doors shut and I knew I was by myself, I broke down. Broke down to the point where I could barely stand. I squatted and put my face in my hands and tried to compose myself.

The elevator dinged and I stood up quickly, a head rush causing me to take a step back. As I hastily walked down the hallway, I pulled my hotel room key out of my pocket. The door swung open, a loud thud as it hit the wall. I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce hard enough to fall onto the floor. That’s where it stayed as I curled into a ball in the chair by the window and continued to cry the alcoholic buzz away.

The sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows behind me caused my back to heat up. People running through the airport towards their flight, while other people sat and waited for the flights to take off. I looked towards the agent stand while the gate agents shuffled to get everything ready to start loading the plane that was going to take me back to Los Angeles. My phone vibrated, a message from Mikayla expressing how happy she was that I’d be back at work in the morning. I switched over to my message thread with Calum and for the hundredth time, I read his message he sent me yesterday night. After the long message, there were a few good morning and good night messages, all from him. Maybe he knew that I didn’t know how to respond to him, even if he didn’t, I still appreciated the fact that he hadn’t given up. I glanced at the time and wondered if he was on his flight yet. Wanting to try to talk to him one more time before I got home, I put the phone to my ear as the call rang out. Multiple different options of what I could say to him ran through my mind as the call rang out. The call went to voicemail and I hung up. Nothing I wanted to say to him was voicemail appropriate. Just as I put my phone back in my pocket, they started boarding the flight.

It was late when I finally made it home, and it was weird to not be greeted by the little black and white dog who is the best company with Calum not here. Crystal had texted me earlier in the day letting me know that Calum had dropped him off there since he wasn’t sure what time I’d be getting home. I lugged my bags into the bedroom and dropped them on the bed. If I didn’t start to unpack now, I probably would never do it. As I opened my suitcase, I tossed all of my dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner of the room, then grabbed my toiletries and walked into the bathroom. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a sticky note on the bathroom mirror. Calum’s hand writing was scribbled across the note with the words “You’re beautiful” scrawled on it. After I dropped all of my thing in the sink, I grabbed the sticky note off the mirror and held it between my fingers, staring at it as if this is the only piece of him I had left. I held it to my chest as I walked out of the bathroom.

After I had set the sticky note down on my phone, I grabbed the hamper full of dirty clothes and walked down the hallway towards the laundry room. When I switched on the light, I found another sticky note sitting on the top of the washing machine. My heart fluttered as I peeled the note off to read it. “You’re amazing” scrawled on the note. My cheeks flushed and I set it to the side as I threw a load of laundry into the washing machine. Before I walked out, I grabbed the note then made my way back into the bedroom. I took a picture of the sticky notes and sent the picture to him with a message saying “Thank you, Calum. Hope you have a safe flight.” I dropped my phone onto the bed so I could finish getting ready for bed.

I crawled under the covers, after making sure the house was locked up, and grabbed my phone. A message from Calum waiting for me to read. My lips twitched into a smile as I unlocked my phone. “There’s more, hope you find them all. Just landed in London, it’s the morning here, and from what I’ve learned through my traveling is it’s night there. Good night, gorgeous. Text me when you wake up. Xx” My heart fluttered as I set my phone on the night stand and rolled over. As I placed my head on my pillow, Calum’s cologne suddenly filled my nose. Instinctually, I reached over and grabbed at the sheets. As the intoxicating scent filled my nose, I pulled myself onto his side of the bed, drowning myself in a pool of his scent. A smile stretching across my face as it lulled me to sleep.

The second my alarm went off I knew I should’ve taken today off to rest, but I needed every day I could get because I was going to visit Calum before he came home again. My hand searched for the alarm to shut it off and I sat up rubbing my tired eyes. Through squinted eyes, I reached over and grabbed my phone off the side table. My fingers lazily tapped a good morning message to Calum before I pushed myself off the bed, then stumbled my way into the bathroom. The reason I take showers in the morning is they wake me up, if I took showers at night, I probably would never function like a normal human. With that being said, this shower did absolutely nothing to wake me up.

The steam rolled out of the bathroom as I opened the door back into the bedroom. The sun was starting to come up and my head was starting to throb from the exhaustion. There was no way I could put more than ten minutes of thought into my outfit, so I pulled out a pair of black leggings, a black and white striped loose fitting t-shirt, a pair of white converse and a black blazer. Blazer’s always dress up any outfit, in my mind. I ran a brush through my hair, but let it hang so it could dry naturally, which would eventually lead to some completely uneven waves. The only amount of makeup I could bring myself to put on was some foundation, mascara, and a quick fill of my eyebrows.

After I grabbed my phone, I walked to the kitchen and my eyebrows narrowed seeing a sticky note stuck to the coffee maker, “You’re strong, just like this coffee (just press start).” I let out a chuckle and pulled the note off and pressed the start button. As the coffee brewed, I walked around the house to gather everything I needed to take back to work. Once I had everything gathered, I walked back into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where my travel mug had found its home when I wasn’t using it. On the travel mug there was another sticky note, my cheeks immediately flushing, “You are the definition of warmth (this mug keeps your coffee warm).” I chuckled at how cheesy the notes were getting, then set it with the one from the coffee maker. As I twist the cap onto my travel mug, I check the time and run to the front door to grab my bag. My bag sat on my shoulder heavily, and I flicked my hair out of my face noticing a sticky note on the door. I read it, but didn’t remove it from the door. “You’re going to do great things today.” At the end of the note was a heart, and my heart skipped a beat. I loved him so much, I just wish I had the chance to tell him.

************

Tag list: @notinthesameguey​ @viiirg0​ @thinkofmehlgh​ @another-lonely-heart​ @limer-encia​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @babyoria​ @treatallwithkindness​

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Ten: For the Great Good Part Two

Hi All. Thank you for reading. This is for prompt ten of whumptober: Internal Bleeding and blood loss.

References to suicide.

Chapter Eleven: Where in the World is Peter? 

???

People were talking around him. They were the type of murmurs you could never hear the exact wording no matter how hard you concentrated. His head lay heavy on the pillow, sunk into the dent worn in it by time. He found the same experience with his limbs. They were all but useless at his side besides the small twitch in the ring finger of his left hand.

Time held no meaning in that state of immobility and exhaustion dragged him back to sleep whenever consciousness creeped back in. Inside the immobile body his cells worked to heal and repair the damage from the attack and fall, though his mind remained unaware. Hours or weeks could have passed, and in some ways they did but Peter wasn’t aware to the consequences of this yet.

He woke up to the sound of voices again. Shaking from the effort, he cracked an eye open. There was a young nurse sitting on a stool near the door. She was on some talking into type of boxed hospital phone. Her intonation rose and fell as skimmed through some paperwork on a clipboard. Peter closed his eyes and panted while trying to ignore the trembling in his neck. He slept again.

Waking moments were more prevalent from then on. He noticed someone was always stationed in his room no matter the time of day. Some stayed in the chair by the door while others came in and watched TV. They sat in the chair beside him and though he would fall asleep, it this strange state of sickness seem less lonely.

The doctor came sparingly but they made sure to give a progress report when they did. “Low urine output still. Give him more fluids” The doctor said much to Peter’s embarrassment. His palms were clammy against the bedsheets but his arms wouldn’t respond to his attempts to move. His mind wanted to claim health, that he was fine and could go back, but his body knew what his mind wouldn’t acknowledge: Peter was hurt and it was taking too long to heal. His heart was beating fast but his pulse pressure remained low. He wasn’t just tired but had full exhaustion and fatigue in his muscles.

Sometimes he pretended they were talking about somebody else so he didn’t have to be embarrassed. Like he wasn’t invisible and they weren’t talking around him. Other times he couldn’t follow the updates from the people. He’d get lost in the numbers and vocabulary, the twisting sentences that almost seemed like they contradicted themselves. A headache formed and he would block out the sounds instead of trying to wake up. Still, Peter slept on.

When he opened his eyes without strain and forethought, it was night. He stared at the moon from his spot on the bed. It hung low and thick in his window. The yellow and dark watercolors of the face casting a strange tint across the room and the blankets covering him. The face stared right back at him all dark eyes and long mouths. Did the man in the moon pity him or was he laughing?

Peter took a mental stock of himself. He tensed his muscles pushing them to see how they functioned after no use. He was breathing hard from his exploration, his legs twitching and restless. With slow, measured movements Peter pushed himself to sit, though his stomach muscles protested the whole way. Hunched over and catching his breath, Peter thought about his next options.

The memories of how he came to be in the hospital were gone, but he knew he had to get out. The more time spent here, the easier it was for the men to come back. They would fine him eventually and such public exposure would work against him. Peter almost caved against the onset of his plans and fell back onto the bed, but he held firm. Rhodey and Tony’s faces appeared before him like apparitions in a ghost story. Their transparent expressions yelling at him to run as invisible enemies attacked them. A branch in the tree outside moved with the wind, disturbing the shadows in his room, and they were gone. He would find a way out for them.

Peter swung his legs off the side of the bed. He gasped as the cold of the tiled floor soaked through his socks and chilled his feet. Some plastic pouch was strapped to his leg. He palpated it and blushed when he felt liquid inside. Pushing away thoughts of his urinary track, Peter tested his balance. He fully placed his feet on the ground and pushed away from the stationary structure of the bed. Back and forth he teetered on the balls of his feet before what felt like the first time in forever, Peter was standing on his own two feet. His muscles burned and shook from the effort, and Peter began sweating but he was standing. It seemed like a time ago he was running on the dock. Had he fallen into the pond? His head pounded. He couldn’t remember what happened next.

Something moved and he saw the heat rustle the papers of the nurse sitting by his door. Her head was bent over to rest on the wall. She was almost asleep. Her eyes kept closing and not even the sounds of Peter’s explorations woke her. He could sneak around her if he moved fast enough. He tried walking but something tugged him back. The IV poll moved forward to catch up with him leaving the metal to scrap on the floor. The nurse woke up with a snort.

“Oh my.” She said when she spotted him up standing. “You shouldn’t be up. Let’s get you settled back in.”

There was no room for argument and he was tucked back in before he knew it. He drooped into the bedding and despite hating to admit it, even to himself, Peter felt like he’d just ran a marathon. Escape stretched further away from him if standing caused this much of an energy drain. He stared at the nurse how was working around him. She was an older nurse, one he might have seen before in one of his brief instances of clarity. She refilled his water and tucked the covers over his shoulders. Before she could move away he stopped her.

“Miss?” He said wanting to ask something that had been bothering him all night. “I’ve been to the hospital a few times when I was a kid and never had someone sit with me. Not that I don’t appreciate it but I don’t think I can sleep knowing someone’s watching me.”



She gave him a critical eye as she checked the IV measurements with the time.

“Well, Mr. Parker that hasn’t stopped you from sleeping in the past 24 hours with other nurses here. I’m acting as a sitter tonight. I’m here to make sure you’re not a danger to yourself given how they recovered you from that lake.”

She patted him on his arm and his mind reeled with startling clarity of her words. They thought he jumped.  They thought he chose to jump into the icy waters and not come back. A shiver ran down his spine. He needed to make her understand.

“That, that wasn’t it. I - someone was running after me and I fell. I - it wasn’t on purpose.” 



She clucked her teeth and pushed the covers up where they had fallen when he tried to get up to reassure her and maybe himself as well.

“Be that as it may, Mr. Parker. I have a job to do until you are cleared with the doctors and you do too. Rest easy tonight and focus on getting better. You’ve had some internal bleeding that they need to look at now you’re awake.”

He nodded and fell back into his pillow all fight and plans of escape forgotten.

“It’s Peter, please. Could you put the TV on? I would feel better with some background noise.” He said.

“I’m nurse Bee. Sleep well, Peter. I’ll be watching over you tonight.”

He closed his eyes and the sounds from the TV filtered into the room. His last thought was he thought he heard a commercial with Shrek come on.

-

“You’ve got some very unusual markers in your blood, Mr. Parker. It’s the reason it took us so long to find a suitable donor to get a transfusion. Now that it’s all set you should be feeling much better. We’ve removed the catheter as well and stopped most of the pain meds. The goal is to get you mobile now, build up any muscles, and, of course, you’ll have to see a psychiatrist. One will be sent up this afternoon. CPS was called and-”

“I’m eighteen, Doc” He said maintaining eye contact. The doctor raised an eyebrow but Peter didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t believe Peter, never mind that he was right not to trust him. It was that or he didn’t care either way. “Plus, I’ll call my uncle and he’ll tell you. There’s no need for anything else.”

The afternoon was filled with appointments. Just thinking about it left him a state of denial. Question after question bombarded him. He was scanned and poked and prodded. He didn’t even know how he was going to pay for everything.

The talk with the therapist was the worst. The hour dragged on. Every question was followed by another. Peter tried to be as honest as possible. Sticking to the truth was best in a lie and it would be easier to remember later, but Spiderman, that place, and May. No, all of those things were off limits. What he did repeat was he hadn’t jumped. He was chased and fell. The man nodded and wrote down something in his notebook before trying to dive into Peter’s past. He had no past here.

In any other circumstances it might’ve been helpful. If Peter was open to the experience he might have found talking about his life to a stranger freeing. But this wasn’t the case. His past was gone here to all outside eyes. It hadn’t happened because it would be dangerous to talk about it. He was increasingly closed off as the minutes went by. His attention more focused on the plaid sweater vest the man was wearing than their session.

Night came again. They must have believed his story because was finally alone. He was parched from retelling everything he remembered and more during the day. Still, something was missing. Dr. Lang suggested it was the trauma but Peter thought everything seemed off somehow. Everything was different from before.

He stuffed the blanket around his feet so the cold air wouldn’t chill them and grabbed the controller. He almost wished the nurse from the previous night was there before he stopped the thought. Escape. He needed to escape tonight. The CPS had been too late to arrive today but he didn’t think he would be lucky enough tomorrow. They couldn’t make plans about him and take him farther away than he was now.

The IV prickled with blood after he pulled it out. He pressed the corner of his gown onto the small hole and once it coagulated, Peter tossed a blanket around his shoulders as disguise. It wasn’t the most incognito appearance but it was all he had until he could find something, maybe a nurse’s zip-up to use. He also didn’t want the cold to stress his body even more in its weakened state.

The memory of the therapist in plaid confirming his time with the CPS tomorrow was enough to get him out of bed and into the hallway. It was empty. Only his heart racing and machines talking were heard at this time of night. Above everything else, he couldn’t be caught. He walked without sound but he was too slow all his thoughts of daring escapes and only managed one hallway when he heard someone walking. A nurse turned the corner wheeling a cart in front of him. One of the wheels squeaked as it rolled. Peter held his breath and pushed himself into the wall but it wasn’t cover enough. As fast as he dared Peter darted into the closest room hoping the patient was asleep. He leaned against the door not breathing until the squeaking grew too faint to hear.

“What are you doing?”

Someone said from inside the room. Peter swallowed. His assessment of sleep was way off base. With a stolen breath he peered around the door wall and into the room.

Papers were strewn over a spread of open books on the bed. It was chaos but the person sitting didn’t seem to mind. They were hunched over one of the papers. Peter waited for them to look up. He wondered if his eyes would be cold or warm but they were shrouded from view. His brown hair longer than Peter’s haircut. It was grown out from his buzzcut but still not longer than his ears. Peter spared a glance at the boy’s mouth and forehead. Both were furrowed and lined as he concentrated.

Peter felt like he was in middle school again waiting in the principal’s office after getting into a fight when one of the other kids called him a nerd. The principal made him stand in front of his desk for five minutes while he finished work. Peter didn’t have time to wait now.

“Well?” He asked again with a raised eyebrow. Peter realized he’d never answered. While the ground seemed infinitely a safer place to look Peter forced himself to look up.

His breath froze in his chest. In front of him sat an apparition. Peter almost pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. His eyes were the same brown with flecks of black speckled throughout, but like the first time it was the emotion that kept his attention. There was a certain duality to his eyes. They stayed focused completely on him and taking in his face but this time there was no recognition of the distance between them. This time Peter felt as though he carried the ocean in him that separated them and, for a moment, he could almost understand the expression in his eyes the first time they met. Maybe he’d been asleep longer than he thought. Peter continued to stare and the longer he looked the more differences he spotted. The lines weren’t the same around his eyes, age hadn’t touched him yet, and he was missing that familiar edge to the brown pupils that had grown over the weeks of Peter being with them.

“I was just hiding - I mean, I was, Tony? What the hell are you doing here?” 



The man’s – boy’s - eyes hardened but the curiosity stayed.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” 


Thank you!

Next Chapter Twelve: The President, Shrek, and Sweater Vests 

[korora12]

Ladybug Week Day 6 - Kitchen Disaster

Day 5 Day 7

Word Count: 4881

The thing about working freelance is that sometimes there isn’t any work to be had. Sometimes you get a tip about a job on a distant moon, so you fly halfway across the system just to find out someone beat you to it. Then you’re stuck flying back at half-speed to a more populated part of the system in order to conserve fuel, struggling to find ways to pass the time that won’t eat through money you don’t have.

“Ruby, where did you put my flamethrower?”

Blake was sitting in Crescent Rose’s common room reading her newest novel when Yang’s voice chimed over the intercom, signaling the beginning of the day’s unrequested excitement.

Moments later, Ruby returned with, “I put it back in the weapons locker. Where it belongs. Should I be concerned right now?”

“No, no need to be concerned. We have everything under control. Right, Weiss?”

“Can’t talk right now, busy,” Weiss responded. A loud crash preceded the intercom cutting out.

Blake turned to look behind her. The kitchen was in a small alcove, just to the side of the common room, where she’d seen Weiss and Yang head about an hour ago. She’d been filtering out their bickering/flirting since then, until she’d heard one of them run out moments earlier, heading towards the cockpit door. Past the kitchen counter, she could see Weiss struggling with some amorphous blob.

Sighing, Blake marked her spot and placed her book down on the nearby table. What were those two up to this time?

Across the room the door to the main battery opened and Ruby stepped through. Her skin and clothes, a pair of overalls and an old shirt, were covered in grease and other unrecognizable fluids. Her hair was being held back from her face by a pair of goggles perched atop her head. “What’s happening this time?” she demanded to know.

Blake thrust her thumb over her shoulder. Ruby’s gaze followed where she was pointing; when she saw the state of the kitchen she ran a hand over her face, managing to dirty it further. “Someone’s losing kitchen privileges for this,” she muttered.

The couple made their way across the room just in time for Weiss to slam a lid down atop a 10-gallon pot. She struggled to keep it in place.

“Are we doing chemistry experiments in the kitchen again, Weiss?” Ruby didn’t get angry about many things, but reckless behavior that damaged her ship was one such thing. After what had happened the last few times Yang and Weiss had gotten bored, the razor edge in her voice was far from unwarranted.

“Of course not. We learned our lesson last time,” Weiss assured her. The pot in her grasp shook violently. “We were cooking, which Yang has assured me doesn’t count as chemistry.”

Ruby didn’t immediately snap at her. “Go on,” she said.

Motes of light flickered and swirled within Weiss, signs of anxiety and embarrassment. “When we were at the market yesterday I saw this strange animal being sold that I’d never seen before. I thought it might be fun to try and cook, so I bought it.” The pot shook again, and Weiss sped up her story in response. “Yang found out about it and thought we could make a stew. It was turning out really well; Yang even said it tasted good when she tried it. Then things might have gotten a tiny bit out of control.”

Blake cocked her head to the side, taking in the whole of Weiss’ being, as if to remind herself that her friend was, in fact, still made of crystal. “Weiss, you don’t even eat food. What made you think experimenting with cooking was a good idea?”

Some manner of sludge began leaking out of the gap between the lid and pot. It was thick, brownish-blue, and it bubbled when it hit the air. “I wanted to do something nice for the crew!” Weiss shouted, and in that moment she lost the struggle with her foe. The lid flew out of her hands, catching her on the head as it went. The contents of the pot followed moments later.

It moved too fast even for Blake’s eyes to track. One moment it was in the pot, the next it had tackled Weiss to the ground and spread across most her body. She only got an impression of colors, mostly purple and blue, before it disappeared again.

Weiss attempted to rise to her feet, but stumbled. Blake rushed forward to catch her before Ruby could try the same; Weiss was a heavy weight for a human to lift, being mostly rock, but Blake was more metal than not, so the weight meant little to her.

“I…not… so feel.” Weiss’ translator was having a hard time interpreting her words. Blake’s own fluency in Atlesian wasn’t serving her much better; every spot on her that the… thing had touched was glowing an iridescent ultraviolet in a shade Blake had never seen before.

“That doesn’t look good,” Ruby said

“We should get her downstairs,” Blake said in agreement.

Ruby moved to help her, then hesitated. “Where’s Yang? If she went to the cockpit to look for her flamethrower, then she should’ve been back by now.”

“Maybe she went to the weapons lockers in storage?” Blake offered. Then another thought hit her. “Weiss said she taste-tested the stew before it turned into whatever that was.”

“Oh no.” Blake couldn’t help but agree with Ruby’s sentiments. “Okay, you get Weiss down to the medbay; I’ll go find Yang.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Of the four members of Crescent Rose’s crew, Weiss was the one with the most medical knowledge. She wasn’t a professional, but she had thorough first aid training for all intelligent species. So of course she was the first one to be taken out when a monster attacked.

Blake knew how to care for FAUNIS, but her knowledge of the other species was limited. Still, Weiss had made sure they each knew the basics early on. She knew materia fed by absorbing minerals and nutrients in a water solution through their outermost layers, and that this made them especially susceptible to what few toxins could affect them.

She tore through the various drawers and cabinets until she found what she was looking for. It was a tube of translucent paste that she began slathering generously on the affected parts of Weiss’ body. The paste was a general antivenin that was supposed to draw out toxins from a materia while also encouraging the body’s natural defenses. Attempting and failing to move Weiss’ arm proved that she’d already gone static as her body attempted to use its own methods to remove the invading substance.

As Blake finished emptying the last of the tube, the door opened. Ruby came through, carrying an unconscious Yang to an unoccupied bed.

“How’s Weiss doing?” Ruby asked.

“Still glowing; still alive,” Blake answered. “Yang?”

“I found her passed out on the cockpit stairs. She’s even hotter than usual. What do we do?”

Blake wished she knew. If Yang had eaten something poisonous then maybe, “Induce vomiting?”

“She’s unconscious,” Ruby countered. “What if she chokes? I’m going to get her an IV and a wet cloth.”

As Blake washed her hands of the residual paste, she wondered aloud, “What kind of creature can poison both a materia and a protean? Their biology is so different; I’ve never heard of anything that could do that.”

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied, talking as she worked, “but I intend to kill it before it gets anyone else.”

Blake nodded in understanding. “How far out are we from Eltanin?”

“About an hour and a half. When I’m done here I’ll go set up the autopilot to land us at our usual dock. Meanwhile, I want all hands on deck for this. Go find our fifth crewmate and bring him here. And get our weapons, too.”

Brake managed to suppress her grimace. She didn’t like the newest addition to their crew, but she had to admit he had his uses. Hunting a mystery monster was one of the few things she could rely on him to do.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Zwei had only been with the Crescent Rose for a few weeks, but already he loved it. There were so many corners to poke around in and the new people were so much fun. The long trip here via mail crate had been more than worth it.

One of the new people, the one who liked to play hide-and-seek with him, had picked him up and was taking him somewhere. The sounds that people made were difficult to understand, but he could learn names and this one was called Blake. He didn’t understand what she was saying, but he caught the names “Yang” and “Weiss”, who were two of his favorite people. Zwei had known Yang for his entire life; she was a girl who was always ready to roll around in the dirt or pull on a rope with him. Weiss was newer, but she liked to pamper him with treats and cuddles, and Zwei’s affections were easily bought by such people.

Zwei was rather dismayed to find both of the people in question lying flat on their backs, the stench of sickness covering them. Ruby, his favoritest person in the world, was there too, though she was thankfully on her feet. She gave him only one command. “Hunt.”

Zwei knew how to hunt. As Blake lifted him towards both of the sick girls in turn, Zwei got a careful sniff of each. They were very different kinds of creatures, normally with very different smells (except on the rare mornings where they smelled like each other for a while), but there was something within the stench of sickness that they both shared. An underlying smell that suggested something had done this to them, and now Ruby wanted him to find it.

The moment his paws hit the floor he was off. Out the door and up the stairs, straight towards the food room, a place he normally wasn’t allowed in. He squashed the urge to slip open the fridge and steal a quick bite; there was more important work to be done. And anyway, he’d probably get a treat when this was all over.

A large pot lay fallen on the floor. Zwei poked his head inside. Yup, this was the strongest source of the smell. It must’ve come from inside the pot. He committed the scent to memory, then began to follow it. The trail led him out of the food room, past the couches, and into the large room with all the hanging cords, large pillars, and flashing tables that Ruby spent so much time in.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“If this thing hurts my baby, I’m going to kill it,” Ruby said.

“I thought we were already planning on killing it,” Blake countered.

“Then I’ll kill it twice. It’s bad enough that it attacked my crew, I won’t be having it hurt my ship too.”

The main battery, along with the connecting engine room, was undeniably Ruby’s domain. The others didn’t spend much time in either places, usually only poking their heads in if an extra pair of hands were needed. With a crew as small as theirs was, everyone branched out from their specialty and learned other jobs, but Ruby was still the best engineer around. And the captain. And the best shot with the main gun, even if its computers did most of the heavy lifting. And, along with Blake, one of the only people on the ship who could man all the secondary guns simultaneously without a major drop in effectiveness.

Maybe she should delegate more.

The room was huge, taking up about a quarter of the ship’s third level. Thick wires and glowing tubes hung from the ceiling, connecting up to the massive main gun that sat atop the ship, itself about half as long as Crescent Rose. The main body of the gun took up most of the center of the room, surrounded by computer banks and held up by pillars so that it cleared the floor by about a meter and a half.

Zwei was wandering about the room, nose to the ground and following whatever trail he’d found. Ruby followed hot on his tail, eyes casting about and ears straining for any sign of their quarry. Boots on the metal floor made a heavy sound that echoed off the walls.

Movement in the corner of her eye had her whipping Bright Thorn around in its direction. Nothing, just an empty bank of flashing panels.

Zwei’s tracking took him between the central pillars and under the main gun. Ruby hesitated at the edge. Open panels and dangling wires from previous patch jobs reduced the already limited headspace underneath; following him would severely limit her mobility if attacked. She crouched down, following her corgi with her eyes as he darted here and there, trying to follow a much faster prey.

The lights cut out.

“Great,” Blake said. “We’re hunting a monster, on our own ship, in the dark. This is how horror stories start.”

“You have night vision,” Ruby snarked back, flipping on the flashlight attached to her gun. “What are you complaining about?”

“I’m just saying.”

Ruby shook her head in exasperated fondness. “I’m more concerned with why they went out. Either this thing is smart enough to intentionally cut the lights, or it’s attacking indiscriminately and getting lucky.” She rose from her crouch, standing back-to-back with her partner as they surveyed the room. “Whichever it is, now I have to kill it twice.”

Lazer fire behind her had her spinning around, Bright Thorn raised and ready to fire. “It came out of the wall,” Blake said, rapidly firing her lazpistol, first along the ground, then up overhead. Ruby tracked her shots trying to follow with her light.

“Ventilation shaft?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

She caught sight of a blur, passing through the circle of light projected on the ceiling for only an instant, but it was enough. She pulled her trigger and the thing dropped, releasing a whine like a deflating balloon as it fell.

If the shot injured it, it wasn’t enough to kill. By the time Ruby’s flashlight was pointed at the ground it was gone, only a small, bulbous part of it momentarily visible speeding away towards the center of the room.

“Zwei, look out!” Ruby called.

A series of barks and growls spoke of a tremendous battle between beast and monster. Ruby caught only flashes of it, as Zwei tumbled with and tore into something that was less of a shape, and more the impression of a mouth on a lump the color of an oil spill. She couldn’t even get a solid grasp on how big it was, with how fast and how much it moved, thought it at least seemed to be no larger than a fully-grown corgi. The thing tackled Zwei, knocking him out of sight. Before Ruby could refocus her light, Zwei let out a loud, pained yip and ran straight towards them, sliding to a stop and collapsing at Blake’s feet.

“Some fearsome monster hunter you are,” she said, scooping him up in one arm, the pistol in her other still sweeping the room. She paused her sweep, turning her attention more heavily on the dog in her arms. “He’s breathing really heavily, and I think I see a bit of blood.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, trying not to let her worry take control of the situation. She could do this. “Let’s fall back for now, get Zwei downstairs. Head towards the hatch at the back of the room.”

There were four ways in or out of the main battery. One was the door they came in through, and opposite it, on the far end of the room, was a door that led deeper into the guts of the ship, towards the engine and fuel tanks. Near the rear door was also a lift that connected all three of the ships levels, as well as a ladder, covered by a hatch, that exited near the medbay on the second floor.

The pair swept the room as they headed towards the ladder. This time, Ruby was the first to spot it. It moved too fast for her to line up a proper shot, but she fired anyway. The sound drew Blake’s attention, and she fired her own gun.

“Keep it away from the exits.” Ruby ordered. Together they managed to herd it towards the center of the room, firing ahead of it anytime it tried to head towards a wall or pillar, until they reached their destination.

Ruby knelt to open the hatch while Blake kept firing, her efforts alone less effective than the two together had been. Her success was marked by a beam of light from the lower level shining into the room. “Go,” Ruby commanded. Blake forewent the ladder, jumping backwards and dropping the entire distance in one go. Ruby swung onto the top rung, firing one last shot as she went, then slammed the hatch shut above her. Embedded in the wall nearby was a lever under a glass lid. Ruby lifted the lid, pulled the lever, twisted, and pushed it back in. A clunk echoed from the hatch.

“That’ll seal off the room. Even the ventilation is locked down now.” Ruby joined Blake on the second level. “It should hold for a bit, but I don’t want to leave it for long. How’s he doing?”

Blake held Zwei out for Ruby to see. His wounds were more visible in the still-active lighting of the hallway. He was indeed bleeding, from a bite mark on his side that was turning a disturbing shade of purple.

“Not you too, Zwei,” she moaned, letting Bright Thorn hang from his strap as she took the dog into her arms. “I’m going to get him set up in the medbay. When I get back, we’ll finish this thing off.”

The hatch above them shook violently, as if something had just slammed into it at high speeds. “Maybe hurry?” Blake offered, sword and gun drawn as she stared down the hatch.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Ruby returned, it was to a changed hallway. Blake was on the floor and the nearby lift was peeled open, the doors bending outwards. She rushed to Blake’s side, glad to see she was still conscious and struggling to her feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked, helping her up. “What happened?” Ruby fretted nervously, checking Blake over for bite marks or blood.

“I’m fine,” Blake assured her, waving off concerned hands, “just dazed. I wasn’t watching my six and it tackled me. There’s no lasting damage.”

Ruby eyed her suspiciously, not failing to notice the difficulty she showed finding her balance again. “You’ll let me know if you start to feel sick, right?”

Blake backed off, finally standing on her own without aid, and bowed exaggeratedly at the waist. “Of course, my queen.”

“Blaaaake,” Ruby whined, “don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.”

A cute smirk played across Blake’s face. “As you wish, your majesty.”

Ruby huffed, ignoring the blush she could feel forming on her face and not dignifying Blake with another response. “Did you see which way it went?”

There weren’t a whole lot of places it could’ve gone. Aside from back the way Ruby came, or back the way it came, it’s only options for escape were down the stairs to the storage bay or… or down the hallway Blake was pointing at.

Exhaustion leaked out of her in a low moan. “Not life support,” she complained. Why did this thing keep getting into the sensitive parts of the ship?

“Royalty first,” Blake said, sweeping her arm in the direction they were headed.

“You’re a big old teasing meanie,” Ruby said, but she led the way regardless.

The life support room was more like a wide hallway than a room, several times longer than it was wide. It was full of variously-sized criss-crossing pipes, clumped together in places and jutting out of the walls at all angles, and thick, twisted cords of dozens or more wires stretching across the ceiling and walls. They were accompanied by controls and sensors for electrical energy, air circulation, and water filtration, amongst other things. Several large, boxy generators sat at the back of the room, their steady chugging providing both electricity and gravity. The floor was made of removable metal grates, granting access to the innermost workings of the ship.

“Come here, little abomination,” Ruby whispered as she stepped as quietly as she could through the room, the sound of her footsteps largely masked by the noises of the various machineries surrounding her. “Step away from the sensitive equipment and show yourself. I only want to talk.”

The room quieted midstep, the rumble of a generator cutting out. Ruby’s next step pushed her off the ground and sent her floating through the air.

“You know,” she said, just letting herself float freely for a moment. “I’m not usually one to swear, but this thing is really pushing my limits.”

“It’s okay,” Blake assured her, “You can say it, I won’t judge you.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, the moment’s not right.”

Bending down, not that down had much meaning at the moment, she flicked a switch on her boots and was pulled to the floor. She looked at Blake, slowly making her way towards the ceiling. “Where are your magboots?” Ruby asked.

“I didn’t put them on this morning,” Blake answered. “Funnily enough, I wasn’t expecting to get attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon today. A better question is, why are you wearing yours?”

Ruby shrugged. “It makes working on the engine easier.”

Blake caught and steadied herself on a thin pipe that ran the length of the ceiling. “So this thing’s probably back by the graviton generator, right?”

“Unless it’s moved already,” Ruby countered. “It is pretty fast.”

“It’s a place to start.” She shimmied along the pipe, heading to the rear of the room. Ruby followed slowly, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings as she went.

Every blind corner or obstructed section of floor had Ruby swinging Bright Thorn around. There were too many hiding spots in this room, even with all the lights still working.

“All clear,” Blake called from up ahead.

If it wasn’t by the generator anymore, then where had it gotten to? Ruby took a step forward, then froze. Whatever she’d stepped on had just squished. She looked down.

Bubbling up through the holes in the grate was a thick, purplish-brown sludge that surrounded and spread out from a burst water pipe. The sludge moved in ways it shouldn’t, rearing up only to slosh back down, spinning about in cyclones and eddies, and forming what looked like grasping tendrils. The more water it took in, the larger it grew.

“Blake!” Ruby shouted, “Shut off water to—” she checked the writing on the nearby pipes, since anything written on the burst pipe was now buried under an onslaught of sludge, “—pipe C126.”

“Where is it?” Blake asked, not able to see Ruby from her vantage point.

“In the floor!”

Ruby didn’t have time to watch Blake take action, too busy herself firing at the sludge monster while putting distance between it and herself. At first it didn’t respond to her actions, only continuing to grow even as Ruby blasted off bits of it. The moment it lost its supply of water, however, it screeched.

It began moving as a single solid creature, once again black with a rainbow sheen, bits of grating stuck inside it as it burst from the floor. It was larger than Ruby now, continuously shifting and oozing as it barreled towards her, as fast as an oncoming car.

“Oh, fuck.”

Ruby ran, racing to regroup with Blake. The thing following her was still fast, but all its added bulk slowed it down to below her top speed.

The moment she was in sight, Blake was firing at the monster chasing Ruby. Sustained lazer fire caused the creature to start to glow from the heat, one explosion of superheated air after another tearing into its bulk. Its wounds bubbled and burst, releasing hissing clouds of steam that diffused light, weakening successive shots.

Ruby ground to a halt at Blake’s side and spun around, bayonet pointed at their foe. Blake, sword in hand, joined her.

Ruby was less durable than her girlfriend, hence her preference for mid-to-long-range combat. In close range, without her cloak, she had to stay mobile, dodging what she could and letting Blake block what she couldn’t. Meanwhile Blake was taking full advantage of the lack of gravity, bouncing around the creature and attacking it from every angle, taking shots with her gun whenever she spotted an opening. Even with that benefit, however, Ruby noticed her reaction time was slower than usual.

Her mobility was enough to keep her in the fight for a bit, letting her hack of bits of the monster even as it tried to crush or suffocate her with its multitude of bulging appendages. But eventually Ruby mistimed a dodge, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t rely on gravity, and it managed to catch her in the side with a pseudopod cloaked in steam, sending her flying into a bundle of hanging wires.

She was pretty sure she’d just broken at least one rib.

Ruby was tangled up tightly in the mess of wires and getting loose required more than a little wriggling. She screeched in surprise as a few wires came loose, releasing a stream of sparks.

The sludge monster was on her moments before she was completely free. It was smaller now, loose bits of it splattered about the room, but with every bit of mass it lost, it just got that much faster.

It slammed into her, spreading its mass as if to engulf her. Right in front of her face a crack opened up, the impression of a mouth forming, jagged edges loosely resembling teeth.

A frantic, desperate idea popped into Ruby’s head as the mouth drew near. Her hands were still mostly free, so she dropped Bright Thorn and instead grabbed the sparking, severed wires, plunging them into the sludge. A sustained current coursed through the creature, making it writhe and gyrate wildly. It gave one last shake, then, with a sound like the creaking hinges of hell’s front door, it exploded. Bits of it went everywhere; the walls, the ceiling, Ruby’s mouth. It tasted like fish stew, she decided, though it could’ve used a bit more salt.

She spat the sludge out, hoping just tasting it wouldn’t be enough to poison her like Yang had been.

“Ruby!” Blake shouted as she flew to her side. “Are you okay?”

Ruby nodded. “I think so. I’ve never been so glad to have insulating overalls, though.”

Blake shook her head. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry,” Ruby apologized. Blake hugged her in response, and Ruby screamed, pushing her away. “Nope, not okay. I forgot about the broken ribs.”

Blake looked about ready to smack her for that, but she somehow held back. “Okay,” she said instead. “Let’s get you to the med-bay with everyone else.” She grabbed Ruby more gently this time, fumbling as she did, her usual grace seemingly gone.

“Hey,” Ruby admonished. “You said you’d tell me if you were feeling sick.”

“I’m fine,” Blake assured her. “Just running a bit hot.” Blake pushed off the ground and the two began floating back towards the door. “Do you feel that? Gravity’s starting to increase, which means we’re getting close to the planet. We’ll land safely, then everyone can go to the hospital and we’ll all get better. We’re all fine now.”

Maybe it was the steady ache of her ribs, maybe it was the drawn-out hunt and fight she’d just undergone, or maybe it was Blake’s arms around her, but Ruby was suddenly feeling extremely tired. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. “Blake,” she said. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“You could stand to say it more,” she answered.

“No, seriously,” Ruby said. “No matter what happens, you always step up to the challenge. You always get the job done, with a big ol’ helping of beauty and grace, just ‘cause you can.” Her words were starting to slur, so she rushed to the point. “There’s somethin’ I wanna ask you. You’ve been doin’ it for a while already, but I wanna make it official.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.

“Will you…” Ruby paused, taking a deep breath to fight off the encroaching weariness, “be my second-in-command?”

Blake sighed, then smiled. “Does this mean I get a raise?”

Ruby laughed. “No. But I can prolly get you a bigger room.”

Blake quirked an eyebrow. “The only rooms bigger than mine are the pilot’s and the captain’s.”

Ruby nodded slightly, too tired to feel embarrassment about what she was asking. “I don’t take up much space. You could share my room.”

Ruby didn’t hear Blake’s answer, unconsciousness finally making its claim on her, but she desperately hoped it was “yes”.

[jacobmybeloved]

Far Cry 5/FCND Superhero AU Pt. 2

Can’t say when I’ll actually start writing for this if at all. If you are interested please let me know! Anyway, below the cut: Thomas Rush, Sharky, and my FC OC’s.

[Part 1 Here - Seed Family]

Name: Mai Alias: Athenia Species: Meta human Abilities: Agility, superhuman strength, superhuman durability, unarmed combat, swordsmanship, healing factor, retractable claws

Mai has been on her own for as long as she could remember, not that she remembers much. Suffering from amnesia at a young age, and jumping from foster home, after foster home, Mai set out on her own after incidentally crippling a classmate during an after-school bout. At sixteen she was taken in by philanthropist John Seed, making her a part of his superhero task force initiative. Given the code name Athenia, Mai became a trademark figure. It did not last long, however. By eighteen she left the group leaving little to no trace behind and began to participate as a “small-time fighter” in illegal meta human arenas. She worked her way up to work as a bodyguard for one of the States lead traffickers, Ramona King, also known as The Raven. After a chance meeting with one of Raven’s newest “merchandise”, Mai devises a plan to get herself and this particular child out of the state. As fate would have it, the well-meaning police officer turned vigilante, Thomas Rush, inadvertently disrupts her means of escape, causing the trio to go on the run. With Raven’s forces after them, and the perplexing villain, The Father taking a keen interest in the child, Mai is led down a road that unexpectedly leads her on the path to finding out who her birth parents are.

Name: Thomas Rush Alias: N/A Species: Human Abilities: Agility, criminology, hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, military protocol, marksmanship, stealth, computer hacking

Thomas Rush grew up reading about Superheros and wanted nothing more than to be one himself. The closest approximation he could achieve was joining the military straight out of high school. After two tours, he returned to the states, marrying his high school sweetheart, eventually having a daughter named Mila. Life was good for a time for the former soldier. With his prior service in the military, he felt right at home, cruising through the ranks up to sergeant. To celebrate his new promotion, the Rush family took an outing to the local mall, celebrating not only his new position but also Mila’s birthday. Tragedy struck quick and swiftly, however. With meta human trafficking on the rise, children became the ultimate target and the criminal underworld’s newest currency. Mila was snatched right under her parent’s noses while at the mall, sending Thomas’ life spiraling out of control. After three months of searching, all of Thomas’ leads ended up cold, leaving the father grieving and putting immense stress on his marriage. His wife eventually left, unable to deal with the loss of their daughter. Thomas Rush, however, could not give up so easily. Using his resources at the police precinct, he uses each waking moment searching for any lead that may lead him to find his daughter. Eventually, he adopts his own vigilante moniker, allowing him access to places that would have been inaccessible by wearing his badge. His investigation leads him down a rabbit hole, leading him to the heart of the meta human trafficking ring, meanwhile leading him to team up with the enigmatic and extremely powerful meta human Mai.

Name: Vittoria Arya-Giordano Alias: Scarlett Banshee Species: Meta human Abilities: Sound immunity, multilingualism, boxing, sound manipulation, sonic scream, charisma, durability.

The daughter of Italian immigrants, Vittoria Arya-Giordano has had only one dream: becoming a superstar. Discovering a love for music and singing at a young age, her parents facilitated her passion by hiring instructors and saving up every penny to send her to the most renowned schools of performance arts. During her senior year for her final recital, Vittoria’s lament meta human abilities came to manifest. Vittoria leveled the theater in which hundreds had come to watch her performance, killing everyone, her parents included. Vittoria survived miraculously, the mass body count attributed to a structural error. Vittoria spent the next ten years honing her abilities, though her dreams of performing were now dead. Her talent, however, did not go unseen. Vittoria was recruited by entrepreneur and philanthropist John Seed as part of his “marketable” superhero division, the United State's answer to National Security against the threats of international meta humans. Vittoria served dutifully, becoming a high profile figure, achieving the fame she had always dreamed of. Though, as always with fame, there was a darker side to it she could not have anticipated.

Name: Nayeli Lamb Alias: The Judge Species: Human Abilities: Archery, acrobatics, martial arts, tracking, weaponry, swordsmanship, gadgetry, hand-to-hand-combat, firearms

Nayeli and her older brother Takoda were born to Ciaran and Sokanon Lamb. Her father hailed from a prestigious family while her mother came from an impoverished background, their union causing unparalleled drama. As Nayeli grew older, she became aware of her father’s shady business practices following the death of her mother, the result of a business deal with the citie’s many mob leaders gone wrong. Idolizing the rise in meta human news, Nayeli Lamb and her brother took up their own mantles, taking on the persona of The Judge and SabreWulf. The teens took down many a villain and mob boss, particularly after Takoda began to manifest meta human powers himself. They continued their work well into their twenties until Nayeli was kidnapped, abused and tortured by the notorious villains, The Father and The Mindbender. By pure luck, she had struck a romantic bond with The Father’s henchman-brother, known simply as The Wolf of Sparta who helped her escape. Nayeli hung up her mantle after discovering she was pregnant with The Wolf’s child. The child however was stolen from her, a devastating loss the Lamb never really got over. Nayeli ended up having a second child with The Wolf years later after encountering one another again. Nayeli kept the children a secret from the Wolf till this very day. The Lamb eventually established herself as a successful psychologist and living a semi-normal life with her son. She grew estranged from her brother who continued to carry on with his alter-ego, feeling this was his true self. After his death at the hands of The Mindbender, she debated taking up her mantle as The Judge once more. It wasn’t until the disappearance of her son that she donned her cape and mask once more in an effort to find him.

Name: Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV Alias: Sharky, Warden Awesome Species: Metahuman Abilities: Pyrokinesis, firearms, no filter

Charlemagne Boshaw did not have a happy childhood, but from his outward behavior, one may never know or find out. Birthed in a gas station bathroom and left in the toilet, Sharky as he likes to be called, led quite the tumultuous childhood and adolescence. While many would define him as a serial arsonist, the Boshaw man would prefer the term "fire enthusiast". What many didn’t know was that these many fire incidents were the result of Sharky being a pyrokinesis. After burning down his family’s trailer park three times, Sharky was forced on the run. His path eventually led him to Nayeli Lamb, with whom he became close friends with. Together, they lead the charge in finding her missing son, Malik.

Name: Ramona King

Species: Meta human

Alias: Raven

Abilities: Animal control, animal driven abilities, enhanced speed, agility, enhanced vision, combat skill, animal telepathy

Born on the east coast and raised by a single father, Ramona King was brought up with strict discipline and a need to succeed no matter the cost. Her father groomed her to be the perfect candidate for the Boston police force. By the time of her induction into the police academy however, her dormant meta-genes began to surface. Her abilities gave her an edge over her other officers. Her animal like abilities gave her a sixth sense rivaled only by those in the animal kingdom themselves. With her hardworking being relayed in flimsy promotions and measly raises, she began to sing a different tune. Leaving the police force, Ramona struck out as a small time cat-thief before eventually becoming a kingpin herself. Ramona ended up taking her underworld business out west, using a nightclub as a front to hide her extracurricular activities: money laundering, drug production, and more importantly, meta human trafficking.

Name: Malik Lamb

Species: Metahuman

Alias: N/A, referred to as The Asset

Abilities: chlorokinesis, toxic immunity, bio-fission, metamorphosis, accelerated healing, ability to heal others

Malik may only be six years old but he has had a whirlwind of a life so far. The second born child, created out of the union between The Judge and The Soldier, Malik knows nothing about his family’s complicated history, only that he was born with a target on his back. Since the day was born, he exhibited meta human capabilities though his family did their best to keep it a secret. After his Uncle Takoda’s death revealed that the Lamb family is a carrier of the meta-human gene, the family was thrust into the spotlight by news media outlets and criminal organizations. Despite being put under twenty-four hour surveillance by his grandfather, that did not stop those closest to the Lamb family to seize the boy for themselves in return for a quick buck. As the newest addition to Ramon King’s collection and hundreds of miles away from home, Malik saw no happy ending in sight, at least until a fateful meeting with another meta human and a vigilante police officer lead him on an unexpected journey.

Name: Dayana King

Species: Human (Cyborg)

Alias: Dove

Abilities: Flight, Electronics expert, speed, superhuman strength, cybernetic implants/enhancements, endurance, technopathy, invulnerability, cloaking abilities

As a fellow member of philanthropist John Seed’s superhero initiative, Dove is one of the most respected public faces of the meta human community. After a tragic accident left her father dead and herself in a near-death state, Dove underwent extensive life-saving surgeries with cybernetic enhancements at the request of her mother. Dove was, shortly after being discharged, inducted into the superhero initiative. While her co-hort Vittoria appeals to the more lavish side of the superhero community, Dove is seen as the public face of selflessness and social justice, though behind the scenes, that could not be more further from the truth. When not in front of the news camera, the cybernetic hero acts as a hired thug to Mr. Seed, taking out those who would oppose the use of meta humans overseas. Dove, having become disillusioned with her employer Mr. Seed and the antics of her criminal mother, Ramona King, Dove has debated hanging up her mantle once and for all. A chance meeting with an old friend though leads her to question whether she is doing more harm than good.

[penumbra-rp]

Congratulations Dean, you have been accepted for the role of Rabastan Lestrange!

“Does reputation matter to you?”

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly.

Admin Ash: Dean, from the moment we heard of your interest in Rabastan, we had a feeling he had just the vibe that would be perfect for you, and this application only proved how right we were. Rabastan is hilarious, he’s animated, he’s completely and utterly obnoxious -- just as you stated in his traits -- and I found myself cackling out loud to his antics and the numerous ridiculous things he said. Much like the gem above. He’s a proper nuisance -- wearing his place at the bottom of his graduating class like a medal and taking utter pride in spicing up any dinner party -- and I found that I adored him all the more for it. I know he’s going to give many of our Death Eaters a headache that’ll be too hard to shake. I’m so excited that you’ll be bringing our rambunctious rockstar to us! 

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Dean

AGE: 21

YOUR BIRTHDAY: July 4th 1997

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE:  GMT

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Rabastan Lestrange

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Robert Sheehan

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: July 29th

PERSONALITY:

+ Persuasive

+ Comical

+ Boisterous

- Argumentative

- Obnoxious

- Impressionable

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

‘What a beautiful little girl you have,’ strangers would coo, easily mistaking the boy’s long dark eyelashes as a feminine feature. The compliment felt like a stab in the heart for a woman who had mothered two sons when she had spent the majority of her second pregnancy dreaming longingly for a daughter.

The minute he had said his first words, the Lestranges knew he would be nothing like their first child. Rabastan was demanding, his mother’s disinterest and father’s sternness only making him thirst more for their approval. He’d approach the world as if it were a stage and his friends and family was his audience. Every move calculated strategically as a plead for more attention, plots intertwined intricately to remove wishfully himself from his older brother’s seemingly overbearing shadow and earn his own moment in the spotlight. When that didn’t work, Rabastan turned towards misbehaving. Playing cruel tricks on Rodolphus which were reciprocated with pure disdain from the young teenager, saying inappropriate things when there were guests around and neglecting to follow any rules. There were no limits, so long as he knew it would obtain him the measliest bit of recognition.

As his troublesome ways manifested and endangered on becoming a larger problem, Rabastan was swiftly packed up and sent to a private school. One where the tuitions were sky high since there was the promise to straighten out unruly children and turn them into well-behaved future politicians and lawyers. The first couple of years, Rabastan was no stranger to disciplinary procedures. Hours upon hours spent in detention, letters sent home on numerous occasions and not to mention the extra load of homework he’d receive on the basis that he never seemed to be listening in class. Yes, within the three years of his enrolment, the youngest Lestrange was fast becoming one of the rare cases that the school couldn’t fix. Foreseeably a failure in the eyes of his teachers and his parents.

That was, of course, until they decided to place the boy in front of a piano. Fingers gliding effortlessly across ivory keys and filling the room with delicate twinkling accents. What was meant to be another amercement spun into Rabastan’s saving grace, the first time he’d receive acknowledgement for the right reasons and actually feel some contentment in what he was doing. When he’d returned home that year for the summer, his piano lessons continued. Quickly followed by learning the guitar, the violin and even the saxophone. Essentially, it was considered to be a miracle, at long last, they’d found the one thing that installed some calm into Rabastan’s relentless frenzy of a personality.

Throughout the years, Rabastan’s creativity and musical talent only appeared to flourish. Carefully written lyrics sang in perfect pitch over another one of his original guitar riffs, an angelic voice filtering through the house and reverberating a gentle symphony in the bleak hallways. But when the time came, the answer was a clean cut ‘no’ to his proposal of studying anywhere else other than the Slytherin school of Social Business. Despite his talents, his father would have sooner fallen into an early grave than see one of his son’s graduating with anything that wasn’t a business degree.  

The confinements the course held over his time to express artistic freedom entirely reignited Rabastan’s dormant compulsion to rebel. Skipping one too many classes and spending more time drinking than he ever did in the library. When it came to graduating, the life of the party and class clown unsurprisingly had barely scraped the mark. Proudly taking the place at the bottom of his class and leaving the school entirely unqualified to fulfil a role in the family business.

Rabastan had won. One last swipe of his father’s credit card was enough to book a couple of days in a recording studio and the rest, as they say, was history. Songs that he’d masterfully been pouring all of his efforts into during his studies turned to meticulously crafted pieces of art. With a pretty face and sleek style, it wasn’t long before a record label picked him up and churned him into a full-fledged rockstar. Fame and notoriety came second nature. Orchestrating publicity stunts with his PR team and spreading his own rumours were all part of the game in establishing his very own empire. It was as if Rabastan was created for this fast set lifestyle, stepping on other people’s toes so he could climb the social ladder right to the very top.

Rabastan Lestrange had become a household name. Securing a number one in the UK charts for three consecutive months and selling out venues shortly after the release of his debut album. His quick-witted opinions and outrageous interviews going viral across social media, gaining him the admiration of many and resentment of others. It wasn’t long after that, that his family name would call on his like a curse to act dutifully to another cause.

Owning one of the major organisations that formed the frameworks of the Sacred 28 meant that the Lestrange family were no strangers to the acts of Death Eaters. Regularly, it had been part of the dining room chatter that Rabastan was effectively escorted away from, untrusted with the secrets that Rodolphus’ silver tongue was so often wrapped around. That was until they’d seen an opportunity in the younger Lestrange’s childish arrogance and increasing influence he held over the public. Rabastan’s lust for trouble and manipulative discourse fit suitably within the skill sets of a Death Eater. They would use him as a middle man, putting his sweet talk and skilled bribery to good use and when that failed, he’d follow precise orders and discard of the target.

If it weren’t for Rodolphus’s involvement, Rabastan would have never of handed his loyalty to the organisation as easily as he had. Though the Dark Lord may be the ringleader, for Rabastan this went further than ranks. It was about blood. He’d never been that ideal, pristine version of the man his parents anticipated that he’d be. Dismissing controversies to the press with blatant arrogance and refusing to comment on anything associated with Lestrange Industries and the warfare it supported. This was a chance to prove himself, to his bloodline, he was one of them.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

“Adoring fans that scream your name, music royalties, fancy events, groupies,” Rabastan lists off one by on his fingers before scoffing, “no, you’re right, I should really go beg my darling big brother for a space in the family business, I’d be a really sexy secretary for a businessman- I mean, picture me in a pencil skirt.” Rabastan puckers his lips at the thought, using his hand to fan himself down, “my apologies, I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

Running a hand below his chin, he’s selecting his next words carefully. “Hmm, now who do I hand out this chunk of free promotion to if not myself… No, really, I say I like something and the sales skyrocket the next day, I guess it’s my charm.” Reclined in his chair Rabastan springs back up once the perfect song comes to mind, “Have you ever heard of The Cheeky Girls?” his own laughter surrounds him in a pitch almost as harmonic as his singing, “In all seriousness, Club Tropicana by Wham! really just radiates my personality.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly. “It’s been said that I’m like marmite, you love me or you hate me. Either way makes no difference to me. This is where my manager comes swanning in to warn me to play nicely with my dearest interviewer, but you know why my fans love me? It’s because I’m genuine, I’m not going to feed them all this bullshit as other singers do- that reminds me! Buy my new EP, available now on iTunes.” he punctuates with a charming wink, though his tone was sarcastic his intent is entirely serious.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

“Mummy and Daddy wanted a little girl so badly, then when I turned out to be a right old diva they still weren’t impressed” He can’t fight the look of pure delight that rules his expression, even as a boy his parents distaste in his demeanour had been hugely entertaining. “Truth is I like being the black sheep of the family, it’s satisfying work for me. That and I make our dinner parties a lot more enjoyable, I inject a healthy bit of personality into the dining room conversations and stop people from falling asleep in their soup bowls, you know?… for example, bear versus shark, who would win? Obviously, it’s the bear.”

v. What languages can you speak?

“Most days I can hardly even speak English,” he declares humorously, “I speak enough French to get by thanks to private schooling. You know the basics… Voulez-vous coucher avec moi,” he’d definitely learned that from Lady Marmalade, not his expensive education.

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“The drugs- Kidding!” he’s aware that he’s yet to answer one question sincerely. “For all my beautiful fans out there, please know that I would NEVER participate in the massive consumption of cocaine, but I didn’t say anything about ecstasy.” Rabastan pauses long enough to make them feel uncomfortable, visibly revelling in the awkward silence. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m joking, again. I don’t know what I’d save, I could easily replace anything. So maybe my wallet.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

His lips are pressed together in contemplation, finally a question that couldn’t be glossed over with humour or shocking statements. “The Slytherin School of Social Science,” as he answers, he gags to dramatise his disdain. “I wanted so badly to study Literature under the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, but daddy dearest was refusing to financially support me if I didn’t follow in the family’s footsteps. ‘No son of mine is walking around reading Bridget Jones’ Diary’” Whilst imitating his father’s hoarse voice, his expression changes to an unnatural dark grimace and wags his finger in the air. “-Great book, by the way. So that’s the story of how I became a Business graduate and the bottom of the class.” A nostalgic sigh pronounces itself from his lungs as he stares dreamily into the distance, “oh the glory days.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“@RabastanLestrangeMusic, that’s the one I’m meant to plug anyway, or my publicist will have me by the throat- little does she know, I’d enjoy that,” he glances over his shoulder to see if his manager is watching before looking back to them with a delighted grin, “I do have this lesser known Instagram account, @Rab_a_stan, it’s got a couple of thousand followers, I started it last week and I put really weird unfiltered shit on there- wait can I swear during this interview? I never asked, fuck.”

[agrestenoir]

brand new eyes (a cholya fic)

Title: brand new eyes Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairing/Characters: Alya/Chloe Summary: Chloe didn’t mean to fall in love with Alya. It happens anyway. Notes: commission for the wonderful kaligulas Word Count: 1990 words

READ ON AO3 

i.

Chloe doesn’t remember falling in love with Alya.

If anything, there’s just a moment when they’re sitting next to each other, and Chloe looks up, catching sight of Alya against the backdrop of the Parisian sunset, and suddenly the world turns quiet. I love you, she thinks as she stares at her, all wind-kissed cheeks and wide eyes from their race through the city. I love you, and I always have.

ii.

It starts with photography, of all things.

Managing the Ladyblog has turned into more of a chore than a hobby, and even as she fights to write about her experiences or vlog about the latest events, Alya just can’t seem to meet the demands of her fan following. Chloe should know, as she stalks the blog on the regular to learn more about her favorite superheroes and has browsed through the hundreds of comments left on every post. For as good as she is, Alya’s only talent comes from writing. Her videos and poor quality of pictures do not appease the fans, and Chloe is tired of waiting for the light to click on for the journalist.

“I’ve gotta do everything myself,” Chloe grumbles as she perches on the corner of the rooftop of the Le Grand Paris. With the downward trend Alya’s been going on, Chloe knows the blog might be at risk for deletion, and Chloe Bourgeois will absolutely not stand to see her favorite blog be taken down; where else would she get her primetime Ladybug content?

It’s clear Alya needs her.

Camera in hand, she scans the Paris skyline until she locks on two forms in the distance, whipping around buildings on a yo-yo string and vaulting over chimneys with a baton. She waits until they’re in view, the image sharp and in focus, and she snaps a quick photo. Before Ladybug and Chat Noir can disappear, she takes a dozen or so more pictures, and once satisfied, she uploads them to a flash drive.

The next day, Chloe hands Alya the flash drive without a word of explanation. “Thought you could use this,” she tells the blogger. “You need all the help you can get honestly. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long without me.”

For the next week, Alya displays the photographs on the front page of the Ladyblog. Once she’s run out of photographs, Alya asks Chloe for some more, and for some odd reason, the blonde agrees and submits more pictures the next morning.

They never speak more than a few murmurs of Alya’s gratitude and Chloe’s quiet appreciation for the Ladyblog.

And so it continues until the tagline at the bottom of the front page of the Ladyblog reads “© 2017 Alya Cesaire & Chloe Bourgeois”.

iii.

Chloe takes on the reign of Queen Bee when the call for help arises, joining Ladybug and Chat Noir on the city rooftops as they defend Paris from evil and the rest of the melodrama that comes with being a teenage superhero. When Rena Rouge joins up, it gives her someone to rely on. Both are new, fumbling through the steps of a dance that Ladybug and Chat Noir have long since mastered. They spend long nights on the Paris streets, learning their powers and each other, because if Ladybug and Chat Noir are partners, then they need to be too.

If she must provide a concrete answer as to why she accepted the job, Chloe chooses to blame duty. So here she stands, duty-bound and driven, just like her father to mayor Paris, just like Ladybug and Chat Noir to protect people, just like Alya to run the Ladyblog…

If there’s one thing she’s learned over the past few months helping Alya run the Ladyblog, it’s that sometimes she really is the only one who can do it. People depend on people like her, and who is she to turn away when they need her? She is the only reason Paris remains standing half the time anyway.

The only downside of spending so much time as Queen Bee is that she can’t provide pictures of the heroes for Alya as frequently as before.

It hurts her, more deeply than it should have, when Alya corners her after class one day and asks hesitantly, almost unsure, “Are you going to send me anymore pictures?”

What is Chloe supposed to say? I became a superhero and don’t have the time. Sorry, loser, but you’re on your own?

The Ladyblog is Alya’s reason, her lifeblood—something she’s spent hours and days and months crafting to perfection. Chloe knows this, and somehow through matters she hadn’t meant to spur into play, Alya has given her a piece of it too.

© 2017 Alya Cesaire & Chloe Bourgeois

“No, of course not,” Chloe tells her, waving her hand in a flippant gesture in front of Alya’s face. “My camera broke, I’m getting a new one. You don’t need to be so demanding.”

Alya bits her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

Chloe freezes, and a soft smile slowly stretches across her face. “What’re friends for, Cesaire?”

Chloe brings her camera to the next patrol, much to Ladybug’s protest, but she doesn’t care. After becoming Queen Bee, Ladybug has lost her charm as an idol, and is now resigned to a teammate, an ally, a somewhat annoying friend that Chloe’s grown to care for. After they finish patrol, Chloe begs the rest of her team to stick around so that she could gather a few snapshots for “a friend”. Rena Rouge is more than happy to help, Ladybug a bit begrudgingly agrees, and Chat Noir laughs and asks who the “lucky lady” is.

Chloe kicks him off the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“So a ‘lucky lady?’” Rena Rouge teases, nudging Chloe with her elbow. “You in love, Bee?”

“Something like that,” Chloe tells her honestly. After snapping a few more shows, she sits down on a metal beam, legs hooking around one of the struts, and clicks through the images, letting out an appreciate hum.

Rena Rouge swings down beside her, grasping the metal strut to keep her balance on the beam. “Can I see them?” she asks, referring to Chloe’s pictures.

Chloe pauses, camera clasped tight in her hands, and tries to form a proper response. Her photography, unlike much of what she does, isn’t something she broadcasts to the rest of the world. What she gives Alya for the Ladyblog is pieces she’s critically gone over and edited to the best of her ability. She’s never let anyone see the raw footage before.

But the look on Rena Rouge’s face, like she actually cares about what Chloe does, seals the deal.

“Knock yourself out,” she says, handing Rena Rouge her camera. Shoulders tense, she watches warily for the other hero’s reaction because Chloe Bourgeois refuses to sit idly by if she’s just going to be torn down. “I already know they’re good though.”

Rena Rouge accepts the camera with a murmur of thanks, an eager smile stretching across her face. Chloe watches the smile slowly fade, lips dropping in a small oh of surprise, as Rena Rouge studies the picture, a stupid sunset full of purples and pinks. It’s something Chloe could’ve taken in her sleep, just a boring old scenic shot that anyone with a camera could capture, and it cries mournfully into the late evening air.

A laugh falls from Rena Rouge. “These are… unbelievable.” By now, Ladybug and Chat Noir have joined them, perched on either side as they stare at Chloe’s pictures. “These are… You’re really talented.”

“I know,” Chloe says because she feels like she has to, but inside something burns deep. She hopes Alya feels the same way.

Rena Rouge rests a soft hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “These are really good. Trust me, I know a photographer who’d say the same thing. Your friend is going to love these.”

Numbly, Chloe takes the camera back from Rena Rouge. “I hope so,” she murmurs, voice low and rough. “I hope so.”

She just wants Alya to like them.

(She just wants Alya to like her).

iv.

When she presents the photographs to Alya the next day, the other girl wastes no time in hooking them up to her laptop and uploading them to the Ladyblog. “Thanks, girl. People have been asking for these all week.”

“People can wait for perfection,” Chloe says, not unkindly, and sits on the edge of the desk, waiting for Alya’s reaction. It’s the first time she snapped photos up close, and she’s eager to hear what the other girl has to say. “They’re a little different…”

There’s silence as Alya looks at the pictures. Her eyes flicker between the laptop screen and Chloe as she struggles to form a sentence. “Do you know… I mean, how did you…”

“Are they that bad?” Chloe asks, cocking her head.

Alya stares at her then, really stares at her. “Are you….” Voice lowering into a whisper, she asks, “Are you Queen Bee?”

There’s silence once more, and the only sound is each other’s heart beats, banging in their chests from the shock and revelations. “W-What?” Chloe laughs. “That’s a stupid thing to say. What makes you think I’d be a superhero?”

“Because I’ve seen these before,” Alya hisses. “I saw them last night when Queen Bee was taking them.”

Chloe’s breath catches in her throat. “You’re Rena—”

“I’m the friend,” Alya says with growing horror. “I’m the friend you were taking the pictures for, your lucky lady, oh god, oh god, you like me—” Hysteria is slowly setting in, and Chloe can hear it in the growing panic of Alya’s voice.

She acts on the first thought that enters her mind.

She reaches forward, cups Alya’s jaw, and kisses her to shut her up.

It works.

Alya’s lips are warm, and after the shock, she begins to kiss back and that is not what Chloe’s intention was, but who is she to argue? After a few moments of silence, of kisses and revelations, they pull away and sit back in their seats in the empty classroom.

“You’re Queen Bee,” Alya repeats in awe, shock still filtering through her. “You like me.”

Chloe can only shrug. “Yes,” she says. “To all of the above.”

v.

Back on the Eiffel Tower, donning the masks and camera, Alya leans against Chloe’s chest as they stare out over the slumbering city. “What made you like me anyway?” she asks curiously. “We used to hate each other.”

Chloe shrugs against the cool metal pressing into her back. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I guess, in the beginning, you needed me, and… somewhere along the lines, I realized I needed you too. You sort of gave me… a reason, I guess? I actually wouldn’t have agreed to be Queen Bee if it wasn’t for you.”

Alya perks up, gaze resting on Chloe. “Really?”

Chloe smiles because she know shoe easy it had been for Alya to slip on the mask. “Yeah,” she tells her, “You taught me a few things about duty. I couldn’t say no after that.”

“Well I’m glad,” Alya says, resting her head in the crook of Chloe’s neck, pressing her nose against the warm skin. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“Yeah,” Chloe echoes. “It wouldn’t.”

Together, they watch the lights blink out in the city as people turn in for the night, but they choose to stay on the Eiffel Tower, long after patrol. Pressed against each other, together at last, Chloe tries to imagine her life without Alya. The truth is, though, she can’t. And somehow that’s the most important thing.

I love you, she thinks. You changed my life, and I love you for that.

Someday, she knows she’ll tell Alya, but for now, she’s content to just to hold onto the other girl.

She has all the time in the world.

[milominderbindered]

thirty days of skam fic: day eighteen aka, four ways that even and isak try to beat the heat this summer

beginning. accusation. restless. leaves. rainbow. flame. formal. under. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. cans. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. tent. mad. thousand. paper. winter. luxury. letters. promise. simple. future.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

i.

So, Oslo is in the middle of a fucking heatwave.

Isak didn't sign up for this. Summer is nice, sure, a bit of heat is great. But he's still Norwegian and he's pretty sure that means he just wants built to deal with endless weeks of baking hot sun. It's so warm that nothing helps; his and Even’s tiny flat turns into a sauna, no matter what they try and do to cool it down, because buildings like theirs were built to keep the heat in.  Isak is trying to complain less these days, but when it comes down to it, he feels rather justified in constantly whining about the heat. 

“Ugh,” he spits out, finally giving in and starting to tug off his jeans. He's been laying around the flat shirtless all day, but wearing anything at all seems like a pointless exercise when all he's doing is overheating. “It's officially too hot to wear clothes.”

From across the room, Even glances up, raising his eyebrows and watching Isak shuck off his jeans, followed by his sweaty underwear, until he's just lying naked and starfished out on their bed. 

“No complaining from me,” Even says, grinning. In theory he's supposed to be drawing, but Isak’s been watching him for ages and he knows Even has spent about twice as much time staring off into space as he has looking down at his sketchbook. So he doesn't feel particularly bad about distracting him. 

“Ehh, it's not actually any better though,” Isak complains a moment later. The problem isn't that he was wearing too-warm clothes before, it's just that the air itself is too hot, and that means there is nothing Isak can do to escape. He feels sweaty even just lying back against their blankets. “There should be some kind of rule of the universe, saying it's never allowed to get so warm that you're even hot when you're naked.” 

“But baby, you're always hot when you're naked,” Even says, grinning as he throws down his pencil and starts heading towards Isak. Isak just rolls his eyes, but watches rather happily; Even’s shirtless too, wearing just an old pair of basketball shorts, and he looks all long and gorgeous and starkly pale in the bright, warm sunlight filtering through their open windows. His hair’s a bit sweaty and sticking to his forehead, but Isak imagines he doesn't look any better either; Even is still the most gorgeous sight in the world.

As Even drops playfully onto the mattress and crawls over Isak’s body, Isak warns him, “It’s too hot to have sex, Even.”

But somehow, they end up spending the whole afternoon fooling around. Neither of them get anything done at all -- and that is why ‘just don't wear any clothes’ eventually gets shelved as an idea on how to beat the heat. Their lives would grind to a complete halt if they tried that every day. 

ii. 

At first, it seems obvious to just leave all the windows and the doors to their little balcony open, so some air can get into the flat and cool it down. But there are two problems with that. The first is that there isn't actually a breeze coming from anywhere, so it's just as hot outside as it is inside, and that means the stale heat just sits around the flat as if the whole place was sealed up anyway.

The second problem is that every bug in Oslo seems to take that as invitation to invade their home.  After spending a whole hour one night catching giant moths in cups and setting them free outside, because Even is terrified but also refuses to let Isak kill anything, Isak nixes the window idea as well.

iii.

“Why don't we just go out?” Even says, one particularly hopeless day when they're taking it in turns to stand in front of the open freezer. “There must be somewhere nearby with air conditioning.” 

“A coffee shop?” Isak suggests. That's one of the problems with living in a country not built for this sort of heat; of course old buildings like theirs don't have air conditioning, but there's no guarantee that shops do either. But a relatively big cafe opened up just down the street recently, and he's pretty sure they will at least have a fan.

So Isak messages the guys, and puts on the bare minimum amount of clothes he can justify, and they head off. The walk is sweltering but the first step into the coffee shop makes it all worth it -- Isak is immediately hit by a glorious wall of cool air.

Just spending all day away from their flat might not be a perfect solution either, though. The guys meet them there, and it's fun to hang out, especially since Jonas and Magnus are both working this summer, and Mahdi’s been away visiting his aunt, so they haven't all had as many chances to hang out as usual. But there's only so much you can do in a coffee shop. They can't drink or skate or get high or even have very loud conversations. After about an hour, it just gets relentlessly boring, and by hour two Isak is almost wishing for their hellfire-temperature home. 

Because that's the other thing; as much as Isak is loathe to admit it, being with Even has turned him into a total homebody. He still likes seeing his friends and going to parties and stuff, but at the end of the day, Isak would rather be curled up in bed with his boyfriend watching a movie and getting his hair stroked than going on any sort of vast adventure.

They do hang out with the guys for a bit longer, eventually going back to Mahdi’s cus he has a basement room which stays a bit colder. They play video games and Even teaches Magnus some terrible dance moves and it's fun, if still way too warm to get anything productive done. 

Still, Isak and Even are home by 21:00 that night, and Isak immediately drags Even into bed.

“Can we just stay home tomorrow?” he asks, from his safe space cuddled up in the crook of Even’s arm.  “I don't care if it's gonna be a million degrees in here all day, going outside is exhausting.”

“You're so antisocial,” Even teases him, but it sounds fond as he presses a kiss into Isak’s hair. “Of course we can stay home, baby. We’ll just pretend it's our own private sauna.”

iv. 

The water pressure in their shower is awful. When he was younger and it got too hot in the summer, Isak used to just take lots of hour-long cold showers, but here it barely makes any difference -- it's like standing under a gentle rainfall and just ends with Even complaining that their water bill is gonna go up, when it's already too high because all too often they try to shower together and end up making out against the wall for an hour and forgetting to turn the water off.

Their tiny flat doesn't have a bath, either, and Isak resolutely refuses to break into another private pool for as long as he lives -- no matter how many time Even goes on about how romantic it would be to recreate their first kiss -- so he's long given up on water-based solutions by the third week of the heatwave. 

Even, though, has always been the more enterprising out of the two of them, and one day he comes home from the morning shift at work with nothing other than an inflatable plastic kiddie pool tucked under his arm.  

Isak bursts out laughing when he sees it. It's the kind you'd use to cool down a toddler, not try and cram two adult guys who are both over six feet tall and have enough limbs between them that even their double bed seems like a tight fit sometimes. He says as much to Even, but Even just grins, and twenty minutes later Isak somehow finds himself stark naked and folded into the inflatable pool in the middle of their living room floor. 

They really are too big for it. They sit across from each other, both with their knees drawn up to their chests, ankles tangled, most of their limbs knocking together because of the lack of space between them. The cold water barely comes up to Isak’s hip, so the pool isn't even doing its job very well.

“This isn't as romantic as I imagined,” Even admits, when he tries to lean forwards to kiss Isak and ends up sloshing water out the sides of the pool. Isak laughs at him.

“This isn't romantic at all. I just have a cold ass and the rest of me is still burning.”

It's lucky that Even looks so cute, sat there with his flushed pink chest and big rueful grin, or Isak might actually care about being uncomfortable. As it is, he just smiles back -- and then, all of a sudden, lunges forwards and tackles Even right out of the pool. Water sloshes everywhere and they wind up in a tangle on the floor, laughing and soggy and squirming all over the place until Isak finally manages to pin Even down.

“Kiss me,” he demands through a smile. Even does.  Isak thinks maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea.  And he thinks that maybe, the heatwave isn’t so bad if he has Even by his side.  Actually, as he lays down and lets Even kiss him some more in the puddles of cold water, Isak thinks this is the most fucking blissful summer of his whole life so far.

(Of course, the next day, when the downstairs neighbour asks if Even and Isak know why a damp patch has suddenly appeared on her ceiling, Isak does decide to throw out the paddling pool. For the sake of their lease.)

[englishchinesetranslations]

I set myself some big monetary goals at the beginning of this year and as we get closer to 2020 I’m reflecting on them because I’m still a little way off.

But that’s OK because, in my search for more income-based success, I’ve learned so much. Last year I read Jen Sincero’s book You Are a Badass at Making Money and used it to change my money mindset.

Even though I made the switch in my brain, it didn’t filter through to my subconscious until about three months ago.

Over the last two months, I’ve made around £20k ($25k) in revenue and am on track to continue that success.

These are the kind of figures that would put me at my goal for the year had I got my head in shape back in January.

For context, at the start of the year, I was earning around £3k per month. A liveable business revenue for my situation but far from the big bucks I desired.

I will break down that £20k later but I want to share what I’ve learned from this sudden shift.

Money is a mindset

The biggest change I made was my head. I’d always thought that earning big money was greedy and that I should be happy with my comfortable salary as a freelance writer with a passion project side hustle.

It was a real process to get my brain to the point where I realised I deserved more.

After my first few five-figure months, I realised it was my mindset that had changed.medium.com

The Big Secret No One Tells You About Making Money

The big change came when I started listening to money affirmations on Spotify. This made a huge difference.

When you’re constantly told something, it becomes true even if you don’t believe it. This is called a self-fulfilling prophecy and it can work both positively and negatively. This means that if someone tells you that you’re a lowlife and you’re worth nothing then that will become true. Whereas if you’re being told, at school for example, that you’re great and that you deserve money, it’ll be easier to manifest it.

Affirmations work in much the same way, if you listen to a money affirmation that is repeated over and over in your ear, your brain will take that to be true and you’ll start to believe it.

This mindset shift doesn’t just happen overnight, it’s actually a process. The problem I had was that when I was learning about money as a mindset, I thought it would just click and it would fall into place but actually that’s not true. In fact, it probably took me about six months of retraining my brain before I saw those monetary results.

Don’t put all your eggs into one basket

People often ask me how I have time to do all the things I do but I’m actually not that busy because I’ve been able to set up enough revenue streams for myself that I have recurring income. Income that doesn’t actually need a lot of work on a day-to-day basis. I automate a lot of my work, which eliminates some of the repetitive tasks that would normally take up a lot of my time (and once did!).

First and foremost, I am a writer and an editor and this brings in maybe 30% to 40% of my income. But I am also a coach and consultant within motorsport and this is where most of my recurring revenue and passive income comes from. But if we dig down further into this, there are a lot of revenue streams I have from these two sides of my business.

Firstly I write. I write for the Guardian, Confused.com, and for lots of automotive publications. This is the job I always wanted to do as a kid. I wanted to be a freelance journalist but it doesn’t necessarily pay very well and it’s far from regular. I could make more money from my writing if I pitched more often but at the moment, I let the work come to me.

On top of this, I am also an editor for a couple of automotive content sites linked to businesses in the US.

This is great, regular work because it pays hourly and I’m given enough work to warrant a lot of hours. On its own, it’s not quite a liveable wage for me but it bolsters my income on those months when I might be struggling, or I want to take some time off from my other projects. It’s relatively easy, consistent work, and that’s really important as a writer.

And then I have my motorsport business, Racing Mentor. The main goal of that business is to provide sponsorship coaching to racing drivers, and consultancy services to motorsport businesses.

This business brings me income in a number of ways.

The first is products: I have a book called Get Paid to Race, a number of downloadable templates that racing drivers can use, a whole host of courses (ranging from £12 up to £199), and a membership program.

Next is coaching: I have a group coaching course that runs over six weeks. I also do one-on-one coaching for drivers and teams who need a little bit of extra attention.

Beyond that is the consultancy work. This is the part that has taken the longest to build because motorsport is all based on trust. Now that I’ve been running Racing Mentor for three years, I have this trust. I work with businesses that either sponsor motorsport or work within the industry to help them grow their revenues and ultimately succeed.

And it doesn’t stop there because I’m also working on other income streams that will operate much in the same way as Racing Mentor.

For example, I am working on a book about imposter syndrome. This is mostly because I overcame imposter syndrome and I genuinely want to help others do the same, but launching another book opens up huge opportunities for me as well.

I’ve started to think ahead about the imposter syndrome courses and training I will offer to people to help them increase their confidence in what they do.

How to diversify

If you’re a writer, for example, you might be working for publications, maybe writing on Medium, and making a decent salary but what can you do to 10-times that? What can you do to ensure that your income comes from different sources? Perhaps write a book, teach something online, or start dropshipping.

The same goes if you have a day job. It’s not always good practice to rely on one salary because if you lose that job, you could receive zero income for months. But if you have other revenue streams, you at least have something to fall back on.

More money comes with more expenses

Yes I’ve made £20,000 in the last two months but I’ve also had more expenses than normal. Part of my money mindset shift was not being afraid to spend money in order to make money. This has been a really difficult switch to get my head around but I knew that I needed to do something big for an event for my racing business so I spent money on it.

So my revenue has grown hugely but so have my expenses. And while my profits have grown, there’s also tax to take into account.

I am an expert

I’ve realised that the thing people are paying for is my expertise and my ability to solve their problems. Racing drivers struggle to get sponsorship, I help them overcome that. Publications need an automotive expert to write on trending topics, I step up.

It’s not about the products or services I’m offering, it’s about the value I offer through them. This is an important distinction because people will pay a lot more for a fix-all solution to their hiring issue, than they will for an hour of consultancy — even if, to you, they are one and the same.

I write a lot about imposter syndrome and not seeing your own expertise is often one of the side effects. You’re never going to see yourself for the expert you are if you feel like a fraud.

If you feel consistently unable to achieve more, think about whether you’re struggling with imposter syndrome and if that’s something that needs to be worked on.

The learning continues

So now that I have money is my learning over? Actually, things are just getting started. Because now, I need to start thinking about what I’m doing with my money and how I can maximise this growth so my business continues to move forward in this way.

Reading articles about money always led me to believe that I’d probably just make some switch and be earning hundreds of thousands of pounds. But, realistically, I still need to continue with this forward momentum. There’s still a lot to learn.

Don’t get disheartened by big numbers

I see all these articles on Medium and other blogs about how people earn $250,000 in one month — or some such figure. And while I know that kind of income is achievable, it’s rarely the starting point.

If you’re a new business owner, it can be kind of overwhelming to see those six-figure numbers. So this is where you start, this is your starting point. And it’s mine too.

Often, before you can earn $250,000 in a month, you need to earn $2000 a month, or $5000 or $10,000.

It’s fine to have big-money goals but have a plan of how you’re going to get there. Aim to earn $25,000 before you aim to earn $250,000. Otherwise, it’s easy to get disheartened.

Enjoy it

The other day I took my whole family out for lunch and I was able to pay for it without even thinking about whether I can afford it. This is the kind of thing and the kind of freedom I want with my money and while I have that money I’m going to enjoy it. I don’t ever want to be in a position where I take that money for granted.

So if you’re in a position where your business is earning good money and you’re growing, make sure you enjoy that money and you do the things with it that make your life great.

My £20k income breakdown for September and October 2019

Product sales: £1200 ($1550)

Courses: £1000 ($1300)

Coaching: £4500 ($5800)

Writing: £3100 ($4000)

Editing: £5000 ($6400)

Consultancy: £4200 ($5300)

Event appearances: £1100 ($1400)

Total: £20100 ($24200)*

*Conversion figures correct at the time of writing. These figures have been rounded up/down for simplicity.

I’m showing you these figures in the hope they’ll inspire you to diversify your income streams in some way. I’d say I’m right at the beginning of a large period of growth in my business and I wanted to show you what those early figures looked like.

Remember, you deserve this. You’re the expert.

[in-paradox-space]

i didnt really spell or read through this

i just typed what i was thinking

and maybe ill read it again in a few years

you dont have to. 

you wont really get anything out of it

so this is my blog and i just wanted to post this somewhere

i met a girl last night

and I quite like her

i feel an infatuation for her, even now

she left at 8am, i didnt hug her before she left i mumbled a goodbye

it was pretty shallow

its been 15 hours since then.

its sad to think ill eventually move on.

i dont know why, i didnt expect I would, but i do really like her

and these are really basic feelings

a scenario everybody is in

i feel like i should acknowledge this should be embarrassing for me

to feel such basic mainstream feelings

but why should that be embarrassing 

am I above anybody else who feels basic feelings for situations we all end up in?

these feelings have been let out countless times, every single day, by countless masses

why should I bother to say the same things as everybody else in slightly different words?

I can’t stop thinking about her

I think she already has somebody

I don’t think she’s into me

far from it

she did some coce but I dont really touch it 

I feel like if I do it once the seal will be broken 

and I’ll end up throwing my money away and buying coce for everybody to share

I don’t even feel like it should be spelled that way. ‘Coke’ feels more natural. 

I’d really like it if she liked me. 

but I’ve felt that way about girls before

when I realize they do like me, I kind of back off and avoid them

this is probably the best relationship we will ever have

me seeing her maybe once every now and then whenever I destroy my brain cells with friends

just affectionately toying with the idea of me and her getting along

when im high with my friends, I can tell them all I love them and hug them 

and its cool

thats just what we all do, and we know its because were really high

but I couldnt do that with her

although I did only just meet her that night

I was very self aware around her

it would be nice if she didnt already have a boyfriend

and idk 

its not like i would want a relationship though

I know i would feel trapped within days

so why do I believe I want that before I get stuck into it?

shes depressed man

that will get annoying to me after a while

and she talks a lot

when the pedestal gets lower 

I will eventually be less and less interested in what she has to say

she will get clingy

and need more and more love 

I will have less and less to give

this is really fucking shallow

it will ultimately be bad

this is currently the best it will ever be

feeling affection from afar

unable to clear my mind of her

just hoping to be around her more

it feels much more warm and hopeful to want to be with her

if she expressed any interest in me, I’d lose my interest in her.

why is that?

Do I think of her as prey?

she shows flaws, but 

I want to say i dont see them as flaws

but what if I do 

im overthinking it too much

I told her to do some more ecstasy 

she didnt do much

she didnt want to and she was already doing coke

my other friend was doing everything, but hes just a machine

some organic mechanism which filters lethal drugs into nourishment

he never drinks water and eats maybe 4 slices of toast a day

i dont know how he does it but his skin is always glowing and he looks great

his health is pretty bad but hes been living this way for maybe 2 years

hes achieved unhuman things.

he also fucked her once

which may or may not have been in the air

and i think she didnt want to do any more ecstasy because she didnt want to be vulnerable 

and i think a part of me wanted her to be more susceptible 

it isnt really something I wanted to admit

I know that its really really easy to find this blog

not for friends and family

but it is generally easy to find it, and anybody can find it

but im not going to branch off into that

this is just where I try to be honest

and admit the things people would otherwise try not to admit to themselves

i cant remember how to describe it

but im working my way on a path to detach myself from my ego

i dont know if detatch or dissociate is the right word

im aware why i should still have an ego

but i just dont want my ego to take over who i am

i feel, if i have more control over my ego, i wont be as held back by self awareness and fear associated with my sense of self

this way there will be less things holding me back

because I look deep down at the source of a lot of my problems

and fear(or anxiety, which comes under fear anyway) is one of the sources of most or all of them

i dont have examples to mind right now

but being honest has generally helped me in many ways

now im trying to be more honest

to myself and to others, about myself

my true intentions for doing things

looking deep within and questioning if im really being honest with myself

how i truly feel

because really, ive realized, im trying to prove things even to myself

on a level of thought

its nice

different points in time are connected with different points in time and the spaces i was in in that time

and other components of the universe which are connected to those times

i dont know what those components are

subatomic thought and vibrations type shit

i should also point out i dont erase the things I type, as I type them

I just leave them there.

for authenticity or something along those lines

for the whole ego thing

and I feel a little better after letting this out here

because i no longer feel like im avoiding the thoughts of her

and ive said these things somewhere

so when im dead and gone, it will always be possible for humanity to know I thought these thoughts at some point

why is that comforting? 

I will be fine if we dont get together

i do hope there will be less awkward tension though

my friends, who invited her over, made it out like she was trying to get us together 

and that made me sort of nervous 

and then i think somewhere along the way, she didnt want that

and why would she? she has no idea who i am 

and idk man, shits awkward

they told her i said she was cute, when they was inviting her

but like, I never saw her until i met her

so that was a lie

and  i think that just added to the tension

and i think they suggested we hookup as a one night stand 

and i think we was both really uncomfortable with that idea

and worrying about if the other person wanted that or really didnt want that

fuckin

it is awkward

but i dont really mind right now 

as she came down from the coke

we lay in bed at 7am

very sleepily talking about anything

we watched a show 

its very irrational, i think it stems from paranoia but im not going to mention the specific shows and shit

it also doesnt feel irrational in my head

its not worth questioning anymore

i was slowly starting to hear the pleasant voices and feel the regret accompanied with ecstasy comedowns

we spoke about music 

jazz

i dont know a fucking thing about jazz but i do like it

because i know how much it influences other genres

the same way hiphop and rock influence other genres

and i like how its less about the specific timings and keys

more about feeling as you play

it could be an illusion but i think you can feel that in a lot of similar music

and she was edging towards doing another key

but she had to be sober for something later that day

its still unbelievable people spend that much on coke

is it worth it? 

its hard to tell

it lasted quite long considering there was 3 using it and how much they spent

but if they did it regularly it probably wouldnt have been so great

and she seemed to feel worse and worse

more, just unhappy as the morning went on 

and there was some awkwardness between us 

but it still felt nice to be around her

and again

this is really fucking shallow

it would be nice if they didnt try to set us up with each other

i think we couldve chilled with less tension

and MD makes me very paranoid

whenever im in another room i feel like theyre saying my name when theyre talking to each other

and its unlikely they are

but what if they 

theres always that chance

i think it will be nice to see her again, but start the night at the same time

without being fuckfaced

and know each other as friends

and just be able to hang out

and yeah, whether i do or dont lose interest

both ways will work out fine if we can get along

because she was pretty chill 

and when im high, or coming down and irritable

i think ill happily listen to her talk for hours and hours

we can play more games together

i can see how everything goes with her

maybe we will talk about this one night

and finally know what we was both thinking

i do care what she was thinking

i dont know if she was interested in what i was thinking

she did have some flaws

so does everyone

those flaws would eventually make me unhappy in a relationship 

id eventually be unhappy in a relationship with anybody

but maybe when were high we can do some regretful shit

if she did have a boyfriend

i think i heard she did at one point but it wasnt really confirmed

i hope that shit goes well

theyre probably more suited for each other

and i dont know what this is

or why at all im interested in her

i just never never ever ever am around girls now that i think about it

the last time I was around a girl was stupidly long ago

I dont even think it was 2017

and that day i didnt spend the whole day alone with her

ive basically been with guys this whole time

or just nobody

ive spent stupidly long amounts of times just alone, or with my dad

because i moved to the middle of nowhere for a while

i was only with my dad and his thot gf

i genuinely dont remember the last time i spent a day alone with a female

wow 

I guess there was one girl

i dont remember if it was 2015 or 16

she was ginger

and she was into gingers

and we did rly like each other

i made myself pathetic around her 

almost to suggest thats a desirable trait

and the moment we eventually kissed

it was awkward

and was not enjoyable

and we both lost interest in each other at that point

i think it was late 2015, i remember it being cold

but i was with blake late 2015

so it mustve been early 2015

wow 

ive been around girls after then

but it was just with other friends

and i have wanted to fuck them

but ive not really felt like this

i didnt want to fuck

i just wanted to stare at her tattoos

and her hair

and talk

and i just hope to spend another day with her

even if i dont

it doesnt matter

the world will keep spinning

i will keep living

until i die

and she will be happy with her boyfriend or she will find someone else

and do something else

and eventually die

and humanity will eventually die

and the world will keep spinning

until something big enough to stop it from spinning crosses paths with it

and the universe will eventually entropy into a complete balance

and everything that was done would have been done

and it will be final

its really shallow

but i like thinking about her anyway

and i like this feeling

and its like i dont want to stop typing this

because then im choosing not to feel like this

and i might miss a detail

and i will eventually forget that detail

and i want to read this back in years and remember everything

i hope she is doing okay in those years to come

and it will be nice if we still get along in those years to come

and if we are both healthy

and doing well

it would be nice

and again, its really fucking shallow.

but i am human

i am designed this way

and its nice to think about her

and knowing there is a good chance i will see her again

and be able to play games with her again

and get high with her again

and listen to her music again

it gives me something to look forward to

and im gonna leave you with that

[hellogreenergrass]

Singy Island - Week Nine

8th Feb – The Foca Hut, West Coast of Signy

Iain and I set off at 10:30am to catch the low tide that reveals a causeway in a lagoon in front of the Orwell glacier. This allows us to route to the other side of the island without having to cross the ice cap. Which today was not visible, a sure sign that you don’t want to be up there. The wind is gusting in petulant little bursts, the gaps between them lulling you into a false sense of stability as you teeter across rock pools and stepping stones that are too far apart for your diminished leg length. We may have jumped the gun a bit with the tide, it could have been lower. And I could have ended up drier. Ive been paying with wet boots and socks all day as a result. Over the crossing we stopped at Waterpipe Hut, an in case of fog/high tide hut, changed socks and dropped off some gin supplies before heading up the Limestone Valley: a steep gorge between the mountain mass that is home to the ice cap and the radiating ridge of that gives us the peaks of Jane and Robin. The valley was more dramatic than the view from base suggests and has shielded its entrance with a short but steep snow wall that hides the valley from view as you stand beneath it.

At the top on Jane Col we dropped our bags in a small saddle of rocks and ascended the adjacent Jane Peak. Some great views back to base and around the whole East Coast. This was the highest point of the crossing and it was a steady walk down to the West Coast from here. The Foca Hut is newer and larger than Cummings, more of your typical wooden shed type hut. Its got four beds in a good sized room with separate living/cooking area and Perspex windows looking out to sea on two sides. After a break, new socks and cup of tea, I set out to finish the sampling that I had been doing all the way from the tidal crossing and put out ion-exchange membranes amongst a Giant Petrel colony up on a ridge. Im putting these out around the island to get an idea of the nutrients the different wildlife groups contribute to the terrestrial ecosystem, so that when I get the data back from the contribution of my bug, I have something local to compare it too.

Back to the hut for a freeze-dried pasta dinner, and then we headed out again for a jolly to Amos Lake a few miles away along the coast. With no work to do I got wildly distracted by everything from feathers in streams to capturing my favourite combination of Signy residents: Giant Petrels and Icebergs. The light was great, oranges and golds seeping throught he gaps in the clouds. Now in bed, wrapped in a zipless downfilled sleeping bag with another Buffalo fleece lined sleeping bag opened up to be a blanket on top, I am slowly warming up. And my feet are dry for the first time today. Im writing by candle and Tilley lamp and the wind is just loud enough to make me cosier without alarming me into thinking the roof will leave us. Walking North tomorrow before heading back to Waterpipe hut via a different route.

9th Feb – Waterpipe Hut

Good nights sleep last night. Eventually got warm, then toasty, then cosy as hell. Was a drag to leave my sleeping bag nest this morning. Iain made me tea in bed which helped though…

We got up and packed, a slack three hours after waking up. Thankfully there was no rush, but still. No Alpine starts here. The winds were reasonably high as we set off and the air was full off mizzle and clag. The ice cap was still under cloud, which was now rolling down the mountains towards us. We walked along the coast, following coves so I could sample for a mite called Alaskozetes along the way (it likes to live just up from the shore). By lunch we had got to North Point where I had some more work to do putting out membranes to assess a penguin colonies contribution to the Islands nutrient content, collecting soil cores and some more mites. I set Iain loose to roam about checking out what we could see of the view and birds. I was working in the Adelie colony I had helped count a few weeks ago, but now it was desolate. Just a few fledgling chicks around, everyone else had left. There were quite a lot of dead penguins, and happy Skuas as a result. Im not sure if this is usual, but I couldn’t take many strides before finding another carcass. Im guessing they were the remains of fledglings that couldn’t fend for themselves once their parents left for sea.

From North Point we waded, literally, across Moss Braes, sampling as we went. Moss Braes is the most intact green bit of the island, a sweep of mire enriched with peat and moss that can be meters deep. After a mile or so of filtering swamp through my socks, we started uphill to a thankfully dry and stony fellfield ramp that leads up to today’s highpoint, Spindrift Col. Once here I was back in new territory having never been down into the Paternoster and Three Lakes Valleys that take up this portion of the Island. We found debris from an old scientific or engineering installation near a lake up in a hanging valley. No idea what it was for, maybe pumping freshwater down to the hut as this was done in the area in the past, although from a different lake I thought?

Arriving at Waterpipe Hut later that afternoon, I was pleased to see that it had a proper stove for actual heat, meaning I could be warm through means other than my own metabolism for the first time in 24 hours. And could dry my socks and rather sorry looking boots. I brought my old hiking boots along to Antarctica for two reasons: 1) they’ve been my loved and comfy companions over many thousands of miles and several field seasons. They’ve been around the world and I didn’t want to leave them out of this adventure. 2) Whilst BAS provide you with perfectly good Meindl boots, these are brand new and I didn’t pick them, so didn’t want to rely on them in case they didn’t fit nicely. Which they don’t. They wilfully try to remove circulation to the majority of the parts of my feet that are most useful. Last time I wore them they did a good job of turning my toes from pink to red and then onto a lasting shade of off-white, regardless of how they were laced, or how much I shouted at them to stop it. So my trusty back up Scarpa boots have been in use more than intended. As I look at them hanging by their feathered shoelaces from the beam above the fire, splitting at several seams, no longer waterproof, oozing with patches of glue from repairs gone by, I am giving in to the fact that they need to be put into full time retirement. And maybe even sent off to the hiking trails in the sky. Or the incinerator on the Shackleton. End of an era. Now I have to battle it out with the, urgh, Meindls *spits to the side in disgust*.

We took advantage of a brightening evening and headed out to collect a few more samples from a local cove and take in the panorama of the East Coast and Coronation Island that a few small hills and knolls allowed us. This part of the Island is strewn with whale bones. Not insignificant ones either. Blue whales. Vertebrae the size of small cars, and rib bones the length of roof beams. Before science came to Signy, this was an old Norwegian whaling station, the large tidal beaches made for good places to butcher a whale it seems. Even the beach outside base has a suspicious amount of white pebbles, which on closer inspection you realise are eroded and rounded bones of whales no longer destined to roam the Southern Oceans. It’s a reminder that most of the knowledge we have of Antarctica has been built over time upon the shoulders of fisherman and whalers who knew this place long before the likes of Amundsen and Scott. Like it or not, the evidence is here in front of me. And its not pretty. Im just thankful that its science that prevails in Antarctica now, and not resource hunting.

10th Feb - Waterpipe Hut

Two big thumps this morning made me look out of the hut window suspiciously. Nope, nothing but a serene view over sea and snow-capped mountains. A larger rumble and crash 30 minutes later sent Iain out the door to investigate. The front of the Orwell glacier was collapsing in on itself. After we packed up and got back to the tidal crossing, we saw that the glacier had lost 30-40m of itself to the increasingly warm winds and sea waters that have been knocking it back year after year. This latest collapse saw the majority of the cave at the front of the glacier, disappear. Now there was new blue ice scarring the outline of what was formerly a deep river tunnel. The Orwell is an interesting glacier in that it spill over the edge of a steep cliff face in a suspended waterfall. At its steepest it is near vertical. The crevasses that form here give the impression that this wall is held on by threads of ice and would collapse at any moment, but in reality even with this level of retreat those vertical walls may take years to peel away from the cliff underneath. Ice really does move very very slowly. What a noise that would make though when it finally does go. A lot of ice to fall a long way down.

After another drenching tidal crossing, we got back to base around lunch, and I promptly took the rest of the day off, enjoying a long shower, central heating, and hanging up my boots from what may well have been their last trip out. At least it was a multi-day hike in Antarctica. Not a bad way to go! I spent the rest of the day spending too much time on photos, and as a result may well have over-edited them all. I’ll let you be the judge of that though!