#the queens also not happy with this situation as I see her programming says its this or he has to be thrown out and she doesnt want that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatanoof · 3 years

Text

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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beybladebladerboy999 · 4 years

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Dia means sun btw.

Lord Diavolo angst.

Maybe OOC LuLu, I just love soft, messy LuLu.

He regrets ever picking you for the exchange program. Because of you his life is ruined. He never planned to share Lucifer with anybody romantically.

Then one day he asked to talk. He confessed he was in love.

With you.

Diavolo cried himself to sleep that night. As he remembered his friends smiling face. Of course he congratulated him and gave him advice while Barbatos prepared a special blend of tea.

He always thought he'd have Lucifer body and soul forever.

He should have never let you come here. You have the brothers in shambles, bowing to your every command.

You have all of them wrapped around your little finger and you don't even realize it. Out of all seven you had to pick Lucifer.

He was always supposed to be his Lucifer. His fallen Morning Star with eyes that shone like fire. Skin as pale as snow, with hair as black and shiny as ink. His Lucifer only belonged to him in name only. He was so beautiful, he deserved better than to be your plaything. Lucifer deserved a Queen's status, he belonged on the throne working with Diavolo side by side.

You see this needed to be revised immediately, that's why he killed you. It was to easy really, wait until you got back to the human world, slip some poison into your water systems, and make sure his Lucy was busy with work all day and night.

Why don't I take your D.D.D Lucifer, it will just distract you. The faster you finish your work the faster you can talk to MC. I'm sure she misses you.

He had to be discrete, if lucifer found out all his love would vanish, so not even you could know your killer. He sent you letter often and texted you, played the nice guy, the supportive friend. Now you were far away in the Celestial realm, forbidden from dating the Morning Star based on your angel status. Of course secretly delivered by Barbatos to Micheal.

Then I gave him my brightest smile and shoved more paperwork into his arms, the arms that should be wrapped around him.

He saved Lilith, he gave him work, a place for him and his brothers to stay. Lucifer should be his, and now he will be, now that your out of the way. Watching from the Celestial realm as your boyfriend cries into his shoulder. His hair loose and his school uniform buttons undone, Diavolo could fell his heart beating.

You were gone, Lucifer was his once more.

The cost well the boys will get over it soon enough, they don't even know who killed you. After all you were a good friend to everyone, his tears were real.

He really would miss you, but you crossed the line when you took Lucifer from him. Maybe he'll come and visit you when Lucifer is wearing his ring. When its safe for his heart to never fell that way about you again.

Diavolo hugged his friend and soothed his heaving sobs.

You see Lucifer loves me , he doesn't hide anything from me. Look at him falling apart on my shoulder, the all mighty Morning Star, reduced to tears and a shadow of himself.

"Diavolo" he whispered

"Yes my Lovely?"

" Does Barb know who killed her?"

He sounded cool, and broken. He sounded like a man who just had his heart shattered.

"An unfortunate accident. Her poison garden had a broken pipe, the poison seeped into the ground into her drinking supply." He sounded mournful as he spoke.

" You know how found she was with her deadly garden Lucifer, that's why she got on with Satan so well, always hungry for information."

Lucifer chocked back a sob.

He told you your obsession would kill you one day, and now look at you. Stuck under his Father's thumb in the blinding white of his old home. At least he could rely on Simeon to keep you safe.

For the first time in his millennia old life Lucifer regretted his fall.

At his back Diavolo smiled, finally mine he thought, finally finally mine.

"This is where you live dearest?" he said. Looking at you in wonder. A small cottage greeted him with flowers blooming around metal gates. A green house in the backyard, filled to brimming with toxic and deadly plants.

he stared at you as you put on little green leather gloves and pointed at every plant, the poison it obtained and what it could do it a humans system. You showed him leaf patterns and squeezed a pokeberry and watched the seeds spill out, showing him the poison as red as blood inside.

"Isn't it wonderful" you asked. You gazed into his eyes, yours were filled with an almost child like wonder as you gazed around your garden. For once you had almost rivaled your boyfriend in Pride. He could practically see the peacock feathers sprouting from your back.

" I just want you to look upon the true irony of your current situation." She smiles as Lucifer plucks a Manchieel apple from the tree and bit down.

"I love you Lucifer" Then she looked up at me threw her long beautiful lashes. I felt the blush creep up my cheeks as my hand rose to meet my chest.

"I love you to MC"

I kissed her then, her lips were full and warm and she was alive. We kissed by the dying sunset, I pulled her flush aganist my chest and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

I remember the feeling of utter happiness as I help her aganist me. It was like a tight spring loaded in my heart.

I love you MC, I will always love you.

Lucifer's tears slowly drew to a close as Diavolo hugger him closer. You were always so reckless, always attracted to things that could kill you whether it be plants or your choice of boyfriend. You never had a sense of self preservation, its how you two originally gotten closer.

After he realized Mammon was a horrible human babysitter he slowly faded into the role. Then after your true heritae was revealed, he couldn't stop himself from falling in love with you.

Ha look where that got him. Youe dead and his heart is shattered on the ground.

Even after all those pacts you still went to Celestial, even though your a desecandt of the angel my Father wanted elimanited.

Maybe this is a new tourment from my Father after all, he took away Lilith, and now you.

My darling little MC.

Lucifer was sure his heart would never be put back together again.

He missed your warm touches. Your random notes on his mountains of paperwork, little encouragments and silly heart on sticky notes.

He saved them all.

You come in with snacks or drinks in the dead of night just to remind him to eat.

"How could you possibly love a demon, I'm a failure. A fallen angel." He looked downcast.

You confessed your love fo rthe first time that night. Heart shapped pancakes, on his desk after a particularly long meeting. At the time his first thought was "Beel didn't see these, how odd."

" I love you in spite of that. Lucifer you work hard, you sacrificed your freedom for your family. You work like a slave to because of it. Your so strong. You saved your brother from the dungeon, and bore the burden of greif all these years." YOu looked at him admiration and a touch of saddness.

"'I love you because no matter what you come to face, you better yourself with it." his pride swelled, he took in your flushed face, your sparkling eyes, and your soft hair. He loved you for so long. He pulled you close and kissed away your tears.

Then you fed each other pancakes.

He didn't do any work that night.

The brothers made you a memorial behdn the House of Lamentation. Filled to the brim with roses spelled healthy, and pictures upon pictures from your Devilgram account. Soft teddy bears and the controller you used most when playing with Levi, a tube of your lipstick you accidentally left behind.

Lucifer went their that night, he sat in frount of you and cried himself to sleep. It was almost like losing Lilith all over again.

You were the one to comfort him when you felt like this. When he lost the battle of the darkness inside his heart, but you were gone, and nobody else dared approach him. He felt your absence in the very core of his being, he missed your hands grazing his horns or preening his wings.

" Their like clouds! So fluffy!"

" They were made from clouds dearest" He smiled at you and pulled you onto his lap."

" I miss you MC, my dearest one." A few tears dropped onto your tombstone. He rested his head agaist your picture.

" Lucifer" a soft voice whispered, hiding in the shadows.

"Simeon" Lucifer looked up and saw his friend under the tree. He looked forlorn and...was that dread?

" We need to talk... I have a message from....her"

Lucifer sat up and gracefully walkes towards him. His uniform is covered in mud and he was an indent from your memorial but, he still looked prideful. Even if he didn't feel anything at all.

Simeon looked at him in a pitiful manner.

" She loves you Lucifer, and it wasn't an accident. She said she saw Barbatos, and the cop who was investagating, he was a demon who tried to eat her once. When she was with Satan at the library.

She says he lended over and checked her pulse after she drank the water. He said he was sorry, on all accounts."

Lucifer couldn't speak, he was falling once more in a pit of rage and despair.

" Are you sure?" disbelief coated his voice as he looked upon his best friend and companion.

" She's a mess about it, Barb came over and-" Simeon shuddered. "She's being peppered with questions about everythibg from Micheal, she saw a few of her deceased pets and started crying, she won't leave them be" he chuckled slightly.

Lucifer felt a stab of betrayal, but he also felt a sense of purpose.

"Thank you Simeon" he said cooly, buttoning up his unofrm, tying his belt, fixing his medals."Give MC my love from now until the end of eternity." Lucifer walked cooly back to your memorial. He touched your smiling face and took out his D.D.D.

The Demon Brothers (6) New (7)

Lucifer- Family meeting in the dining room, Five minutes

He shut off his phone and walked back into the house.

" Your so strong Lucifer."

"Your so beautiful"

" You'll always be my angel."

" I love you, and I'll always love you."

Lucifer stared at his brothers' gathered in he dining hall. He tuned out their questions and held up his hand.

He stood up the chair moving soundlessely on the carpet.

He placed his hand over the R.A.D badge, then he ripped it off. The stitches popping and metals clanging on the table.

He threw it to the floor.

"Who here wants to start a rebellion."

Yay my first aganst! So who wins that's up to you! Comment please I love reading them.

This is my girlfriend's story and I wanted to post it here and she let me so go check it out on wattpad

@sparkleshinegreen

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey lucifer #agnst #fluff #to be continued #lucifer x reader #oc mention #death #murder #fanfiction

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humaudrey · 4 years

Text

Family of Choice (Ben x Evie) ~ Descendants Prompt Challenge

A/N: So this is a scene that I always imagined writing had I ever actually posted the fic this is from. But basically this would be from the third/fourth/final fic from the Descendants Rewrite series I had planned and this challenge (by @hoodpane) sparked some sort of motivation to actually write so I'm running with it. Don't wanna spoil too much so here we go!

Quote: I'm going to kill your mother.

Words: 1009

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap

Not a spell, potion, or curse in the world could get Evie's right foot still as she stood in a corner of her fiance's bedroom, taking deep breaths while her both of her hands were enveloped together and pressed against her forehead with her eyes scrunched close and her heart beating out of her chest. Evie didn't want to cry, no, not today. She joked earlier with Melody, Mal, and Audrey that her makeup took almost half an hour to perfect for the cameras and pictures for her engagement party and she looked too good to cry about how she much she loved Ben. Or how happy he made her. Or what they overcome or accomplished together (both personally as a couple and politically as a king and his councilor of Isle Affairs). Or how excited she was to spend the rest of her life with him as his wife. His queen. Auradon's queen.

Auradon's queen.

Those two words rang in Evie's head for a month now since he serenaded then proposed during what seemed like a regular lunch date after stopping by their Alma Matter to visit the next generation of VKs. And while those two words made marrying Ben a bit more nerve-racking than usual, Evie had never been happier.

That is, until Grimhilde attacked. Something that Evie never saw coming but wasn't the slightest bit surprised about once she magically teleported away. The dagger manifesting out of thin air before being thrown without so much as a single word being muttered could have killed either one of the engaged couple in blue had Grimhilde had better aim or more time. Her eyes were dark as night, her pursed lips red as her most poisonous apples, the nostrils flared like flames; Evie had never seen Grimhilde in such a state before.

"Is that Lady Evie?"

"Lady Evie, a word, if you may–"

"Lady Evie, we're with Wonderland Weekly, and we'd like–"

Evie's stomach dropped as she turned and spot the door across the room was cracked open with a familiar young man batting off the reporters that managed to have the audacity to invade their king's palace. Typical. It didn't take long for the four other guards at the door to keep the press back to allow Ben inside his own room.

"Ruthless," Ben let out in a pant, shutting the door behind him.

Evie chuckled, a small, slight smile curling onto her ruby lips as she approached Ben with a hug.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a whisper.

"I've been better," Evie replied. "What are they saying?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. 'Grimhilde strikes', 'Auradon Under Attack Again'–"

Evie waited until the commotion outside calmed down. "Are they blaming me?"

Ben looked down into Evie's worried yet beautifully soft brown eyes that glistened and were another unfortunate situation away from full blown tears. "No, of course–"

"What was I thinking? The Villain's Rehabilitation Program had been a bust from the start and I thought my mother, of all people, could change. And I know what they're all really thinking, they blamed Mal for Maleficent's attack at your coronation and Uma for Ursula's attack at the Seaside Festival, I should've known it was only a matter of time before–"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Ben interrupted, wiping the single tear that escaped with his thumb before cupping Evie's face and turning her attention back to him. "You couldn't have known. She played us into inviting her in the first place. While we're on the topic, have you heard anything from the girls? Or Jay? Or even–"

"Freddie's still trying to get in touch with Uma, but Mal, Jane, Ginny, Finn, Jay, or Jordan haven't found her yet."

"What about your mirror?"

Evie finally let go of Ben, taking a step back and shaking her head. "No, I can't. I'm scared. She clearly knows her way around them, she could use it to her advantage."

"I didn't think my future mother-in-law was going to be this much of a problem," Ben half-joked.

"Well, we've clearly underestimated her magic capabilites. Had I known she was able to travel through compact mirrors, I would've warned Audrey."

Ben shared a light chuckle with Evie as he grabbed both of her hands clad in her original fingerless red gloves. "All jokes aside, no one threatens my kingdom, or its future queen and gets away with it. I'll put a stop to this."

"She won't stop, you know?" Evie let out with sob. "If I don't give her what she wants, she'll go after the both of us."

Ben nodded, holding Evie's face. "Then I have no choice. I'm going to kill your mother."

Evie's eyes widened at the lower octave, serious tone Ben had only ever used against his father back in high school during the S.M.U.C uprising. Seeing Ben like this was rare, and just a bit chilling to the bone. The determined look in his eyes, in fact, almost reminded Evie of...

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Ben asked the guard at the door, his usual kind and caring tone returning to his voice instantly.

"Captain Uma and the Lost Revenge have arrived at the shore of Seaside. They'll be arriving within the next two hours."

"Good," Evie chimed in, "we'll need all the help we can get."

"Also," the guard continued, "King Florian and Queen Snow White have arrived and would like to have a word with you both at the earliest convenience."

#disney descendants #descendants fic #bevie #evie descendants #ben descendants #benjamin florian #ben florian #king ben #i am bevie trash

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years

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LIZ HAS THE FLIMJABS

December 30, 1950

“Liz Has the Flimjabs” (aka “A Severe Case of Flimjabs”) is episode #112 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on December 30, 1950.

This was the 14th episode of the third season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 31 new episodes, with the season ending on March 31, 1951.

Synopsis ~ Liz wants a mink coat from George, so she pretends to be sick in order to get his sympathy - and the coat! George is on to her tactics, and decides to give her the scare of her life - literally!

Note: This program served as the basis for the “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Fakes Illness” (ILL S1;E16) filmed on December 18, 1951 and first aired on January 28, 1952. The role of the Doctor was taken by Hal March, who was actually playing an actor friend of Ricky’s named Hal March pretending to be a doctor. On television, Lucy also adopts a psychological illness in addition to her physical ailments. There was no mention of Christmas or New Years on the television show.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) does not appear in this episode.

GUEST CAST

Frank Nelson (Dr. Stevenson) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs. His trademark was playing clerks and other working stiffs, suddenly turning to Benny with a drawn out “Yeeeeeeeeees?” Nelson appeared in 11 episodes of “I Love Lucy”, including three as quiz master Freddy Fillmore, and two as Ralph Ramsey, plus appearance on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” - making him the only actor to play two different recurring roles on “I Love Lucy.” Nelson returned to the role of the frazzled Train Conductor for an episode of “The Lucy Show” in 1963. This marks his final appearance on a Lucille Ball sitcom.

The doctor’s surname may be a reference to noted costume designer Edward Stevenson, who designed gowns for Lucille Ball in more than a dozen RKO films and would eventually become costume designer of “I Love Lucy” after the departure of Elois Jenssen in 1955.

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “And now, let’s look in on the Coopers. It’s evening, and Liz and George are sitting in the living room admiring their Christmas tree."

George wonders if it is time to take the Christmas tree down but Liz doesn’t want to. They agree to put away their presents instead and start to talk about the gifts they didn’t give or get.

Liz nearly bought George a set of matching golf clubs. George says he nearly bought her a mink jacket. He says he saw it in the window at Millers, but realized he couldn’t afford it. Liz sadly reminds him that she has never had a fur coat and wonders if they could afford it if they all their Christmas gifts to the store. George says it still wouldn’t be enough, but Liz wants to wear something special to the Atterbury’s New Year’s Eve party.

Next morning, in the kitchen, Katie the Maid asks Liz why she is so sad. Liz tells her about her mink jacket dreams. Liz solicits Katie’s opinion on how she can’t best get George to get her a mink jacket in time for the party. Liz decides to play sick since George always gets her what she wants when she’s ill.

After dinner, Liz and George contemplate what to do. Liz suggests going to the movies to see Harvey starring Jimmy Stewart, which is playing at the Strand.

Harvey is a comedy about a man whose best friend is a six-foot tall imaginary rabbit. It premiered just ten days earlier before this broadcast and starred James Stewart. The film won an Oscar for Josephine Hull. The screenplay was based on the 1944 Broadway play of the same name by Mary Chase which won the 1945 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Before Liz can tell George the second feature, she starts to writhe in pain! Amid moans and groans, Liz details the pain for George. She says she used to have these attacks as a child. When she says the only thing that sometimes helps is little gifts to make her happy, George gets suspicious. He quickly leaves the room to make a phone call, which Liz thinks is to buy her a mink jacket, but he has actually called the doctor!

End of Part One

Bob LeMond presents a live Jell-O commercial, giving a basic recipe for preparation of all delicious six flavors!

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers once again, Liz is pretending to be sick and George, who is worried about her, has called the doctor.”

The doorbell rings and George admits Dr. Stevenson (Frank Nelson). Before seeing Liz, George tips him off that Liz may have a rare disease and that the only cure is a mink coat! George asks him to give her a good scare and the Doctor agrees to play along.

Entering the bedroom, Liz immediately tells the Doctor she feels much better. But after a quick exam, the Doctor diagnoses Liz with a rare tropical disease from the West Indies called the ‘Flimjabs’. The only cure is to operate and remove her ‘torkle’ but warns her that she will never be able to ‘yammle’ again. The Doctor explains that ‘yammling’ is an involuntary peristalsis of the transverse clavis.

GEORGE: “Doctor, do you have to remove the whole torkle?” DOCTOR: “Maybe we’ll be lucky and can save half of it. After all, half a torkle is better than none.” LIZ: “Well, I should say so! I’d hate to think of never yammeling again!”

The Doctor says that they must now wait 24 hours and see if she turns green.

DOCTOR: “If you turn green, three hours later (snaps his fingers) gone.” LIZ: (snaps) “Gone?” DOCTOR: (snaps) “Gone.”

For the television script, the ‘Flimjabs’ was renamed the 'Gobloots’ - a rare tropical disease that carried into America on the hind legs of the 'boo-shoo bird.’ It can necessitate a person having to undergo a 'zorchectomy’ – total or partial removal of the 'zorch’. Even if doctors are able to save half a person’s 'zorch,’ the patient will never be able to 'trummle’ again. 'Trummling’ is a mysterious involuntary internal process. Finally, if you turn green while suffering from the 'gobloots’ you will be dead in 30 minutes!

Iris Atterbury drops by to see Liz on her way to the Bridge Club meeting. Liz tells her that she has been diagnosed with the Flimjabs.

IRIS: “Oh, how exciting! This will make Betty Ricky’s gallstones look sick! She’ll be absolutely green.” LIZ: “She's not the only one. That’s one of the danger signs. I may turn green.” IRIS: “With a green face and red hair, you’ll be out of this world.” LIZ: “Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Iris is overcome with emotion at the thought of losing Liz. She doesn’t want to leave, but the ice cream for the Bridge Club meeting is in the car and it’s melting!

That night, Doctor Stevenson returns to check on Liz. Answering the door, George confesses that he’s put a green light bulb in Liz’s bedroom light. As soon as George turns on the lights, Liz shrieks seeing her green hands! Her face and hair have turned green, too! Liz thinks the men have Flimjabs too, because they are also green, but then the truth sets in.

LIZ: “Oh, no! This is the end! I’m looking at the world through green colored eyeballs!”

Liz dramatically declares that she’s dying. George accuses her of being over-dramatic.

LIZ: “I’m sorry, George. But I don’t die every day and it’s new to me.”

Before her imminent demise, Liz confesses to all the car accidents she’s had and hidden by having the car fixed without telling him.

LIZ: “In fact, the only thing left of the original car you bought is the ashtray in the back seat!”

Then Liz bravely confesses to pretending to be sick to get him to buy her a mink coat. George also needs to make a confession: it was all a trick. There is no such thing as ‘Flimjabs’ and the light is from a green light bulb!

The phone rings and it is Iris, tearfully calling from the Bridge Club meeting. The girls have just had a memorial ceremony for Liz by turning her chair to the wall and smashing her teacup in the fireplace. Before Liz can tell Iris that it was a joke, she learns that they all chipped in and bought her a goodbye present: a mink coat! Liz hangs up in tears. George is confused.

GEORGE: “Isn’t that what you wanted?” LIZ: “Yeah, but I have to die to get it!”

END OF EPISODE

In the live Jell-O commercial, Lucille Ball and Bob LeMond play a couple of nomads lost in the desert. Lucy uses her ‘Isabella Clump’ voice as ‘Smith’. Bob is looking for his camp, near a big dune.

LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “A dune? What’s a dune?” BOB: “What’s a dune????” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “I dunno. What’s a-dune with you?”

Smith sees a mirage - a big bowl of Jell-O! After describing the six delicious flavors, Bob suggests they go home.

BOB: “Go home? We’re lost in the desert!” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “Why don’t we each take one of those cars.” BOB: “What cars?” LUCY / ‘SMITH’: “The ones over there. That’s a two-car mirage!”

The same date this episode was broadcast, columnist Sid Shalit in the New York Daily News reported that a television situation comedy was being prepared starring Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz in the mold of “My Favorite Husband”. Clearly, the radio series was winding down. This was the final episode of 1950 with only 16 episodes left.

Meanwhile, in addition to radio and television, Ball was on the nation’s movie screens in two 1950 films: The Fuller Brush Girl and Fancy Pants.

#My Favorite Husband #Liz has the Flimjabs #I Love Lucy #Lucy Fakes Illness #Lucille Ball #Richard Denning #Bea Benadaret #Ruth Perrott #Bob Lemond #Radio #CBS #Jello #1950 #Harvey #Jimmy Stewart #Frank Nelson #Fuller Brush Girl #Fancy Pants

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feminist-propaganda · 3 years

Text

The Star Wars Saga Is A Meditation On Single Motherhood

It recently dawned on me that the entire story line of the Star Wars saga is built on the lives, loves and tribulations of 3 generations of single mothers. There are monsters to slay and aliens to find and planets to explore, yes, but if you think about the powerful message in the movies, you’ll come to realize it was mostly a reflection on the status of single mothers, the outcomes of their offspring, and the conflict that lives forever in their descendants.

Each trilogy, once reframed, becomes the story of one woman, who finds herself in a situation that is as old as time. She is with child, but the person who planted the seed in her is not by her side.

Shmi Skywalker or The Good Single Mother

In the Phantom Menace, Jedi Knight Qui Gon Jin meets Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy with a talent for repairing machines. The Jedi knight is impressed with the child’s abilities. He’s knowledgeable, intuitive, and most importantly he’s also kind and thoughtful. When a sand storm threatens the group of travelers, Anakin takes them to his own home and offers them shelter.

We meet Shmi Skywalker, who in many ways is the archetype of the good single mother. She is not just quiet. She has completely erased herself. She has no personality, apart from being Anakin’s caretaker. She expresses no needs, no desires, no dreams. She simply loves Anakin, and when she sees an opportunity for him to leave the desert planet ruled by the Huts, she doesn’t stand in his way.

In a now famous scene, Qui Gon asks her about the child’s origins and Shmi famously responds “There was no father”. The line continues: “I carried him. I gave birth. I raised him. I can’t explain what happened”.

The immaculate conception myth refers to the idea in Christianity that Mary, much like Shmi, was impregnated by some magical force, a holy spirit. Both are parabols: images we use to discuss painful topics. Single motherhood has probably always been a part of the human experience. Jared Diamond explains in “Why Is Sex Fun?” that in terms of evolution, it is more rewarding for human males to be “super spreaders “ rather than “good fathers “ . The “good father” gene does not pass down to future generations, because in effect, not sticking around to raise the child is a better strategy for a human man to pass on his genes to the next generation. Not convinced? Just count how many women have been impregnated by a rapper like Future (8 last time I checked). If you’re not into hip-hop, you can think of the offspring of the Mongol Genghis Khan

The purpose of the parabol is to provide an image, to extract ourselves from the technicalities of onr person’s story and to instead talk about all single mothers at once. Indeed, single mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are widowed, some are abandoned, others are lied to, and some run away from abusive environments.

Shmi raises her son the best she can, and her love for him is unconditional. She doesn’t bat an eye when he is freed while she is to continue her life as a slave. She doesn’t even seem to mind when Anakin leaves the planet and never returns to free her, even after he marries into some serious money.

But the story of Star Wars tells us that Shmi’s relationship to Anakin, because it was so fusional, because it was all that he had, led to his undoing. In Episode 2, when he senses she is in danger, he jeopardizes his mission to protect Padme to go rescue her. When he eventually finds her, he is so upset about her ultimate death that he commits mass murder, targeting the Tuskan riders of the sea of Dunes.

When Yoda first lays eyes on Anakin, he senses Anakin’s pain, he is just a child whose been ripped away from the only human that’s ever cared for him deeply. The turmoil inside the boy is palpable, and Yoda advises against training him.

Padme Amidala or The Bad Single Mother

Anakin develops feelings for Padme, and in Episode 2 the pair decide to secretly get married in the lake district of Padme’s home planet Naboo. Their relationship is very intense. Both share a strong sense of civic duty: Padme was elected queen of the Naboo when she was just 14 & Anakin is a keeper of the peace. They care deeply about issues such as how the galaxy must be governed, how much action needs to be taken versus when diplomacy must be prioritized.

Their strong sense of service has made them lonely young people. They’re far away from their families, surrounded by advisors, servants and droids - not friends.

They jump into their relationship with an eagerness that suggests it is their original caretakers they crave for.

Padme becomes pregnant while the Clone Wars are raging, and immediately Anakin begins to experience trouble with his sleeping. He imagines Padme is dying in childbirth, and the visions haunt him during the day. His fear that she will die ultimately leads to his decision to join the Dark side of the force. Senator Palpatine has manipulated him into believing that Sith Lords have discovered the power to prevent death itself.

Just like his mother before him, we need to look at Anakin’s story in terms of symbolism. It isn’t really about his specific experience with fatherhood : it’s about the universal conflict that men feel towards their own offspring. Even the way it is announced to him, in the Senate chambers, barely hidden from the rest of the Coruscant elite, implies some sort of entrapment. The columns around them seem to be like a cage that is closing in on his life. He is in the middle of the Wars - he should be celebrating his victory over General Grivious, but instead he is stuck with his wife and he has to absorb her anxiety & reassure her.

Anakin makes a weird, forced smile and says : “This is a happy moment.” But neither Padme nor the audience believe him. Nothing about him feels happy, he isn’t relaxed: he is tense.

At the end of Episode 3, Anakin attempts to kill Padme when she condemns the mass murders he’s committed against the younglings in the Jedi temple. Hr uses for the first time his “strangling” trick, which becomes his signature move in the original trilogy.

Palpatine makes Anakin believe that he’s killed Padme, but the truth is somewhat more nuanced. She dies of heartbreak shortly after giving birth to twins. For anyone who thought this was corny, it’s actually been proven by the scientific community that heartbreak reduces your life expectation (it diminishes the size of the telomeres in your body cells, which is the molecule that helps replicate your DNA).

As Lisa Feldman Barret wrote in How Emotions Are Made:

Emotional harm can shorten your life. Inside your body, you have little packets of genetic material that sit on the ends of your chromosomes like protective caps. They’re called telomeres. All living things have telomeres—humans, fruit flies, amoebas, even the plants in your garden. Every time one of your cells divides, its telomeres get a little shorter (although they can be repaired by an enzyme called telomerase). So generally their size slowly decreases, and at some point, when they are too short, you die. This is normal aging. But guess what else causes your telomeres to get smaller? Stress does. Children who experience early adversity have shorter telomeres. In other words, emotional harm can do more serious damage, last longer, and cause more future harm than breaking a bone

More severe cases involve patients actually dying of a broken heart, the myocardia just collapses under the weight of the sadness the human feels.

The original trilogy should be re-viewed with all of this new information we have. In the 80s, when Empire Strikes Back came out, the “I am your father” line became instantly iconic. But the plot twist was more like an “Oh My gosh!” moment rather than a profound reflection on fatherhood. The audience sympathized with Luke not because his father had been absent and negligent, but because his father’s job was to serve a fachist leader. It was the actions of Darth Vader as a political servant that were questioned, not his refusal to nurture a smaller being.

Padme is the opposite of Shmi. She is the archetype of the “bad” single mother. The bad single mother is the single mother who can’t deal with the situation and checks out of it. She collapses under the weight that she feels on her shoulders. She can't get over the heartbreak, she can’t find the will to live.

Society tends to punish the Padme’s just as much as it praises the Shmis. Television programs like “Teen Mom” are set up to shame the young deviants into adopting the correct behavior. The purpose of the show is to judge these young women into becoming self-sacrificing mothers.

Leia Organa - The Non-single Single Mother

Leia Organa is Anakin Skywalker’s daughter. She is raised by an adoptive frailly on Alderaan after she’s separated at birth from her brother Luke. Much like her mother, she becomes a dedicated public servant, a trusted leader and a beloved public figure.

She is raised by a wealthy family in the central galactic systems. The Organas teach her the ways of the elite political class. As an adult she serves the cause of the Rebels, and when she meets Han Solo in Episode 4, the mediocre smuggler fascinates her.

In the now famous scene from Hoth in Episode 5, Leia declares her love for Han Solo right as he’s about to be frozen in carbonite. The ultimate bad boy responds his chilling, because realistic “I know”.

Han is nothing compared to Leia. He drives a broken down ship, doesn’t have any morals or even a simple code of conduct, much less a cause that he’s dedicated his life to. He has nothing to offer her, and is definitely not in her league. But still, in Episode 6, the pair become an official item.

The last Trilogy was an opportunity to explore Leia’s experience with motherhood. By now we know that Leia’s grandmother was a “Good single mother”, she completely sacrificed herself to protect her son & more importantly she never questioned her status of sole caretaker (remember the “there was no father“ line). We also know that Leia’s mother was a public servant, and a passionate woman who allowed herself to fall deeply in love with a sensitive young man with a non existing support system. Leia’s mother was the “bad” single mother: driven only by her career (Queen of the Naboo, later a Senator of the Old Republic) she did not step up to the task when her destiny revealed itself to her.

Leia seems to share her mother’s taste in reckless young men with a lot of attitude and no emotional security to offer. It’s the excitement she craves, not the tranquility.

Her fate will be the same as her foremothers. She has a child with Han, but when she sends him away to be trained by Luke, she loses them both.

Their dialogue in Episode 7 goes like this:

Han Solo : Listen to me, will you? I know every time you... Every time you look at me you're reminded of him.

Leia : You think I want to forget him? I want him back.

Han Solo : There's nothing more we could have done. There's too much Vader in him.

Leia : That's why I wanted him to train with Luke. I just never should have sent him away. That's when I lost him. That's when I lost you both.

The last trilogy develops Leia’s character in a way that allows her to be something else than just a single mother. She loses her husband, she even loses her son to the dark side: but she never loses herself. Leia doesn’t allow her condition to define her. She becomes a leader of the Resistance even if it means going after her son’s New order.

In Episode 9, Leia even destroys her son to protect Rey - the symbolism is that she’s overcome her role as a mother, she’s rejected the notion that she must sacrifice everything for her son even if it goes against her own self interest (like Shmi). She also rejects the idea that her partner abandoning her is the end of her. It isn’t. Unlike her mother, she finds the will to live, and to lead the next generation of freedom fighters and peace keepers.

The saga ends on a hopeful note for all of us single mothers out there. It comes with a message for us : we don’t need to choose between the austere Shmi and the weak Padme. We can instead decide that this “single mom” problem is kind of like beauty : it lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Single moms don’t need to think of themselves as failures, they don’t need to live in modest conditions, they don’t need to beg society's forgiveness for merely existing. They don’t need to be ashamed.

Single moms don’t need to erase their brains and their lives, and sink into an ocean of denial either. They don't need to be obsessed with their careers or caught up in romantic entanglements that are only going to exhaust them.

Single moms can just decide that they’re women, with beautiful, inspiring personalities and kind, loving hearts. Mothers are first and foremost, the leaders of the young, the protectors of the realm and the makers of the future. It’s not that it doesn’t matter that they’re alone. It’s that they don’t have to be alone at all.

#single mom #star wars #padme amidala #leia organa #shmi skywalker

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essekknits · 5 years

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Could you write something about Benlives AU, Juno asking for Bens help and Ben meeting the crime crew?

Aaaaaa I love this yes thank you!!!

It’s been months since Benzaiten saw his twin. Juno didn’t tell him where he’s going, just that he’s leaving this miserable city behind. And he was happy for him! He really was. Juno’s been depressed for a long time, killing himself for the city they grew up in, the city that sure didn’t take it easy on the two of them, and most of all on Juno.

So even after almost losing him twice in the span of a single year, Benzaiten let go. They weren’t codependent by any means, never. They were very close, and were each other’s support for many, many years and through many, many nightmare scenarios, but they each had their own life. That didn’t mean, of course, that he didn’t really miss his brother.

He was in his studio, idly dancing a routine he wanted to teach his students in the advanced class of his Oldtown program. His idea, teaching a few classes for free in Oldtown to get kids away from their shitty situation, was working pretty well.

“That’s a nice one, Benten.” A quiet voice came from the door, making Ben lose his balance as he turned to look at the source. Just as he thought, Juno was standing at the door, and... he wasn’t looking good. He was covered with what Ben has long learned to identify as sewer sludge, and his singed coat was seeping blood from an array of cuts. That were still bleeding.

“Juno, what the hell happened to you?” He rushed to his brother’s side, eyeing him with a too familiar gaze, like he always did when they were still kids, and Juno would always get in fights with people bigger and meaner than him.

“Got into a fight. Long story. Do you still keep first aid supplies stocked in the studio?” Juno leaned on the wall, eyes exhausted but ultimately relieved.

“Of course. Stay here, I’ll get it and patch you up.” Ben started leaving, but Juno grabbed his arm. He didn’t mind the sludge, but he did mind his twin’s weakened grip. He was clearly exhausted.

“No time. There’s... I need to get back to the group. People got hurt. Our medic’s unconscious and we’re out of supplies on hand.” Juno swallowed, still heavily leaning on the wall. Benzaiten looked at him briefly, questions whirling through his brain, before nodding. “Alright. I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t, Ben, we-“ Benten didn’t even let him finish.

“If you’re the here, and you’re alone, it means you’re probably the least hurt one in the group, or one of the least hurt, at least. You’re not in any state to patch others up right now, not without being treated first. I’m healthy, I know how to do this pretty well, and I’m going, Super Steel. No questions.” He took his large first aid kit on one shoulder, and stood in front of his brother, who started leading the way.

~~~

“I’ve been concussed many times before, but I don’t believe this is the meaning of seeing doubles.” Jet said as he saw two figures approach, looking relatively similar. Juno Steel was leaning on a leaner, less scarred man who looked a lot like him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, big guy.” Juno grunted, stepping away from the other man and approaching them. The stranger rolled his eyes, and Jet could understand his feelings perfectly. He appeared very familiar with Juno’s antics.

“Sorry about him. I’m Benzaiten. Call me Ben.” He reached his hand for a handshake. Jet liked him. He shook his hand as best he could while he was holding Vespa’s head in his lap. She was unconscious, her legs as broken, and she was bleeding from multiple blaster and knife wounds, but not too much. She will be fine.

“I am Jet. You seem quite familiar with Juno’s behaviour.” He observed neutrally as Ben dug through the bag. The younger man laughed heartily.

“You can say that. We’re twins. If anyone knows Juno’s bullshit, it’s me. I’ve been dealing with him for forty years.” He took out a bone knitting injection.

“Ha, ha. Don’t get me started on the stuff I had to deal with from you.” Juno mumbled, wiping his mouth from the blood he was spitting out. Ben frowned with concern, before administering the injection into Vespa’s thigh through her jeans. He looked like he knows what he’s doing. Juno kneeled next to them now, swaying side to side. He didn’t look very well, and if he was being honest, neither was Jet.

“I tend to believe him, Juno. You do get into quite a lot of trouble.” Jet kept his voice neutral, knowing it might rile Juno up, but feeling the need to be completely fair. Also, he did enjoy the harmless teasing.

“Let’s just get everyone bandaged and go.” Juno just sounded tired as he pulled disinfectant from the bag and went to Jet’s other side as Ben worked on Vespa’s wounds with a frown on his face. Once Vespa was bandaged, Ben looked at Juno severely.

“Okay, now show it.” He crosses his arms.

“Show what?” Juno asked, finishing the bandaging on Jet’s arm.

“Whatever injury you hid from everyone like the heroic idiot you are. I thought we’ve been over this, you have to look after yourself.” Benzaiten said, rushing to his brother’s side just as his knees started to buckle from under him.

“For the record, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m still in better shape than those two combined.” He grumbled, letting Ben see the blaster graze to the side of his stomach.

“Yeah, right, Super Steel. Now sit down and let me check this. You’re going to need stitching.” He said, beginning to work through the process of cleaning the wounds.

As soon as everyone was stitched, Jet wanted to go back to the rendezvous point they agreed on before the mission. But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to both carry Vespa and support Juno.

“I’ll help you get them there.” Benzaiten said quietly. “Whatever you all are doing, I bet it’s illegal. I also bet it’s dangerous. I get that it’s dangerous to trust other people, but... there’s no way I’m rating you out. Not when I know how much Juno cares about you, and not in general.” He promised, looking up at Jet’s eyes. He considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of it all, then nodded.

“Very well. We must proceed carefully then.” He started leading the way for the ship, using the map on his comms. He called Rita, informing her of their situation. She updated him on the situation of everyone on the ship as well. They were all relatively unharmed. He was relieved. The trip down the sewers was relatively quiet, besides Benzaiten’s humming.

~~~

“Mistah Ben! Whatcha doin here?” Ben was surprised to see Rita near the ship. He smiled, waving at her.

“Hi Rita, long time no see. Gotta say I’m not too surprised you’re here. Juno wouldn’t have survived a day without you, probably.” He laughed, getting elbowed in the ribs by his brother who was leaning on him.

“Jet, darling, do you mind getting Vespa to the infirmary? Thank you dear. Now, welcome. I’m Buddy, and I’m the captain of this ship.” A tall redhead woman walked forward, hair covering a half of her face. She reached out a hand for a handshake.

“Benzaiten Steel. Nice to meet you. Can’t say Juno told me anything about you, but...” Ben smiled, trying to be polite and friendly.

“He better not. But now that you’re here... how about we get your brother into the infirmary and then we talk?” She asked, a weary smile on her face as she took some of Juno’s weight off his shoulder.

“You’re both overreacting, I’m fine.” Juno groaned, doing his best to support his own weight. Buddy rolled her eyes.

“Hush darling, you’re going to the infirmary until you can actually stand on both legs. If Vespa was awake she would’ve already knocked you up herself, and I will not hesitate to do the same.” She said with a fond smile, and Ben laughed. He should’ve tensed. He should feel his skin crawling with the insinuation of this woman hurting his brother. He should want to grab Juno and hide somewhere small and dark like they did so many times as kids and like he still never fully forgot.

But he didn’t. Because she wasn’t threatening him. No, she was being kind and considerate. Careful not to act intimidating or move sharply. Juno didn’t even flinch, and he was much more sensitive to the implicit threats in interactions. The realisation dawned on him that she’s acting like a mother might’ve acted. Like their ma never did.

Once Juno was safely deposited in the infirmary (manned by one Peter Ransom, who Benten noticed looked extremely concerned about Juno), Buddy lead him out to what seemed to be the common room of the ship.

“Thank you for your help, Benzaiten. I appreciate what you did for my family.” She said, pouring two glasses of a drink which was unfamiliar to Ben, but smelled distinctly alcoholic. She pushed one glass toward him.

“Sorry, I don’t drink.” He apologised, pushing it right back. He quit when he was fourteen, and tried his best not to return to old habits. He almost did at nineteen, after his near death experience, but he held strong. “But... really, it’s no problem. You looked really concerned about that woman... Vespa, right? I think Jet mentioned her name. She’s going to be okay. I’ve seen weaker people come back from worse.” He tried to offer encouragement. Buddy shook her head with a smile.

“I know that, darling. My Vespa’s been through much worse and bounced back, and both Jet and Juno are very capable, but there’s always a few when you know your family is in danger and you aren’t there to help.” Her voice was deep and soft, lulling Ben into a sense of security. A realisation hit him, shocking in its strength.

“You consider Juno part of your family too.” He looked at her, stunned, and she let out a low chuckle.

“Well of course. All the people on this ship are my family. We live together, we work together, we protect each other and care for each other. In my opinion, that is the essence of what family is.” She leaned forward, confident and comfortable, like a queen on her throne.

“This... I bet he doesn’t say that, but this has to mean a lot for Juno. We never had much family growing up except for each other, so this... this is huge. Thank you. For being his family.” He looked away, a soft smile still on his face. It looked sad.

“It’s not a problem at all, darling. You’re also welcome to see yourself as part of this family. I assume you wouldn’t stay, but my family’s family is my own.” She offered him a hand again, and he hesitated before shaking it firmly. “Welcome to the family.”

#fic #the penumbra podcast #tpp #penumbra podcast #juno steel #benzaiten steel #rita reducted #rita lastname #rita penumbra #jet sikuliaq #tpp jet #tpp juno #buddy aurinko #tpp buddy

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess.

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow.

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List.

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm.

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her.

Huli jing.

His anonymous hacker ally.

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean.

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word.

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island.

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note.

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all.

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked.

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support.

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support.

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?”

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him.

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

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

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before.

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes.

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible.

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence.

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him.

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false.

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s.

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure.

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit.

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him.

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help.

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?”

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently.

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.”

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.”

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped.

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them.

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret.

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.”

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him. He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb.

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing.

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response.

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was.

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not.

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that.

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected.

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists.

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife.

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced.

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought. She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation.

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious, strategic manner that he was unused to in other people.

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing.

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak.

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer.

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her.

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.”

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed.

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind.

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder.

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place.

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him.

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her. He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability.

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too.

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water.

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick.

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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crypticalwitch · 4 years

Text

Dr. Hide, The Mechanisms, and a New friend.

The story of Dr. Marie Hide, Her small crew, and how they all met. The Story of my Mechsona crew.

Warnings-death, Poison, ask to tag.

Dr. Marie Hide was raised on stories of the Mechanisms. She would sit and listen to her great grandmother telling tales of a Man of copper singing tales of the past, tales of a man with a heart of metal being passed a baby and panicking, of Women with Wings or Minds of metal.

She fell in love with the tales from the stars,and no matter how many times she was told to stay planetside for her own safely, she would look to the stars, the old warped disks her Great Grandma left her playing. The singers voice haunting as they told their one man audience the tales of Gunpowder Tim and Ashes O’Reilly.

So, it wasn't much a surprise to herself or her family when she became an Engineer, and a Doctor, and a Pilot. and She headed off to the stars, gathering her own tales to be told.

And then she found it. A very old file, something that took months upon months to update and break through all the passwords and safeguards to get at whatever was hiding in the file. and boy was it something.

A very old file, full of things written and made by the Mechanisms, Not the ones who her Great Grandma told her about, the ones whose voices filled Dr. Hide’s speakers when she was alone in the engine room, but the real ones. The immortals from all over the stars who played deadly pranks and who held a mini war over something called an Octo Kitten. Whatever the hell that was. All written by Dr. Carmilla and Raphaella La Cognizi.

But the most exciting thing, was the blueprints and instructions for Mechanization, Immortality developed by the Doctor.

It wasn't a hard decision for Her to make. She already couldn't walk, what was the worst thing that could happen. But first, she would need someone to do the procedure, since she really didn't want to be conceness for her legs to be cut off and guts scooped out.

So she built Jekyll. It was programed with hundreds of medical procedures, as well as what they’d need to do the whole mechanization process, if lacking in preprogrammed personality.

So waking up with the ability to walk was interesting, and the first thing she got to do with her new skill was clumsy run and steal a ship with her unemoting companion.

The pair wandered, gathering more stories of their own, both ones they were involved in, and not always in their little junker ship, nicknamed “Borealis”.

Borealis tended to break down, stutter and never quiet be as safe as it should, but for a new immortal and her Robot companion, whose personality was only just starting to develop. It was home, if barely big enough.

When they landed on Pistil, Dr. Hide had only planned to make a fuel stop, until she heard from one of the local merchants that a warlord was making quick work of the planet, maybe she had extended her stay for a few....years, much to jekyll’s chagrin.

and She really wasn't expecting to find someone with her legs injured beyond belief. She was face down in the dirt, long grey-blue hair splayed out in long loose curls, her legs down to bone and blood.

so Hide brought her back to the makeshift lab. Patching up the mysterious woman was easy enough, however, waiting for her to return to the waking world was a nightmare.

When she did, she cried, scared and alone. Now, the good Doctor is not really savvy with emotions, so having a panicking, sobbing, stranger on her table, was not her ideal situation. To make everything so much better, Jekyll had just walked in, and stood staring with its lack of eyes.

“Jek, now is not a good time.” She had hissed, rubbing the back of the woman.

“The Police are here.” It had said.

“fucking hell.” Dr. Hide had shoo’d the police away, who simply wanted to know who lived at the house. When she had returned, the woman had calmed down, and was wiping her tears away with a cloth given to her by jekyll.

She had introduced herself as Carcei Wisteria, the teamaid of Emperor Ivalace. Dr. Hide didn’t quite know what that meant, but was happy enough to support her.

Carcie was on her way to get a very specific flower to make tea with. something that would be VERY HARD WITHOUT HER FEET. So Hide offered her help, Pulling out her old wheelchair and offering her help carrying the flowers and seeds back to her home.

Carcie had (Reluctantly) accepted her offer, and the pair took a three month journey to find these flowers, a gorgeous plant nicknamed “Selene's Prayer”.

For months after meeting and befriending the woman, someone Hide quickly grew to admire for her silver tongue and for her sharp mind, Hide would not know why Carcie wanted Selene’s Prayer, until one night, late in Pistil’s seasonal cycle, when plants dried and what chill that constituted Pistil’s winters was just beginning to set in, gathered over warm tea and surrounded by the smell of drying earth and burning silverwood, Carcie wove her tale.

Carcie Wisteria had been born Carcie Forsythia, and had trained under a noble of Dandil, the once name of the kingdom before it became territory of Peat. She had quickly became a gift to the Empress, Magnola, and even quicker became her High Teamaid, a position of high honour and status.

Magnola was apparently fond of Carcie, and often took her to peace talks and trade negotiations. Which is how she met them, a otherworldly seeming person who chose their name as Odyssey Velium.

Odyssey was tall, dark, freckled, with short dark red hair and smoky violet eyes that shone like a sunset. They was a similarly high ranked dressmaid to the former Emperor of Peat, a kindly older man by the name of Prairifire and one of Dandil’s strongest Allies. Carcie fell in love near instantly, and apparently Odyssey felt the same way, and the pair began a whirlwind relationship over letters.

The years went on, the pair only seeing each other in person when Empress Magnola and Emperor Prairifire met up for tea, their love affair remained a secret. until one of the more Enterprising Teamaids discovered Carcie’s letters from Odyssey, and outed her relationship to both rulers.

The pair believed themselves to only had a few hours together before their verdict handed out and they would be separated.

and they were given their rulers blessings to be wed.

Odyssey was gifted to Magnola as a dressmaid, and they were engaged, choosing their family name to be Wisteria.

A few months passed, the kingdoms Alliship stronger than ever, before Emperor Prairifire died,and his War mongering son took the throne, and a new treaty needed to be written up.

Carcie just happen to be late to the Congress, her maids having made a near unrecoverable mistake with the petals, and she arrived just in time to see her Queen, her court, and her never to be partner slaughtered.

As was customary, she was taken as a prize, and made to serve her loves killer the same tea she would to her queen, as he took over the land she loved.

The petals of Selene’s Prayer, it turns out, were a horrific paralysis agent, as well as a hallucinogen. and a strong one. When mixed with the right Poisons, it would lead to a painful and terrifying death. One Carcie intended to give to the entire court as she watched.

Hide had only one thing to say after that.

“after the revenge, what will you do?“

“Probably be put to death, why?”

“wanna join my semi-immortal band of space pirates exploring the galaxy?” When Carcie said nothing, Hide continued, “i could just replace your feet with a mechanism like my lower body and Bam! Unkillable!”

“your kidding.”

“nope!” To demonstrate, Hide put a knife through her hand, and then showed the skin kniting itself back together.

“holy shit your not kidding?” Carcie puffed up “WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT WHEN WE FIRST MET!”

“DO YOU WANT BE STUCK LIVING WITH SOMEONE WHO DIDN'T ASK TO BE IMMORTAL AND IS ANGRY WITH YOU FOR ETERNITY? I'D FEEL SO GUILTY! plus it kinda hurts for a few weeks after”

the pair laughed.

“Mari,” Carcie said,

“Oh wow, using my first name! this is serious.”

“Mari.” Carice narrowed her eyes, “I want you to promise me something if i go through with this.”

“ok?”

“Promise me we’ll steal a bigger ship than Borealis after my revenge.”

“HELL YES!” Hide laughed, “so when is this going down?”

“Tomorrow.” Carice said,carefulling sipping her tea as Hide suddenly choked,

“TOMORROW SHIT I GOTTA GET A GOOD SEAT!” Hide threw a hug around Carcies shoulders, “Can't wait to see your magnum opus of vengeance, if Jekyll asks i'm following my family's footsteps!”

“see ya Hide!”

Sunrise came, and Carcie got to work. She dismissed her Teamaids for the day (”you’ve all worked so hard lately, and you deserve a break!”), and set to work brewing her poison.

When the court downed the tea, the poison took quick. The paralysis only took hold of a few but the hallucinations were strong and maddening and within hours, the branches of the meeting hall were covered in madness and gore and horror. And standing in the middle, survivors would later say, stood Carcie, her mourning veil cloaking hazel eyes that had long hardened to earth and moss.

and dropping from an over head branch, was Hide, casting impressed eyes over her work.

“Were grabbing more of those seeds right?”

“mhm.”

“were taking all of your seeds aren't we?”

“and the dry flowers.”

“sounds good!”

----------

WOO! That was fun!

If you have any questions about my Crew, please ask! My ask box is open and Id love to gush or expand on the universe. also ask me to tag

#mechsona #My writing #Carcie Wisteria #Dr Marie Hide #mechsona backstory #ask to tag please

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bleached-d-soul · 5 years

Text

Capes and Cowls and Romances 2

Commission for one and only @bunnykingrules

The world was constantly changing. It was inevitable part of the life itself as the world changed around people's needs or people changed the world for their wants. For the better. For the worse. But the change was inevitable.

All that mattered was how people would react to the changes.

The people before Pyrrha were definitely reacting the wrong way.

Bullets stopped in the air to the shock of the would-be robbers and awe of their hostages. Before any of the thugs could fire another round, their weapons rose into the air before folding into balls of metal, the black light emanating from them in warning.

"Don't make this any harder on yourself."

Five out of six fell on their knees and held their arms up in the air. Smart and cooperative, she would make sure to mention that in her report. The last of them - the leader by the looks of it - was an exception as he threw a fireball at her. With a wave of her hand and the slightest twist of her wrist, the spheres of metal stretched out into the shield. Some insults and threats were thrown along with other similarly impotent bursts of fire.

With a sloud slam, it all ended.

The shield that was now pressing hard against the man turned liquid and enveloped itself around his form. She made sure to command the special cuffs around his arms, legs and mouth. If he tried to melt them later, he would burn himself first. She hated going to such measures but, as she always said, the world changed and all they could do was nadapt to the best of their ability.

"I really hope all of you consider finding alternate use for your powers," she said calmly, trying to convey just how disappointed she was. And why wouldn't she be? The world has changed. It was people's responsibility to do the most and the best with the change - with these powers they were given. And what did people like this do instead? Robbed banks and caused destruction. "There are programs that will help you. You only need to try."

With that said, Pyrrha happily let the agents inside.

As she watched the men get outfitted with special collars that suppressed their powers, Pyrrha couldn't help but feel sad on how much potential was being wasted all because of the inability of people to think of the bigger picture. With these powers, the Auraborne could change the world. Her power alone was the ability to manipulate any metal with the terrifying control. What about those who could heal people by touch? Or those who could foresee the future? If only they all united together, would making the world a better place not be within their reach already?

Even groups such as Atlas were a proof of how inefficient everything was. World governments pooled their resources and technology together to create the organizations whose sole purpose was taking down superpowered criminals. When Pyrrha joined then, she hoped to see what plans such groups had beyond stopping another maniac with delusions of grandeur. And, unfortunately, found them abysmal.

The world's biggest and most powerful actually managed to find the compromise and create something united. And all they were planning to do with it was finding supervillains and locking them up. No plans beyond that. Wasn't it a good joke? Because of this, in a way, she continued to do what she did. Stop crimes as quick and efficiently as possible while also supporting programs that would help the superpowered individuals understand the gift given to them better.

If she worked hard enough, then she could change things for the better. She knew that she could.

Of course, there were obstacles in her way. Enemies you couldn't punch. Conflicts you couldn't resolve with just bending metal to your will. Corruption and blackmail. Manipulations and political plays. She hated just how unkillable such forces seemed. If a big company was poisoning the air and the water, you wouldn't be able to stop it just by throwing the CEO in jail. Because, as vicious and unpleasant such people were, the real enemy was the system that alowed them to prosper.

The same system that allowed people like Jaune Arc and Cinder Fall to enjoy their lives.

Cinder Fall - as Pyrrha refused to refer to that demon of a woman - was not someone you crossed and walked away. Pyrrha knew that much even before she got her power. People always talked about her and yet, as much as they spoke, they never aid anything. There was lots of information on how she was successful and insightful and whatnot. But very few mentions of where exactly she came from. Or how she even acquired her wealth.

The shady deals and hostile takeovers were one thing. When Cinder decided to sink her claws into weapon supply business, Pyrrha decided that the woman needed to be tried and sentenced as a criminal deserved. But no matter how much she brought it up with her superiors, they always said the same thing. She was too big to target. Too early. Not enough evidence. Always an excuse. Always a way to tell her she couldn't go after

They never said about anything about going after Jaune, however.

When Pyrrha first started this hero work, Jaune was the first agent she met. Her parents warned her to stay away from them. But Jaune? She couldn't help but feel she could trust him with her life. He introduced her to the group. He made sure they never treated her unfairly. She almost regretted rising through the ranks so soon that now they spent so much less time together.

From the very moment she first met him, Pyrrha thought she found someone with the same stance as her. A potential ally in her quest to make the world a better place for all. He lacked skill and physical strength, but he more than made up for those with his spirit and determination, She even looked up the information on him. His life before moving here. His writing an exposing article about Cinder. It was as if the universe itself decided to grant her someone she could rely on in this mission where she had to suspect every superior and subordinate of working for the enemy.

But then she started noticing things.

How often he would be kidnapped by Cinder and yet always miraculously escape time and time again. Some would say that an agent escaping with his life was a blessing already, but Pyrrha couldn't help but look this gifted horse in the mouth. Cinder Fall had no need for their agents and plans. Even if she did, why kidnap Jaune of all people? he was a talented agent, sure. But he was still too young and fresh in Atlas for their superiors to trust him with any important information. And it's not like their organization would give up whatever Cinder wanted in exchange for Jaune. He was liked among his colleagues but he was hardly worth it in the eyes of their leadership.

So how did he escape time and time again?

And why she never saw a single scar or a burn mark on his body after that?

She hated to admit it, but the facts spoke for themselves. Jaune was compromised. Cinder seemingly had on detailed information on them, so. at least, the ruled out the possibility of Jaune being the mole. However, that didn't mean she could trust him. It was a shame really. Could it be that his exposure of Cinder's illegal activities was just a part of her schemes? Perhaps she even instructed him to do so to set up convenient backstory should she need someone to join Atlas and spy for her from the inside. The repetitive kidnappings could also serve as a way for Jaune to earn enough respect and pull among the higher levels of the group and only then reveal his true colors.

When it would be too late for the rest of them.

Pyrrha steeled herself as she watched the monitor inside her room. She knew that spying on Jaune was wrong when she had no actual evidence. She knew that she was acting purely on the set of her own theories - even if they seemed solid enough. A part of her - a small part of her - told her that she should be happy that one of her fellow agents was coming home safe. That someone hadn't lost their son or brother or lover to the war between good and evil.

Her other part - much bigger one these days - told her to think rationally on this one. To understand that, whatever she did, her goals were what mattered. And what were her goals if not ensuring that their organization hasn't been infiltrated? What could anyone possibly blame her for? Being too cautious in the world that was so dangerous with all these powers and plays. If she was wrong, she would admit it and beg Jaune for forgiveness.

If she was right?

Pyrrha was afraid. Afraid to find out that she was. Afraid of what she would do.

But regardless of fear and doubts, she would still do whatever the situation required.

Jaune was never a good liar. He could fake ignorance or interest. He could play the parts necessary for his life when needed. But a good and smooth liar? He wasn't it. He wasn't good with words outside of writing. And neither was he good at foreseeing things no matter how much he tried. As such, for the last two weeks, he has been asking himself one and the same question from dawn to dusk and into the sleep.

Just how long could they keep this up?

He was an agent of Atlas. His job was hunting down criminals and putting them behind bars. His weapons were his trusty blaster and stun batons. He swore to protect people and uphold the honor of being the agent.

Cinder Fall was one of the world's deadlist and most dangerous. The Queen of Crime and ruler of several underworld groups. Her day job was controlling the world's most powerfyl corporation. And this? This shot at being a supervillain? Nothing more than a chance to amuse herself. Her weapons were her brilliant mind, charismatic leadership, powerful will, billions of dollars, countless connections and superpowers. She had loyalty to nobody but herself and her desires. And Jaune sometimes wondered if he was simply another way for her to amuse herself for all its worth.

Just how long could they keep playing this game? How much time did they have before someone on either side found out about this charade and demanded answers? Or worse, demanded actions.

Would the leadership demand Jaune use his position to assassinate Cinder? Would Cinder's allies think her soft or weak enough to be used? Would they try use him as leverage against her? She was powerful, no doubt. But she was not invincible or impervious to harm. However little the damage would be, it would still be there. So what could they do?

Ideally, he could convince Cinder to change sides. She was powerful, resourceful and would have no problem fitting in with the higher leadership of Atlas. Sure, it wouldn't be easy. There would be suspicious glances and distrusting whispers. But he was sure that together they could deal with it.

Just as he was sure Cinder wouldn't agree to change sides.

She had feelings for him. As did he. But Cinder would never allow anyone to make any decisions for her. He knew that. She knew that he knew that. She may have loved him. She may haves wanted him by her side. But if him being hers meant she had to give up on the power over her own life and choices?

Jaune had no doubt she would get rid of him.

Was he too pessimistic? Too Cynical? It was hard to say, honestly. The world used to make sense a few months ago and now Jaune was jus trying to figure out the way he fit in this crazy world of spies, supers and whatnot. Maybe Cinder would spare him. Maybe. That was a very hard - very doubtful - maybe.

Could he simply leave Atlas and join her instead?

The thought did cross his mind, he would admit. More than once, in fact. Sometimes, after another passionate night spent so close to her, Jaune wondered if this was his destiny. To stand beside the world's most powerful and dangerous woman. He was no leader. He always saw himself more as a follower rather than some great manipulative mastermind. Would him joining her make things worse than they were now? Could things become worse than they were now?

His family would still be safe. Though no longer protected by Atlas, with Cinder's numerous henchmen guarding them day and night. And honestly, he struggled to see how a bunch of cold-blooded killers was any worse than the single undercover agent Atlas picked for his family's security.

If he joined Cinder, he could do more perhaps. Try to steer her away from more destructive plans. Keep her focused on efficiency over theatrics and intimidation. Jaune was ashamed to admit how well he got along with some of the lower-level villains in her group. But that didn't mean that he saw no benefit in befriending them. Hell, maybe, with enough time and effort, he could even convince them to go for a different direction, too?

Yeah, fat chance, his rational side scoffed.

At the end of the day, he was just Jaune Arc. He was born and raised a son of farmers, a mild-mannered by education and a semi-good agent of the world's biggest law enforcement agency. But whatever the skills and knowledge he had acquired, he was no genius with people. He was a good listener and could offer come good advice every once in a while. But he wouldn't - simply couldn't - convince an army of hardened criminals, fanatics and lunatics that they would be better off as heroes.

How long would it take to convince even one of them to switch sides. Without getting killed or imprisoned, that is.

He would guess, a year at best. And how many more crimes would that individual commit while Jaune was busy reforming them?

In the end, they simply couldn't keep this up. They were risking only to hurt each more down the line. Cause more damage to both sides. If someone in Cinder's faction found about him, they would think her weak or, even worse, a part of Atlas. And if his superiors found out, they would immediately assume that he was a mole. They would either get killed or imprisoned with torture and life sentence in their future.

Jaune would make a decision. Soon, he would have to make a choice. Join Cinder and her group. Or break off whatever relationship with the femme fatale he had and join the fight against her for real. The choice was inevitable. The choice would be absolute.

The choice would be made later.

For now, he wanted to clear his head.

Away from the madness of all of this.

Cinder was away on another errand of hers. She promised him a surprise when she returned. Jaune couldn't help but blush at the memory of her last surprise. And one before the last one. And the one that was just before the last one. With a shake of his head, Jaune suppressed the thoughts and libido and focused on the issues at hand. He needed to leave for now. Get away from the whole Good VS Evil battle and take some time to figure out what he wanted for himself.

What he wanted for both of them.

"Jaune Arc."

He barely made it past the door when the cold and calm voice stopped him.

He expected there to be a guard or two hired by Cinder. Not henchmen since those would talk but some of her own security personnel. He was ready to bluff his way out. Or force it through if necessary. He prepared himself, mentally and physically. But as things often went, no man could prepare himself for everything. There were simply too many scenarios one had to cover to do so.

In none of those scenarios, Jaune would find himself face-to-face with one of the Atlas' finest officers and the country's most powerful heroines, Pyrrha Nikos AKA Champion. It was almost to recognize her as the girl he met on one of the patrols when she tried to stop a mugger. Now she was stopping other Auraborne with her eyes closed and visibly no effort.

"Care to explain what you are doing in here?"

Her voice was calm. Her posture was relaxed but ready to burst into action. Her smile was welcoming and warm. But none of that warmth quite reached her eyes - which were as cold as steel and twice as sharp as they pierced through him. She knew. He could tell that she knew. And if she didn't know, then she suspected. And she would demand proof of either his innocence or details on the affair.

Pyrrha Nikos was not simple heroine. Ever since discovering her power, she had been training it until her control over it was easily among the top three Auraborne recorded. Discipline, natural talent and sheer determination was one of the reasons people considered her as one of the leaders and representatives of the growing superpowered community. Not even some of their best agents could best her without powers.

And a mere low-rank agent like him would pose no challenge whatsoever.

He could simply turn himself in. Surrender and spill whatever he could. Try to portray Cinder as good as he could and hopefully get some lighter sentence for both of them. But he knew about Cinder's spies within the group. If they found out he was captured and Cinder got a wind of this, Jaune had little doubt she would storm the base and possible start a much bloodier war.

He had to pick his words very carefully.

"I am not a traitor."

Smooth, Jaune. Very smooth.

Judging by the displeased look on her face, Pyrrha also found his suspiciously loud and quick proclamation dissatisfying. Jaune was sure that, in just a few moments, he would be able to make a perfectly rational and solid argument in his defense.

Unfortunately, before he could even form a sentence of it, the entire area exploded with heat and brimstone. Even though the air itself seemed to have caught on fire, one particularly powerful flame seemed to come from the figure behind Pyrrha.

"Get away from him, Nikos."

Cinder's form was on fire. Her hair were tongues of bright black flames now, the rest of her flesh golden yellow and ruby red. Her eyes glowed with white hollow lights. Reminding everyone present just how powerful she was. How little human remained there when she desired to go all-out. Jaune hoped Pyrrha would see potential risks of getting involved a full-scale fight and allow him to resolve the situation before it esca-

"Make me."

The voice cut through the roar of flames. Pyrrha's eager and angry grin shining through the rising smoke.

There was silence.

And then the song of steel and flames.

Life was not beatiful and kind. It was a neverending race. A constant battle without rest.

"Leave! Leave and never come back!"

Kindness was rare. Compassion was rare.

Cruelty and greed were abundant. Humans were not the apex predators they were because they cared for or loved the world. They conquered the world because they were more vicious. More relentless and merciless than any of the other species on the mudball they called home. They pillaged, ruined, conquered and burned. And if you were too busy crying for every life lost or taken, you would get left behind.

"Freak! Get away from me right now!"

Nobody was born worthy of anything. They all were born into this cold and cruel world kicking and screaming, stupid and confused. None of them were born deserving happiness. None of them earned the right to live on their own. They belonged to someone else. Someone who would hold that power over them for as long as they could. And it was up to them to decide when that reign would be over.

"Just what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see that you are hurting them?"

Life hurt. Living hurt. It was just the way things were. Everything in this life worth a damn had to be taken. Either through hard work. Or sacrifices. Or by force. Sometimes, it would take you all three to secure whatever morsels of happiness and joy you wanted. And then someone bigger, stronger and meaner would kick you down and enjoy the spoils of your labor.

And it would be up to you to decide what happened next.

Would you settle for enjoying the scraps left behind by the bigger, stronger and meaner ones?

Would you lie around and cry about the unfairness of fate to whatever fake God was listening?

Or would you rather become much bigger, much stronger and much meaner than the biggest and the strongest and the meanest?

Cinder chose her fate at the tender age of ten.

"She is messed up!"

So what? The world was messed up. By the people. For the people. Until the people's end.

"Nobody wants you around!"

Good! She had no need for useless sycophants anyway.

"Do you... like being hated?"

Hate or love, she didn't care. She wanted fear. She craved respect. Who cared if everyone in the world hated her as longas they were too scared to do a damn about it? She was born with nothing. Cared for and loved by nobody. Nowhere to go. No place to call home. And what did she do? She begged the apathetic for crumbs and was rejected. She did things - bad things, horrible things - just to get by and get anything in her stomach. She was a rat. A dirty stray unloved and unwanted.

So why bother even, she asked herself at the tender age of ten.

She was not a survivor. She refused to be fine with just surviving. She wanted to live. She wanted to thrive. She wanted to rule. She wanted to shine. And she would. Yes. all of those things and beyond them, she would achieve all these goals and soar to higher ones after. She promised herself. She promised the world.

She learnt to play the part. She was prim and proper and perfect little princess. The kids at the orphanage knew she was a fake. Even the adults there knew that, for all her smiles and sweet words, she was a predator. Ready to sink her claws into the biggest fattest prey. And what do you know? Alexander Ashen - a widower with no kids of his own - picked her.

Adopted and shipped off to his mansion. To be pampered and cared for. To have all her needs and wants attended. Some would call this a victory. She was living in luxury now. Her happily ever after, correct?

Only a fool would expect her to be satisfied with it.

Daddy dearest was a good man. A kind man. But a foolish man. A broken man. He took her in just to try and feel something. He said she reminded him of his late wife. And he believed that having her in his house could bring back the warmth and welcome his mansion used to have. But Cinder was not his wife. She was not as kind or charitable or even half as naive. So Cinder watched her daddy grow sick and wither and then pass away.

Leaving her a half-broken half-dead shell of his company.

She heard insults and jeers. How could a dirty little orphan, adopted by a senile old man out of pity and desperation, turn the situation around? They wondered and whispered. She would be broke in a week, they chuckled. She would be out on the streets, they mused. She would be nothing, they declared.

She proved them wrong.

Again.

And again.

Over and over until none of them were left.

She rose by stepping onto the skulls that defied her. Those that belittled her. Those that mocked and doubted her.

She tore and gnawed her way through any challenges thrown at her. She adapted to them. She changed the world around herself to ensure no such thing happened again.

She was an apex predator. The top of the food chain that refused any defiance and rebellion. Her competitors knew they existed for her own amusement. Her haters and enemies knew their days were numbered. Her followers and minions knew they were but disposable assets she barely recognized as humans. She was finally superior to all. Rich and Poor. Kings and Peasants. Leaders and Followers. Warmongers and Peacemakers. She was above them all.

She was superior.

She was untouchable.

She was invincible and unstoppable.

But as pleasant and intoxicating her well-earned superiority was, Cinder soon found herself growing bored with it. Nobody challenged her. Nobody even dared breathe a word of disrespect towards her. Everyone loved her or pretended to love her. Everyone respected her. Everyone feared her. And though that was exactly what she wanted back then, she found herself apathetic to it all.

What good were her claws and her fangs if she had no prey to sink them into?

What good was her savage appetite for conquest and rule when all now came to her so easily?

She wanted a challenge.

She wanted a change.

And then she found one.

In the form of a naive and almost adorably weak reporter.

"What is your relationship with Jaune?" Not a question. A demand. Amusing if not in such circumstances. "Is he working for you? Is he your spy?"

Cinder can't help but grin. It was petty and childish but she enjoyed the notes of jealousy hidden behind the concern and accusation. Cinder knew that Pyrrha had feelings for her Jaune. Even if the redheaded heroine hadn't realized it yet. Too bad for her, but the blonde was already claimed by her. He was her property. Hers and hers alone until she decided otherwise.

And judging by the bag of clothes he had packed, she wouldn't be letting him go anytime soon.

Molten rock and liquid steel clashed against one another, Cinder's burning white eyes meeting Pyrrha's cold green. The girl liked to keep her cool in fights like this. Always assess the situation and act as efficiently and sharp as possible. No breathe or step wasted. No fist thrown aimlessly. No roaring or screaming or swearing or crying. Just cold logic and perfect execution.

Too bad for her, Cinder didn't play nice with those that tried to steal from her.

"Arghh!" Heat washed over the girl, the flames licking at her exposed flesh. Cinder smelled burnt hair and skin, Good, she deserved that, Nobody took anything or anyone from her. Nobody had been foolish enough to try it since she reached her seat on the throne above all else. And Gods, how had she missed the sensation of getting revenge on those who dared defy her. "A-Answer my question, Fall! Just what are you and Jaune to each other?"

Millions of thoughts rush Cinder's mind. They were two opposites. Order and Chaos. Light and Dark. Queen and Pawn. a hrash but accurate comparison as far as she was concerned. They were enemies out on the battlefield. But outside?

"We are lovers, Nikos," she enjoyed the gnashing of teeth and look of disbelief the girl threw her way. It felt great to dangle her relationship in front of the girl like a prize that had been snatched away from her. Too good to be wasted so quickly. "Are you surprised? I myself am. Never imagined the day I would settle."

Settling meant stopping. Forming relationship with someone meant giving up part of her life to someone else. Love meant weakness and a flaw to be exploited. A chink on her well-polished and battle-worn armor. But a flaw, a weakness and a chink that she welcomed. She wasn't quite sure yet though. Was this true love like her airheaded roommates used to dream about? Or just a way to amuse herself until she found something better.

In the end, it mattered little.

True or false, it felt great, And Cinder refused to allow anyone to separate the two.

Twin spears of metal are shooting through the air. A hand of magma rises from the ground to snatch, squeeze and snap into nothing before taking them along with itself back into the ground. More metal floats into the air and forms giant slabs of steel. Quite the display of power. Raw and brutal, unlike her usual show of fine control and delicate work. Perhaps she wants to intimidate her into submission?

Cinder hasn't been afraid since the tender age of ten.

Her fire meets the steel and melts it down. She downright evaporates it into nothing. The redheaded heroine is shocked. She must have never faced someone like her. Her eyes widen in shock. Her mouth opens in a cry for help, "JAUNE!"

And before her flames can devour the foolish little pest, her lover stands between them. His body she grew to enjoy so much sweating in that kevlar suit Atlas calls protection. What could he hope to do? She can simply command her flames to circle around him flash-fry the girl behind him. He wouldn't even finish a sentence before she was nothing ash and memories.

He knows that well.

And she knows that he knows that well.

Why is he still standing between them then? That is a question. And Cinder loves questions with no easy answer. Was he planning something? Plotting a way out? Scheming to present himself a hero that got roped into her clutch without his consent? That would be adorable.

For all she knows though, it might not even be something that complex. Perhaps he is simply standing between them because it is the right thing to do. In his naive and heroic mind, at least. Her flames stand in twin towers, ready to envelop them all at her command, She gestures for him to speak. And keeps a watchful eye on Nikos should the girl try and attack her.

Secretly, Cinder wishes she did. Then she would simply - and unfortunately - have no choice but to reduce her to ashes.

She looks at Jaune. And he begins to speak.

"You don't have to do this, Cinder," his throat is dry. His voice is shaky. "You won. This fight is over. We have to go now! The fire no doubt attracted someone. And I doubt Pyrrha would come here without warning anyone back at the base."

She notices it. Nikos' eyes say it all. She came here without backup. Without a plan. A foolish mistake made due to arrogance or pride. She feels insulted by the lack of preparation shown. But not nearly as angry as she is at the warmth that she heard in Jaune's voice when he says the heroine's name.

Perhaps a scar or ten had to be applied. As a reminder. As a warning.

"Cinder, please!" sometihing in his voice stops her. Weird. She could usually ignore it and proceed with her desires easily enough. Was Jaune an Auraborne with powers of compelling voice? No, she felt no hold over her. None that could be attributed to superpowers at least. "Don't do this. Please, you know you are better than this!"

Better than this? Hardly. She stole. She lied. She blackmailed. She tortured. She killed. And she enjoyed it all. So how come she was better than killing yet another pest in her way? One that seemed so set on taking away what rightfully belonged to her now.

"Jaune, step aside."

She said it with more force than intended to be she almost sounded unwilling. Uneager to deliver harm. That was a first in many years. And she hated it. Why wouldn't her damn hand just move?

She found her amusement growing weaker and smaller as it gave way to anger and resentment. Jaune was a fun toy. A nice lay too. An amusing break from the life where everyone drew breath in her presence for the fear of displeasing her eyes and ears.

But she refused to allow him more control over her. She refused to have anyone who could still and stop her exist. She couldn't go back. She would never go back to being weak and vulnerable again. She refused. She refused to allow it!

"Jaune, step aside. Now!"

He was weaker than her. He was smaller than her. He was softer than her. He was the prey. And she an apex predator. Forget the love and amusement, if he brought her such trouble, she had no reason keeping him around right? All people were replaceable. All people were just tools and playthings to her.

She could break him.

Destroy him and toss him away.

She could find another one. Another source of amusement if she so wished. She could. She would. She definitely would!

So why was he still not ash and memories?

"Jaune... Please... Just step aside."

He doesn't move. He refuses to. As her flame grow stronger and hotter, Cinder's blood boils at the sight of Nikos getting up and standing by Jaune's side. It looks sweet. Sickeningly so. Almost as if she is the one he was here with. As if Nikos was the heroine of the story with her as a villain. Laughable.. Completely and utterly laughable.

So why did she want to scream in anguish at the sight of it?

The flames grew quiet. The heat disappeared. Cinder felt her body grow lighter and weaker as she found herself descending back down. Did she will it? She honestly didn't know.

She was now on the ground. Where had her flames gone off to? Why she felt no power in her veins? Why did she feel so powerless all of a sudden? She didn't know. And to her own surprise and horror, she didn't care.

All she cared about was that Jaune wrapped his hands around her. He was whispering something into her ears. A promise? An apology? She couldn't quite make it out. She melted into his embrace, trying to soak up as much of his warmth as she could.

She could hear her fires die. She could hear the helicopters and cars. They were here. The Atlas was here, all for the two of them. Was this the end? Is this what her desire for amusement led to? Being imprisoned and tried like any other common crook?

None of those hurt as much as the idea of being powerless again.

She let herself be cuffed. She let herself be collared. She let herself be led towards the ship. She let them do whatever they wanted. Just like a predator called by humans, she could snarl and roar but would achieve nothing.

This was it for her.

This was the end of Cinder Fall. No grand battle. No final March of armies. Brought down to her knees by her own inability to destroy one single man.

It was almost funny.

It was almost funny. He had spent so much time till today wondering which choice he should make. What course of actions would promise the least amount of hurt and pain to those he held close to his heart and those that he didn't. He thought and pondered. He measured and theorized. He spent countless nights going through one scenario after another in an attempt to figure it out.

And yet the choice had been made for him.

"So you are telling me you aren't a spy?"

"No, sir."

It was weird to call Director Ironwood sir in this situation. He had a great amount of respect for the man. It wasn't just his position as his superior. James Ironwood was the man who commanded respect with his mere presence. Sometimes Jaune wondered if the man had some sort of superpower that allowed him to do so. Then again, maybe it was just him who gave control over himself to anyone.

Like he did with Cinder.

"Agent Arc, I can't even begin to describe all the security procedures you have violated by getting acquinted with that woman," the man spoke in cold-voiced frustration. "Do you have any idea what the Council is going to think of that? They will think you compromised fool at best. And at worst, they will consider you a mole and deal with you as such."

"I didn't tell her anything, s-"

"I know you didn't," the man sighed. Jaune could see that the man was just as tired of the situation as himself. "But they don't. And I doubt they will trust your word just like that. Even if you had evidence, they would most likely dismiss it as contingency measure. To put it simply, they have already decided you are guilty."

So that was it, huh? He would be put behind bars. Jaune was surprised by how little that shook him. Then again, it might have been all those kidnappings orchestrated by Cinder in the first couple of months of their weird relationship. Despite being told that he was good as convicted, Jaune couldn't help but ask Ironwood:

"And what about Cinder?" Would she be imprisoned in the Grimmlands along with countless superpowered monsters? Somehow he doubted that it would be her fate. Council and Atlas lost more than enough of their own to her and her group. He would be surprised if they didn't choose to execute her out of vengeance. "What are they going to do about her?"

"You know, if you sound that concerned, it will be very hard to convince the Council you are innocent, Agent," Ironwood massaged the bridge of his nose. "You don't need to worry though. For now, she is contained in one of our cells. She doesn't have any visitors and her condition is constantly monitored. Nothing and noone is threatening her life."

Jaune didn't miss how the director didn't actually answer his question. Just what did they have in mind for her?

"You should rest now, Jaune," for the first time today, Ironwood refers to him by his first name. "You are a good agent. And you have potential to be a great one. So do the right thing and don't make the situation any worse. As long as you can do that, I promise you, we can solve this entire crisis with minimal aounts of damage. To your family and our organization."

But not for Cinder?

As he is cuffed and led outside the interrogation room, he can't help but notice just how many eyes are watching him. Some with disdain. Some with pity. Some with amusement. Anger, disappointment, sadness and countless other emotions. And yet he didn't care a single bit. Cell after cell, his eyes kept searching for her. He wasn't sure why. What would he do if he saw her right now?

Apologize?

Silently walk by?

He had no idea.

He just wanted to see how she was. For whatever reason it may have been. But as the fate had it, he was led back to his cell and he never saw a glimpse of Cinder. Perhaps this was for the best.

That night, Jaune didn't spend all his time thinking and dwelling on the future. All he could do was wonder about the past. Did he make the right choice by coming to this place? Did he choose wisely when he joined Atlas? Did he actually enjoy the nights he spent alone with Cinder? Wasn't he happy a villain of her caliber was finally behind bars where he always thought she belonged?

Three of those questions, he answered with a firm and sure 'Yes'.

And only one that with a hard resigned 'No'.

He knew that Cinder was a criminal. A monster, some could call her. And yet, he couldn't - he simply couldn't - desire any harm done to her. He knew that, over the course of months, he grew attached to her. He used to think it was a mixutre of Stockholm Syndrome and pity for the woman who had everything and yet could never be happy. But as the hours went by, his mind kept going back to all the little moments they shared with each other.

The little brief episodes of normality in their insane lives. Them watching some stupid romantic flick and laughing at the ridiculous nonsensical plot. Enjoying a warm meal together. Talking about nothing and everything until both drifted off into sleep in each other's embrace. A part of him always was afraid that this wasn't some charade he played out of fear for his life. That part that told him that he enjoyed such life with Cinder. Quiet, peaceful life with someone who made him feel complete. And whom he could make happy in return.

He used to ignore that part of himself.

He thought that it was just naive romanticism in him. A stupid feeling of hope because coming face to face with reality was too damn terrifying. And for a while, it seemed, he could live with it.

But he was wrong.

And now, even with all the choices made for him already, Jaune Arc realized that nothing had changed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he should do. And most of all, he had no idea what he wanted now. What he wanted for himself. What he wanted for his family and friends.

And what he wanted for Cinder.

Soon he would have to make the decision on what he wanted for all of them. And from then on, there would be no turning back.

#jaune arc #cinder fall #arcfall #knightfall #rwby #rwby au #ccr au #commission

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duchess-katarin-lemeur · 4 years

Text

House Meeting || May 2022

Who: Nantes House Where: Le Chateau When: May 6, 2022 (?) Notes: Kat is happy to report things weren’t as stressful as the last one.

Addie made her way into the meeting room and was shocked to see that she was the first person there. She was never late, but she was rarely the first to arrive either. She made her way to a seat, curling her legs up onto the chair with her and resting her notebook on her lap. She was armed with a few different colored pens and was ready to contribute in any way that she could.

Marco walked into the meeting, he wanted to get there early enough to oversee all that arrived, and find him a good spot in the corner, seeing he didn’t think he was going to add much to the meeting. He saw Addie there and waved to her, but then continued looking for the perfect spot. He found his position looking at the door and took a seat. He really hoped this meeting wasn’t going to be too long and boring.

Madeline was hesitant to attend the meeting after the last, but she had no doubt that the Duchess would be able to handle any issues that made themselves known. Walking into the room, she was surprised to find it mostly empty. Checking her watch, she noted that there was still ample time for the others to show. She smiled, waving to Addie. “It’s almost too quiet here. It’s odd for a Nantes meeting.” She joked as she took her seat.

Addie grinned over at Madeline and nodded with a laugh. “I agree. I can’t imagine it will stay this quiet for long.” She also gave Marco a smile and a wave, unsurprised to see him choose a seat that allowed him a good vantage point of the room and its entrance. “Hopefully it won’t be too explosive at least.”

Marco smiled at Madeline when she walked in, “Hello there.” He looked back at Addie and raised his brow since he missed the last meeting, he didn’t know what to expect, but explosive was not the word he thought about. “Explosive? Why would you say that? Was the last one explosive?” He stood up, “Maybe I should stand in that case, just in case I have to step in.”

Adelaide was nervous as she walked into the meeting room. With how badly the last meeting had gone, she couldn’t help the rising anxiety at what might be coming next. Still, she was doing her best to contribute to her new house so she wouldn’t risk missing it. She gave Addie and Madeline waves, relieved to see people she considered friends as she walked over to where they were sitting. “Hi. I have a feeling Her Grace will be a little more prepared for all of the passion that seems to exist in this house. But hopefully, we can all work together a little more this time around.”

“I did bring Advil this time just in case anyone needs it.” She chuckled, hoping that no one will. She had to think positively that this meeting would go smoothly. Hearing Marco, she blushed, wondering how she’d missed the man on entering. She still felt so shy around him. “It was nothing. Someone had a strong opinion and challenged the Duchess. The Duchess, of course, handled the situation with grace.” She turned her attention to Adelaide, glad to see that the table was filling up with friendly faces.

If she was being perfectly honest, Rory was rather nervous to be attending her first House Nantes meeting, especially since she’d only just returned to Vannes and joined the house about a week ago. She was still too new. She wouldn’t know what to even do at one of these meetings. Regardless, she showed up, knowing it was part of her responsibilities now. Plus Marco would be there; and he’d be able to ensure she didn’t get too lost, especially where the conversation was concerned—unless there’d be an actual interpreter; she didn’t know what to expect. Walking into the meeting space, she glanced around for her brother, knowing he’d already been there as he left rather early. Spotting him, she waved before making her way to the seat beside him. She sat down and glanced around again, realizing she didn’t really know anyone else currently there.

Camille had considered just not turning up after the last meeting where it was quite clear her suggestions had not been welcome and she knew where her role in everything fitted anyway. Attending the meeting was just a waste of time as far as she was concerned. It was the brief meeting the week before with the duchess where it was made plain to her that she would be in attendance and prepared to behave that made her turn up. Thankfully she wasn’t first, that really would have irritated her, she ignored everyone to go and sit by the window staring into space, arms crossed and clearly sulking.

Marco smiled when he saw the blush that came across Madeline’s face, they spent some time together and he knew that was what she was thinking of because he was thinking about the same thing. He needed to focus on this meeting and not his personal life. When Rory walked in, she was just the distraction he needed. He waved at her, “Hey there, I wish I could tell you what to expect in this meeting, but I have no idea, but I’ll make sure that you understand what’s going on.”

Addie perked up when she caught on to the fact that Rory was deaf. She moved in an effort to catch the woman’s eyes and gave her a wave before signing. “I know some basic sign language, so I can help too if you need it. I’m not great at it, but I suppose I’m not the worst either.” She spoke as she signed, wondering if the woman read lips as well.

Rory grew slightly more nervous at Marco’s words. If he had no idea what to expect, she’d surely be beyond lost. About to comment, she noticed a woman making her way towards them. She shifted her attention to the woman as she noticed her wave. Figuring she was probably just waving to Marco, she was about to look away when the woman in question began to sign. Seeing that action, Rory perked up, her eyes momentarily going wide. She definitely hadn’t expected to see this. Basic sign is better than no sign. She signed, a soft chuckle escaping her lips before she opted to speak up. “I do appreciate the offer. I’m Rory.” She both spoken and signed her introduction, using her name sign (an R crossed over her heart) rather than simply fingerspelling.

As Tien entered the room, he looked around at everyone who had already arrived, and felt slightly relieved. At least he wasn’t late. He’d been banking on the fact that he’d be able to get out of work early enough to make it to this meeting since he hadn’t been able to go to the last one. Taking one of the empty seats, he watched as others communicated, and sat quietly for a moment before glancing over at Addie, and winking in her direction. “Nice to see you again, Addie.”

Addie grinned, happy to have pleasantly surprised the other woman. That was exactly what Addie loved about languages and communication. She had travelled the world learning as much as she could about other cultures and how they communicated so that she could bridge those barriers. “I’m Addie. It’s nice to meet you.” She fingerspelled her name as she spoke. Then she caught sight of Tien and offered him a grin. “Hey, you. It’s good to see you too.” She was invested in the meeting to come, but was also aware that it would be more interesting with Tien there near her.

Marco watched Addie and Rory was able to communicate, he was glad that someone else knew sign language and could help keep things in order just in case he had to do something during the meeting. “I didn’t know you could sign Addie, but It’s good to know.” He looked back at Rory, “Apparently it was some issues and fireworks during the last meeting, so I hope that nothing jumps off this time around.” He shook his head and sat back.

Maddie leaned back in her chair. “Cam, I doubt that they are going to let you sulk through the whole meeting. Besides, we are doing something positive for the community.” She hoped that would be what was accomplished at the meeting. She wasn’t entirely sure that they would be able to work towards the scholarship, but for this to work, they needed everyone to be invested. “I think that the Duchess has a plan to keep things under control and tempers calm.” Personally she hoped that the troublemakers knew to keep their mouths shut.

Kat waited until she was sure nearly all had arrived before joining the room. Spying Cristian sitting in the corner, she acknowledged him with a nod. “Good Evening,” she said, walking to an empty chair. “I am glad to see everyone here this evening. My goal tonight is to determine what type of charity event the house will hold in support of our STEM education program for the children of Vannes. I will open the floor to your thoughts, however, I will not see a repeat of our previous meeting. Now, I am open to any ideas but I’m very interested in some sort of fair or something that the community can be engaged with.”

Addie simply smiled at Marco before turning her attention to the duchess as she entered the room. She not only admired Kat as a duchess and hopefully soon to be queen, but as a friend. “What about something at the university? That way we can highlight the various STEM programs they offer, to show children what they could aspire to be a part of. When I was younger I liked seeing strong women in programs I was interested in. It gave me even more drive to do it myself.”

Mic was quick to follow in after his sister, moving closer into the room and finding a place to sit. He kept a close eye on the more troublesome members of the family, hoping that this meeting went much smoother than it had before. “I agree.” He found himself saying. “In order to inspire, we must show what is inspirational.”

Listening to the Duchess discussing STEM programs, Tien sat back in his seat and decided he was best suited to listen. He knew nothing about the programs, nor how best to offer any suggestions in this situation. Instead, Tien’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in everyone gathered there, letting his eyes ilinger on a face he found more attractive here, or there, allowing himself to get distracted while the people who could make a difference actually had their say in planning.

Kit rolled his eyes from where he sat in the back. The idea of holding something at the university was a good one, but the fake platitudes coming out of certain members of the group made him want to hurl. “The university is a good location,” he said, “but what is it that we’re providing at this event that’ll make people donate to the program? Showing the kids the programs is all well and good, but what you’re describing is an open house, and anyone can go to one of those for free.” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Camille had turned around when the duchess began but as she spoke she rolled her eyes and sank back in her chair. It was clear how the meeting was going to go and made even less sense that she was there. She sat quietly until Kit spoke before beaming across at him, “Exactly. A fair is all well and good but how much is that going to cost? Where is the fundraiser bit? We can’t spend more than we bring in.”

Marco listened to everyone as they spoke about the fair and what they wanted to achieve with this STEM fair. He understood what Katarin wanted, but the fact that they didn't have a fundraiser aspect was quite evident. He wasn't going to say much in this meeting because he honestly didn't feel like he had a right to, but since he was here, he was going to say what was on his mind. "Um...if I could, I agree that you need some sort of fundraising plan for the event, so I would suggest maybe a silent auction, or even a raffle where we have nice things that people would want to buy raffle tickets for. Also maybe the fair could just be the beginning, and to cap the night off we host a gala where the ticket sales can add to the fundraising." He shrugged his shoulders not knowing if anyone would think any of those ideas were a good idea.

Kat didn’t miss the roll of Camille’s eyes. Before she began to speak, she fixed her eyes on the submissive. “Kit brings up a good point. So what I would like to propose is two-fold. I want to host a fair for children. I want children and the community to be excited about the program. At the fair, we can hold a raffle. Prizes can be something the House can offer... for that we need to think outside the box. Maine has its restaurants and Anjou it’s performers. What are things we can offer? In addition, a ticketed gala or dinner would be held, as Marco indicated. Ami indicated previously that she could also do a charity livestream, I would definitely want to take advantage of that.” Kat paused, waiting for reactions to what she said.

“What about a chance to shadow you for a day, Your Grace? I imagine there would be plenty of people interested in that. You’re a role-model and a highly admired woman. There could be other shadowing opportunities as well, actually. I don’t think that’s all we should offer, but it’s a start. We could also offer things like web designs and consultations.” Addie jotted down notes in her notebook, alternating between colored pens. “Maybe even a chance to sit in on a class at the university.”

“I think the idea of a fair for the children is nice, and really demonstrates the community aspect of what we’re going for. Even then, we could have an information booth to get people excited about the idea of donating to support specific programs which would start to build some long term support for the program. Then the tickets and raffle prizes could cover the initial cost of the event as well as the start up costs of this sort of charity. If that works.” It was the first time Adelaide had spoken since she’d sat down, but it already seemed like people were talking over each other less at this meeting which she appreciated.

Tali never much enjoyed speaking up at things like this, she was content to sit back and do her best to listen intently. People tended to forget that in conversation, sometimes listening was even more important than speaking. She was a bit of a rambler herself, but she thought of herself as an even better listener, even though meetings like this made that sort of difficult. So far everyone seemed, for the most part able to get out their ideas without /completely/ disrespecting others, and that was enough to make Tali smile. She liked where everyone was heading with their fundraiser ideas, but just to be sure she was following along and her notes weren’t just doodles, she thought she’d be brave and ask for a clarification. At first she raised her hand, a beat passed before she realized no one else had done “So would this be like one of those basket auctions? You know anyone could put in a basket and it could have anything your heart desired in it… Like a coupon for a free massage, or fancy coffee from a fancy place in another part of the world, or like whatever services or goods a person wanted to donate… Oh and wouldn’t it be fun if it was a surprise?! Like if people bid and didn’t know what was inside their basket until the end?... Um just want to make sure I’m understanding... “ That whole rambling thing again. Tali sighed softly and looked down at her notebook, ready for corrections.

Camille could feel the duchess’ eyes drilling into her and let her own gaze drop to the table. She could see gaps in what was being said but as she expected nobody wanted to hear her opinion so instead she sat and did her best to just tune out choosing instead to consider her excuses for the next time a house meeting was called.

Maddie listened to all the wonderful ideas of those in her house, but she realized that Camille was right. Donations could only go so far in getting the funds that they needed for this event. If they ended up raising enough money to cover the costs, then the project would fail. “What if we don’t keep it to just Vannes?” She knew that this was not her expertise, but there were so many others in the house that knew the field. “What we have that the other houses don’t is a wider audience. I know that that focus will need to be here, but that doesn’t mean the funds do. We have plenty of tech savvy people who know how to utilize the internet. We can bring in people from there. Maybe have a web page detailing the event for investors. Just an idea.”

If she was being honest, Rory was having some trouble keeping up with the discussion regarding the STEM fair. Even with Marco acting as her interpreter, she found herself lost, mainly because she really wasn’t entirely sure what everyone was talking about. It was her first House Nantes meeting; and she still didn’t have a great idea as to how Katarin ran things. She had some thoughts pop into her mind here and there; but she kept them mostly to herself, not quite sure what she should and shouldn’t say. But the suggestion about utilizing the internet made her feel like she should go ahead and speak up, share what thought had just come to mind. “I can always write up something about the fundraiser on my blog?” She suggested, growing silent again as she tried to read the room’s reaction to what she’d offered up. “Or, um, I could always help make a web page if that’s preferred?” Her words were softer thanks to the fact her anxiety was starting to bubble.

Marco looked over at Rory and signed, "That's a great idea sis." He turned to look at Katarin, "I think we should think we should utilize all of our bloggers in that way. They could shout out all our events to their followers and urge them to donate to the events as well. That way we can have people from all over the world donate to our cause." He hoped that the House would have a successful event and everyone would participate in the best way possible.

“I’ve heard many good ideas today. We will go forward with the ideas presented with the idea that we will hold a fair that will include raffle and or auction. In addition, we will hold a charity gala. Proceeds from that ticket and other donations will go directly to the charity.” Kat was more pleased with the way this dinner went than the previous. “We will look at using our bloggers and Ami’s livestream as advertising and as a source of possible donations. For the fair itself, we will look at using the University,”she said, directing her comments to Adelaide and Rory. “We will look at holding in July. I expect that everyone here will have some role to play and will speak with you 1-1. Thank you all for coming.

#para #house thread

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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THE ELVES

September 2, 1949

“The Elves” is episode #52 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on September 2, 1949.

This was the first episode of the second season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND which concluded on June 25, 1950.

Synopsis ~ Liz and George arrive home from vacation to find that someone has been ordering strawberry ice cream from the milkman every day, and the pink trail leads to the doorstep of their new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, and their ten children.

MAIN CAST

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury, Liz’s Best Friend) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury, George’s Boss) had worked with Lucille Ball on “The Wonder Show” on radio in 1938. One of the front-runners to play Fred Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” he eventually played Alvin Littlefield, owner of the Tropicana, during two episodes in 1952. After playing a Judge in an episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1958, he would re-team with Lucy for all of her subsequent series’: as Theodore J. Mooney in ”The Lucy Show”; as Harrison Otis Carter in “Here’s Lucy”; and as Curtis McGibbon on "Life with Lucy.” Gordon died in 1995 at the age of 89.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) does not appear in this episode

GUEST CAST

Hans Conried (Mr. Wood, New Neighbor) first co-starred with Lucille Ball in The Big Street (1942). He then appeared on “I Love Lucy” as used furniture man Dan Jenkins in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8) and later that same season as Percy Livermore in “Lucy Hires an English Tutor” (ILL S2;E13) – both in 1952. The following year he began an association with Disney by voicing Captain Hook in Peter Pan. On “The Lucy Show” he played Professor Gitterman in “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) and in “Lucy Plays Cleopatra” (TLS S2;E1). He was probably best known as Uncle Tonoose on “Make Room for Daddy” starring Danny Thomas, which was filmed on the Desilu lot. He joined Thomas on a season 6 episode of “Here’s Lucy” in 1973. He died in 1982 at age 64.

Conried plays Mr. Wood in several other episodes. His first name is Benjamin, and his wife - who we never meet - is named Gertrude. They were both only children and want to make up for it by having a large family.

Frank Nelson (Mr. Stevens) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs. His trademark was playing clerks and other working stiffs, suddenly turning to Benny with a drawn out “Yeeeeeeeeees?” Nelson appeared in 11 episodes of “I Love Lucy”, including three as quiz master Freddy Fillmore, and two as Ralph Ramsey, plus appearance on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” - making him the only actor to play two different recurring roles on “I Love Lucy.” Nelson returned to the role of the frazzled Train Conductor for an episode of “The Lucy Show” in 1963. This marked his final appearance on a Lucille Ball sitcom.

Anne Whitfield (Joanne Wood, Nearly 7) is best remembered for her signature role as the younger daughter of Phil Harris and Alice Faye on their hit radio show. Although she never appeared on screen with Lucille Ball, she did a 1962 episode of Desilu’s “The Untouchables.” She is best known for playing Susan in the 1954 film White Christmas. She was 11 years old in 1949 when this episode of “My Favorite Husband” was broadcast. As of this writing she is 82 years old and living in Washington state.

Joanne Wood is one of the many children of the Coopers neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Wood. She will also appear as Joanne Wood, without Conried, but with Nelson, in “Liz’s Superstitions” in October 1949.

THE EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on lazy little Sheridan Falls, the hometown of the Coopers, we find many signs that summer is over. The leaves are turning red, the Coopers are turning their faces toward home after summer vacation, and Liz is hoping that all her friends will turn green when they see how she’s turned brown. Let’s pick them up as their drive into town...”

Liz is anxious for people to see her summer tan. She spots the Atterburys and wants to stop the car to talk. They also just got back from vacation at Moosehead Lodge. Every time Liz tries to talk about her sunny stay, Iris and Rudolph interrupt about their Lodge at the lake. Liz and Iris tug at her blouses and slacks to reveal their tans. Mr. Atterbury tells George that he may be getting a promotion. They say their goodbyes.

LIZ: “Goodbye, Paleface!” IRIS: “See you later, Snow White!”

The Paleface was a Bob Hope / Jane Russell film released at the very end of 1948 and still in cinemas at the time of the broadcast. The Paramount western also featured future “Lucy” cast members Iris Adrian, Iron Eyes Cody, Olin Howland, Nestor Paiva, George Chandler, Fred Aldrich, Oliver Blake, George Bruggerman, Dick Elliott, and Bert Stevens.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was a 1937 animated Disney film based on the classic fairy tale. It featured the voices of future “Lucy” cast member Pinto Colvig and Moroni Olsen.

Upon arriving home, the Coopers notice that their porch has been painted white. Upon closer inspection, they realize it isn’t paint - but milk. Their ‘milk card’ has been tampered with to order strawberry ice cream while they were away - yet none is found.

During the early part of the twentieth century, dairy products were usually delivered to homes, rather than shopped in a market. The milkman was part of daily life. Housewives would leave notes (or cards, as above) to request items outside their standing delivery order: Milk, eggs, yogurt, butter, and ice cream, were all offered. It was not uncommon to see back porches with milk boxes and or empty bottles ready to be returned to the dairy. This service has all but disappeared in favor of supermarkets.

Liz and George turn into amateur sleuths to track down the trail of strawberry ice cream drippings which lead directly to... the empty house next door. Liz notices laundry on the line and surmises that the new neighbors moved in while they were away.

George angrily knocks on the door, which is opened by Mr. Wood (Hans Conried). He explains that one of his children has brought home strawberry ice cream. The elves gave it to her. Mr. Wood goes to find his daughter to explain.

LIZ (to George): “I think Mr. Wood has snapped his twig!”

Mr. Wood returns, assured that Joanna, his daughter, isn’t listening. Mr. Wood explains that he has ten children and one on the way. Liz is shocked to find out Mrs. Wood is still alive!

GEORGE: “Well, Mr. Wood, you’ve certainly got a lot of little splinters.”

The rest of the children stay with relatives in the summer. Mr. Wood calls for Joanne, who he thought was buying the ice cream from her allowance. Joanne is an imaginative child who thinks she’s a fairy queen, comes in. She has been feeding her pet dragon, Charlie, the ice cream. Liz tells her that dragons don’t eat so much ice cream, but Joanne insists that Charlie’s just a small dragon - a dragon-ette.

LIZ: “Yes. I’ve heard of her sister - Jessica.”

Jessica Dragonette (1900-80) was a singer who became popular on American radio and was active in the World War II effort. She was voted best female singer of the country 1942 and 1943.

Much to Liz and George’s chagrin, Mr. Wood let’s her daughter off without any punishment or admonishment for her ice cream thievery. Mr. Wood offers to pay their milk bill as compensation.

End of Part One

Bob LeMond gives listeners a Jell-O ‘dreamy’ recipe for a fluffy orange tart.

As the second half opens, Mr. Wood has rung the Cooper’s doorbell to report that little Joanne overheard them say that their were no such things as elves. Mr. Wood wants them to pretend to be elves to console her. Liz and George are reluctant, but agree when they see her awash in tears.

The Coopers will pretend to find Joanne’s lost dragon, Charlie. To prove that they are really elves, Joanne insists that Liz transform into a troll and George into a Brownie Princess. On the way out, Joanne picks up the Coopers telephone and it is Mr. Atterbury, who is bringing over an important client, Mr. Stevens. Joanne refuses to tell Liz and George who was on the phone - claiming it was the King of the Elves.

As Joanne waits outside for their transformation, Liz and George plan their outrageous outfits. As a brownie princess, George will wear his brown shoes, socks, and garters, a dried grass-skirt, water-wings, and a brown bathing cap. As a troll, Liz will wear a stocking over her face hanging down like an elephant’s trunk, red rubber gloves on her hands and feet, and will walk on all fours.

Meanwhile, Mr. Atterbury drives up with Mr. Stevens (Frank Nelson), describing Mr. Cooper as a “dignified, sober, and conservative”. On the porch is Joanne, who identifies herself as the Fairy Queen. From inside, Liz bids them open the door and come in. Liz is hopping about on all fours, spouting gibberish. Joanne describes the men as ogres “one uglier than the other.”

In retrospect, this storyline might have inspired the TV series “Bewitched” (1964-72), in which Darrin Stephens’ boss, Larry Tate, was usually bringing home an important client, describing Darrin to him in glowing terms, and then finding Darrin transformed due to a spell, sometimes involving his own daughter, Tabitha. Even the names Stevens / Stephens is the same!

Liz straightens up immediately when she sees them. Liz realizes that the ‘Brownie Princess’ is still upstairs, waiting to make his entrance. Too late! George dances on looking for his lily pad! Mr. Atterbury fires George on the spot. Mr. Stevens wants to hear George’s explanation. George stands up for himself - he was simply preserving the fantasy life of a child. Mr. Stevens takes George’s side and Mr. Atterbury immediately grants George his promotion to third vice president!

End of Episode

In the live Jell-O commercial that ends the show, Bob LeMond is singing “I’ve been working on the railroad...J-E-L-L-O!” Lucy thinks he is talking about having to take a job on the railroad, telling him that radio is a tough business and television is the future. They both sing the song with lyrics about Jell-O.

#My Favorite Husband #Lucille Ball #Gale Gordon #CBS #Jell-O #Richard Denning #Bea Benadaret #Frank Nelson #Snow White #The Paleface #Anne Whitfield #Hans Conried #Radio #Elves #Jessica Dragonette

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years

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One thing taking so long is that there's undercover military from all kinds of countries in the "camps"

The USA wants to respect those militaries and didn't want to take them off the land and move other military as the USA doesn't know the operating system the agents are under.

Of course the military there can go along and be rescued but also pull out of the common area and become official and not undercover. Thus they will be rescuing their own country.

Some countries may find this more simple. Amd it was overlooked as that was the meaning.

So we have a summer event planned. And now since i need to go to Iraq ... Not just foe the victims..

But for myself. I can see what has destroyed and built my entire life. Not why. There is no good reason why. But what place my mind had been.

And because when a mom finds out she has children There and grandchildren. That's what she has to do.

Call up some bitches that will throw down some war in a second's chance and the military and say let's go.

And knowing what happened. I can't just he all hi! Bye!

I have to know what my children and grandchildren have done. I have to feel the air. Touch the grass. Smell the scents. I have to be there. With them.

So a small literally 2 hour window has now turned into 2 days.

So I invite countries already left to return and spend time with us, celebrating this victory.

Each victim can bring 2 people. Or what the country would like, please refer to Uncle Donald.

Music will play all night ... Some of us elect to sleep under the stars outside with the military flying over head to protect us.

And Abu's security team to rotate shifts as they know the layout and teach the other militaries about the buildings while guards protect those learning, listening to other sounds than conversation and music.

It will be a huge international team effort.

To create world peace which was a childhood fascination of mine, an unrealistic burden of my adult life -- we must all work together for a common good.

I invite particular politicians to join us and live as they did... Except sitting in the midst of them and looking at them and realizing that they are no different than anyone next to them.

We could all be there. It will be a form of unity. To unburden our own lives. And feel what has been accomplished through what we all know has been blood, sweat, tears, intense pain and fear.

And sit next to one another, with open hearts with the justice of taking and absorbing their pain from them as we watch them smile and laugh and see the stars they have never slept under, music they've never heard. Flowers they never touched. Life they never thought could exist.

I want all countries and military to experience this "sit in" the allowing to say good bye to their old lives with happiness and cheer and freedom.

Not for our own celebrations. But our own knowledge. Our reality that this happened. That all the people around us suffered everyday and their faces hurt from smiling, they now can hear their own laughter again.

(Pearl Jam: Black)

And we need to subtract the smiles in our minds and see the horrific conditions. See them as Holocaust type victims. And vow to never ever allow this to occur again

To never let some whore ass biddy take over the world for evil or dictate to any one 2hat is good or bad.

Promise the world we will follow our own true hearts filled with good, no matter what any one says, we will stand independent in knowledge, in strength. And defend the rights of humans to live as free as God intended, as free as we are allowed to be.

And that will help create world peace.

Its more than each country picking up its victims at this point.

Its about loving a victim as much as we love ourselves.

Putting ourselves in a situation that makes us at their mercy. To allow the hostile anger that they deserve the right to express.

With our arms wide open, our souls filled with apology and our hearts willing to bleed for them.

(4n5 gold mummy life)

So when next time someone says "there's a drug farm with kidnapped people as slaves" it doesn't take the militaries of the world 33 years to do something.

33 years my mother has been there ordering beheadings and more herion, not allowing people to sit down, beating children.

And i know for a fact the US military knew because i told. My dad told. She had a GPS chip. In 2002 we told. And told. When i got pregnant every time, we told.

And I know that Mexico knew that is why they don't have an established missing person system.

And I know countries around the world knew.

Some are dead like George Bush Sr

But it was just the Queen of England yankyy on her panties with black mail. Killing any one that didn't have a status higher than her. Who cares about a few rumors?!?!

When you can save a whole world of people!!!

All anyone had to do, any country with authority is stand up and Say "NO, we will declare war on your bitch ass, cunt" and do it. Put her in jail.

Instead she lied and finger pointed and destroyed any progress our world made -- with permission.

And so now i think all the secret service protecting the former presidents and their families from 1975 to 2019 should be reassigned to be of service to the victims and their families. Because fuck them. What the Hell good did they do?

Obama bowed to the Queen and her cowards. Fuck him. I wanted to throw him off my porch physically. Sometimes i want ti kill him. Actually a lot of the time.

Suddenly he had fancy suits and expensive clothes. Not from our taxpayers. From victim's hard work making drugs and selling them for the Queen.

Our country was built on the Boston Tea Party as in we don't want your shit, England!!! Fuck off!!!! Now we take their drugs? Research shows that tea is much healthier than drugs.

The Queen sends them to Mexico and Mexico is all WTF is going on and the United States, Canada and South America is all fuck you Mexico!! When it's not Mexico. It is the USA's deal with the Queen of England, Elizabeth the 2nd. Sure Mexico also has a deal but for the USA to blame Mexico all the time -- is that fair? No.

The point of the sit in Is to say "we are here with you. We have been here for 30 years although we have never been here. And we will never allow any one to be in these conditions ever again"

And we promise these survivors as we promise ourselves, the heavens above and Hell below, the Earth as well. That we will all stand together and fight as we can, as we need. Whatever it takes. We will not ever allow this again."

Exempt Nancy Reagan and family for her "a just say NO" program.

Please read to comprehend.

That is all.

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cruzrogue · 5 years

Text

Quantum Leap

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

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for fanfiction:

Prompt number: 16 “Listen. No, really listen.”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG

Warnings/Tags: Future/Past Time travel (Different Earth)

Summary: Felicity leaves with the Monitor but not everything is as it seems she is being used on a quest just like her husband. Instead of entering this quest in 2019 like Oliver Queen she’s entering it in 2040. Somehow different points of entry into alternate earths are needed. Her life has become like the show: Quantum Leap.

Added prompt: Can you imagine this scenario: Goth Felicity in a coffee shop, working on her laptop, while overhearing some girls' conversation at a nearby table. LL is one of them and she is talking about how Ollie would stop cheating on her once they get married. And the other girls around the table agreeing to the crap L is trying to sell them and herself. I can see and hear Felicity's snort from here. Perhaps L needed a reality check, a wake up call from a take no shit Felicity, and perhaps whatever Felicity says would penetrate.

Notes:If you’ve seen Quantum Leap this is loosely based on it because I watched it religiously like so many other sci-fi/action shows back in the day. I’m using what I can recall.

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Quantum Leap on A03

Felicity is not to happy. When she called upon the Monitor to see her husband after twenty years it was time to keep her promise to Oliver. Not land it pivotal points in her history. She doesn’t even understand why she back to her college days. Is she supposed to keep Cooper from doing the stupidest thing ever and getting arrested? Its months till she meets him so what is the purpose of coming to this particular time frame?

She must say though that it’s kind of cool to see herself in Goth attire not like that drugged up version of herself when she hallucinated that wasn’t the best version of her at all.

“I guess if I’m stuck in the past and I’m supposed to change something or another, frickin’ if I’m going to play Sam in all this time world travels, Dr. Sam Beckett needs his Admiral Al Calavicci, so I can Quantum Leap out of this mess.” Unfortunately for her there is no The Observer to be her holographic adviser. At least she is in her own body.

She than mimics the Monitor, “Where I’m taking you there is no return.” Rolling her eyes, “No shit! We just going to Quantum Leap my ass to help balance things out.” She sighs loudly as she needs to add one more dig to all this, “I’m the frickin’ one who doesn’t wear a mask and I’m supposed to what? Diddle dandle the situation like Macgyver? Who does he think I am?” After finishing her little rant, she can almost feel like this whole scene was just witnessed and man if that is true, she just puts up her middle finger to add insult to injury. Not like the Monitor has any sense of humor but sticking it to him makes her feel somewhat better even if its fleeting because she is stuck in the past in whatever Earth number it is.

Heading to her dorm she remembers how much her roommate stunk up the room with the weirdest homeopathic aromas. Wouldn’t be so bad if the girl picked a scent and committed to it. Entering her room, she greets the roommate and heads to grab her laptop. There is this newish coffee shop a few blocks south and well-being anywhere but here sounds like a good idea.

Of course, being a mix of her old self physically and being the older wiser woman, she becomes mentally she feels a little free. All that growing pains and self-doubts are gone. She can sigh a breath of relief in that at least. She could waltz down any particular street and sing ‘I’m off to see the Wizard’ and having people look at her weirdly be like ‘yea what are you looking at? Never seen a girl sing off key before?’ Hence, she decides to do just that as she’s crossing a busy street.

“We're off to see the Wizard The wonderful Wizard of Oz

Because, because, because, Because of the wonderful things he does We're off to see the Wizard The wonderful Wizard of Oz”

What she doesn’t expect is the city may have some loons because a few people join her unexpectedly. What starts off as just being an idiotic move becomes a full-length sing-along and she’s laughing hysterically but by the time she reaches the coffee shop she back to her non-singing jolly self.

Finding a comfortable place to at least check on everything that matters to her by using the convenience of the internet. At least the programing is the same so surfing is her game as she submerges herself into all that is technology.

All is well for many hours, plenty of coffee and sugar to fill her hearts content. She even picks a salad with the right amounts of protein just because she can hear the little Oliver cherub on her shoulder telling her to eat right. It takes a voice to break her from her concentration. It’s not the voice itself that got her too glance around the cutesy coffee shop. It’s the specific laugh of denial that she’s heard from a certain woman before but just as soon as the alternate version of her made its way into her life.

She wishes she wasn’t privy to hearing they’re conversation but as Laurel starts to talk about Oliver she just can’t walk away. Those three women may now have her undivided attention. It may be a train wreck waiting to happen because sometimes TMI is a real thing. She doesn’t need to know their sex life because that would just be creepy. Not that Laurel didn’t share what she thought Oliver would love from her. It still gives her shivers thinking about those few conversations she couldn’t get out fast enough. Luckily it was a one-time Sara Lance intervention session that helped Felicity never hear another Ollie liked this or that conversation. She made sure to thank Sara very well for that sweet deed.

“Ollie, eventually will find himself and he’ll take his father’s company by the horns. When he does, he’ll have me proudly supporting him. No one supports him like I do.”

“Laurel, aren’t you two on a break now?”

“These breaks are just to rejuvenate our longing. He’ll miss me and I always get what I want. There is this gorgeous pair of earrings I hinted to him that would look so nice with the necklace he gave me last time.”

“He loves to shower you with gifts.”

“Well I did mention to him that showing such gifts is important to show relevance in a relationship status within his peers.”

“Smart, this way he knows no other men will try to steal you away. He’d be crushed.”

“It would only serve him right. Though Ollie would settle down after marriage. It would only take the right woman.”

“Of course.”

Laurel lightly chuckles as she features her hand to her chest in a whimsical manner, “I am the only woman for him. No one knows him as well as I do. He knows his discretions are easily forgiven.”

“A tit-for-tat?”

“If he knows what’s good for him. I’d be the devoting wife, the part I was born to play.”

“But he has cheated on you regularly.”

“Ollie will surely stop cheating once we are married.”

“Well you two would make a lovely pair.”

“Thank you. You are so right. The boy is mine and I don’t even have to try. Though I am planning that once we are both back in Starling, I’ll slip some lame story about some of our friendly couples having moved in together.”

“Smart! Right?”

That gets Felicity to snort. She does it so loud that she gets their attention. Oh no she went from casual observer to now a participate and she doesn’t know what to feel. Maybe they’ll ignore her and continue with the most asinine conversation. Is this the Laurel she never met? Because she is not the wannabe strong girl she tried to project. She really is coming off a petty gold-digging princess.

When the three go back and act like nothing happened it not until the next doozy that has Felicity snort and try to hold her laughter. It’s a if she understands now why she is here. She still mumbles to herself, “This is not something I want to do.”

At least her Goth appearance has them concerned in a way that says she’s is battle ready. She enters their conversation and asks, “What on this green covered earth makes you think a man who cheats on you holds you in any esteem?”

They’re answers so bland and vanilla that Felicity takes some pity on these three fools.

“You are seriously okay with being a second fiddle to your own story?”

Yet again answers so bland Felicity just shakes her head.

“And when he finally tires of you and sends you away with whatever prenup you’ve signed how will that fill your longest nights? Because where I am standing you happily giving up the best years of your life for a guy who has his secretary without a mere thought about it buy you the personal gifts while you need to call her to set up an appointment to schedule time with him.”

‘It wouldn’t be like that. Ollie is sweet and just the kind that needs those friendly pushes. His mother told me that herself.”

Felicity lets out a dark laugh, “She’s okay with you being a doormat?” and Felicity takes a hard look at the other two woman who are egging her on. Her attention now solely on Laurel, “Listen. No, really listen.”

“It is the way of the world. You just don’t see it because your…” She waves her hand around Felicity’s Gothic look. “Unexperienced!”

“Is that so? Let me advise you that appearances can change. We also see what we want to. If you see yourself as a sell-by-date nearing expiration and just sell yourself short. You’ll deserve the short-comings because living with ourselves is a lifetime guarantee. The mirror yields for no one.”

“Ah!” Laurel just looks at this girl who budded into her conversation. Some of what she says scares her. She’s heard a similar version from her dad. Her friends are urging her to forget what this dark-dyed hair bimbo is saying. Laurel is the lucky one, she has a guy who’ll will figure his shit and go back with her because she’s been faithful to his lifestyle.

“It’s your call. You can respect yourself or be that obedient doormat to his parents and eventually husband. If he respected you. You wouldn’t need these pep talks by girls who really don’t give two quacks about you.” Felicity has said her peace if Laurel wants to continue on her scheduled way so be it. In the end it’s her choice.

Felicity says her regards and goes back to her spot to pack up its time to see if her roomie has left to her boyfriend’s place for the night. As she starts to head back home Laurel calls out to her. Oh, she forgot she introduced herself by first name only. They talk a bit more but the other girls who were some bad cheerleaders were still in the coffeeshop. Laurel seems to head some advice but to Felicity it is just too early and her words could be forgotten in a heartbeat.

Entering her place, she sees a newspaper left on the cover of her bed she just going to move it to her workstation when she sees the words dance upon the page. It is dated a future year but falling on the same day.

Judge Dinah Laurel Lance-and a last name she has never seen welcomes second daughter.

Felicity places her hand on her mouth in surprise, no… she didn’t help! Did she? Then she continues reading and she can’t believe those few minutes actually helped. Laurel’s first-born daughter is named Felicity, the newspaper saying it was after a girl she met years ago that got her to reevaluate her life choices. WoW!

Just like Sam Beckett she’s whisked away but not by falling asleep and waking up in a new reality. She is somehow guided to her new life. One step closer to Oliver.

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Can you believe 15 more prompts to go... The month is flying by!

#fictober19 #olicity #felicity smoak #oliver queen #quantum leap #arrow

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