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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 3 years

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Croatia brings no men in a hamster wheel to Rotterdam 2021

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Now could this be the teddy bear uprising invasion Muse has warned us about 12 years ago?

And LITERALLY, these review series make me feel like Croatia is openly taunting me - I watch the days go, I’m losing track of time, and when another day comes, I’m screaming “oh no I forgot to publish a review sooner than wanted!!”. Guess I’m for one glad there’s a time related song this year, hum?

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Repping the Adriatic coast nation that got all the sea instead of Bosnia & Herzegovina is some 22 year old Albina Grčić, who first popped up on X Factor Adria back when that was a thing, and got lumped into a girlgroup in later stages, but to that she said “hvala ne” and moved on with her life, getting eliminated just like that. Queen <3 She did get her second chance to compete as a soloist and make a more prominent mark on her career when she ended up on The Voice in Croatia. She did well, placing third overall in the season, but somehow, during the duel stage, her coach initially favoured her fellow Dora 2021 contestant Filip Rudan:

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Her Voice success landed her a record deal with the Croatian division of Universal Music, she released a debut single, sometime later ended up on Dora, and here she is now, on Eurovision.

“Tick-Tock” is the song, a standard upbeat pop song, and one of the ones that talks about a girl leaving a terrible relationship and being so well over it that she “found [her]self and [she’s] finally free”, and the “tick-tock” here is used to represent the time passing by, not the sound of her heart, unlike a fellow ESC entry of a similar title. The tune (or its lyrics only) is co-authored by some dude you might’ve heard of from France’s 2018 preselection Destination Eurovision, and that is Max Cinnamon - some half-English guy with a half English song about love (”Ailleurs”) that did moderately averagely in the final... I don’t even know if his influence shows, I just love how 2021 has sort of become revenge of the NF flops but they’re writing other entries instead (Suzi P, “Adrenalina”).

REVIEW

I often don’t really fully vibe with female bops in Eurovision as much as I want to, like, for the most part they’re overhyped, and I let the “yass queeeeen” audience gorge on the everything their favourite bops give them. But this year there are plenty of great ones to choose from, as I think that it’s safe to say that most, if not all, are tucked in somewhere inside my top 20, top 25 at the very minimum. Croatia managed to even do the impossible and land into my top 10.

Why?

Well, the answer is that the song is just so damn good.

I mean, what’s NOT to like about it? It’s a catchy and upbeat song that incorporates xylophones (or whatever is it that sounds like them), guitars and synths; has a good bassline in the chorus; and it’s just... a very good composition overall, like, all the instruments in it are just in their right place and uplift the song massively. I also like Albina’s performance on it, both live and studio, it clearly shows that she’s a very good singer (also shown on her cover of the scandalous Oscar award snubbery “Husavik”). Sounds like a song a common pop loving Eurofan could gear themselves towards. Besides, it also has possibly my favourite pre-chorus section of the 2021 year? Oh wait, there’s also Switzerland, scratch that. “Tick-Tock” has one of my favourite pre-chorus sections of 2021. It builds up so well instrumentally and the way Albina sings it is even better. I obviously like to believe Albina heard those voices from far away that helped her to escape, has found herself, and she’s finally free from her “partner’s” bad lovin’ and restraint. Yas queen go be free you didn’t deserve his tomfoolery anyway! 👏 (Also I admire a section that’s not quite the pre-chorus but is still before the 1st chorus, the one that goes “If you pull me down then I'll come around” - literally just a lot of the parts of the song are full of nice vocal performance and I don’t regret ranking this in my top 10 not a second.)

If it has any drawbacks, it’s just that it gets a tad too repetitive after the halfway mark... like, the pre-chorus before the second chorus is the one to be repeated once again, and no new verse, nothing - but it does launch itself into something extraordinary, and that is a chorus in Croatian, which I assume she would perform in Eurovision because there’s no Eurovision version on the song promo bundle, I suppose. Comparatively the Croatian chorus is not as complex in lyrics as the English language one, and flows slightly differently too. But the song still has a long chorus by the end, and song with too many choruses is never a good sign for those that look for a song that’s constructed well, but I guess it’s a good factor for those that value the song’s catchiness. I guess that’s what one of the two Eurovision 2005 hosts valued the most when writing the Ukrainian 2006 entry “Show Me Your Love”, which if you ask me, is straight up 75% chorus, lol.

So yeah my verdict is that almost everything about this song, I like. I’m just a little devastated that in a usually very easily gorged on category of female bops, this just tends to lag behind in love, like a fellow song I really like this year, Israel. Instead people tend to prioritize Cyprus (which I get because they’ve established themselves as a girlbanger nation since Fuego swept Eurovision) and... probably even Azerbaijan? (which I might also get because Eurovision rarely has this thing called an ethnobop anymore, and it has more ethno than “Cleopatra” did, but still unnecessarily underwhelming lol.) Well then, in a year of female bangers, I would just like Croatia to not be swept under the rug come semis I guess. Yeah “Tick-Tock” may not sound like it brings something totally never seen before in a Eurovision environment (foreign language lyrics, themes about a break up, hell even her dancers looked like they were wearing the same hats as Tamta’s dancers), but you got to have a lot in you to sell a worn out idea to the new heights, and Albina does exactly that in my eyes.

Approval factor: Yeah! There is a lot of it in here for me. Follow-up factor: A great follow-up, not so great in regards to panini but musically it’s just going up and up from what we had in the past few years. I’ve actually not minded “The Dream” for the most part but I knew it was a chanceless plodding ballad and Roko harboured heaps of wasted potential working with Jacques Houdek and having wings as part of his performance, uff. *_* And then there’s “Divlji vjetre” which I also like a lot - a much better male ballad winner choice! If the Dora re-up winners keep being decent imo just like this, I have a feeling I will follow it a lot more often than I did just this one time this year. I am just saying that panini-wise, it was a sucky move from HRT for not allowing their last year’s winner promote his new song with Tijana (from Serbia 2017) on the Dora night, so we sadly only heard a pre-recorded opening version of “Divlji vjetre” to start off with :( Otherwise I think it’s not Dora’s fault in itself that Damir himself chose not to even submit an entry this year because he hadn’t found a good one - much like with Diodato for Sanremo (he was NOT rejected, if you think he still was, shush). But aside that, musically, it just keeps going up for me. Well done Croatia, for you’ve used to be a Eurovision country I don’t necessarily care about, that you brought two pretty damn good entries in a row. Qualification factor: I can absolutely trust in Albina bringing in a little bit of her charisma and well-likedness, and on top of that, a great vocal performance, in Rotterdam. Don’t ask me why, I just do. She doesn’t really perform her song live on pre-parties as much as I’d like to hope she would, but you heard girlie on the national selection, she didn’t win for nothing. Yeah yeah there might as well be female uptempo songs hungrier for the last spot, but I’d like to think Albina is one of the ones ready to devour than to be devoured. Go girl! Take us all dancing!

NF CORNER

To be honest with you, “Tick-Tock” winning Dora caught me by surprise. Ever since its re-up, the last two editions were kind of won by male ballads, and maaaaybe the dancey females were doing moderately well enough for themselves, but not overall? But look, juries were very keen on Albina, probably because she can SANG and she creates one hell of a fancy presence on her performance. And somehow she ended up snatching a win out of the hands of 5G conspiracy theorist 2016 representative Nina Kraljić, who was at first too drunk to care, but too unexpectedly sober to yell all over the soc. media how she was robbed and how the contest was rigged against her with her being on first and all that. Which is a shame that she is one of THOSE people, because her NF entry “Rijeka” is kinda nice? We did have the Balkan-esque ballads coming from Croatia in recent memory, but we haven’t had a truly proudly folksy one at that from Croatia for a long while, if not ever. Nina could’ve very well brought that to Rotterdam (and another mismatched wardrobe choice oops). But instead she was the one screaming “oh no, oh no, oh no”.

Actually I regarded Nina as one of my faves pre-show, and Albina was on her way, though she didn’t really cement the personal fav status until after all performances, thus making Nina and Albina switch spots for me. But truly, the one song that was my top favourite, iiiiiiiiiiis

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GIMME AN OCEAN! OF LOVE!

2021 made me realize that damn, maybe anything that’s funky is my favourite music genre afterall. Up until then I vibed with entries like “Tonight Again” and “What’s the Pressure?” that had this sort of energetic flair and very rhythmic kinda sound to it, but 2021 just simply cemented it to me that my music world has probably been about nice and smooth and funky all along. I owe so much gratitude to ToMa first and foremost along the lines of more to have come in this year’s lineups - I just can’t not want to dance to “Ocean of Love”, and ToMa is quite alright at selling it live as well. There are small gripes with some instrument usages but that doesn’t detract from the fact that I love love LOVE funky guitar tunes.

Aside from that, I can give shout outs to Beta Sudar, whose song not only was underrated, but also had an underrated meme format throughout its performance:

My other props go to Bernarda, who not only competed in a national selection singing a song about seeing “Colors” while blind (and ironically there was a song called “Blind” in that same NF sung by a well-seeing guy!!), but also for finally putting this every country’s reject to rest. Seriously. That particular song was passed on to everyone in need of a competitive Eurovision bop, from Poli Genova to Helena Paparizou as of recently. Oh well, at least the song died a honourable death - well performed slice of good typical Eurovision pop (maybe even overperformed a little towards the end), that got a good rank with the regional juries, but somewhat murdered in televote, fellow Boris Milanov composition “Chameleon” style.

This one Mia Negovetić chick was promising too! Her song was written by the Debs and you might be tired of them trying to continue infiltrating Eurovision at this point, but a lot of their Eurovision songs are usually something I enjoy, “She’s Like a Dream” is no exception. Nothing but 3 minutes of pastel-dressed Croatian Ariana Grande doing what she does best <3

Oh and also some dudes tried to play chess on stage too I guess. But their song is not worth looking into, because one of the acts on it is apparently also a conspiracist, and maybe because oft this their entry is aptly titled “Sing, for the freedom has arrived!” lol I wonder what exactly is the kind of freedom you’re thinking of my guy

Was this the “better mood game” Laura was warning everyone about? Beats me

NF CORNER (NON-COMPETITIVE)

• It’s still hilarious to me as to how one of the acts this year, Brigita Vuco, was planning to bring in backing dancers, only for them to show a fake COVID test or something and outright BARRED from coming with her on stage. <3 Whatever she intended to do with them dancers, I have absolutely no idea, but at least she committed to her song being about drunken nights visually by having all these blurry shots

• Nina Kraljić’s greenroom shenanigans, from the “1-2-3, 1-2-3, drink” to numb the sadness over some results (and the 8 she got from the region Rijeka for the song “Rijeka” lmao), to whatever she saw on the phone that made her smile or go neutral

• Greenroom reactions in general. I swear, this year had cameramen in every single corner everywhere just to make sure something covers up for a human audience instead of severals of Zoom screens permitted to act as an audience. Random people in greenrooms were doing some sort of emotions after random acts, and also randomly they ended up pointing a camera towards an act that lost, but the act didn’t treat losing as if it were such a big deal <3

• All the other memes the Croatian Twitter might’ve noticed me for:

seriously Bernarda was locked in a bluelight mathematical dice contraption. how fucking cool is that

ANY LAST WORDS?

I just fucking hope that Albina shatters any doubts that people have had about her song come rehearsals, and somehow Croatia AND Israel slip through, because never too many female bangers I appreciate in the final, if they all are the bangers I appreciate, lol.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #rotterdam 2021 reviews #croatia #Albina Grčić #albina #tick-tock

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

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All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Four | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 3,371

Chapter 4/24

Warnings: Very brief, yet strong language

AN: Let me just say that I am profoundly grateful for the love this series is getting! I am enjoying your comments and theories and am so flattered by your praise. I didn’t get a chance to respond to every comment like I usually do - my car accident took care of that. I’ve had a hard time focusing and coping after that traumatic day so I hope everything in this chapter is in order. Love you all so dearly. Come scream at me when you’re done. 💖

Chapter Three

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

Exiting the elevator the next morning you fumble through your handbag, trying to find the lipstick you didn’t have time to put on before you left.

Of all mornings for the subway to not be working it had to be today. I’m so late, I’m gonna have to bust my tail before Anderson notices.

“Good morning, Mrs. Flannery,” you say absentmindedly as you approach her desk.

“You’re late. I have-”

“I know, it’s been a hell of a-- excuse me, it’s been a heck of a morning,” you interrupt, head still down, lipstick nowhere to be found.

“Miss-”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” You rush past her as your mental to-do list only grows longer.

“Ahem.”

There was no denying that was aimed toward you. You come to a halt, slowly turning back to the daunting woman. Peering over her glasses, one hand perched on her hip while the other was stretched out to you, grasping a piece of paper.

“This was left for you yesterday afternoon after you had completed your shift.” You timidly reach for the slip, when Flannery pulls it back at the last moment. “I feel the need to remind you that this is a place of business. Not romance, not courtship, not frivolity. I meant what I said on your first day - beaus are not allowed in this office. This is the only time I will extend grace. Understood?”

Mystified you take the paper, nodding your understanding.

What the hell is she talking about?

Suzy sidles beside you on the walk to your desk before she whisper-shouts, “The note was for her!”

Immediately, six other women leap from their desks and huddle around you talking a mile a minute.

“We were here when he dropped it off!”

“He was so cute!”

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen him in the movies?”

“Maybe he’s a war-hero?”

“He looked familiar,” Connie muses.

“Who cares! What does it say?” Suzy urges as she pokes your arm.

The huddle falls silent as you open the neatly folded note.

The gaggle of girls around you squeal for a moment before Flannery’s harsh shhhh quiets everyone to whispers.

“How sweet.”

“He’s one of the window washers?!”

“Wait, we have window washers here?”

“I still feel like I know him from somewhere else. . .”

“Well, how do you feel?” Suzy draws the focus back to you.

You bite your lip. “Umm. . . it makes me feel. . . pretty great.”

“Jeeze, for you that may as well be equal to jumping up and down!” One nudges you gently with her elbow. “What are you gonna do?”

“Do? I- I’m not going to do anything. I got a nice note and I appreciate it,” you state, hoping it would bring an end to all the attention surrounding you. It didn’t.

“Oh come on!”

“Have you been flirting? You need to be more tantalizing!”

“You have to find him right now!”

“Show us your moves, we can help!”

Waving your arms for quiet you declare, “I’m already late and if I don’t get to work, I’ll be canned before I get the chance to see him again. Is that what you want?”

Everyone begrudgingly trudges across the office while Suzy lags behind. With a knowing grin she says, “Lemme know if you wanna talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile like that.”

As she leaves you plop down into your desk chair, rereading the note. It’s then that you realize just how much you’ve been smiling the last few minutes and just how fast your heart was beating.

Yeah, I could tell you enjoyed the new look. Why am I blushing all over again?

He came up here to try to talk to me. To actually see me. In person. He faced the wrath of Flannery to get up here and leave this.

He can’t wait to see me? Does he look forward to seeing me as much as I look forward to seeing him? Of course he couldn’t be bothered to sign his actual name. What a tease.

It takes a shout from Anderson’s office to bring you back to reality. Propping the note against your typewriter you read it one more time before grabbing your pencil and notepad.

For the rest of the day you anxiously check the window every few minutes, waiting for the author of your note. Every moment you feel self-conscious, not sure what you should do when he stops on your floor. Is he expecting more to come from this? Do you need to be a little more flirtatious, like some of the girls had mentioned? Should you be making more of an effort? Is that something you even wanted?

But then you see him and the uncertainty fades away. The work day is almost over before he descends to the sixth floor. You make eye contact, check your watch, and tap its face twice. You’re late.

He nods while wiping his brow. His head lolls to the side, eyes closed, tongue sticking out in a comical manner. Slept in.

Shaking your head and tutting softly, you raise an eyebrow.

Both his hands shoot up in a I know, I know. Won’t happen again.

With a short nod, you go back to filing and leave Window Washer to his work.

By the time you turn around, you expect him to be gone. To your pleasant surprise, he seems to be waiting for you. He beckons you to the window. When you get close enough, you notice something written in the suds at the very bottom of the pane. The word doesn’t make sense to you, so you scrunch your eyebrows at him.

He taps himself on the chest several times and mouths “my name”. You look again and it finally clicks. B-U-C-K-Y. You nod your understanding and smile. It isn’t until he points at you that you realize he’s waiting for your name. You press your finger to the glass, waiting for him to mirror your touch. You trace your name on your side, allowing him to spell it on his side. He reads it and grins wide. Nice to meet ya, he mouths.

“Mary! Get in here, take notes.” You turn from the voice, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Hooking a thumb toward your boss’ office, you sigh deeply. Gotta go.

Bucky held two fingers to his brow and gave you a half-hearted salute. Good luck in there.

------

You are dutifully typing a letter when a pair of shiny Oxford heels appear in your peripheral vision next to your desk. “You need to go ask that boy on a date.”

Heaving a sigh, you keep your eyes on the task in front of you. “Didn’t we have this discussion yesterday, Suze?”

“Yeah, and you still haven’t wised-up.” Papers rustle on your desk as Suzy props a hip against it.

“On the contrary, I think I’m exercising a lot of wisdom.”

She scoffs, finally drawing your attention away from your paperwork.

“Someone’s a scaredy cat.”

“Suzy.” You fix her with a pointed look.

Pretending to have a sudden interest in her cuticles she mutters, “It’s the only possible explanation.”

“How do we know that note was an invitation? What if he was just saying hi? What if he-”

“Mhmm. Those are the thoughts of someone who is unafraid.”

“How do we even know if he’d want to go on a date with me?” You lean back in your chair, tired of this conversation.

The redhead’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “I’m sorry - ‘You looked beautiful’? ‘Can’t wait to see you’? Sorry, doll, but people don’t say that to just anyone. I adore you, but I can definitely wait to see you if it means coming in to work.” She dodges the playful kick you aim in her direction. “All I’m saying is that you weren’t here when he left that note - I was. He was all kinds of antsy and blushing.”

“He works outside, maybe he had a sunburn,” you deadpan.

“You were just talking about how you barely know anyone in the city and you need to meet new people. He’s new people!”

“But I don’t even know if I want a romantic relationship right now.” “Then you’ll tell him that after your first date if you still feel that way. But why shut it down now when it doesn’t even exist yet? Maybe he’s lonely too-” Suzy’s eyes dart behind you and her posture changes. She leans in toward you, feigning interest in the letter you’d abandoned. “Oh yes, those are the addresses I was looking for. Don’t know how they got on your desk. And you needed something from me right?”

You sit stunned by this sudden change of behavior until you see Flannery approaching your desk.

“Uhh-yes. I was wondering what the protocol would be for when. . .” you both watch as the office manager floats into the filing room and shuts the door behind her. You and Suzy relax back into your previous positions. “I never said lonely,” you point out, shoving your defensive instincts down.

Suzy rolls her eyes and with a wave of her manicured hand says “Fine, fine, you’re being adventurous. Does that make you feel better?”

“No.”

“Answer me one last question, Newbie, and I’ll leave you alone.” Raising a brow, you wait for the question. “What’ve you got to lose?”

You weren’t able to answer then, and you still don’t have an answer now.

Under Suzy’s watchful eye, the second your watch reads 12 o’clock you leave your desk and hustle down the stairs, hoping the physical activity would work out some of the anxiety in your chest. It doesn’t.

Turning the corner toward the service entrance you see the window washers gathered outside in a loose group, taking their lunch break. Your heart begins to beat faster when you imagine actually holding a conversation with Bucky. What in the world were you going to say to him?

I really should’ve thought this through a little more.

But then your feet were taking you toward the group and it was too late to turn back now. The clicking of your shoes on pavement draws the attention of each man whose heads simultaneously swing to watch you. You stop a few feet away from them, losing your words.

“Can we help you, miss?” The apparent leader of the window washing crew steps forward. He’s much younger than Bucky, scrawny and tan. He’d be lucky to be 18.

“Um. . .” you scan the faces, not finding the one you’re looking for. “Is Bucky around?”

The leader’s eyes narrow, giving you a too-thorough once-over. “Whaddya want with him? If it has to do with windows, I’m in charge here. Name’s Harrison. Maybe I can help you out.”

You control the urge to fidget under his scrutiny, steeling yourself to squarely match his gaze. “No, there’s something else I need to discuss with him.”

“He had to skip out early today. Something about a family emergency.”

“Oh. I see.” You think for a moment, not enjoying the pack of men watching you like vultures. “Would you let him know I stopped by?” You turn on your heel when Harrison speaks again.

“What’s your name, baby-doll?”

Shutting your eyes you remind yourself to watch your temper. Thinking better of giving your name, you spare a glance over your shoulder. Coldly you reply, “Tell him ‘Sixth Floor’. He’ll know.”

More questions are shouted at you but you keep walking, very familiar with the rakish tone in which they were spoken. You didn’t have time for drooling boys. For a moment you worry that Bucky is cut from the same cloth as them. But something deep in you urges that he’s different.

Unbeknownst to you, when Bucky arrives at work the next day Harrison actually does mention your visit.

“Barnes, some broad came lookin’ for ya at lunchtime yesterday.”

Bucky doesn’t spare a look from his kit he was preparing for the day. “Yeah? What for?”

“She wouldn’t tell us. Seemed kinda stuck-up and snooty. Like she was better than us or something.”

Hitching his kit over his shoulder to head to the roof, Bucky smooths back a stray strand of hair. “I hate to break it to ya, but if she was acting like that I’m sure you deserved it.” As the kid who was technically his supervisor opens his mouth to protest Bucky interjects, “Did she say anything else?”

Unamused, Harrison practically pouts. “She just said ‘sixth floor’ and said you’d get it. Then she left.”

Bucky stills immediately at the mention of you. “Really? She said that?”

“Yup. Was a bombshell too, real date-bait if you catch my drift.”

Eyes closing, Bucky imagines strangling the teenager in front of him rather than actually carrying out the action. “Shut your trap.”

“Wish she’d stop by again, wouldn’t mind an evening of necking with her.” He conspiratorially winks, mistakenly thinking he would go along with the sentiment.

Squaring up with Harrison, Bucky leans in dangerously close and says lowly, “You’d better watch that mouth, kid.”

“What’s the big deal? She’s not your girl or anything is she?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky insists, eyes practically boring through the terrified kid in front of him. “She’s not yours, so don’t be a creep. Girls don’t like creeps, if you haven’t caught onto that yet. And I don’t either.” He leans back, smirking with satisfaction at the deer-in-the-headlights look he was getting. Resting his brush on his shoulder Bucky turns to begin his day.

“Keep your paws off me, Barnes!” Harrison shouts to Bucky’s back.

“I didn’t touch you, Harrison. Maybe you would’ve noticed if you weren’t always on skirt patrol,” Bucky tosses over his shoulder as he begins to climb the fire escape.

As Bucky climbs higher his thoughts turn to you. You’d been looking for him. You’d obviously shut down Harrison and the rest of the boys. Anyone that sassed that kid was a hero in his book.

Maybe his note hadn’t been a total disaster after all. Once he’d gotten into bed that night, he fretted over that dumb piece of paper for hours. He thought of a million things he could’ve said besides the three hastily scribbled lines. A million kinder, wittier, more fitting words for you. You’d been nice enough the next day, playful even. And he’d finally gotten your name - a sweet, suitable name that rolled around in his head for hours. But he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to do more.

He found himself even more excited to get to the sixth floor today, to see you, to have a little hope, to share in a smile. Though that’s not exactly what happens.

------

“Get in here, NOW!”

Anderson’s tone instantly drowns your insides with dread.

You rush to his door, quietly opening it. Anderson’s heels are crossed, kicked up to rest on the edge of his desk. His eyes bore into you, disdain obvious.

“Sir?” you make out much smoother than you feel.

“Do you know what this is?” he flicks a letter across his desk toward you. Quietly picking it up, you silently read its contents.

“The steel mill is turning down our partnership offer? Because they never received paperwork? Sir, I definitely-”

“Read the letterhead,” he bites out. “And then read what you sent out. What do you notice, Doris?” Another letter is flicked in your direction. You bite back a retort about your name.

Holding the letters side-by-side, a pit drops in your stomach. “I copied the address incorrectly.”

Anderson gives you a tight nod, jaw clenched. The room is claustrophobic in silence.

“Sir, I-”

“You cost us thousands of dollars with this idiotic move, because you didn’t proofread your work enough? Because you can’t copy a damn number over?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I missed-”

“You missed it because you were careless!” Anderson bangs a fist to his desk, causing you to jump a fraction. He stands up abruptly, stalking over to you. “This job isn’t a fucking joke. You were given a chance because you kicked up a fuss about being let go when our boys came back from war. You want this job? Act like it!” With every word Anderson steps in your direction causing you to match with a step backward. You are in his office’s threshold when he leans in and whispers menacingly, “If you can’t get a damn letter right then you shouldn’t even be here in the first place, Marge. Make sure it doesn’t happen again or you’re gone. Now get out of my office and fix your screw-up!” The door slams in your face.

Hands shaking, you make your way to your desk. Willing the tears not to fall you take a few deep breaths. Elbows rest on the surface, head in your hands, focusing on not falling apart in the middle of the busy office.

You’re tougher than this. A man raising his voice at you is nothing new. You are fine, you made a mistake. Don’t you dare lose your composure, it’ll only make you seem weak.

A tapping on the window directly next to your desk startles you. Bucky is there, looking more concerned than ever. He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed together. What’s wrong?

The tears spill out at the kindness reflected in his own. You search desperately for a handkerchief before turning back to the window. Dabbing at your wet cheeks furiously, you gesture to Anderson’s office. You blink against the hankie, hoping to catch the makeup before it runs down your entire face. Pointing to yourself you mouth “my fault”. The tears don’t stop for several minutes, but everytime you look up Bucky is sitting at the window, watching you sorrowfully.

Eventually you dry up, puffy eyes meeting Bucky’s. “I’m fine,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the handkerchief in your lap that you’ve been twisting into knots.

More tapping draws your attention back to Bucky, who promptly flips off Anderson’s closed door. You manage to stutter a laugh out in between your sniffles, feeling a little lighter already.

With an admonishing shake of your head that you don’t mean, you return his smile. Thanks.

You could be imagining it, but Bucky seems hesitant to move on to the next floor. Giving him what you hope is a reassuring thumbs-up you mouth, “I’m okay.”

Looking thoroughly unconvinced he watches you for a few seconds before nodding slowly. He drops out of your sight, though you still stare out the window where he had been.

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

One day passes where you don’t see Bucky at all.

Two days pass. No Bucky.

Three days pass. Zero handsome window washers.

When the end of your day comes and it hits you that he hasn’t made his usual stop you try to ignore the disappointment that prickles your heart.

It takes a while before it dawns on you that since you had started your job Bucky had washed every single window on this side of the building. Which meant he would move onto another side or possibly an entirely different building.

On your walk into work Friday morning, you notice that the window washing crew’s tools are absent from the sidewalk. An unfamiliar emotion has you biting your lip as you approach your desk.

I guess that’s that. We kept missing each other and time just. . .ran out. It’s not a big deal. . . If it’s not a big deal then why am I so sad?

Turning your gaze to the window immediately to your left, you notice a piece of paper in the middle of the pane. You stare for a moment, fairly certain that it hadn’t been there when you left work last night. With a purposeful step you go to the window, a sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind. You find a note written in a familiar hand taped to the outside of the window, the writing facing you so you could read it clear as day.

Chapter Five

Tags:

@abovethesmokestacks @ursulaismymiddlename @connorshero @barnesrogersvstheworld @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @katiemarks1942 @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @hiddles-rose @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @handfulof-roses @bloatedandlonly @barnestruck @itsbuckysworld @captainsbuck @itsbuckysworld @writemarvelousthings @havanaangel @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfiction @fangirlfictionmain @creideamhgradochas

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #All We've Got is Time #Chapter Four #beka writes

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eseult · 5 years

Text

hi, lovelies! my name’s sam, i’m 24, i live in the est, and this is my relatively new sideblog for writing/roleplaying, and i’m currently looking for new 1x1 & mumu partners! to be completely honest with you, i prefer mumus (no matter the size) over 1x1s, but also don’t mind 1x1s. plus, i think it’s good to sometimes begin with a 1x1 and then add more characters to the story. so, yes! under the cut, you’ll find more information about what i’m looking for/my guidelines/fcs i love/ideas i have/etc! if you’re interested in roleplaying with me, please dm me or like this post so that i know to contact you! thank you! <3

ABOUT ME

ok, so. the basics: sam, 24, est, they/them. i’m french-canadian, so english isn’t my first language, and though i’ve been somewhat fluent at it for eight or so years, i find roleplaying a useful way to keep it strong. i’m forever changing universities and programs, and am now finally starting to study history, aka my favourite school subject of all time. roleplaying wise, i can either reply at the speed of light, or take a while, but i’ll always keep in touch and keep you up to date. plus, i’ll send headcanons and pics that remind me of our characters QUITE often. also, please don’t be put off by the number of characters in my muses tab; only 6 (maybe 7) of them are active at the moment!

GUIDELINES

you must be over 18! please please please do not like about your age.

you must be patient. and by that, i don’t mean that you can’t remind me that i owe replies! just please don’t make vague posts about me not replying fast enough egoijerigjeriojgerij. i’ve been through that once because i hadn’t replied to a huge (and i mean HUGE) para within five days, and it was.......... not fun.

you must be kind. that goes without saying, but still. i’m a sensitive soul tm, and i don’t need unnecessary negativity in my life. also, please respect my triggers. which i’ll tell you about after we’ve talked a lil bit. <3

you must have discord or be willing to download it. that’s where it’s easiest for me to communicate, and i’d be willing to do some threads on there if you want, though i prefer doing so on sideblogs/the dash.

NO INCEST/PEDOPHILIA/ABUSE/SEXUAL ABUSE/SLAVERY/ETC PLOTS. i wish i didn’t have to specify that, but alas!

I’D LOVE MUMUS........

inspired by dragon age (i’ve only played inquisition, but i’ve seen people play the first game as well and i can read the wiki so!!!!! high fantasy pls!!!!!)

inspired by that 70s show (doesn’t need to be set in the 70s. basically, i’d love a group of friends stuck in a small town. and we can even play charas outside of the friend group!)

inspired by pjo (i personally wouldn’t play canon characters, because i don’t feel confident enough to do so, but! you’re totally welcome to play canons!)

inspired by the o.c./gossip girl (basically, rich kids and angst. but i’d prefer to play adults as opposed to teenagers.)

inspired by greek mythology (gods and heroes and various characters from greek mythology, but in our world! whether they’re re-incarnations of them or just inspired by them is totally up to us!)

inspired by fairy tales (i’m in a huge fairy tales mood right now, and i’d love a roleplay inspired by them! either in a fantasy world, or in our world à la sisters grimm, ouat, fables, etc.)

inspired by f.r.i.e.n.d.s./how i met your mother (with non-shitty characters and a better overall plot.)

inspired by the grishaverse, by leigh bardugo (just!!!!!! that universe would be so fun to play with and i just!!!! would love to create charas in it. i’m not sure i’d be down to play canon characters, though, because of the pressure)

inspired by the diviners, by libba bray (horror! but light - for most. terrifying for me ergoijeriojgerig. a group of people with abilities, mysteries, murDer!!!!!! shenanigans!!!!!!)

about a post-apocalyptic world (honestly i’m not the most well versed in that but !!!!! i’d be so so so so so eager to try it out and learn more about it!)

about a world where supernatural beings exist (vampires, werewolves, ghosts, witches, demons, wendigos, banshees, etc! we can even do a true blood and make it so that everyone knows they exist :o or we can do twilight-like in which it’s a huge secret. i’m up for both + even more ideas you might have!)

about a small town plagued with a mystery (i’d love for this to be dark but not TOO dark, à la pretty little liars. we can play a variety of characters and it just sounds!!!!!!! like so much fun!!!!!!!)

about a place where fairy tale characters co-exist (not necessarily ouat or sisters grimm or fables, but can TOTALLY be similar to those because they’re all concept(s) i adore!!!!!! and id love for us to go for less popular fairy tales too bc FUN and just!!!!! i’m on a big fairy tales kick right now so eoigreroigjeroijger)

about a high fantasy world (honestly, this might be a bit similar to the dragon age idea, except we’d build our world off various things and have probably more freedom, but less structure, within it)

i’m sure i’m forgetting things right now, so please be aware of the fact that i am 100% open to more ideas than those listed here!

FACECLAIMS I’D LOVE TO USE

abigail cowen

adria arjona

aisha dee

alex fitzalan

alisha boe

amanda seyfried

amy adams

ariela barer

aslihan malbora

bae suzy

bahar sahin

bethany joy lenz

blanca padilla

brenton thwaites

brittany o’grady

charles michael davis

cierra ramirez

claudia doumit

courtney eaton

danielle campbell

deborah ann woll

deepika padukone

demet ozdemir

diana silvers

emilija baranac

ester expósito

florence pugh

freya mavor

freya tingley

gemma chan

goo hara

gugu mbatha-raw

haley lu richardson

hande ercel

jessica henwick

jessica sula

joe keery

jordan fisher

justice smith

kiana madeira

kristin kreuk

kristine froseth

kylie bunbury

lalisa manoban

lana condor

laura harrier

lee jong-suk

lee se-young

liana liberato

lily collins

madelaine petsch

maia mitchell

margaret qualley

medalion rahimi

melissa barrera

merritt patterson

michael provost

milena tscharntke

molly gordon

morena baccarin

nathalie kelley

nico tortorella

park sooyoung

paulina singer

pepi sonuga

phoebe tonkin

quintessa swindell

reina hardesty

remy hii

richard harmon

rome flynn

ryan destiny

samantha logan

scarlett byrne

seo kang joon

simay barlas

sydney sweeney

taylor russell

tiera skovbye

tiya sircar

tyler posey

vanessa morgan

vella lovell

victoria justice

virginia gardner

woo dohwan

yaya urassaya

zoey deutch

#1x1 #1x1 rp #mumu #mumu rp #rp #?????? i havent been in the tags in so long hELP

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theantthatwrites · 6 years

Text

Newton’s Cradle (short story)

Note: I’m new to tumblr so I’m not exactly sure how to format correctly. Specifically, the paragraphs turn into separated blocks, and all italicization disappears. I apologize ahead of time for any confusion this may cause.

Clack, clack, clack, clack.

The silver spheres of the Newton’s Cradle on my desk clashed in a soothing rhythm. On the television in the corner of my office, CIN News recounted the important events happening in the world.

“The death toll continues to rise as more and more people fall victim to the devastating disease popularly known as ‘Copper Lung.’ Medical professionals and scientists continue to search for the, as of yet, unknown cure for the sickness. Hundreds of thousands of deaths have already been reported across the country.”

I sat there listening in annoyance as the reporter droned on. The news was never the place to go for a happy story, but now it was getting out of hand. Every hour of every day, it seemed the only thing being talked about was Copper Lung. Ever since it first appeared within that Detroit construction worker six months ago, cases of it began to spring up like weeds. A mother here, a child there. CEO, homeless, student, the disease almost didn’t care who you were or where you came from. Almost. There was an exception; one that nobody overlooked.

The news went to commercial break and a political advertisement played. T’rella Qouretz was running for mayor. She seemed like every politician to me, making empty promises to improve everyone’s way of life, while almost assuredly changing nothing if she were to get elected. The only difference being she was a rylekian, an alien species so considerately known to the wide world of bigots as “space hobos.” She didn’t try to hide it either, not that she could have. Anyone could see her magenta colored skin, pointed ears, short stature, and green, cat-like eyes from a mile away.

She’s fighting an uphill battle, I thought.

The rylekians have had a rough go at it ever since landing on our planet a hundred years ago, and it hasn’t gotten much better. They’re treated with hatred and distrust, often forced to live in slums. Many end up beaten, or face down in a gutter due to interactions with humans. They’re spit on, ridiculed, and discriminated against. I don’t know how bad life was like on their home planet for them to flee, but there’s no way it could have been as terrible as it is for them here.

My sister treated them differently, though. She would often cry whenever she heard the latest horror story happening to the rylekians. She cared for the aliens and would often volunteer at shelters that assisted them. To her, they were the same as any of us.

I looked at the clock on my computer. 6:50 PM.

Ten more minutes and I can go home, I mused in anticipation.

It’s been a slow week. Nobody’s ever said private investigating was always steady work, but I could typically get at least a few cases every week. I didn’t let it get to me, though. I needed a vacation. I’ve been known to overwork myself from time to time.

I drummed my fingers on my desk, watching the spheres of my Newton’s Cradle rock back and forth. My sister gave it to me as a gift when I left the police force and decided to start my own investigation service, away from the bureaucracy of the department. She said every office needs one. At first I thought it was stupid, but now I’ve grown to like the silly desk toy. I made sure to let her know of my change of heart before it was too late.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound came from the door. “Mr. Reese,” cried the voice of my secretary, Suzie, from the other side. “A potential client is here to see you.”

I glanced at the clock once again. It mockingly showed 6:59. I sighed and requested Suzie send the person in. I pondered if I should tell Suzie to no longer allow new clients to visit past quarter of seven.

The door squeaked open on its hinges, revealing Suzie with her long, curly blonde hair. “Right this way, ma'am,” she called to an unseen woman. A figure wearing a long, hooded black coat cautiously walked in. The person was short, shorter than your average person. Beneath the figure’s hood, I glimpsed magenta skin.

“Thank you, Suzie. You may go home, I’ll lock up when I’m done here.”

The secretary saluted me, a motion she often made, seemingly as a joke. While not particularly funny, it was kinda cute seeing the sweet girl make such an absurdly out of place gesture. She softly closed the door to my office, causing a slight click.

The rylekian lowered her hood once Suzie had left. I was taken slightly aback.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who’d take such precautions to hide their features,” I remarked. “You seem quite proud of them on T.V., Ms. Qouretz.”

“Pride shouldn’t take precedence over safety,” the politician so firmly informed me. “When I’m campaigning I have protection. Security is there in case anyone tries to harm me. In private matters such as these, however…” she trailed. “It’s not exactly the wisest decision for a rylekian to wander alone in areas densely populated by humans. A rylekian woman even less so.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic. It’s gotten so bad that if a rylekian shows up dead in a human neighborhood, the rylekian is the one blamed for being where they shouldn’t have been.

“So what is it you need, Ms. Qouretz,” I inquired as I turned off the television. “It must be something important for you to so blatantly risk your well-being.”

T’rella nodded gravely. Her shoulder length, pink-violet hair shook slightly with the effort.

“How good are you at finding missing people, Mr. Reese,” she asked. I shrugged. “I’ve yet to fail whenever I’m asked to look for someone. Granted, they’re not always alive, but I find them. Why, who’re you looking for?”

The politician looked at her feet while rubbing the back of her neck, obviously trying to find the right words. “I doubt you know this,” she said suddenly after a long pause, “but many of my people have gone missing in this city. Most of them lived in the slum known as Idleberg. Dozens have disappeared without a trace. The news doesn’t report on it due to it being a crime against rylekians, which doesn’t rouse the interest of human viewers.”

T’rella Qouretz’s fists clenched. “Others, including myself, have brought up the disappearances to the authorities, but they only respond with the obligatory, ‘We’ll look into it when we can,’ the liars.” She took on a very solemn expression. “I swear if I’m elected, things will be different. My people will be equals in Chicago.”

I couldn’t help but admire the woman’s determination. I was shocked to realize that she actually wanted to change things for the better, and wasn’t just saying things she believed the public wanted to hear, like other politicians do. My sister would have liked her.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing that the woman’s hopes will be crushed, that she’ll never get elected. Even if every rylekian in Chicago, along with whatever few humans were sympathetic to their plight, voted for T’rella Qouretz, I doubted she’d be elected. It didn’t matter if she was a better candidate. Hatred has quite the blinding effect.

“I’ve heard,” T’rella continued, “that you are good at what you do and aren’t against helping rylekians. That you actually see us as people. Since you didn’t immediately throw me out of your office, I see that’s the case. So, please, will you help find the missing rylekians from Idleberg?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Honestly, Ms. Qouretz, as long as you’re paying, you could be a giraffe for all I care.”

The politician smiled.

The next night I went to Idleberg, making note of it in my files, as I did with every place I visited for work. Like every slum the rylekians were forced to live in, it was an absolute dump. It smelled of rotten fish, sweat, and excrement, all mixed together to create something truly awful. Then there was the smog. Idleberg was situated near a factory of some kind, tainting the air with its presence.

I held my breath as much as I could, and walked the streets of the slum. All around me were rylekians. Each one, young or old, male or female, had the same look of defeat on their face. As I walked by, they eyed me with obvious suspicion. After all, why would a human visit a place such as this? I didn’t think I was in any real danger. Most rylekians were wise enough to not mess with a human, knowing full well the retaliation they’d receive if the attack were to become known. Even still, I couldn’t help but pat the pistol I kept hidden in my coat when on the job. I didn’t mean any harm to the unfortunate occupants of Idleberg, but they didn’t know that.

I walked up to a small, one story building with boarded up windows. I looked at the address on the battered mailbox next to the door to make sure I was in the right place. It said 122 Sunflower Street, just as T’rella said it would. I knocked on the metal door, noticing that there was once a doorbell to the side of it, but was torn out.

After a few moments, the door opened a crack. In the small opening, I could see a yellow, cat-like eye staring back at me. It opened wider and in the doorway I saw a rylekian man. He had the light, blue-violet skin exclusive, I knew, to the males of his species, just as the magenta skin was a feature inherent to the females. Being able to see his full face, I noticed his eyes were wet with red coloration around them. He had been crying.

“Are you the one Miss Qouretz sent,” the man asked, sniffling a bit.

I nodded. “That I am. May I come in?”

The sorrowful man moved aside, making room for me to walk past. I emerged into a room dimly lit by candles. I guessed the building didn’t have electricity. The room was modestly furnished. Very modestly.

The home’s owner motioned to a nearby stool, torn and with the cotton spilling from the top. When I sat on it, it rocked due to uneven legs.

The rylekian grabbed a dirty cloth and blew his nose into it while sitting on another nearby stool. “Your species are real bastards, you know that,” he asked, obviously not expecting a response, nor did I give him one. “First you kill my wife, and now you take my son! We haven’t done anything to you!”

I leaned forward in the stool, resting my head on my knuckles. “Are you sure it was a human who took your son,” I inquired calmly.

“Who else could it have fucking been,” the distressed father exclaimed, possibly taking offence from what could potentially be seen as an offensive question to those unfamiliar with my work. He began to divulge what he knew, angrily, but coherently. I listened quietly and intently, allowing him to vent any frustration he was feeling.

“I told him not to take that job,” the rylekian father remarked, “but he didn’t listen. I told him people have been disappearing around that area but he didn’t care.” The man sobbed. “My boy wanted to earn us some money. That’s all he wanted. To help his father by getting us some dinner. And then they fucking took him from me, dammit!” The rylekian wiped his eyes with the same dirty cloth he blew his nose into earlier. If my sister had seen him, I’m sure she’d have hugged him.

The father continued his explanation. “I bet his boss, Cromley, I think his name was, had something to do with it.”

I decided to interject there. “Who’s Cromley? What does he do?”

The rylekian grimaced. “He runs that big factory that makes some kind of mechanical parts. I’m sure you saw it. It creates so much smog that you can hardly see outside some days. Most of the people who disappeared vanished around the factory. I know that bastard had a hand in it. Please, talk to him and get him to confess.” The miserable father’s eyes lit up. “Tell me when he does too. Please.”

I followed the lead and visited this Cromley at his factory. What exactly was being made there, I couldn’t tell you. It could have been anything from car parts to refrigerators. The cacophony I was greeted with made my ears ring and battered my brain. Hearing myself think, let alone someone talking, was out of the question. Nevertheless, I managed to communicate to one of the primarily rylekian workforce that I wished to speak to his boss. He led me up a flight of metal stairs to a tiny office overlooking the entire operation. I thanked my guide, but I wasn’t positive he heard me.

I knocked on the door but couldn’t be sure if that would work. I couldn’t even hear the knock myself. My fears were alleviated when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a giant, round man standing angrily in front of me. He motioned me inside and quickly shut the door.

Thankfully, the small office of Cromley must of had some sort of sound proofing, for the blare of the factory became a mild buzz. My host took a seat behind his desk. There wasn’t another chair.

“Who the hell are you,” Cromley so politely asked. Cromley must have been the largest man I had ever seen in my life. I’m pretty sure you could have fit three grown adults in his shirt and still had room to move around. His face and head were completely shaven. His scalp shined brightly in the light, visibly damp with sweat.

“My name is Malcolm Reese,” I replied. “I wanted to ask you about the recent disappearances of rylekians. I’ve heard that many vanished around your factory.”

“And let me guess,” Cromley said, clearly agitated, “you think I had something to do with it?” The factory owner suddenly began to cough violently into his hand. I thought I could glimpse blood in his palm when he was finished. He wiped the gunk onto his denim pants.

“I just want information. Nothing more, nothing less,” I informed my host.

“Then listen close,” Cromley barked. “I had nothing to do with those missing space hobos. Why the fuck would I want to get rid of my own damn workers? I want the culprit found as much as you do! Do you know how much money I’m fucking losing because of this?”

Cromley began to sweat even more profusely. Another coughing fit overtook him, worse than the previous one. His eyes watered as red clearly leaked from between his fingers. He looked at the blood in his hand in disgust. I knew what was wrong.

I crossed my arms. “How long do you have,” I asked the dying man.

“Who the fuck knows,” Cromley answered, his words tinged with a hint of sadness.

That was usually the case with Copper Lung. If you got it, you could have anywhere from a few days, to a few months to live. Nobody could ever say for sure. My sister had three weeks.

Copper Lung was miraculously not believed to be contagious, so I wasn’t in any danger of catching it. I continued to question Cromley.

“Even if you weren’t involved, surely you know something that could help me. The disappearances took place near your factory. Dozens of them. You must have noticed something out of the ordinary. Anything at all.”

Cromley bashed his ham of a fist against his desk, making everything on top tremble.

“I told you, I don’t know anything! I even checked the security footage, didn’t see a damn thing.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Mind if I see the footage?”

The large man clicked a few times on his computer and then handed me a disc. “If it gets you out of my office,” he said.

I watched the footage at home. I stared at the screen for hours, all the while sipping a cup of black coffee. It was an addiction I couldn’t manage to overcome.

Cromley was correct. The security cameras didn’t pick up anything suspicious. To the average person. I, however, was experienced in this kind of thing. Among the ordinary footage of rylekians walking to and from the factory, a van could be seen driving by. This wouldn’t normally raise any alarms, but I noticed this exact van appeared multiple times in the footage. It could be nothing, maybe this street was just on the van’s regular route. However, the sheer number of times it appeared rubbed me the wrong way. I decided to follow my instincts and slow down the footage to inspect the van. In blurry letters, I saw the words, “New Hope Pharmaceuticals.”

Early the next day, after noting it in my files, I decided to pay New Hope Pharmaceuticals a visit. It was located near the center of Chicago, surrounded by various other businesses. The building was a massive skyscraper, lined with shining glass windows. Their logo, a fox lying upon the company name, could be seen on the white vans surrounding the premises. The same van seen so many times outside of Cromley’s factory.

I watched the vans as nonchalantly as I could, figuring out where they went as they returned. From where I stood, I saw most vans entered a tunnel that headed underground, barred off by a guard operating a boom gate. If I was going to get any answers, they would be down there.

I left New Hope Pharmaceuticals and returned in the middle of the night, suspecting the cover of darkness would work to my advantage. My strategy worked, as there were far less eyes around, and I was able to sneak past the gate guard with ease. Thankfully, he didn’t take his job very seriously. Instead of looking out for any unwanted visitors, he focused all of his attention on his phone, laughing at something or other.

I stuck to the shadows as best as I could and made my way down the tunnel. From behind, an approaching van rumbled. Without hesitation, I quickly hid behind a nearby crate and waited for it to pass. I held my breath, hoping I was fast enough for them not to see me. When they passed, I knew I was safe.

I watched as the van pulled up to a metal gate that was situated off the main path. The words, “Restricted Access,” were illuminated on a sign above. The driver input a code on a nearby keypad, slowly opening the gate. I snuck closer, carefully staying out of sight, trying to catch a better glimpse as to what was on the other side of the gate.

In the chamber was various instruments, some obviously meant for creating medicines, but others with not so clear purposes. Humans in white lab coats ran back and forth, inspecting vials and calculating data. Nothing too out of the ordinary yet. Right before the gate shut, however, something terrible caught my eye. The rear doors of the van I followed into the depths beneath the building were opened by the driver and in the back were three rylekians, tied and gagged.

Before I had a chance to act, I felt a shock and everything went black. When I came to, I saw that I was sat up in a chair, but not strapped. Still weak, I gazed meekly at my surroundings. Submissive looking rylekians were kept in cages, dozens of them, all appearing to be drugged. Pinned to various boards were scans of lungs. Half of them were discolored and seemed to be almost metallic. I knew immediately they were afflicted with Copper Lung, for I had seen images just like them when my sister was diagnosed.

The other half of the lung images were shaped differently, not human. They also seemed perfectly healthy, from my limited medical knowledge. While never having seen a picture of them before, I made the educated guess that they were rylekian lungs. A feeling of unease washed over me like a waterfall, so I searched for comfort in my gun. It, of course, was taken while I was out cold, to my dismay.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll get it back once it’s clear you aren’t a threat to anyone here.”

I turned and saw a middle-aged man in round glasses and a white lab coat holding my pistol. He had a look of exhaustion, with purple, heavy bags under his eyes. He had a name tag that said, “Howard Jones,” pinned to his coat.

“Now, I must ask,” the scientist continued, “what were you doing armed in an area clearly marked, ‘Restricted Access?’”

I remained silent, only staring at Jones.

Howard Jones sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help you. To do that, I need to know why you’re here. If you don’t have any malicious intentions, you can be on your way. No harm done.”

I nodded towards the nearby cages holding the kidnapped rylekians. “Why are they here?”

Jones’ face scrunched up with a look of confusion. “Those animals,” he asked. “They’re going to help us with our experiments. Why do you ask? Is there a problem?”

I was astonished. He was speaking of intelligent beings as no more than creatures at a zoo. I knew there were plenty of people out there who thought like him, but this man was a scientist. I thought the smart ones were past prejudices.

“The problem,” I answered, “is that you’re kidnapping people.”

That same confused look remained on Jones’ face. “I don’t know why you’d think that. The only people here are employees of New Hope Pharmaceuticals and volunteers who have been diagnosed with Copper Lung. And now you.”

“Cut the shit,” I snapped. “You know I’m talking about the rylekians!”

Jones removed his glasses and rubbed off a smudge with his shirt. “Space hobos aren’t people, even if the law says otherwise. They are intruders, squatting on our planet. We can barely sustain our own population, and now we need to care for monsters from another world. Thinking that’s possible, let alone desirable, is madness.”

My sister would have been livid if she’d had heard what I just did.

“The only mad one I see is you,” I sneered, crossing my arms.

The scientist was clearly agitated. “May I ask your name?”

“Malcolm,” I barked.

“Malcolm. Have you figured out what we’re doing here, Malcolm,” he inquired. “Why I study countless lung scans every day, and perform numerous experiments? We’re trying to cure the deadliest sickness to hit our species in generations. Have you lost anyone to this disease?”

I looked away.

“Ah,” he responded, noticing my reaction. “Of course you have. It’s becoming more and more rare for someone to not have lost a loved one from it. Personally, I lost my daughter. When that happened, I swore I would find a cure so no one else would need to feel what I felt the day she was buried.

The scientist continued. “Let me tell you how to best find a cure for an ailment. You search for a living creature that the ailment doesn’t affect, and find a way to harness whatever makes them immune for yourself. Do you know what the only creature that we’ve been able to find that’s immune to Copper Lung is?”

I knew.

“Every single one of these space hobos,” Jones said, not waiting for an answer, “you insist on calling ‘people.’ Using these beasts are the best chance we have at survival. So what if a few need to die? As long as we survive, that’s all that matters. If we knew that sooner, and had the guts to do what was necessary, my daughter and whomever you lost may have lived.”

Howard Jones rubbed his temples. “So, what are you going to do, Malcolm? I’m tired and still have a lot to do before I can rest. You can leave here, forget you saw anything, and allow us to save humanity. Or you can try to free a bunch of animals. If you attempt that, though, I can’t guarantee you’ll survive, especially since I’m holding this gun that you so thoughtfully brought. And your sudden appearance means we will cover up everything happening here, no matter what you choose, in case you decided to double cross us or told anyone where you were going. So, what’ll it be?”

I crossed my arms and smiled, noticing a Newton’s Cradle clacking away on the nearby desk.

#short story #scifi #noir

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sarahburness · 6 years

Text

What To Do When the Voices in your Head Disagree

“Ego says, ‘Once everything falls into place, I’ll feel peace. Spirit says, ‘Find your peace, and then everything will fall into place.” ~Marianne Williamson

Muse: I’d love to get another job one day. One where I can feel inspired and give my best gifts to the world! One where they have a casual dress code and summer Fridays. Ah, I can just feel it now!

Critic: What are you, crazy? You’re always talking about quitting and starting over. Do you remember how hard we worked to get the job we have? (That you’ve only been at for one year, may I remind you.) What do you think, you can just throw that all away?

Muse: I don’t care. I don’t want to live my life for my resume. One year is a good amount of time. I’m ready to try something new. I want to start feeling satisfied at work, and you know we are not happy in our current situation.

Critic: It’s not all about “happiness,” okay? Who do you even know that is happy? (And don’t show me their Instagram feed as evidence.) There’s more to life than just what you want, you have to be responsible.

Muse: Responsible means “able to respond,” and with that ability I’m responding to feeling dead at work with the idea to do something new. Why are you always such a downer?

Does this style of dialogue sound familiar? What’s fascinating is that this kind of banter goes on internally ad nauseam, and we barely even recognize that it’s happening.

According to several different therapeutic modalities, these inner “parts” of us are perfectly natural, but it can cause distress when they are engaged in conflict and we remain unaware of the inner battle we are constantly fighting.

When I first was introduced to “parts work,” it made so much sense to me. I quickly identified a little girl part, a writer part, a dreamer part, a victim part, a wise part, and many others that were at play within my psyche—running more or less amuck having been left unattended for years.

Once I got to know these parts (from their names, to what they like to wear, to their age, to their qualities of being), I began to develop a relationship with them where they could show me deeper fears and desires that I was struggling with.

At the time, I was most conflicted by the battle the Muse and Critic have so nicely illustrated above. I was concerned as to whether to follow a more traditional career path, or set out on my own as an entrepreneur.

When I would listen to either side individually, each seemed to make a compelling case. In the Muse’s case, she seemed to have my back regarding my heart’s desires and what would be both fun and fulfilling. In the Critic’s case, he seemed to be protective of my well-being and trying to ensure that I would be able to succeed and not be doing something rash or impractical.

The beauty of working with your parts is that each of them has their own unique perspective and wisdom for you.

Too often we hear things that imply that we should silence or even banish the inner Critic. However, from my vantage point and experience, the Inner Critic is most often attempting to offer something of value. He’s trying to be helpful in the only way he knows how (through fear and thus behaving protectively).

When I started listening to the Inner Critic instead of avoiding him, I was able to use his strategizing, focus, and love of structure and stability to help balance out the Muse’s go-all-in approach.

Whereas I tended to favor the Muse because she is more colorful, upbeat, and fun-loving, it was an important process to see where she was blindsided by her aspirations and sometimes ignoring realities that the Critic rightly brought to my attention.

In fact, the relationship between the Muse and Critic highlighted why they were so diametrically opposed—by being pitted against each other, each one grew more and more extreme.

Through working with these parts and having them relate to each other, the Critic could become an “inner architect,” and the Muse could open up to his ideas for designing the life of her dreams without throwing caution to the wind.

It gave structure and form to the wispy and grandiose ideas of the dreamer. I was able to launch my own business, while also balancing the realities of daily life.

Most importantly, working with my parts helped me feel more peace and alignment inside myself. From there, the external aspects of life became easier to navigate because I could connect to the clarity and direction within.

I fell so in love with the personal transformation that parts work has to offer that I now incorporate this methodology into my work with others. It has been amazing to see how similar and yet how unique every person’s inner parts (and their relationships to each other) can be!

By working with one’s parts over time, you can see how and why they disagree and move closer and closer to a deeper understanding and harmony among them.

Do you also have an internal struggle currently where you feel like there’s a Ping-Pong game of back and forth going on inside your brain? Are you feeling torn between “I want to” and “I shouldn’t”? Are you feeling split between “If only…” and “Impossible!”? Then, it’s possible that two sides of your own self are waging war trying to get to a solution that actually lies in the middle ground of what they both have to offer.

To start getting to know your own parts, you might:

1. Sit down and list any of your roles or personas—as many aspects of yourself that you can think of.

Some examples include: Debbie the Downer or Suzy the Spunky One; Donald the Dreamer or Percy the Protector.

Trust your first instinct on their gender, if applicable. Some may even be an animal or have an amorphous presence, like a pervasive mist or a dark blob. *Also note that parts are not fixed or stagnant, they can continually evolve and shift, just like us!

2. Secondly, write a few descriptive adjectives beside each of them.

Write down what arises for you when you imagine them and when you connect with their needs, fears, and desires. For bonus points, draw a picture of them! (Even stick figures count!)

3. Then, pick the two parts that seem the most contradictory, and begin a dialogue.

Start with the most eager and curious one asking the other, “How are you today?”

At first, they may start out pretty opposed, but if you write for at least a page, they may come to understand each other. However, the only goal here is to witness their perspectives as they are, and let the rest unfold organically. Don’t force the process; rather follow your intuition and be open to letting the process lead you!

Feel free to share below how this goes for you. I hope you at least have fun exploring. You might be surprised at what unfolds!

About Jeanine Cerundolo

Jeanine Cerundolo is a holistic life coach with a degree in spiritual psychology from Columbia University. She loves supporting others to find inner peace and their own rich creative expression through self-exploration and personal growth work. In her free time, she loves to write, especially poetry for the page or the stage! Visit her at www.jeaninecerundolo.com.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/what-to-do-when-the-voices-in-your-head-disagree/

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 38 Little To Show

It was already midday by the time Scott’s pack was gathered around his kitchen, leaning over the center island listening to Lydia’s cell phone, set to speaker.

“So where are we?”, Scott asked. The others looked on expectantly. Kira, Stiles, Liam, Lydia, and Malia were all there listening intently.

Mr. Deaton’s voice answered back. “I’m afraid we have very little to show in our research, beyond what we already know. I’m uncovering more information about Orchard Ridge, the Willoughby family, even some news items about the night of the original monster attack. But beyond that…” His voice trailed off, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

“Mom?”, Kira asked. “How about on your end?”

Mrs. Yukimura’s voice came through from her side of the conference call. “It’s not for nothing that the monsters were known as The Unspoken. The vast majority of the lore has been either lost or is under protection by sources I couldn’t even begin to imagine, much less locate. Everything that I have found mostly tells us that the amount we already know about the creature is a miraculous amount.”

“But not miraculous enough to tell us how to stop it”, Stiles observed.

“There is only one thing that both Mrs. Yukimura and I have been able to confirm”, Deaton began. “But it’s the same conclusion we’ve come to before.”

“I thought we were looking for an alternative”, Scott said quickly.

“I’m not sure we’re going to find another way, Scott. Certainly not in the limited time that we have. ”

“What are you guys talking about?”, Liam asked

Deaton paused for a moment, then answered, “There is one way we have found to send it back.”

“Good!”, Liam said, excited. “Let’s do it! What do we need? How do we—“

He didn’t make it any further before Mrs. Yukimura said, “It would require a sacrifice.”

The room went silent as the pack’s members stared at one another. This was not what they wanted to hear. Stiles finally broke the silence. “I don’t suppose you’ve learned we can go the route of toads or mice or a really big fruit basket.”

Mrs. Yukimura’s voice was flat and humorless. “No.”

Something occurred to Deaton. “The other three kids. Are they with you?”

“No”, Lydia said.

“I sent them outside to play”, Stiles said, glancing into the back yard to see the three of them seated around the base of a tree, apparently caught up in conversation.

Lydia added, “We didn’t know what you were going to find, so we thought it best that we knew first.”

“A wise decision”, Mrs. Yukimura said.

In the back yard, their backs to the house, Kaitlyn, Aadesh, and Freddie sat transfixed on a small purple gem that Kaitlyn held suspended from a thin gold chain. Inside the gem, tiny crystalline particles were slowly evaporating. The gem glowed softly as every word spoken in the kitchen echoed through the gem for the trio of friends to hear.

Her voice tinny and slightly distant, Mrs. Yukimura’s voice echoed through the gem, “A wise decision.”

“Yeah”, Freddie said. “Wouldn’t want us doing anything stupid.”

“Like summoning a killer monster from another dimension”, Aadesh griped, absently plucking blades of grass from the ground.

Kaitlyn shushed them both. It was hard enough to make out what was being said without having to restrain their remarks. The voices continued coming through the gem, its interior crystals rapidly running out.

“There’s more”, Deaton said.

Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course there is.”

“The level of sacrifice necessary to return a creature this powerful back where it came from would require something…more than human.”

There was a heavy pause the hung in the air as they processed that statement. Scott said, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What?”, Liam asked. “What is he saying?”

Mrs. Yukimura explained. “The sacrifice needs to be someone supernatural.”

Another pause. The three friends in the back yard looked at each other to verify they had heard that right. Judging from the look in their eyes, they had.

Back in the kitchen, Stiles said, “So that could mean someone like a wendigo, or a druid.”

“Or a banshee”, Lydia said.

“Or kitsune”, Kira said.

“Or a werewolf”, Scott said, completing what they were already thinking. In order to save everyone whom the monster could hurt, would the sacrifice have to be one of them?

“The range is wider than that”, Mrs. Yukimura continued, “for what this is worth. In term of a supernatural sacrifice, that could also include anyone who has been touched by the supernatural in some way. Their connection would have to be significant, not just a passing encounter, but—“

“That could mean any of us”, Stiles said, including himself in his statement.

“Or anyone like us”, Liam interjected.

“No”, Scott said firmly. “I’m not going to accept that somebody else has to die in order to stop this thing. There’s got to be another way.”

“I’m sorry”, Mrs. Yukimura said. “But there is no other way.”

As she spoke, Deaton’s eyes drifted to the book nearby on his desk. The monster guide book that Scott had lent him. The pages were still open to the illustration he had been studying earlier. A thought occurred to him. “About that…”

“Yeah?”, Scott said. He could tell from his boss’s voice that the wheels were turning in his head.

In the backyard, Kaitlyn’s gem burned out. Its interior crystals burned up, it was now a lovely hollow piece of costume jewelry, but of no use magically.

“Damn it”, She muttered.

“What do you think he was gonna say?”, Freddie pondered aloud.

“Do you think whatever it was would make an difference?”, Aadesh asked.

Back inside, Scott pressed Deaton. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I need to be sure about something before I say anything else. Stay vigilant and watch out for each other. I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.” With that, he hung up.

The mood in the kitchen went from doubtful to dismal. Their options, currently being only one, were less than appealing. Mrs. Yukimura spoke again, catching a few of the pack off guard. They had almost forgotten she was still on the line.

“Dr. Deaton and I believe that it would be a good idea to return to the farm for one last search. You are looking for alternative solutions. You may find something there.”

“Scott and I already checked”, Stiles said. “We didn’t find anything very helpful.”

“But you didn’t have me”, Lydia said.

“Our thoughts exactly”, Mrs. Yukimura agreed. “If any of us could pick up on something lingering there—“

“—it would most likely be a banshee”, Lydia said, completing her thought.

“I’ll go with you”, Malia offered.

“Just be careful”, Mrs. Yukimura urged. “And take heart, It’s not over yet.”

As the two girls moved to leave, Scott stepped closer to them. “We’re going to find another way”, Scott said, trying to reassure his friends. “We will.” Malia and Lydia nodded, then left. Those left behind found it difficult to agree with Scott’s statement, so they said nothing.

In the back yard, the three friends sat in silence. After the quiet became too difficult to bear, Aadesh spoke up. “Maybe we should just let them do whatever it is they’re going to do. They always come up with a cool plan, don’t they?”

“You gotta admit, they do”, Freddie agreed, thinking back on the stories of his heroes’ adventures. “Like slipping the mountain ash into those pills, or the time they—“

“How’s everyone been sleeping lately?”, Kaitlyn interrupted.

The boys looked at each other and their eyes conveyed that which they had chosen not to mention. They both looked at Kaitlyn to find that her expression matched theirs.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Me too.”

Aadesh bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “When things get really bad, it always comes out in our dreams.”

“It’s been that way for all of us”, Freddie remarked. “Ever since—“

“Ever since I started accessing my visions”, Kaitlyn said, nodding. She looked to her two remaining friends, locking her eyes on both of them. “It’s time to make some hard choices.”

The two boys didn’t contradict her, but they didn’t jump in to agree with her, either.

Stiles strode through the door of his house trying to stay focused and trying to stay as positive as Scott. The former was not that much of a challenge, as fear and desperation often honed Stiles’ focus. That latter? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He figured he’d grab some food on the run and then get back to the business of brainstorming a way out of this impossible situation. I never thought I’d miss the days of obsessive homicidal grandfathers and psychotic alpha packs, Stiles mused to himself. It’s kind of hard to anticipate the thoughts of something that doesn’t exactly think.

Stiles stopped midway across the room when a strong aroma struck him. Someone had been cooking. And it smelled really good. Stiles quickly made his way to the kitchen, where he found his father setting out food onto the unusually clean table.

“Um…Dad? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is dinner. And your timing is perfect, which is rarely the case. Plates and silverware are there on the end. Set the table for three.”

Stiles was already responding to his dad’s request before he even considered what he was doing. “Shouldn’t you be out monster hunting instead of playing Suzy Homemaker all of a sudden?”

“We’ve got every man on this and there hasn’t been a peep about your flying whatsits in hours. I have no idea when we’re going to have the chance to eat again once disaster strikes—which it always does—so why not enjoy the fleeting moment of quiet while we have it?”

Stiles found it difficult to argue with his father’s logic. “That actually makes pretty good sense.” He looked at the third plate even as he set it down, arranging the fork and knife on either side of it. “Who else is eating?”

“Oh, Malia’s around here somewhere. She might be upstairs. I tend to just expect her now. It makes her unannounced appearances less jarring.”

“I think she said she was going to grab a coat she’d left here before taking off with Lydia.” Stiles looked at the plate of steaming, well-cooked, and deliciously seasoned individual steaks at the center of the table. He sniffed. It smelled fantastic, but he still couldn’t place it. “That…looks suspiciously juicy and well-marbled, as well as having most likely been up and walking around at some point in the recent past. I thought we were eating healthy now. What is--?”

The sheriff cut off his son’s question by setting a large spinach salad to the left of the steaks, and a dish of steamed broccoli and asparagus on the right. “We have plenty of greens, don’t worry. Call your girlfriend and let’s eat before something out there blows up or rises from the dead.”

“Sure. But what kind of steaks are--?”

Malia was at the foot of the stairs about to stride past the kitchen before either Stilinski knew she was there. “I’m meeting Lydia in a little bit. We should be—“ Malia stopped, her face was lit up with joy, her smile a mile wide.

“Deer!”

Stiles felt his eyes bulge. “I’m sorry, what?”

Malia was in her seat in a second. “Oh, this is fantastic! Thank-you!”

The sheriff smiled at his son. “Venison. I was getting a little tired of pizza.”

Stiles smiled back and took his seat beside his girl. As breaks in the chaos went, this was most definitely a good one. And if this did end up being their last meal, Stiles would be hard-pressed to think of a better one. The sheriff passed the steaks around, Malia snatching the first one eagerly. As Stiles began to lift one of the succulent steaks onto his plate, Malia was already munching down hers with gusto.

“Mmmm! SO good! I’ve never had one cooked before. This is great!”

Father and son shared a look that signified a sudden decrease in appetite. Stiles set the plate down and slowly pushed it away.

“Maybe I’ll start with the salad”, He said.

“Me too”, his father agreed.

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