#anyone can be capable of providing and thorough look at something. so I don’t believe white authors are inherently incapable of telling a | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 78

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 78: Accident

Tan Zaozao came to visit and asked after Ruan Nanzhu with heartfelt care. The entire time however, Ruan Nanzhu pretty much blew her off.

"How was your fourth door?" Lin Qiushi asked casually as he sat on the side with nothing to do.

"My fourth door?" Tan Zaozao scratched at her head. "Alright, I guess…" She didn't seem keen on talking about the world of the doors, quickly circumventing the topic.

Seeing this, Lin Qiushi didn't ask any further either.

The television hanging on the hospital wall would occasionally play one of Tan Zaozao's perfume commercials. Onscreen, her noble glamor looked completely beyond this world. Lin Qiushi eyed the commercials, then eyed the woman scrunched up next to Ruan Nanzhu, who had her face buried in a mango and yellow fruit flesh smeared all over her mouth. He fell into a peculiar silence.

Tan Zaozao clearly guessed Lin Qiushi's thoughts from his expression, and bellowed, "stop staring, it's all fake anyways!"

Lin Qiushi, "oh…"

Tan Zaozao peered at Lin Qiushi, and asked with malice: "Are there any stars you're a particularly big fan of?"

Lin Qiushi answered frankly: "No." He didn't do the fan thing.

Tan Zaozao, disappointed, "that's a shame. I could've gotten you an autograph or something." I might've even had gossip to completely ruin your image of that person…

As they chatted, a breaking news report appeared on the TV, saying some star had a car accident on his way to a concert and died on the scene. It even showed footage of an awful car crash.

Tan Zaozao, who'd been working on her mango, suddenly looked up, seeming lost.

"He…"

Ruan Nanzhu, lying on the bed, asked quietly, "you knew him?"

Tan Zaozao nodded.

She put down the mango in her hand and spoke lowly, "he seems to be someone from the doors too. We filmed a commercial together, but we weren't close or anything…"

Lin Qiushi watched Tan Zaozao, whose mood had clearly fallen.

"Then he began to have all these accidents." Tan Zaozao talked, speaking quite slowly. "During a concert, a light fell from directly above his head, but he only had minor injuries. And other things as well. I had my suspicions then…"

"Maybe it really is just an accident?" Lin Qiushi frowned. "It might not be the doors…"

"It's probably the doors," Tan Zaozao sighed, clearly down. "I'm heading out. Take care of yourselves."

Despite seeing her like this, Lin Qiushi didn't know how to make her feel better. In the end he could only watch her hurry off.

Ruan Nanzhu's expression remained calm the entire time Tan Zaozao was leaving. Lin Qiushi said, "she's okay, right?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "she's fine. She'll be over it in a couple of days."

Lin Qiushi had always thought of Tan Zaozao as quite an optimistic person. To see her break down so unexpectedly like this…

Even though before the actual breakdown, she'd taken off.

Faced with Lin Qiushi's lack of comprehension, Ruan Nanzhu asked, with some surfacing exasperation: "You've really never liked anybody in particular?"

Lin Qiushi thought carefully, then slowly but surely shook his head.

"No. My family's never been close. As far as I recall… Yeah, I've never really liked anyone."

Since youth, the number of friends he had could be counted on two hands. It was precisely because of this that he had been able to leave behind his hometown to come work here with little hesitation.

"But girls must have liked you." Ruan Nanzhu spoke with absolute certainty. "Unless you've never received a confession before?"

Ruan Nanzhu didn't believe at all that with his personality and appearance, Lin Qiushi hadn't been well-received by women.

"Well sure, I've received confessions, but I turned them all down," Lin Qiushi answered.

Ruan Nanzhu, "how come?"

Lin Qiushi, "because I couldn't give them what they wanted."

Ruan Nanzhu frowned. "How did you know you couldn't?"

Lin Qiushi quieted for a while, before answering softly, "because I didn't like them."

Ruan Nanzhu couldn't help a laugh: "You're self-aware."

Lin Qiushi smiled. "I couldn't delay their lives, they're all good women."

Lin Qiushi was indeed a warm person. If he met someone who needed help, he would do all he could to provide aid. But his kindness wasn't limitless either. To put it bluntly, he would never help others by sacrificing himself; he had a thorough comprehension of his own capabilities, and would never request others to do things outside of the scopes of their abilities either.

A kind, clever person who knew how to accurately assess the situation was bound to be attractive.

Ruan Nanzhu slowly closed his eyes. The things that attracted him to Lin Qiushi however, didn't stop there.

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu shut his eyes, Lin Qiushi thought he must be tired. He stood up from the bedside and quietly left the hospital room. As he did so he spotted Cheng Qianli, who was just coming back with the washed lychees.

"Why are you out here?" Cheng Qianli asked.

"Don't go in," Lin Qiushi said. "He's resting now. Zaozao's left too."

Cheng Qianli, "oh, then what about the lychee?"

Lin Qiushi glanced at it.

"Just leave it. Bring it in when he wakes up, or just eat it yourself."

Cheng Qianli, "nah, I won't. Ruan-ge seems to really like lychee."

At this, Lin Qiushi was suddenly curious.

"What else does he like, besides lychee?"

He had been living together with Ruan Nanzhu for a while now, but still knew little to nothing about Ruan Nanzhu's likes and dislikes.

Cheng Qianli, "what he likes? He likes plenty of things." He looked at the lychee, then looked at Lin Qiushi. "He seems to like you a lot too."

Lin Qiushi, "what, and he doesn't like you?"

Cheng Qianli giggled, "hehehe true that, 'cause I'm adorable."

Lin Qiushi thought oh, you're really just shameless.

During the time of Ruan Nanzhu's convalescence, many people from other organizations came to visit. Well, they said visit. "To gather information" was more accurate. After all, a ten-door top honcho like Ruan Nanzhu was a rare sight to see.

White Deer's Li Dongyuan came by without any sense of shame as well. Though Ruan Nanzhu agreed to let him in, Ruan Nanzhu didn't spare him any kind looks the entire time.

Lin Qiushi was seated by Ruan Nanzhu's bedside, peeling lychees for him to eat. He'd part his mouth ever-so-slightly for the milky fruit to pass between his pale lips. Then, after some neat chewing, he'd open his mouth again and Lin Qiushi would bring the plate over to catch the black seed his tongue pushed out out.

This entire eating process was exceedingly elegant. Watching Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi suddenly understood what Tan Zaozao had meant when she said beautiful people ought to eat lychee.

Li Dongyuan sat just beside him, all friendly grins on that baby face of his. He really was very different outside the door. He said, "Nanzhu ah…"

Ruan Nanzhu shot him a glare from out the corner of his eyes.

So Li Dongyuan could only change his tune: "Ruan-ge, Ruan-ge, are you doing well?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you can't see for yourself? Say what you came to say."

Li Dongyuan turned and glanced at Lin Qiushi.

Ruan Nanzhu understood his meaning, gaze shuttering.

"No need to keep it from him."

Li Dongyuan, "I'm going into my ninth door soon, so you know, is there…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "no. Get out."

Li Dongyuan, "…"

Lin Qiushi wanted to laugh, but thought it'd be inappropriate. So he kept his head down and pretended to be very seriously peeling lychee.

"Don't be so mean." Li Dongyuan had begun to pout. "I'm not even holding it against you, you know, the time when you pretended to be my lover Zhu Meng."

With those big watery eyes of his, Lin Qiushi was reminded of Cheng Qianli's husky…

But Ruan Nanzhu had a heart of steel and was utterly unmoved. He didn't even appear shocked when Li Dongyuan called out his identity like that.

"Don't waste my time. Talk business."

Li Dongyuan, "I heard you had a hint for the ninth door though…"

Ruan Nanzhu's lips moved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Heard?"

Li Dongyuan, "fuck man, I really did! They're all saying it."

It was at this point that Lin Qiushi suddenly recalled that Ruan Nanzhu had already passed his tenth door. Didn't that mean he likely already had a hint to the eleventh door? What could it be like? Was there something different about it than all the other doors?

"So?" Ruan Nanzhu stared at him.

"So, will you sell me the hint?" Li Dongyuan finally said what brought him here today.

Ruan Nanzhu turned him down without any hesitation: "No way."

Li Dongyuan, "name any price, as long as I can afford it—"

Hints to the ninth door were too scarce; even he hadn't been able to obtain one.

Only Ruan Nanzhu, the crazy bastard, could get his hands on two.

Ruan Nanzhu ate the lychee fed to him. Didn't answer.

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu's attitude, Li Dongyuan became a bit agitated. He said, "thirteen days from now is my limit before going in, I don't have that much time."

Ruan Nanzhu, "weren't you having a great time jacking my customers? Telling them I got here on looks alone?" His lips were smiling but his eyes were cold. "And now you’ve learned to beg me?"

Li Dongyuan began to awkwardly laugh.

"My bad, my bad. Here, how about I service you for a night and you be the bigger person and forget all about it?"

Ruan Nanzhu pointed at the door.

"Get out."

Li Dongyuan looked aggrieved.

Lin Qiushi thought, you're really going overboard. You want the hint, fine, but you also want to take advantage of our boss? You totally deserve to get kicked out.

"I can give you a hint to the ninth door," Ruan Nanzhu said, "but I have a condition."

Li Dongyuan, "what condition?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you go into the tenth door with him."

At this, Li Dongyuan startled. He glanced at Lin Qiushi.

"You're not…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I am."

Li Dongyuan's expression changed immediately.

"Are you insane?!"

Ruan Nanzhu was already testy.

"Agree or get out, don't sit here wasting my time."

Li Dongyuan continued to look stormy, but in the end bit the bullet and agreed to go into the tenth door with Lin Qiushi. Judging from his face though, there was more that he wanted to say, but refrained since Lin Qiushi was still present.

Lin Qiushi stood up and said he was going to go wash his hands.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't stop him this time.

But when Lin Qiushi came back from the bathroom, he heard Ruan Nanzhu and Li Dongyuan arguing. Li Dongyuan stood no chance against Ruan Nanzhu though, and ended up slamming his way out the door in a fit of anger. When he spotted Lin Qiushi, he even shot Lin Qiushi a glare.

As Lin Qiushi stood baffled by this glare, Li Dongyuan spoke: "Watch out for yourself then! If Zhu Meng whips it out it'll definitely be bigger than yours!"

Lin Qiushi, "…" I already know he's bigger than me, don't need the reminder thanks.

He returned to the room and saw Ruan Nanzhu sitting expressionless on the bed. So he said, "what got you two arguing all of a sudden?"

Ruan Nanzhu scoffed, "someone wanted to make all these accusations about me. He thinks he's worthy?"

Lin Qiushi, "you're still not feeling well, don't be angry." Then, warmly, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

Ruan Nanzhu leaned against the bed.

"Porridge. Made by you."

Lin Qiushi didn't take Li Dongyuan storming off that day to heart because he thought, between Li Dongyuan and them, there would still be time for all sorts of stories, whether good or bad. But Lin Qiushi didn't imagine that that day would be the last time he'd ever see Li Dongyuan.

The morning thirteen days later, Ruan Nanzhu, who was out of the hospital, received a phone call. Everybody in the mansion was gathered for breakfast. After he hung up, his expression went blank for just a moment. And then he opened his mouth and said, "Li Dongyuan is dead."

The chattering crowd suddenly went quiet. Everybody heard what Ruan Nanzhu said.

First chewing on a bun, Cheng Qianli also stopped.

"Ah," he said, then asked what everybody was wanting to ask, "Ruan-ge, what are you saying… Li Dongyuan, as in White Deer's Li Dongyuan?"

Ruan Nanzhu made a noise of confirmation and stood.

"I have to head over."

Lin Qiushi said, "I'll go with you."

Though Ruan Nanzhu was out of the hospital, he had yet to fully heal; even now, there was a pallor to his face. Lin Qiushi worried that if anything happened to Ruan Nanzhu out there, his body wouldn't be able to take it.

"Okay," Ruan Nanzhu agreed to Lin Qiushi's accompaniment.

Lin Qiushi quickly changed and got into the car with Ruan Nanzhu.

After announcing a destination, Ruan Nanzhu sat in the passenger's seat with his eyes shut to rest. His face was pale, and with his long, raven-dark lashes lightly fluttering, he had, in the air about him, a touch of fragility. But this fragility seemed just as likely to be Lin Qiushi's imagination.

Was Ruan Nanzhu grieving? No. Lin Qiushi thought the upset he emanated was more like commiseration. The fox mourning for the dead rabbit.[1] Ruan Nanzhu hated Li Dongyuan, but hardly wanted Li Dongyuan to just die like this—because seeing this happen to Li Dongyuan, it was difficult not to think of it happening to themselves.

Lin Qiushi remembered that last time he saw Li Dongyuan, a bit over ten days ago, and he exhaled for a long while, as if he wanted to breathe out that entire mass of smothering air in his chest.

After a forty-minute drive, they came to an apartment building in the city.

Lin Qiushi first thought that White Deer was headquartered in one of the apartments. Only after they arrived did he learn that White Deer had bought out the entire building.

There were many people gathered out front. Lin Qiushi had a bad feeling when he saw this. After he parked, they went over to the gathered crowd and saw, unsurprisingly, what everyone was surrounding.

A body, smashed to smithereens. Its face could no longer be made out, but from its clothing and general appearance, this fallen corpse was recognizably Li Dongyuan.

This wasn't Lin Qiushi's first time seeing a dead body in real life, but this was the first time someone familiar to them was just dead like this. He glanced to his side at Ruan Nanzhu. Ruan Nanzhu still maintained his placid expression—only, there was a teeming light in those dark eyes of his, like the tossing of fathomless lakes.

A woman's cries started. A teenage girl burst out from the crowd, fell to her knees beside Li Dongyuan's corpse, and began to wail. She even tried to gather Li Dongyuan's tattered body into her arms.

Those around the girl stopped her, and pulled her away from Li Dongyuan's body by force.

Lin Qiushi looked around them, and found some people quietly whispering, some people looking on with numb eyes and pained expressions. These ought to be the members of White Deer.

A beautiful woman approached Ruan Nanzhu, and spoke lowly to him, "Mr. Ruan, hello."

"Hello Ms. Jin," Ruan Nanzhu said.

"Call me by name, Jin Yurui." The woman seemed to want to smile at Ruan Nanzhu, but it came out stiff. The corners of her mouth made their way up by force, and looked very laborious. "From now on, I'll be taking over White Deer's internal affairs."

Reading between the lines, she was to be White Deer's next leader.

"Mh." Ruan Nanzhu nodded his understanding. Then, after some silence, he suddenly added, "you don't have to smile if you don't want to."

Jin Yurui's smile immediately faded. She took a deep breath, as if to get a grip on her emotions. Then, hoarsely, she spoke: "Come inside, Mr. Ruan."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded and headed for the apartment, Lin Qiushi behind him.

In the lobby of the apartment building stood six people. Plus those outside, White Deer likely had about twenty or so members.

Jin Yurui began to announce the things Li Dongyuan had already prepared before death. The whole process went by quietly.

But in this quiet, Lin Qiushi sensed a surging undercurrent. In the group, some didn't seem pleased with Jin Yurui as the successor. However, when their gazes fell on Ruan Nanzhu, they seemed surprisingly wary of this outsider.

Lin Qiushi suddenly understood why Ruan Nanzhu came. He was here to quell one last upset for Li Dongyuan.

Jin Yurui was now White Deer's next leader. She had just passed her eighth door, and there was still some time before her ninth.

But clearly, White Deer's members weren't as satisfied with her as they had been with Li Dongyuan.

Ruan Nanzhu had certainly noticed as well. But he wasn't planning on interfering with White Deer's matters, and so only sat silently to the side.

Lin Qiushi watched his awful pallor and thought he must be uncomfortable by now. Concerned, Lin Qiushi thought for a bit. Then he pulled out a piece of candy and snuck it into Ruan Nanzhu's hand.

Ruan Nanzhu glanced back at him momentarily, before nodding lightly. He unwrapped the candy, and slowly placed it in his mouth.

The flavor of the candy was sweet, and washed away a certain sense of discomfort. Ruan Nanzhu sat in that lobby for a long time, until Jin Yurui was finished delegating matters.

The group in the lobby began to disperse. In the end, the three of them were left.

Jin Yurui looked up with a pained smile. "Thank you Mr. Ruan. If you hadn't been here, I don't know what I would've done."

Ruan Nanzhu stood, and said, "I can only do this much. The rest of the road you have to walk on your own."

Jin Yurui nodded. She was no fragile flower on tendrils; though faced with the winds she swayed a bit, in the end, she would withstand the storm herself.

"We'll be off then," Ruan Nanzhu said.

"Mr. Ruan won't stay for dinner?" Jin Yurui asked politely.

"No thank you." Ruan Nanzhu declined the sentiment, and said, "I'll come again after he's been buried."

Jin Yurui didn't force the matter either, nodding and showing Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi to the door.

Li Dongyuan's corpse had already been cleaned up. Only a bloodstain on the ground was left to tell the world what had transpired here.

In a few days, this stain would be gone as well. At White Deer, people came and went. Perhaps they would all very soon forget that there had ever been a leader named Li Dongyuan.

The entire way here, Ruan Nanzhu didn't look well.

It was only on their way back, sitting in the driver's seat, that Lin Qiushi noticed something was wrong. He asked, "Nanzhu, are your wounds okay?"

He could faintly smell blood in the air. At first, Lin Qiushi had thought it was because of Lin Qiushi. But even now Lin Qiushi could smell it.

"I'm fine." Ruan Nanzhu was leaning tilted against the door.

Lin Qiushi didn't believe he was fine at all, and frowned.

"Let me take a look."

Ruan Nanzhu, "no."

Lin Qiushi startled. He didn't think Ruan Nanzhu would refuse him so plainly.

"Let's go home first," Ruan Nanzhu said. Immediately after, his eyes drifted shut in apparent exhaustion.

Worried, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but drive a bit faster.

Some tens of minutes later, they got back to the mansion, and Ruan Nanzhu finally dragged his eyes open. Lin Qiushi quickly took hold of him and helped him inside. Once he was in bed, Lin Qiushi very naturally sat down beside him, taking a corner of Ruan Nanzhu's shirt in hand.

Ruan Nanzhu glanced up at him.

"What are you doing?"

Lin Qiushi, "I'm taking a look at your back…"

The wounds were the worst on Ruan Nanzhu's back.

Tilting his head to the side, Ruan Nanzhu kept eyeing Lin Qiushi.

"Can you not look?"

Lin Qiushi frowned.

"No."

He thought that Ruan Nanzhu's wounds had for sure reopened.

Ruan Nanzhu gave this some thought.

"Then give me a piece of candy."

Lin Qiushi fished out a piece of candy, unwrapped it, and popped it in Ruan Nanzhu's mouth.

"Go ahead," Ruan Nanzhu mumbled around the candy. "There’s not much to see really…"

Lin Qiushi lifted Ruan Nanzhu's shirt and unsurprisingly, he found the wounds reopened. Blood trickled down his back and seeped into his clothing.

Brows furrowed, Lin Qiushi, "this isn't good. We have to go to the hospital."

Ruan Nanzhu stopped moving, his breaths evening out.

Glancing up, Lin Qiushi sighed.

"And now you're faking sleep?"

Ruan Nanzhu still wasn't talking.

Exasperated, Lin Qiushi could only get up to go grab some gauze. As he cleaned simply around Ruan Nanzhu's wounds, he was still nagging, "we have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning."

With a vague sound of acknowledgement, Ruan Nanzhu once again closed his eyes. He really was a bit tired, and wanted to get some actual rest.

Author's Note:

The feelings are here, is it exciting enough /author proudly puffs up her chest

Translator’s Note:

“The fox mourning for the dead rabbit” / 兔死狐悲 (tù sǐ hú bēi). This is a direct translation of the chengyu. Both the rabbit and the fox are prey of the hunter, so the fox mourns the dead rabbit as it fears for its own fate. Translating chengyu is fun, because sometimes it requires sacrificing the imagery to convey the meaning concisely, or sometimes you can choose to put both.

[Ch. 77] | [Ch. 79]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #YAAAYYYYY I'VE LINKED IT #now if you'll excuse me #i'm gonna finish hako onna #and #keep skipping the rest of the statue door sdjfnksjdnfksdf #i mean it's fine i'm sure i'll get back around to it but #:)))#and you know i love my son

150 notes · View notes

jamestrmtx · 4 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader]

Chapter One | Home

[Previous] | [Next]

(Author Note, written in November 2020 and updated on May 2021: For those who've already read the prologue, two changes happened: [1] the story title went from Goodnight, Starlight to Fairytale Complex, and [2] since this's a rewrite of an older work, the main/focus relationship would now be Sans, but there will still be alternate relationships, other main four being Papyrus, Muffet, Grillby, and Napstablook! More info on that can be found on Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 3 of 3).)

• • •

Your phone lights up and buzzes erratically, waking you up and forcing you to get out of bed when it proves to be too far away for you to reach it. The screen marks an unholy five thirty five in the morning, and you can only wonder over what your aunt wants to discuss with you at such an early hour. There's around two urgent voicemails, eleven text messages, and three missed calls, all from her, so you decide on phoning her back to get things over with.

She answers fast, hardly giving the phone a chance to beep once.

"Turn on the TV right now, honey," your aunt shouts, an indistinguishable emotion between anger and shock displayed in her voice. "Now," she repeats, authority shown in that single word. "And don't forget to call me later. We need to talk." She hangs up after that, leaving you with more questions than you once had.

You raise a brow at the oddity of her call, yet relent with how tired both your mind and body feel. You'd left work at eleven at night, only to arrive home at midnight and fall asleep at one. With barely five hours of rest in your system, you don't exactly feel motivated to watch television, yet that changes when you sit at the edge of your bed, turn it on, and see the first thing there is a breaking news report taking over every cable channel present. No matter which one you switch to, it's there, reporting over the rise of a whole new species of living beings, these capable of human reasoning and conduct, as one of the reporters and even a scientist so claimed based on the little information they've both gathered about the species already. They proceed to display a picture of a large crowd of people gathered near a mountain, these looking straight out of a fantasy novel. They vary greatly, from bipedal, anthropomorphic fish, bears, bunnies, goats, and spiders, to living skeletons, ghosts, and live, humanoid flames. You have to rub sleep away from your eyes and blink a few times to process what's going on, until you see who's standing smack in the middle of them all.

"F- Frisk?!" you shout, breaking the silence of your home and the night.

Almost immediately, you pick up your phone and search for more information on where and when the picture was taken. The sun seemed to be setting in it, and based on when the news had chosen to report on the event, you figure Frisk has to be with that group somewhere around. You access the news channel's main page and see a pinned post asking for information on the child's parents, comment section blocked to prevent a flood in them, along with the share button to keep any second parties from spreading it around more.

>> A goat lady by the name of Toriel has taken Frisk under her temporary care while authorities regain contact with the child's parents. If anyone reading this post happens to know about their location, number, or any other contact information, please do let us know over at private message, so that we may interview them personally. We have searched far and wide for more thorough information on the child, but Child Protective Services have settled upon keeping that information private, while the child refused to tell us anything else after they found out over what penalties their parents would be receiving. They insist that their primary caregiver is a good person, that they do not know about their secondary caregiver's whereabouts, and that they will not allow anything bad to happen to either of them, refusing to so much as give up their last name to us as a result. However, we are still in dire need of said information in order to interview the parents and perform more proper investigations as to why the child disappeared for a period of almost two whole months.

Below the basic gist stands a shorter paragraph and a photo of a different monster, this one a skeleton instead of a goat woman.

>> In addition to the goat lady offering to look after Frisk for the time being, another monster has reached out to us and left his number only specifically for the parents. He states it is necessary they meet and that he would like to offer an explanation as to what happened at the Underground and how Frisk got there. If you are one of the parents, please contact us through private message so that we may provide you with his number and further directions on what to do from there.

You check the time of the post, lock your phone, and set it aside when the news returns from a commercial break, this one much shorter compared to usually.

"Passerby say it sounded similar to that of a bomb going off, yet there were no signs of destruction and nobody near when they made it to the place where they heard the noise. It's estimated the Barrier broke at late evening, and that the monsters left with Frisk barely an hour after that event, without bothering to inform anyone over the missing child's arrival. Authorities claim they've yet to gain contact with Frisk's secondary caregiver and that they are now on their way to contact their primary one. Given the circumstances and the current hour, Child Protective Services believe it best to visit at noon, as they have already tracked down the parent's location and received further information on the subject through social media. That's all we've managed to cover so far, but remember to stay tuned for more at-"

“(Mom/Dad), I'm home!”

Your eyes shoot open and you almost have to double take when you hear that voice. It's followed by a few persistent knocks on the door, though you still go as far as to check the pulse on your wrist to make sure you're still alive. You turn the television off, hop out of bed, and rush over to the living room, where you're greeted with the sight of Frisk standing by the entrance and looking around, their own set of keys balanced on their finger as they take in their surroundings. They continue to look this way and that, observing the changes you've made to the house since they were gone.

They meet with your eyes and freeze up, taking a small, precautionary step forward. "I… I missed you," they mutter, voice soft and quiet, a large difference from when they announced they were back home. They fiddle with their hands and face at the floor, casting a guilty look at the worn welcome mat as they say, "I'm sorry for… for disappearing like that. But I promise I-"

Before they can finish speaking, you've already made it to their side. Your arms wrap around them and you bring them in for a strong and lasting embrace, tucking their head against your chest, squeezing them tight, and allowing them to listen to your heart beat. "Oh, sweetheart, forget all that," you reply, stroking their hair and kissing their forehead. "I… I missed you, too." You hold them tight and let some of your worries out through another squeeze. It feels almost bizarre having them in your arms again, but it feels right all the same. Every puzzle seems to fall right into place, and the only thing in your mind right now's their well-being. "H- How are you, by the way?" you ask, breaking the hug apart. "Are you hungry? ...Sleepy? And who brought you here? Did they treat you well?"

"I'm okay," they reply, giggling. "Miss Toriel made me some food before we left, and I'm way too pumped to even think about sleeping!"

"And where is Miss Toriel?"

"She left right after we got here. She said she didn't want to bother you now that I'm back, and that you could meet up with her some other time!"

You hug them yet again, still too stricken to let go of them. "I'm… I'm so glad you're back home, dear," you whisper, holding them close as you mutter more sentences with similar sentiments to the previous one. You still can't shake off your shock nor can you believe this is real. The rational part of your brain insists it's no time to be emotional and that you need answers stat, though the emotional part demands you pour all your attention onto the moment and appreciate Frisk's return. You'd cried countless hours, days, nights, and weeks. And all of that pent up regret, confusion, and relief begins to be let out through whispered words, strong hugs, and gentle caresses. "I… I thought you were gone for good, dear, an- and that you left because you hated me." You hiccup at that last statement and hold them tighter, fearing another disappearance. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad about me being your (mother/father). And… And I'm sorry for anything I might've done to upset you. I- I'll try to be a better parent for you from now on, and you can tell me over where I can improve. Alright?"

Frisk breaks the hug apart and faces up at you with a frown. "What are you saying? I don't hate you, (mom/dad)!" they reply, gaze furrowed and eyes wide. "I… I was thinking about something else that day. B- But it has nothing to do with you. I promise!"

"Then why did you disappear?" you ask, placing a hand over their shoulder and maintaining your frown. "Why did you run away? ...And just what do you mean by that? What were you thinking about before you disappeared?"

Looking caught, they face the floor and fiddle with their hands again. "...Can we talk about that later? I think I'm feeling sleepy now."

Your glare finally shows through, the rational part of you taking over now. "Don't you dare change the subject, Frisk (L/N). What did you mean by that? What happened before you disappeared?"

"Please, (mom/dad)! I can tell you later," they whine, tears welling up in their eyes. "I- I don't wanna talk about that right now. I miss you. And I… I really wanna be with you right now. I really miss my home, I miss studying with you, and I... I miss going out on weekends with you, too."

You straighten your posture, cross your arms tight, and frown, still unconvinced. "Can you promise me you'll tell me first thing tomorrow, after we catch up today?"

Slowly, they nod. "I promise."

"Pinky promise?"

Frisk smiles bright and wide at your suggestion and at the gesture you make, pinky finger offered out to them. They interlock theirs with yours and let go when you both nod, sealing the deal. "I promise. Could we go watch a movie now?"

"Didn't you say you were sleepy?"

"I sleep better with the TV on!"

"Yeah, right." Despite yourself, you giggle and smile at them. Then, you place a hand on their head and mess up their hair, poking your tongue out when they glare at you. "Let's go, then. Just... Remember me to call my boss so I can take the day off today and go to work a bit later tomorrow."

"...Can you really do that? I thought you could get fired for that!"

"Probably not." You laugh. "But you're my main and only priority right now. And I can just try to find another job after all this's over with."

You offer your hand out to them and lead the way back to your bedroom when they take it. Your heart's still racing and you've yet to acknowledge the fact they're finally back with you, though your happiness continues to persist through it all; they're here and that's all that matters right now. Worry would come in later.

"Why did you move the TV to the bedroom, though?" they ask, halfway through your destination.

You squeeze their hand and stare down at them, managing a guilty and meek smile. "I, uh, might've... borrowed your dad's Netflicks password, and tried watching some movies since you went missing. I could barely sleep at night, so I just tried distracting myself by finding something new to watch." You let go, finally reaching the door of your bedroom. "I also made sure to tidy up your bedroom once a week, just in case you ever came back, so it's all nice and clean if you want to go there later," you say, smiling. "But... I'm guessing you'd want to be with me for awhile now?"

They nod, not an ounce of reluctance present in their actions. "Definitely!" They flinch back and giggle when you kiss their cheek as a response, "Can I, really?"

"As long as you fulfill your promise, then yes. You can stay in my bedroom for as long as you want, dear."

"But didn't you say I was a big kid just last year?"

"Yes, but I…" You chew on your lip and blink back tears, their return finally dawning on you. "I missed you too much to care about that right now."

You turn on the television and access Netflicks, putting on a movie and climbing into bed. They do the same and rest their head against your lap, cuddling against you. You both stay that way for the entirety of the movie, with them close and with your hand on their head, stroking their hair until they fall asleep halfway in.

When you're sure they're out like a light, you allow yourself to cry again; tears continue to go down the more time you spend with Frisk close to your side.

They were back.

Your prayers had been answered, and now you wouldn't have to lay awake at night, feeling guilty and mourning over their loss for hours on end.

Hopefully, Child Protective Services and Frisk's school would go easier on you now; despite what you said about not minding if they were taken away after their return, you do care. Now that they're back in your arms, you can't imagine not having the right to visit them again; a world without them. At that thought, sorrow overflows your mind and you find yourself crying quietly during what's left of another movie, uncontrolled yet quiet as you try not to wake or worry Frisk over your state. You needed to be strong for their sake and for your own as well, if the time to part ways from them ever became a reality.

That's the last thing you think of as you close your eyes, exhaustion finally taking your body for itself. Faint murmurs of an ongoing movie are the last things you hear and the sight of Frisk sleeping peacefully on your lap is the last thing you see. It all feels right, yet not; cherishing these final moments is the only thing you can do for now.

[Previous] | [Next]

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

131 notes · View notes

my-spiritualweapon-is-a-lollipop · 3 years

Text

Holding Hands

Synopsis: Essek tours the tower for the first time and he and Caleb have some honest talks. A little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff. Just how I like my wizards.

It had been a long day in Eiselcross. The Mighty Nein were all weary on their feet, many of them hurt from their various encounters along the way and everyone could probably use the rapport boost of a warm bed and good food. Still Caleb was leary of using the tower when Lucien had proven he could easily dispel it.

“But Caleb” Jester pleaded while grabbing onto his arm with her charming little mittens. “If Lucien’s not nearby yet then we wasted a night of good, safe rest. Wouldn’t it be better to fight him with a good night of sleep before? And besides, the tower is harder to find than the dome.” and she blinked up at him with that particular Jester pout that Caleb found particularly difficult to resist.

“Ja… we could…” He left room for Fjord or Beau to interject with a discussion of the best tactical decision, but they were surprisingly quiet. He glanced at them and saw that Beau was leaning hard against the wall, favouring the leg that hadn’t been hurt in their last run in and trying to play it off. Fjord’s face was etched with exhaustion. That settled it for Caleb. It was worth the boost in moral that an evening in the tower would provide… even if it served to be only a temporary situation. “Ja. We could” He repeated more firmly and began his preparations for the tower.

It was a challenging spell and Caleb had plenty of experience tuning out his companions when doing this work, but Beau and Caduceus couldn’t help but notice the almost imperceptible pause and tensing of Caleb’s shoulders that accompanied Jester grabbing Essek and delightedly declaring:

“Oh, Essek you are going to love the tower! And not just because it’s all wizardy and stuff but Caleb made it so nice. There are lots of cats, and everyone has a special nice room - I bet he’ll make one special for you” she pumped her eyebrows “- and the cats make like WHATEVER food you want! It’s amazing!”

Essek responded in the slightly shaken way he did whenever he encountered the full force of Jester’s jovial attentions:

“I-I-’m certain that it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a talented wizard.” and Essek looked hard at Caleb’s back for a moment and then looked away with a perceptible sadness in his eyes but Jester pushed on as was her way:

“Pro-tip: call all of the cats to come snuggle you. You will never. Sleep. Better.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Essek said nodding at her and trying to extricate himself from where she had her arms wrapped around his. He floated over to the wall to drift near Beau where he expected he would be left to sit in sullen silence, which was what he wanted. He wanted to observe everything about how Caleb cast this spell. This was the kind of magic he wasn’t particularly familiar with and it was endlessly fascinating. To his surprise he was interrupted by Beau leaning close to him and whispering savagely under her breath:

“If you talk shit about Caleb’s tower, I will fucking kill you. I know you’re a supposed to be amazing and all but it’s clear your opinion matters to him, so you better play nice got it?” Essek visibly deflated in response but whispered back with a surprising intensity.

“I understand that I have not given you much to trust Beauregard, but if there is one thing you can, please trust in my respect for all of your abilities. Even if you believe me to be arrogant, foolish or any other of the myriad of likely accurate and unflattering descriptions you may have in your mind, please know that you have each earned my respect time and time again and Caleb more so than anyone. If anything, I wish to prove my capabilities as an ally to you... not judge yours.” Before Beau could respond, Caduceus (who hears just about everything) put an arm around Essek and spoke.

“That’s nice.” and looked at Essek with a natural sense of hope that Essek couldn’t tolerate so he stared hard into the ground.

“Ready” Caleb said to the group. Those who knew him well picked up on the slight nerves in his voice. It would have been easy to attribute it to the long day of difficult travel, but they were all inclined to think that it was more likely to do with the wizard floating a few feet behind the rest of the group with a curious light filling his eyes. They began to file in and Jester paused at the back of the group to whisper to Caleb conspiratorially:

“Don’t worry. He’s going to like it.” and as she stepped inside, she threw her voice out to obviously and loudly proclaim:

“Oh, Caleb it is as beautiful as always! You are so talented! So amazing! So…” as she paused to look for the next description Veth cut in:

“Truly powerful. One might say a prodigy” She said making eye contact with Essek in a less than kind way before beginning to float upwards.

“Yes!” Jester began as she too started drifting upwards “an absolute prodigy! The best ever!” she feigned swooning and Beau cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah Caleb’s great. We get it. What’s for supper?”

“Uh ja” Caleb started, and he summoned a cat nearby “please prepare a good-sized roast and several -uh- vegetable dishes for our pink friend here and also some black moss cupcakes please.”

“Thank you” Caduceus said and began drifting upwards following the rest of the group. Essek looked like he was about to say something until Fjord shouted:

“UP!” right next to him and nearly caused him to leap out of his skin though he quickly recovered his unflappable mask. Everyone drifted up whilst chatting until it was just Caleb and Essek left on the platform.

“Ah I see.” Essek said as he began drifting up off the platform. “A clever design.”

“I thought that scaling many staircases seemed less than enjoyable after a day of adventuring.” Caleb put in, clearly trying to keep the pleasure at the compliment out of his voice.

“Actually, I was rather inspired by a time we found ourselves in the astral sea briefly.”

“Indeed” Essek said having some experience with the nature of that space. “I don’t believe I have heard that story yet.” He continued.

“Probably you will, some day” Caleb said and Essek could sense that this meant the tale of that particular adventure contained sensitive information, information that Caleb did not trust Essek with and he looked at his floating feet once more, unable to make eye contact with the closest friend he had had in years who was saying in no uncertain terms that he was still not to be trusted completely.

“Ah I see… someday then”.

Caleb didn’t want to leave the mood too low for too long. Afterall, he wanted to tell Essek every detail about those halls and their experiences there, but the happy fun ball seemed like it would probably be more of a temptation than was necessarily a good idea, especially if the two of them could work on it together. So, he began floating on ahead and offered Essek his hand.

“Would you like the tour then?” Essek briefly looked up at Caleb floating above him, stretching his hand down to carry him up to his level and couldn’t help but feel the weight of the visual representation of their situation. Caleb looking down, wreathed in light from above while Essek looked up at him and reached for his hand. It was almost like an art piece and he hated to give in to the symbolism.

Still, he grabbed Caleb’s hand and thought “up” to himself until they were level. Much to his surprise Caleb kept their hands intertwined as they floated up to the first floor and it was almost enough to distract Essek from the beautiful library they found themselves in next. Almost. He was a wizard after all. He couldn’t resist the sight of any good collection of books. Essek quickly moved over to the nearest shelf and began scanning title after title and slowly came to a realization.

“You create this space anew every time, correct? It’s not permanently established?”

“Ja, I create it new every time, though I try to keep it close to the same for the most part.”

“So, all of these… these only exist here meaning that these are simply books that you have memorized?” He said with audible admiration.

“Ja. I have a good mind for storing facts.” and he watched as Essek pulled a book from the shelves and began thumbing through pages and couldn’t help but feel to a certain degree as if he was being tested. Essek saw that these books were not just visual representations or the spines of Caleb’s favourite books but complete volumes, written exactly as they were. He found himself feeling that odd mix of jealousy, admiration and something else that he hadn’t quite pinned down that often-accompanied Caleb’s displays of mental prowess. He looked back at Caleb, and though he had had trouble meeting the fellow wizard’s eyes for days - he did not want to see Caleb’s disappointment - he felt compelled to make strong eye contact now to drive home his point.

“I am considered excellent at what I do. I have a keen mind. But this… this is astounding even to me.” Caleb felt the weight of his eyes on him and felt himself flushing somewhat.

“Well… this is available to you if you wish to read, though I must let you know that many of them are in my original tongue and plenty of these are repeated. Though I have a great love of reading, I have found that I cannot fill an entire library with only my own knowledge just yet.” Essek waved his hand dismissively and Caleb saw just a small hint of the old, confident Essek peek thorough.

“I have arcane means at my disposal to translate. That is not a problem. I thank you.” He bowed his head slightly and stashed a book under his arm.

“But this is only the first floor? Though I would be happy to remain here in the library if that were your wish, I would gladly see more if you would show me?” Though he masked it well from his voice, Caleb could sense the hunger, the eagerness to see more that was familiar to him. Not for the first time, Caleb longed for simpler times in the other wizard’s tower when there was no betrayal hanging between them, simply peers enjoying the pursuit of knowledge and each other's company. Now even the memory of their victory that day felt tainted with the cost of how Essek had acquired much of his knowledge. Caleb pulled himself out of the spiral and offered:

“There is more to seen to be sure. Come. I’ll show you” and he proffered his hand once again. He knew Essek was perfectly capable of following but there was a small part of Caleb that couldn’t resist the small bit of pleasant contact between them that felt safe and distant enough, at least until he could make up his mind about what to do about Essek. Essek for his part noted the texture of Caleb’s hand, memorizing it and studying his internal reaction for future reference- when he had time to unpack all that was causing him to feel. He also noticed the scars just visible at the bottom of the arm of Caleb’s coat but chose not to interrupt this small precious moment of goodwill with a question that may bring up pain for Caleb.

And so, Caleb showed him the majority of the lower levels, going from place-to-place hand in hand, to a point where both hands were clammy and almost asleep but neither wizard was willing to give up their tenuous bond just yet. Essek thought the summoning space in the hall was “quite a brilliant solution” and Caleb informed Essek that he had had to install tiny locking doors on his cat travel system after Jester’s first polymorph escapade and thank goodness he had for Jester decided to provide Lucien with that little tidbit of advice upon first arriving. This caused Essek to actually laugh out loud which took Caleb by surprise.

“Yes, I am unsurprised by this. Jester is a talented person in her own right, but I would not describe her as pragmatic in any sense of the word.” Essek chuckled again. Caleb stopped and looked down at their joined hands a moment.

“Herr Theylyss, may I ask you something? It may be personal” Essek felt a pit of concern begin turning in his stomach but responded:

“Uh- why yes. I thought you were aware that I have made the decision to be fully -uh honest with you ever since… yes you may.” Caleb noted that Essek was fidgeting with his other hand.

“I had wondered why you seem more comfortable around Jester when it is clear that you still struggle to be at ease around … the rest of us at times? I understand that Jester is very talented at - uh-bringing out the best in people shall we say but… I had wondered…” Essek thought for a moment.

“I believe the answer is twofold. Firstly, Jester was the voice of your group to me for many months. It was through her that I was first annoyed with you all, then simply exasperated and then, I will admit, excited to hear from you. In my perspective she was the voice of my...my first friends. I believe to some degree I still expect her intrusions” He looked away at this “Secondly, I know I disappointed her as I disappointed each of you when I… when my decisions came to light but I can tell that Jester wants to forgive me and believes in the good she sees in me, just as Caduceus has hoped for me but I suppose, with the rest of you, in many ways I know that the damage is done and that the days of eating and drinking in that ridiculous hot tub are well over and I-” he paused to collect his thoughts “though I know I deserve it, it can be difficult to face that our bonds will never be what I was hoping they would be.” Essek hadn’t met Caleb’s eyes through this whole speech but a visible dark purple flush was creeping across his features.

“Ah I see.” Caleb began, “yes Jester’s capacity for seeing the positives in life is an admirable quality but” Caleb touched Essek’s chin feather light and turned his face towards him. “You do us a disservice if you think that each of us does not hold hope that you will redeem yourself or see the best in you. You would not be here if we didn’t but I have already told you… it takes time.” Both of them thought back to the moment of his discovery when Caleb managed to stop an oncoming panic attack in its tracks with a kiss on the forehead and his stalwart belief in Essek’s capacity to redeem himself. Looking into his eyes now, Essek saw something almost worse than his worst fear and the reason he been avoiding Caleb’s gaze. He had expected to see disappointment, sadness or even derision in Caleb’s eyes but instead he saw a warmth and a genuine affection that he felt undeserving of. It was never something he had seen before from anyone else; not in the eyes of his parents or siblings, the bright queen, or even his students that viewed him with adoration. Caleb had looked at him that way a few times before but Essek had not dared to hope that look remained after his deceptions were revealed. He felt a wetness swelling in his eyes, but he couldn't pull his gaze away, desperately catching every last second of affection that he could. Caleb was glad to see behind Essek’s carefully laid mask to know that he was being heard and heard truly. He ran his thumb over the soft purple skin along Essek’s jaw.

“Time.” He reiterated. Then he pulled his gaze away and broke them both out of the moment. He dropped Essek’s hand, afraid he’d clench too tightly if he didn’t, taken by a swarm of his own emotions of hurt, betrayal, and still warm caring and concern “I better leave you a little time before supper to clean up ja? Come. I will show you your room.” Essek didn’t say anything but simply nodded, hoping to clamber his mask of semi-indifference back into place.

They got to the landing with all of the doors to the individual bedrooms and both caught a glance into Yasha’s bedroom where Jester could be seen to be braiding Yasha’s hair in a particularly spectacular updo.

“Do you think Beau will like it?” Yasha wondered while looking in the mirror.

“Oh Yasha! She will love it!” Jester started a whole torrent of compliments before Caleb opened the door to the guest bedroom and both of them were distracted by the reveal.

Caleb had a tense knot in his stomach as Essek cautiously stepped, or floated rather, forward. He had hoped that this room could act as a small kind of gift, to show Essek that he still held space for him.

It was a chamber much like the rest of the bedrooms with its bathtub and fireplace, but Caleb had modified the architecture to be more reminiscent of Xhorhos, more specifically the design Caleb had seen in Essek’s tower. The furniture was inspired by that as well, though in different arrangements to accommodate the layout. Fine silver instruments laid upon the desk. Wall hangings precisely as they had appeared in Essek’s tower. There was space for mucking about and chalkboards for scribbling out theories. There was a small library space that was empty save for the books Caleb placed in every room and the large comfortable reading chair in the deep blue velvet that Caleb remembered, with the important distinction that this reading nook had two reading chairs as opposed to the one in Essek’s original study. Caleb watched as Essek floated from place to place taking in the details.

“Uh-ja” he interjected as Essek moved toward the desk. “I only included instruments I could recall from the limited view of your tower I had but if you require more, I have a study and lab that I share with Veth that you are welcome to share with us if you should have anything you wish to work on.” Essek moved over to touch one of the velvet chairs and Caleb cut in again:

“I have – that is- I know what it is like to be far from a patriot but to still miss home so I thought I could include a few familiar touches” Essek nodded silently, and Caleb worried he may have missed the mark. Essek finally spoke near the bed:

“I haven’t used a bed in many years. I typically just trance at the desk in my study.”

“I was worried you’d say that” Caleb said rushing forward in a fervor that he only acquired when he’d had a particularly exciting idea “thus I have innovated something for wizards everywhere. This will save our necks and shoulders” He tugged on a cord by the bed and revealed on the roof of the four poster was a chalkboard with a floating bit of chalk. He laid down excitedly and pointed up and continued “it works much like transit throughout the space. Simply think what you wish, and the chalk will begin to draw” and the chalk began drawing the figures related to fortunes favor from Caleb’s notes. “This way you may think and rest your body at the same time.” Essek was craning to look up at the chalk board with a small look of amusement glowing in his eyes. It truly was a good idea but far better was the excitement in his friend that accompanied it.

“Truly inspired” he affirmed and began peering around the rest of the space when his eyes landed on the stained glass above the fireplace. Essek floated over to peer at it and Caleb sat up to watch him. The stained glass depicted the Xorhaus as the nein affectionately called the home Essek’s Den had gifted them during their time in Xorhos, with the tree growing up out of it with it’s glittering branches. And in the house could be seen 8 colourful figures sitting around a hot tub. All of the mighty nein were silhouetted in their signature colours and in the very centre were two male silhouettes looking at one another. One purple and one orange. They seemed to be laughing in their pose. Below this there was a scroll that read “Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”.

Essek’s feet hit the floor with a loud thud as he stared at this stained-glass piece. Caleb had never seen Essek lose concentration in his levitating outside of a fight before and instinctually stood up. Essek looked over and then down at his feet somewhat embarrassed.

“My apologies, uh, I just didn’t expect…” and he moved to begin the spell again.

“You have nothing to prove to me Essek.” Caleb cut him off and essek let the spell die, looking back up to the stained glass.

“I had hoped to provide you a sense of home here, but I apologize if I misjudged or over stepped. I had already designed that stained glass before our discussion earlier and I see now that it may be more harmful than helpful. Tomorrow night I can-

“It is perfect.” Essek said quietly as he stepped, actually stepped, towards Caleb, looking as if he was searching for the right thing to say before landing on:

“Thank you. I am humbled by your insight and your skill.” Caleb looked uncomfortable at such high praise and stood, uncertain what to do with himself for several moments before he began moving toward the door.

“Supper in the dining room in fifteen minutes” he said, fleeing all of the feelings that Essek’s presence had caused.

Essek spent the next fifteen minutes in quiet contemplation about the feeling of one hand in another until he heard Caleb shouting as he descended from his room:

“Supper is ready. Please come down everyone.”

Essek opened his door as the other’s spilled onto the landing as well. He heard a massive noise from upstairs roughly the direction Caleb had specified for the lab and everyone paused to look up until Veth leaned out the door with ash covering her face and said:

“I’ll be down in 5 minutes!”

“Is everything alright?” Fjord asked semi-suspiciously.

“Absolutely! Everything is fine. Perfectly and absolutely fine.” smoke was billowing out of the door and dissipating. “I just need five minutes for um...lady stuff. BE RIGHT DOWN!” she shouted as she slammed the door closed again. The rest of the mighty nein seemed to shrug somewhat to Essek’s dismay:

“Should we help her?” he enquired.

“She’s more likely to bite than accept help she hasn’t asked for” Fjord chuckled. “She does this from time to time. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, I’m starving”. Fjord wrapped an arm around Jester and hopped off the landing and said “Down!” and they began descending. Essek could hear Jester going:

“Oh Oskar! You are so strong” and the beginnings of Fjord’s protest at the jibe.

Meanwhile Beau and Yasha were squaring off and Essek wasn’t certain if they were likely to kiss or fight or both.

“You look...really good Yasha.”

“You like it? I had never tried this style in my hair before.”

“Essek, tell Caleb we’re skipping dinner.” Beau said with some fervor

“What-” Essek began before his question was answered by Beau pulling Yasha into her room and slamming the door. “Ah… I see”. A sudden thud could be heard from the otherside of the door and Essek did not wish to question what had caused it. Suddenly a large hand was patting him on the shoulder.

“You get used to it” Caduceus said.

“What is that?”

“Being a part of something.” Caduceus finished with another pat on the shoulder, then he began to descend for supper as if he hadn’t said something that hit Essek at his very core.

They had a pleasant supper all together and planned some tactics for the next day before everyone adjourned to their various places of rest for the night. Essek went over to the library and collected an armful of books. Frumkin appeared through a little gap in the wall and Essek leaned down to him.

“Do you have a message from your master?” he said hopefully. Frumkin just butted up against him looking to be pet.

“Do you require something?” Frumkin flopped at Essek’s feet. In this moment alone, he smiled a small smile for the cat that contained none of his usual bravado. He crouched down to pet Frumkin exceedingly gently. After a few moments Frumkin was purring loudly.

“I’m glad we are still good friends at least” Essek sighed. “Do you wish to enjoy some reading with me?” Frumkin gave a slight meow that seemed like a yes and Essek picked him up and placed him on his shoulder giving him a little nuzzle on the way. They began to ascend to Essek’s room and Caleb watched them go. He felt somewhat disappointed in himself for this scheme, particularly after seeing Essek’s sweet nature with his cat, but he would not be fooled twice.

Once safely in his room Caleb watched Essek through frumkin’s eyes. He watched and waited and expected some sort of betrayal though he did not hope for one. He waited until everyone else had gone to bed and Essek was the only one remaining awake. He had expected Essek may message someone, scry or even perhaps begin taking notes of the tower. In that whole time Essek had done nothing but read and cast comprehend languages. Eventually Caleb realized he wasn’t going to do anything else. He wasn’t going to betray them. He then spent the better part of an hour wrestling with himself and doing a good amount of internal reflection before coming to a decision. He went down to knock quietly on Essek’s door.

“Yes?” Essek asked, coming to the door in the least precisely put together look Caleb had ever seen from the wizard. His hair was amuck in places, his robe was gone and the shirt beneath was half untucked and he had the slight dark purple imprint on his cheek where he had been leaning his hand. It made him look more approachable than his typical visage as the “Shadowhand”. Perhaps more endearing too.Caleb also noted he wasn’t floating and wondered if that was to do with his earlier comment.

“Have you happened to have seen my cat?” Caleb enquired. Essek was not fooled by the pretense, knowing that Caleb could summon Frumkin at will, but played along.

“Ah my apologies, I have been detaining him to keep me company while I read.” At this Frumkin ran out of the door and began weaving between Caleb’s legs.

“So, this is where you were?” Caleb enquired of him in mock surprise.

“Yes, well it seemed fitting to have him around while reading my first empire fairy tales about such a one.” Essek said brandishing the book.

“You read der katzenprinz?” Caleb asked, legitimately surprised. He had assumed that Essek would have immediately gravitated towards the arcane books.

“I started with another regarding transmutation but this one seemed a bit of an odd one out in the collection so I assumed it must be of some importance to you…” Essek paused getting slightly embarrassed and then noticing how long they had been standing in the doorway.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Actually, I had a thought, if you are too tired, we don’t have to but,” he looked almost pained and rubbed his hand across his mouth and he seemed to make a decision or resolve himself “but we had not quite finished our tour I think.”

“Oh” Essek was somewhat surprised but still eager. “Yes absolutely. Lead the way.” He placed the book on a nearby table while Frumkin ran to his exit in a hole in the wall. As they began to ascend. Essek spoke up softly:

“Is there a reason that Fjord always declares his direction?”

“Other than showmanship? Absolutely not.” Caleb replied. At this Essek grinned while Caleb opened up the next level.

“I ask that you never come up here without me please Herr Theylyss. Please” he repeated while making pointed eye contact.

“Of course. Whatever it is your wish.” Essek responded genuinely but somewhat surprised as they came to a room full of doors. “What is this place?”

Caleb did not reply but instead said:

“I have only shown the others of the mighty nein this place.” and he opened the door labelled 1. Caleb closed the door behind them as Essek stepped into the humble space and began looking around.

“What is the significance of this house?” He asked before noting the far off look in Caleb’s face.

“Well, I wanted you to know why I found your choices so challenging to ignore. I wanted you to know why it is that I seem to understand so deeply the challenges you face in learning to forgive yourself for what you have done for it is still something I struggle with myself. Deeply.” Essek could sense the gravity of the space for Caleb and came closer.

“I wish you for to know, as I know your greatest transgression, but you do not know mine and it seems there is an unfair imbalance between us of late that I hope to dispel.” Essek was surprised that Caleb thought there was anything comparable to his “transgression” as he put it but thought back to some of the sadness in Caleb and some of the truth in his eyes whenever he talked about the path ahead of Essek and knew there must be something substantial coming.

“This was my home. I am sure it may be challenging for you to imagine ,coming from such a high-ranking family, but we were happy here.”

“Wealth does not inherently create happy families. In fact, I think it is likely the opposite” Essek put in softly. Caleb nodded and pointed to the small kitchen counter:

“My mother used to make bread here. She used to allow me to take small portions of the dough while she was kneading it and I would make little figures. I would -uh- use them as puppets and tell her stories of magnificent wizards who saved all of the empire from the evil creatures that threatened it. She would turn them into small buns when I was finished and told me that if I ate them, it was like making a wish, and that one day I might become that powerful wizard.” Caleb touched the surface of the table and closed his eyes for a long moment. Essek tentatively put a hand on his shoulder which remained until Caleb went over to the hearth.

“This is where I learned to love fire. My father would feed the flames and show me how to keep it well. He’d tell me that fire could hurt and burn but it could also sustain life. Once I became old enough to manage without harming myself, he let me create the fire every night to practice. Later I practiced control flames here, the first spell I ever learned from a spell book.” Caleb turned to Essek and held his gaze. Essek saw the shame and pain that was written in Caleb’s features.

“You have killed many good people in your thirst for knowledge and power. I … I am no different. I killed good, loving people who only wished that I could have been the powerful wizard who saved the empire… “Caleb swallowed and realization sunk in for Essek. “I killed my family and destroyed this home as a result of Trent Ikathon’s teaching methods. It was seen as a ‘required step in becoming the capable wizards we needed to be to protect our nation’. Still to this day he attests that it is what my family would have wanted though I don’t think our stories in the kitchen could have ever prepared them for their end.” Caleb paused attempting to collect himself. His hands were shaking a great deal, but he pushed forward “I have only just begun the journey to forgiving myself. I keep this room here, not to torture myself but to ensure that this happy home is never forgotten, never lost. Each room on this floor is a moment to be captured and preserved. I will show you another.” A few tears had fallen on Caleb’s face, but he did not seem to notice. Essek didn’t have feel he had an adequate response, but he did not want to leave this space without saying anything.

“You have performed your own dunemancy here. You fixed this in time. It is beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me.” Essek said, hoping he did not say the wrong thing. He had very limited experience with people he would consider loved ones and he had never lost one. Caleb didn’t say anything, but he nodded a thank you and pulled Essek across the hall to another room. It was Caleb’s bedroom in the xorhaus. Essek recognized it immediately by the charming cat figurines on the shelf.

“This was the space where you first entrusted me with dunamancy but I did not preserve it for this reason… I did so because it was the first time we worked together, and I realized you were very much someone I wished to know more. I saw a like mind in you...Essek, I understand exactly what the cost of knowledge and power can be and the folly of chasing them, you have seen this now, but I also understand that draw, that pull of power in a way almost no one else will. I know how easy it is to slip off the path and become a tool for destruction once more, and this is why I find it difficult to fully trust you as you have proven to me that we are too similar, and I do not trust myself even with that.” He had finally said it out loud. Essek had been hanging on the word trust ever since Caleb had said he was more trusted than Trent Ikathon, but here it was. More did not mean much at all. And how could Essek blame him when he was correct? They were very much alike, that was one of the things that had drawn Essek in and convinced Essek to teach Caleb dunamancy against his better judgement. Essek looked and stared at a cat figurine, willing his breath to slow, his eyes to focus. He did not understand what it was particularly that hurt him so much about Caleb having a perfectly, reasonably low opinion of him.

Caleb saw Essek beginning to have difficulty containing his emotions and he closed the space between them to once again place a small kiss on Essek’s forehead before placing his own against it. He put a hand around Essek’s neck gently pulling them together.

“I have said it takes time and I believe that. My path out of the pit did not move straight forward and I had many setbacks, but I have begun the journey. I did so by taking small steps -and sometimes large ones - every day to leave the world slightly better than I found it. I will never expunge my past crimes, but I can hope to maybe outweigh them in my overall impact on this world. I see you at the beginning of this journey and I know that one of the most important things in the path to redemption was having companions who walked alongside me on my way to finding it. Having the mighty nein who cared for me and loved me unconditionally, despite these terrible pieces of my past was so...essential… in my ability to begin to overcome them.” His whole body seemed to be sagging with the weight of the world and he pulled away to look in into his eyes “Essek, I know it is easy to see only our faults and everything we have done wrong, but I also know that I am still worthy of forgiveness by some, I am still worthy of friendship and chances to redeem myself and even still worthy of love. And I do not believe this myself many days but Veth and the rest of the nein refuse to allow me to forget it and on days when my belief is not enough, theirs is. And that makes me wish to strive to continue to be worthy of their belief in me. You see?”

Essek was nodding but Caleb could see he was drowning in all of his thoughts.

“Come. I have one more room to show you.” He said gently and walked out of this room. Essek blinked and felt the suddenly jarring distance between them and followed Caleb out of the room. His mind was a swarm.

Caleb placed his hands out for Essek who looked at him somewhat quizzically but took them, nonetheless. They floated up while facing one another to the final floor and Caleb revealed it to him. The floor inspired by dunamancy. Essek’s jaw dropped, and his head swivelled as he took in the room.

“It is no secret that I have a great interest in your craft, but I bring you up here not to remind you of all the power to be gained or lost but to show you of what you already have. You have unlocked so many secrets of the world, but you were never given the chance to study the most important lesson. One that also eluded me for many years. All of this “Caleb gestured out” feels so important, the stretching endless expanse of time and the motes of possibility that we can affect. But” he said firmly “It is not nearly as important as the moment we are living right now, and the people that we share that with.” Essek peeled his eyes off the expanse around them and turned his attention back to Caleb who was looking at him with an expression that he had only seen once before as they unlocked the key to the transmogrification spell. It was a mix of adrenaline, elation, apprehension and excitement. Caleb was building up to something and all Essek could do was be shocked that he was floating in this space of utter beauty and being looked at like that, as if he were the most important thing in the room, as if he was a great spell Caleb was trying to learn the inner workings of.

He began to understand the lesson Caleb was trying to impart as he could not pull his eyes away, despite being surrounded by a veritable playground for his mind, his focus was solely affixed to Caleb and what he would say next. He understood what Caleb meant to say with this room about what really mattered in a way that surprised even Essek himself. Caleb tightened his grasp on Essek’s hands and continued.

“If you will allow me to, herr Theylyss, I wish to do for you what has been done for me. I wish to be the person that reminds you that you can and will find your way back to the light. I wish to be the person who believes in you when you cannot believe in yourself, though I suspect I already have Jester’s help with that.” he quirked a small smile “ I wish to be the one who keeps you in the moment and moving forward. I wish to hold your hand” and he looked down at their joined hands “through your journey to finding yourself.” He squeezed their hands together tightly and then he looked back up with nerves clattering “Essek, you are important to me and I have felt a bond with you since the first time we studied together. That has not gone or broken the way you seem to believe. You have hurt me, yes, but I am still here to hold your hand and hoping that you will prove that my forgiveness is not for nothing. Hoping that you will find a way to be prove that all of this love that I feel for you is not unjustified... for I do not wish for it go to waste.” He searched Essek’s expression and found it unreadable.

Years of practice freezing his face in moments of panic had caused Essek to almost completely shut down while he attempted to process a response. He pulled away from Caleb slightly and sought to pull his hands into a robe he realized he wasn’t wearing. He wished he could hide how his hands were inclined to fidget.

“I uh-” He began “This is much to process.” Essek stammered out. Caleb was already feeling disappointment seep in. He knew that he had thrown a lot of uncomfortable feelings at Essek in a short amount of time, but he had hoped that there would be at least a degree of enthusiasm for his final declaration. Still, he did not want to pressure Essek.

“Of course.” Caleb said failing to hide his disappointment. “I will leave you to your thoughts Herr Theylyss” he said nodding in a formal way.

Essek was still simply busy processing the word love. He was turning it over in his mind and examining it as it was a fully novel concept to him. He tested out how it felt as a description of that odd feeling of warmth in his chest and stomach when he saw Caleb get excited, or smile, or that small tug at an invisible rope in his chest that could be felt when he saw Caleb being good at, well, almost anything. He considered if that had been why Caleb’s opinion had mattered so much more than most. And here he was, standing before Essek and telling him that he could have that love returned. That he felt that way about him. That he was somehow deserving despite all of the things that he had done.

He thought then how he had felt nothing but sympathy and sorrow for Caleb as he heard of what he had done to his parents. He did not blame him for his foolishness in trusting and believing in the things Trent Ikathon had said. Could Essek really be given the same grace?

Around the time that Caleb was just beginning to descend out of the room, Essek’s mind finally caught up with what he had said.

“No!” Essek shouted. “No. No. I did not mean it this way. I just-“ Essek took a breath and felt the mask slipping away and for once he allowed himself to be laid bare in front of someone. Caleb rose back up to his level. “I don’t know if I have ever been loved in the way that you have described. It simply took me a moment to understand. You spoke of loving parents, but I have never been more than a means to end for my family. I was a product of incredible amounts of pressure but never loving care or attention. I was to be useful. Then I became the shadowhand and I had to be distant from the rest. It was my duty to be useful to the bright queen, but it only alienated me further from my peers. It made it easy to betray them when the chance was offered because I had never been close with any of them. I regret so much of what I have done, all the pain that I have caused” Essek grabbed at his own hair and Caleb was surprised to see him allowing himself to be this expressive “but it is made far worse now knowing what friendship and love can be like. To think that I caused people to go off and fight in a war that did not matter and worse that both sides felt losses comparable to what I would feel if you were to be harmed. It feels almost unbearable to know that I could have caused that much pain” Essek began sputtering, tears streaming down his face. “And still, you stand before me and say that I am worthy of redemption and that I am worthy of love?” Essek was ranting now but it was as if so many of the feelings he had always held down couldn’t help but burst forth now that they were given a small bit of freedom. Caleb wrapped his arms around him and held him close, with one hand stroking his hair. Essek rambled on “you had it right when you said I had missed an essential lesson along the way. How could I have been so blinded by my research and studies to never see that the people they would benefit were the point, not knowledge for knowledge’s own sake? And still, you hold me as if I am something precious rather than wretched. It is a kindness greater than I deserve for truthfully, I can tell that you know the weight of what you have done, but until today, until now, I still had never comprehended the depths of the pain my actions caused… to so many.”

At this Essek dissolved into sobs and Caleb held him through them. He kept stroking Essek’s hair and gave him small soft kisses on the top of his hair and waited for the sobbing to peter out. He did everything he wished someone could have done for him when he was going through this. Eventually it seemed Essek had cried himself out. He was still shaking and there were tear lines stained into his purple skin, but he pulled himself back a little to look at Caleb. Before Essek could apologize again Caleb said again:

“It takes time.” Essek nodded sadly and put his hand out for Caleb who clasped it and kissed it his knuckles lightly. “But.” Caleb continued “that does not mean you must spend it alone. I meant what I said. If you wish to be loved and reminded of all the things you are worth and what makes the moment worth living in, I am happy to offer that to you. And perhaps together we can work to make the world a little bit better than when we found it ja? So no other young people go unloved or get led astray?”

Essek was still feeling a whole spectrum of emotions but was able to centre himself enough to unabashedly meet Caleb’s eyes and spoke.

“Yes, I think I would very much like to do that, but with one stipulation.” Caleb smiled at the return of some of Essek’s former, confident demeanor “I know you have many in your life with more experience in affection than I, but I would like to offer my love, as … untested as it imay be, in trade. Together we can hypothesize,experiment and test its bounds until you believe it is up to your standards? Do these conditions seem fair to you?” Caleb was smiling in a way that made Essek pleased, and caused him to consider being reckless once more.

“Ja I think that is accepta-” and before Caleb could finish, Essek pulled him into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and Caleb’s hands found their way into Essek’s hair. They kissed deeply and with the release of the many conflicting emotions both of them had felt over the past weeks.

Essek found the texture of Caleb’s lips and stubble to be a bit surprising but planned on savouring every bit of the feeling. He approached this kiss almost like learning a new spell from Caleb, and followed his lead through the unfamiliar, for though Essek had kissed before, never with much feeling behind it, and this was an entirely different experience. His heart was pounding in his ears, his chest felt full of fireworks and there was something that felt hooked inside of both of them, drawing them closer. It was a startling powerful sensation.

Caleb was surprised not only by the kiss but by the intensity it quickly developed. He felt Essek’s hands pushing into his back and keeping him close, and the soft strands of essek’s hair moving beneath his fingers and the warmth of Essek’s lips and was intoxicated, drinking in every last bit of the experience that he could.

Finally, they broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. Essek found himself smoothing down the front of Caleb’s shirt for something to do and pulling a few pieces of cat hair off of it as he asked:

“May I ask something of your path to redemption?” He continued to try to compose his features but couldn’t resist the smile that kept making itself known on his face. It was a broader smile than Caleb had ever seen on Essek and it made his chest squeeze. He thought it would be a new mission of his to procure that smile more often.

“Yes Essek?”

“If we do not have to be alone, are we also allowed happiness? For I must admit that I think this is the happiest I have been in… sometime, perhaps ever.” Caleb thought and looked serious.

“I think so yes. I have to believe that is so.”

“In that case, I think we should kiss more often.” And at that Caleb laughed a full and genuine laugh and kissed Essek on the cheek following by cupping his face in his hands, allowing his thumb draw over the spot that was just kissed.

“Ja. That can certainly be arranged.” and he pulled Essek’s face down for another kiss on the forehead. “But for tonight I think it best if we both get some rest.” He grabbed Essek’s hand once more and descended into the tower, closing doorways behind them until they stopped at Essek’s room.

“I think I may need some time to wind down after all of that” Essek admitted.

“I think I shall be similar.” Caleb agreed.

“In that case, do you wish to read a while with me? Only I had noticed someone had placed 2 chairs in my reading nook.” Essek said with a conspiratorial smile. Caleb seemed to debate with himself a moment before coming in.

“But if I do not recover my spells, I will have to blame you Theylyss.”

“These terms are acceptable to me” Essek replied with a smile that belied his serious tone. And they each took an armchair and began reading, with their hands held between them.

Eventually Essek awoke from a trance he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen into. His book had fallen into his lap and his hand had drifted out of Caleb’s somewhere in the night. He only required a short trance to be rested but Caleb would need more sleep and was currently snoring lightly from his armchair. Essek cautiously placed both of their books aside and used his levitation spell to float Caleb gently over to the bed. He tucked Caleb in and gave him the gentlest kiss on the forehead and then used the chalkboard above the bed to scrawl I was worried about your neck and shoulders which he felt had just the right amount of cheeky touch.

Essek pondered getting into the bed as well but felt it may be too presumptuous, so instead he sat at the desk at his study and began writing out the events of the night, hoping to capture it’s every detail. Though he had a good memory, he hoped to preserve this turning point for himself the way Caleb preserved history in his rooms upstairs. So, he wrote while Caleb slept.

When the hustle and bustle of the others moving about the tower finally awoke Caleb, he had the moment of concern that arises when waking in a different spot than where you fell asleep, until he saw the message above the bed and smiled to himself.

“The world better watch out if one kiss is all it takes to get Essek Theylyss to start writing jokes” Caleb called out to the room.

Essek came over, looking somehow more perfect than ever this morning (Caleb being unaware that Essek had fussed by the mirror for 20 minutes for the perfectly tousled look…) and handed Caleb a coffee that he had summoned via the cat system. Caleb took it gratefully as he sat up in bed and Essek came to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Imagine what will happen after 2,3 or even 100 kisses?” Caleb continued his jibe. Essek simply raised an eyebrow at him:

“I suppose we will have to test it to find out.”

“I suppose we will” Caleb replied with a grin.

9 notes · View notes

myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

Text

Untouchable- Ch 2: The Offer

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: swearing, discussion about death and illegal activity (but like, at half the normal Criminal Minds level)

Ch 1 | Ch 3 | About Lydia

~ ~ ~

“You got it all sorted out?” Gideon asked Hotch as he walked into his office. It had been a month since their case in Santa Cruz and Gideon had been on Hotch’s ass about this since they got back.

“It’s… not a job…” Hotch started. “I talked to Strauss and she said that there was no proof that a forensic scientist would be of any benefit to the team. Police departments provide them and local forensic scientists have access to scenes sooner.”

“Police departments can also have media liaisons and tech analysts, but we bring in our own,” he argued. “I spoke to some of Lydia’s old professors and they said that she’s not only a good crime scene investigator, but her major was chemistry and she’s fit to get a job in DNA analysis or toxicology.”

“Gideon, what did I say about not getting involved? Strauss needs proof that she is an asset to the team before paying her a salary. So, I got her to agree to let Lydia work here as an intern under your supervision.”

“Done,” Gideon said. “By the end of the month, she’ll have proven worthy of a spot on this team.”

“No, there’s more,” Hotch told him, frustrated. “She only gets to work jobs that we clearly need her on and she gets no more than two cases every 50 days.”

“Fine, fine,” Gideon replied, which did nothing to ease Hotch’s worry. He, too, had been impressed by Lydia during the Jonathan Carrey case, but there were parameters on hiring people into the FBI and Gideon acted like those meant nothing.

He’d been the same way about Reid after he first spoke to him, but Reid was cut out to be a profiler from day one and they had an opening for him. Gideon wanted Hotch to simply create a brand new job title and salary for Lydia and he couldn’t do that.

“Should I call her and tell her to pack up her things and move to DC?”

Hotch blinked. “You haven’t already told her about the possibility of a job, have you?”

“No,” Gideon laughed. “I can’t promise her a job when I don't have the jurisdiction to hire anybody.”

That was a relief, but Hotch was still afraid Gideon had let on too much. He had just admitted to calling her professors to learn more about her abilities. So, he replied, “You can tell her that we have an internship position that she might be interested in and ask her about her ability to leave California. That is all.”

~ ~ ~

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Gideon,” Lydia greeted as she entered the BAU. It was crazy enough to be in Virginia, seeing as she’d never left California, but FBI headquarters?

She shuffled around nervously and adjusted her glasses numerous times despite the fact they were already as far up her nose as they could go.

“Lydia,” Gideon greeted, warmly. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Exciting. I’ve never been on an airplane before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. No one should have to go through airport security for their first time alone,” Hotch said. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

He and Gideon led the way into the bullpen and around to his office. Lydia’s eyes darted around, seeing Morgan, Elle, and Reid at their desks, engrossed in their work. She wondered if any of them would even recognize her if she caught their eye. She was surprised enough when Gideon called.

“I assume you’ve been considering my offer?” Gideon asked, closing the door behind her.

“Considering, yes. But it would be… difficult, to say the least. I’d love to hear it from your mouths… the offer, that is.”

Hotch sat down at his desk and gestured for her to do the same.

“Agent Gideon and I would like to offer you an internship here at the BAU as a forensic science technician. When we took you on as a consultant in Santa Cruz, you proved to have inspiring potential. You would only be called out for occasional cases, once every month or so. Agent Gideon would be your supervisor.”

“And this would mean moving to DC?”

“Eventually, yes. We can’t exactly fly you out to every new scene from California. It would be easier to have you here, getting briefed with us, taking the jet, etcetera. You’ll also need to go through a training period here and likely will be asked to work in the office, even when you aren’t on a case. How big of a problem would that be? Do you have a lot of family there?”

“No, not family. I mean, it’s just me and my sister and she’s been doing just fine on her own while I’ve been at college, so we’ll manage the distance. The issue is I’m set to start a masters program next semester. I’m just… unsure how I feel about dropping out of school. I know this is a crazy opportunity, but it’s not a full-time job. And if I don’t do well and you guys decide not to keep me, I’m poor and stuck in DC.”

Gideon, who’d been hovering in the back of the room stepped forward. “If we fire you for some reason, I promise to personally pay for your flight back to California.” It was a joke, but in all seriousness, a flight wasn’t even half of it.

“You wouldn’t have to drop out,” Hotch added. “Many schools nearby would be happy to have you and the Bureau rarely has problems with schools refusing to work around our interns schedules. And even if that’s too difficult, this experience will likely open up many opportunities in the future. I’d be happy to write you a million letters of recommendation should you decide to find work elsewhere.”

“I, uh-”

“Hey Hotch?” A familiar voice called, knocking on the door.

He apologized to her momentarily, before saying, “Come in, Reid.”

The door swung open and the boy looked right over Lydia’s head to his boss. “JJ wanted me to tell you that she…”

He trailed off as he felt more pairs of eyes on him. He glanced at Gideon before finally landing on Lydia.

She decided to make the first move, seeing as he was stunned into silence. “Dr. Reid, how nice to see you again.” She stood up to greet him, a smile gracing her features.

“Lydia, I uh… Sorry, to interrupt I really had no- Oh! And it’s nice to see you, too,” he fumbled. “I’ll… I can talk to Hotch later. Sorry, again for interrupting.” And with that he shut the door and was gone.

“Sorry about that. I figured it might have been important, that’s why I invited him in. What were you going to say?”

Lydia froze, her mind drifting elsewhere. “Does the team know? That you are offering an internship into the team?”

Hotch shook his head. “We aren’t offering an internship into the team. We’re offering you an internship into the team. We were waiting to see if you agreed to it.”

“Well, I don’t want to force them to work with someone super under experienced. They aren’t paid to be teachers.”

“The only one who’s going to be teaching you anything is me,” Gideon reassured her. “You are more than capable of holding your own with them. I trust you.”

Lydia felt her throat close up. It was all set up. A job she couldn’t even dream of and here they were, offering it up on a silver platter. “So, this is all… serious. I move to DC and just… work for the FBI all of a sudden?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. That’s our offer.”

Lydia looked Hotch over, as if trying to profile whether or not he was lying. And finally, she said, “I would like that. Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“You’ll need to fill out some legal release forms, medical history forms, and I’ll get to work on setting you up for your training period and psychological assessment,” a charming girl named Penelope Garcia explained. Gideon had introduced her as the BAU’s technical analyst.

Her office was brightly decorated and she handed Lydia all the information she needed with a huge smile.

“I’m going to be asked to do a thorough background check on you, as well. But that information goes straight to Hotch and Gideon, no one else.”

Lydia chuckled slightly. “I don’t think I have any secrets, but thanks for the warning.”

“Of course!” she replied.

“No secrets?” Gideon asked. “If I remember correctly, you refused to explain anything about yourself that didn’t pertain to the case when I first met you.”

Lydia hesitated slightly. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“What were you trying to hide?” he countered. “If you’re such an open book, you can tell me.”

“I was just angry!” she argued. “It isn’t about hiding, it’s just that after my mom died, I really believed that I was explosive and so I avoid any topics that bring out my stronger emotions. And you were trying to push all my buttons. I was stressed!”

She wasn't sure if Gideon was just an attentive listener or if he was simply interested in her background, but his eyes longed for her to go on. “Explosive?”

“That’s how I got this limp.”

Normally, nothing anyone could say would prompt her to give away more information than necessary. She always tried to excuse it as ‘no one asked’ rather than blatantly avoiding certain topics, but it was pretty obvious to just about anyone she’d met that Lydia was not proud of her past. So whatever it was about Gideon that convinced her to add that comment was something pretty special.

“How?” It was Garcia this time.

The young girl laughed. “When I was 16, I was having some issues and one day I was trying to calm myself down… I often did this by physically getting my energy out so I was punching pillows and throwing things and I kicked something that was heavier than I expected and broke my foot.” She nodded, like she was remembering it fondly, but the other two could tell that it was a cover for her uncomfort. “And then, I was mad because I hadn’t solved my problem and I’d rendered myself useless, so I started walking on it before it was healed. I did dumb shit. I felt like I deserved the pain for being so uncontained and brash. And then the arch of my foot healed wrong and I had to live with a more… permanent reminder of my attitude.”

“Sixteen,” Gideon mumbled. “Is that when your father died?”

Garcia looked shocked that her superior would even say such a thing but Lydia was just intrigued, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “You said that your only family is your sister. So, I figure both your parents are far out of the picture. You said your mom died when you were little, which triggered your outbursts. So, I figured that perhaps you lost your dad as well and if you were having major anger issues at 16, could be due to the loss of your second parent. Brings up old scars.”

She paused, a somewhat sad smirk gracing her face. “My dad’s not dead, but you’re pretty close. When I was 16, my father was sent to prison.”

Garcia and Gideon’s faces read with immediate regret. So, Lydia played it off quickly.

“Don’t stress about it. He’s not a murderer or anything and it’s not… important.”

She hesitated to explain what he did. She figured they were bound to find out soon enough and she really would rather not say it outloud, so she changed the subject.

“Hey Garcia? Do you think you could help me work on transferring schools? Agent Gideon suggested that I apply for online courses rather than continuing to learn on campus and I’m still not sure if I can reapply for everything so late. And I know your job isn’t navigating college websites or anything, but you are good at tech and I’d love some help.”

She brightened almost immediately. “Sure, sweetheart!”

46 notes · View notes

vvirgils · 4 years

Text

Chronicles of Straith #2-The Witch’s Dragon:Chapter 8

Chronicles of Straith #1-Fate’s Door///Chapter 7/Chapter 9//Masterpost

It was Roman’s second full day in Canea, and third day overall. They didn’t want this vacation to end, it was too perfect. Seeing Thomas, the feast, and Lilly’s stories about their mother all made Roman never want to leave. Were they not an actual king, Roman would stay for months.

Another morning of sleeping in, and Roman could appreciate being well-rested with less of the morning fog. Jessie woke them up, once again. Despite her youthful appearance, she was twenty years old and a full-time employee of the castle, as she explained when Roman expressed that they thought she was much younger.

She was a much more pleasant alarm clock than Roman’s annoying ticky thing in Straith. Roman’s morning improved even further when Jessie told them that the king wanted to spend some time with them. After meeting the king last night, Roman wasn’t too anxious, but they were incredibly curious.

“He said he wanted to show you some of your mother’s things,” Jessie said, leading a just-dressed Roman to where they were meeting the king. The clothes in Roman’s guest room fit them perfectly, and many of them were their mother’s. Apparently, Roman could take some home with them if they wanted, but for now, Roman was really digging this blouse. It was simplistic, a feminine style that fit them just the way they wanted it to.

“That should be fun,” Roman said, admiring the art in the corridors. How anyone could get used to this much beauty, they didn’t know. Their eyes lingered on the swan wallpaper that blinked and breathed. “Who did all the art here? It’s so pretty.”

“Lots of different artists, I believe. When the palace was built, they added lots of magic touches to provide jobs for struggling sorcerers. Specifically, the art sorcerers were becoming extremely undervalued, as increased paranoia over internal politics led to more people using magic to protect themselves instead of to add beauty to their lives,” Jessie answered, giving the wallpaper a passing glance. “That’s all the history of it, anyways. It’s not that interesting.”

“No, no. It’s really neat, I love history.” Roman wondered who had made the plant with a hundred different flower blossoms in front of them. “Do you know who made specific pieces?”

“There’s a record of them somewhere, I think,” Jessie said, stopping to knock on a door. “We’re at the king’s chambers, so have fun!”

The door opened before Roman, by none other than King Markus himself. He gave Roman a strong handshake, surprising his nephew.

“Roman, so good to see you! I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you earlier, but duty calls. How has your time in Canea been so far?” The king walked into what looked like a study room of some sort, and Roman automatically followed.

“It’s been wonderful so far, really,” Roman said, taking in the room. It wasn’t much to look at-a simple desk and a few bookshelves and cabinets, all in the same dark wood. Much different than Roman’s office back at home. They were almost scared to do work in there half the time, everything was so nice. “Jessie showed me around, and I got to meet Lilly. Dinner last night was great, too.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Mark replied, pacing around the room, clearly looking for something. “There’s some old things of your mother’s in here, it’s just been a while since I’ve been in this room. It’s a chest of some sorts.”

“Were you, um, close with my mother?” Roman asked, noting the change in the king’s tone when he mentioned Madeline. They looked around the room, wondering where a chest would be.

“Yes,” he responded, “She was my sister, and we fought sometimes, but at the end of the day we were in it together.”

There was an awkward pause of silence as Mark continued rooting through the room, and Roman watched. They weren’t sure what to say to that—it wasn’t like Roman had any siblings.

“Must be in the other room,” the king said, sighing and walking through another archway to a bedroom. “Sorry, I really do want to spend time with you and go through her things, but I only have a few minutes. I hope you understand, Roman.”

“It’s—it’s no problem. I have similar problems in Straith. The stress of being king can be difficult to bear,” Roman said, waving the apology away with their hand.

“Yes, I’m surprised you’ve managed to spend this much time away from your kingdom,” the king said, rooting around under the bed in a very undignified manner. “Ah! Found it.”

“I have, um, very capable advisors,” Roman said, remembering that they had essentially abdicated the throne with little to no warning. That thought quickly disappeared from their mind when Mark pulled the trunk out from under the bed. “What’s in it?”

“Lots of your mother’s old papers, diaries and letters. She kept a very thorough diary, and wrote to many of her college friends. So many pen pals— and many of them didn’t even know that she was the princess.” He struggled a little with picking up the trunk, heaving it in the direction of the office.

“Don’t you have servants who can assist with this?” Roman asked, surprised at how much Mark was struggling. “Here, I can give you a hand.” They held onto one side of the trunk.

“Thank you, Roman. I do have servants, but I wanted to speak with you in private. Besides, it’s good for me, with all the sitting I do all day,” Mark said, guiding Roman into the office. Together, the two kings set the chest down on the desk.

“Anything I should definitely look at?” Roman asked, already fiddling with the clasp of the chest.

“Oh, all of it’s interesting. Tell me what you find at dinner, it’s been a while since I looked through it all,” Mark said, helping Roman with the clasp. The lid of the chest flipped backwards, and Roman dove in immediately, grabbing a sheet of paper to read. “I wish I had more time to talk with you... We should have a real talk sometime. How long will you be staying?”

“Um, a week, I think,” Roman said, already skimming the letter. “Maybe we could tour the city together, or something.”

“I would love that. Now, I’ll send someone to get you for lunch,” Mark said, walking towards the door. “I hope the papers help you learn more about Madeline.” The door shut behind him before Roman could reply, leaving them all alone with a lot of reading to do.

The king seemed nice enough, but Roman really didn’t care about him when there was a whole treasure chest filled with their mother’s handwriting in front of them. Starting with the letter in their hand, Roman sat down in the chair and read. The chair appeared to be wooden, but Roman could swear it felt cushioned.

Just another touch of magic in Canea, they supposed. But Roman soon forgot about their chair as they read further in the papers. Madeline Elthren’s life unfolded before them, the world of an intelligent socialite living as part of the ruling class of Canea. She loved magic, and mourned the fact that she wasn’t a sorceress. In one letter to Lilly, she recalled playing “sorcerer” as a child. Roman found the paper hard to read as tears welled in their eyes at the thought of Madeline loving Virgil for her powers.

Past college, the letters changed their tone. They weren’t to friends anymore, but to important members of the court. Roman was confused when they saw the first letter addressed to someone within the Canean court, but the person wasn’t on vacation. The story unfolded from there, and Roman couldn’t believe how…callously she talked about Epos.

It wasn’t like Roman hadn’t said similar to their friends, but this was the man she eventually married. Yet there was another twist — letters about Epos’s corruption—and how marrying him could be the only way for Canea to infiltrate and neutralize the threat Epos presented.

Counselor Alexa

I understand that we should not interfere in affairs that are not our own, but the more news we receive about Epos’s reign and how it is harming the people of Straith, the more scared I become. He could cut off trade with Canea, and then where would we be? Their imports of coal are vital for our economy—he could cause a complete collapse—and as much as I absolutely hate him, marriage might be our best bet. It’ll forge an alliance, if nothing else.

But I cannot allow assassination to take place with my knowledge. As queen, I will have enough power to hold sway over their government to hopefully keep anything too terrible from happening. Once I produce an heir, I’ll be vital enough that no one will be able to dismiss me in court. I hate that it’s the only way I’ll gain respect in Straith, but we can’t change everything overnight.

I have sent a letter to Epos with an affirmative to his proposal. I hope we can work together on this, though we have different views.

Love and victory,

Madeline Elthren, Crown Princess of Canea

There were more letters than just the one, but this was the one that Roman gripped hard enough to wrinkle the paper. A loveless marriage. A refusal to assassinate. Respect, gained through an heir.

It wasn’t surprising. Roman had always wondered how someone would fall in love with their father, especially when their stepmother had only married Epos for his money. She’d disappeared after Roman took the crown, there for their coronation and gone the next. Roman supposed she was with her family, happily working on the family business of mining. They’d never thought to check, but her apathy towards Epos made the letters between Roman’s mother and the former king more shocking.

Dearest Madeline

It brings me so much joy to know that you will take my hand in the sacred bond of marriage. I don’t say these words to merely be courteous, but because I am happy to be marrying for love, not politics. You have listened to me when no one else would, and taken sympathy in the plights of a jaded king when many would scorn me for my status. Truly, there is no one like you. Your wit lights up a room, and I cannot wait to see it grace the halls of Straith’s castle.

Thank you for your kind words since the death of my father, and may they continue every day. I await your visit with much anticipation, and if there is anything you desire for the wedding, say the word and it is yours. I am so glad to have found an ally in my vision for Straith, and to have that ally at my side in court.

With all my love,

Epos Theularus

Roman didn’t realize how much their father had loved Madeline. And how little their mother loved Epos. Her words felt fake in the responding letter, the tone completely different from her other correspondence. The manipulation was obvious, every syllable a betrayal to the idea of a loving person that everyone at last night’s dinner had built.

Beloved Epos,

I am counting down the days, this is truly a dream come true! I believe we will be excellent rulers together, and companions in the most intimate of ways. To join you, not your country, but you, in marriage is the highest honor I could imagine. There is no visionary I would rather follow into a new world. Your intelligence and foresight is one that I admire, and it is a privilege to listen to your innermost thoughts.

I wish I could write more, but it is late and I fear someone will notice me grinning over a letter in the dead of night, loopy with love and giggling to herself. For the wedding, I wish nothing but to have you by my side.

All the love in the world,

Madeline Elthren Theularus

They read on, despite the sting of their mother’s lies. There were so many letters to and from the nobility of Canea, some describing how Madeline should seduce Epos in so much detail that Roman couldn’t read them all the way through. Even Markus was in on the secret, telling his sister to make her “intentions more obvious to the moronic monarch you married. Alliteration!” As much as Roman wanted to be mad at her on their father’s behalf, they couldn’t blame her. Even in youth, Epos was a downright terrible person, and he’d grown into an awful king who cared more about his fragile ego than the people he was supposed to be serving.

After years of being forced to conform to Epos’s idea of what a “son” should be, Roman knew that it must have taken guts for their mom to subject herself to his rule every second of her life, willingly. If you had asked Roman, at fourteen, if they wanted to live with Epos or literally anywhere else, they would have chosen anywhere else in a heartbeat.

During her pregnancy, she wrote about Roman. It was strange, the things she wanted for them. The way she talked about them as a hopeful future, someone she would bring up to be more like herself than Epos. It was sad, but Roman couldn’t stop reading. These were the only words she would ever write about them.

Lilly,

Epos keeps asking me if there’s any Canean sorcery that lets us know the gender before the baby is born, and I keep telling him there isn’t. Fortunately, he’s too stupid to know that there absolutely is (Straith’s library is a joke, honestly), and I don’t really care if it’s a boy or girl. Either way, I just want to raise a child that will rule Straith better than their father. Someone with a good heart, and enough patience to put up with their father because I could certainly use some.

Cravings are, well, interesting. I’m hoping I don’t get the urge for something magical, because every time I bring up sorcery, I get this look like I murdered everyone’s cat. I really don’t understand what about sorcery is as awful as cat genocide, but I’m almost afraid to ask. Perhaps my baby will somehow get this country to not have such a prejudice against magic. I’m pretty sure Epos would flip if he visited Canea, but he’s too self-obsessed to even think about it.

I hope all is well in Chanidy, and Mark isn’t too stressed over the training for monarchy. I remember being sixteen and terrified that I could literally kill people with a few words. He’s more anxious than I am, so make sure he’s ok.

Love and victory,

Madeline Elthren (technically Theularus, but not happy about it)

Well, at least Roman was able to bring sorcery to Straith. Their mother would be proud, certainly. Roman sat in that room, letting their emotions fill them to the brim, until Jessie brought them to dinner.

5 notes · View notes

thiscrimsonsoul · 5 years

Text

Meta: Physical and Emotional Ramifications of Hydra’s Experimentation on the Maximoff Twins

INTRODUCTION:

Anyone who knows me as a writer knows that I enjoy writing these kinds of huge metas and really getting down to the details about my muses and their lives. Not only does this help me to come from an informed place when I write my muses, but I also genuinely enjoy over-analyzing things that probably no one should really be looking that closely at, haha.

Narrowing this down to just MCU Wanda and Pietro, I am going to look at what might have happened to them during their time in the Hydra laboratory and what the short and long term consequences of that might have been for them. MCU has a habit of saying “hey this traumatic/terrible thing happened in a character’s past, and now we’re going to completely ignore it and said character’s reaction to it forevermore,” which can get annoying when trying to flesh out my muses’ emotional and psychological health. It feels incomplete to me, and so, even if I never specifically write any threads during this time in their lives or referring to these specific things, it helps me get into my characters’ heads to have a complete picture of what they’ve been through and where they’re coming from mentally as they react to new things that arise in rp threads.

DISCLAIMER:

Lots of triggering themes ahead! Things like doctors, needles, surgery, physical and emotional abuse, behavioral conditioning, and bad things happening to minors (depending on what ages you ascribe to the twins at the time of their experimentation). Please take care when reading!

(Under the cut because LONG. XD)

LOSS OF FREEDOM / VOLUNTARY IMPRISONMENT:

We see in Captain America: The Winter Soldier that the twins are kept in cells. Observational rooms, to be more accurate. Arguably, they are not being treated very well, for reasons I will get into as I continue this meta. So the question is... why do they stay? MCU gives us the reason that they wanted to strengthen themselves and gain a means to fight back against those who were making Sokovia a war zone, but once they volunteered for Strucker’s experiments and saw what they entailed, they probably realized they were in over their heads. Not that they weren’t capable of surviving, since they were the only ones who actually did survive, but just that this would require things of them that maybe they weren’t expecting... like a lot of invasive medical procedures, punishments for not doing as their told, and worst of all, separation. So again, why do they stay?

Once could argue that they aren’t free to leave, but this isn’t true. In the beginning of Avengers: Age of Ultron, we see that the twins are permitted (at least sometimes) to move about the facility freely. Strucker’s not an idiot, and neither are probably a majority of the soldiers and scientists employed at that facility, so they had to know that with Pietro’s and Wanda’s power combined, if the twins wanted to leave, they absolutely could. And yet, they stay. I don’t have a great answer as to why this is, but I can hazard some guesses.

First, maybe they really believed their cause that they were willing to sacrifice a lot to see it through to the end. I buy that mostly, except for the separation issue and the fact that they were each probably incredibly stressed out and upset by anything happening to the other. That had got to be one of the most central themes with the twins: don’t separate us, and don’t hurt my sibling. I feel like Pietro especially would not be cool with staying in a place that treated Wanda poorly, regardless of what happened to him. So there must be something else keeping them there.

I have sometimes thought that, as time went on, maybe there was a strange sort of psychology going on here, something akin to Stockholm Syndrome, where they might have come to psychologically see their captors as allies in some way. This is especially believable if you remember that the twins thought they were in good hands, namely being taken in by SHIELD. Hydra is likely well acquainted with the signs of this syndrome, and therefore probably felt comfortable letting the twins have some freedom, knowing they would always come back. Not that they would have necessarily befriended people who kept them in cells and treated them poorly, but they might have identified with them as far as feeling like everyone in the facility was working toward the same end for the same reasons. Of course that wasn’t true, but they had no way of knowing that.

EXPERIMENTAL DESIGN AND MONITORING:

Alright, now we get really depressing. I was thinking the other day about what these experiments would have entailed, and I think most people assume that oh, we’re like touching the staff to the twins or aiming it at them and boom, magical powers. But as a scientist myself, I started to think about Hydra actually running real experiments... as in, not fly-by-night, haphazard, hey let’s try this, sorts of things... but true structured experiments with hypothesis, scientific methods, reps, sampling, data, results, and conclusions. Once you do that, things get pretty grim for the twins.

The actual experiments were never described in the movies, but just thinking about what they could have entailed is rather shocking. They could have involved transferring energy from the scepter to the twins, perhaps with wires or some other sort of delivery system. Restraining them would probably have been necessary, and I would guess that once wouldn’t have been enough. Once Hydra began seeing actual results with the twins, they most likely would have wanted to push further to see if greater enhancement could be achieved by repeating the process.

So how could they tell if their experiments were doing anything, aside from the twins developing powers? In order to standardize their experiments and ensure that real changes arose in their test subjects, Hydra would need to not only monitor them visually, but medically and genetically. This would require a lot of samples of things... Blood, certainly, but also perhaps hair or cheek cells or maybe even skin. Blood is great for certain types of genetic makeups, but swabbing the inside of someone’s cheek for cells can provide detailed genetic information about them upon analysis of those cells. And hair is like a time capsule as far as showing when certain physiological changes might have occurred. For example, certain dietary changes, heavy metal exposure, or other types of poisoning can not only be detected in hair, but how close to the follicle it is found would determine how long ago it occurred. If the twins were there for several months or a year, this type of monitoring would have been ideal for data collection.

So not only were the twins probably subjected to needles and scalpels and other things that may have been used to collect biological samples from them, but they would have been subjected to this on a regular basis. The more data points you have, the more sound your data set is, and Hydra probably would have wanted to be very sure and thorough. They also have little regard for humane treatment of those they view as test subjects, so that would not have helped the twins. Which brings me to my next topic...

ASSURANCE OF THE TWINS’ COMPLIANCE:

Even if the twins did develop some sort of psychological rationalization for remaining in the laboratory voluntarily, they likely resisted things that hurt or scared them or their sibling. It is realistic to think that Hydra would have employed physical punishments such as withholding food, use of shocks or maybe even tasers, and goodness knows what else. Maybe even the threat of these things would have been enough to get them to submit to testing and sampling.

Depending on how long the twins were at the laboratory, these punishments and behavioral control mechanisms would gradually have changed the way the twins behaved toward the scientists and soldiers who either were administering these things or were doing the testing they were ordered to comply with. Especially if they were each threatened with the other’s pain, suffering, or deprivation in order to ensure that they obeyed, which I’ll come back to later.

PHYSICAL / HEALTH EFFECTS:

If we look closely at the twins’ appearance during their time in the laboratory, there are many signs that they were being neglected or outright abused. There is also a definite indicator that they may have been drugged at times. Let’s take these ideas one at a time.

(gif cred.)

Looking first at Wanda, she seems pale and gaunt, which may be an indication of malnutrition. Her eyes are red (aside from the red glow in them) and there are dark bags under them, which might indicate that she’s not sleeping well. Her hair looks stringy, greasy, and not brushed, an indicator of poor hygiene. She’s also wearing a glorified smock, so... not much dignity or care taken there with her clothing.

(gif cred.)

Pietro isn’t much better in his loose sleeveless shirt, although he might have needed a cooler outfit due to his high metabolism. His hair also looks a bit greasy and is overgrown compared to what it looks like later in Ultron. Notice the tremors in his right hand? I’ll come back to that in the emotional/psychological section.

Now... all of these things might have just been the result of intense scientific experimentation and the fact that they were often confined to cells, the time and space afforded them just not enough for proper bathing or conducive to good sleep. Maybe Hydra monitored their sleep or woke them up for testing. Maybe they have them on a very strict or limited diet for some reason. Or... Hydra may have been attempting to control them by not letting them sleep a lot, withholding food, and otherwise depriving the twins of basic human comforts and needs. Given the nature of Hydra, I tend to go with the latter when writing their backgrounds.

The last thing I noticed was that Wanda and Pietro have matching hand wraps. Both of their right hands are wrapped up in similar ways. At first I thought this was just meant to make them look injured or otherwise poorly treated, or that it was meant to imply that something had happened to Wanda’s hand while using her powers and to Pietro’s while repeatedly running into the wall, but now I don’t think this is true. I think the bandage is securing something that’s not only on their hands, but in them.

You see the little white piece of plastic near the little blue round piece of plastic on the centers of the backs of their hands? It’s most visible in Wanda’s gif. To me, that looks like an intravenous injection port. In other words, it’s a little port inserted into their hands, into a vein, and it’s left there for convenience sake. Anytime Hydra would need to administer medication or maybe a sedative of some kind or even a test drug, they could open the port, insert a needle and inject the liquid directly into their veins with a syringe. I won’t paste the picture here in case anyone is triggered by images like this, but this is what an I.V. injection port looks like here.

This pretty much confirms that the twins were being injected with something. The most likely thing to be would be a sedative, although I doubt this would have lasted very long or worked very well on Pietro with his increased metabolism. Maybe they just upped the dosage for him and did what they needed to do quickly before he woke up. The use of sedatives may have been necessary while procuring blood or other tissue samples from them if they were frightened, panicking, angry, or just plain unwilling to comply. Also, while something was being done with one twin, they may have drugged the other so they wouldn’t have to put up with one trying to come to the other’s defense.

Of course it might not have all been completely nefarious (although it’s likely, given that it’s Hydra). Maybe they were injected with antihistamines to prevent allergic responses, anti-inflammatory agents to prevent tissue swelling, antibiotics or antivirals to prevent infection, things like that. It opens up a lot of possibilities for development as far as what the experiments might have entailed and what sorts of things were done to the twins during the course of them. It also makes the idea that Wanda was drugged at the end of Captain America: Civil War all the more traumatizing for her if she had lasting psychological effects from having this done to her by Hydra previously, which takes me to the next section...

EMOTIONAL / PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSEQUENCES:

The stress and trauma of the experiments themselves, the monitoring and sampling, the restraining and the confinement, the separation from each other, and being deprived of their basic needs has got to have had some emotional and psychological effects on the twins, both in the moment and long-term, right? Let’s take the twins one at a time and look at what their experiences might have meant for their mental health.

Wanda’s experience would have been one of both fear and frustration. She might have seen her brother treated poorly, been drugged against her will, felt pain as a result of the effects of the scepter on her or from being treated roughly by Hydra scientists and soldiers, and she would have most likely been restrained in some way to ensure the safety of those working in the lab. Maybe Hydra had some kind of high frequency device or collar or something similar to prevent her from using her powers. So... what might the effects of this type of experience be?

While at the lab, Wanda might have started out afraid and later grown rebellious and angry. Definitely, she would have developed a general distrust for people, and may even have some fear of being accosted by people or approached too quickly. Anytime someone approached her in the lab, she learned she was going to feel pain or have something frightening done to her, so through this type of conditioning she might develop fears of strangers getting too close, of needles and medical equipment, and of being grabbed. Even certain seemingly insignificant things like the sound of a syringe being flicked to void the air from it, the smell of latex gloves, or the sight of a white lab coat might make her panicky or even send her into a flashback. PTSD is a reality for Wanda, and for Pietro as well.

And just like Pietro, Wanda’s sense of solidarity and the psychology of “us against the world” with her sibling would be greatly intensified. If Hydra thought that separating them and subjecting them to all these terrible things would break their bond, they were wrong. If anything, their bond would have been strengthened even more by these experiences. Even if Hydra sought to employ behavioral modification tactics (such as hurting one twin until the other complies), I feel like this wouldn’t drive a wedge between the twins, but would only cement their dedication to one another and desire of each to protect the other.

Which brings me to the effects on Pietro. Pietro... I feel had the worse time here, and I’ll explain why. He would have had the same experiences as Wanda as far as everything else I’ve mentioned in this section so far, but then on top of that would have some problems, fears, and side effects unique to him. So let’s go into what some of Pietro’s unique issues with the experimentation might be.

Some believe that Pietro is so protective of his sister because he loves her and is the older twin and therefore feels a great responsibility to watch over her, and that is certainly true. But for those of you that draw from the comics, as I do, and incorporate that Wanda was the victim of a sexual assault as a child and therefore believe that Pietro felt a lot of guilt over not protecting her then, her treatment in the Hydra laboratory might have really hit upon Pietro’s protective instincts and brought all that guilt from their childhood back up to the surface for him. Especially if the scientists used Wanda to get Pietro to obey, such as hurting or threatening to hurt her if he didn’t do as they said, he would once again be responsible, however indirectly, for Wanda being hurt. That would have had a big and traumatic effect on him, and once they were freed from the lab, he would have been even more protective of her because of this.

That’s how his sibling’s treatment would have effected him, but how would he be dealing with things on his own? Aside from probably developing all the same fears of scientists, doctors, needles, medical equipment, etc. that his sister would, Pietro would also have felt confined, maybe even claustrophobic in that tiny observation room.

Look at the impact here with the wall. My goodness. Yes, he was learning to use his powers here, so he wouldn’t have had the kind of control he had in Ultron, but he’s also not stupid. After a couple attempts, he would have realized that launching himself inside a tiny room like that would have painful consequences. Continuing to slam himself into the walls would have resulted in all sorts of bruises, maybe even torn muscles or broken bones, and maybe things like dislocated shoulders. He heals very fast, but even so, he would feel the initial pain of these injuries, which is in itself traumatic. The reason I didn’t include this in the “physical effects” section is because I feel like there is a psychological component to him doing this as well...

Have you ever been to a zoo, especially one that isn’t handled all that well and has really small enclosures for the animals, and they’re behaving really funny? Walking in circles, making repetitive motions, walking around in the same pattern over and over again within their enclosure, sitting facing a wall or corner, or even walking into the walls? This is because they are actually suffering from psychological trauma (that could result in physical trauma depending on what they’re doing exactly) from not being free to move, run, or just exist as they wish to. Not just wish to... need to. Well, Pietro needs to move.

I headcanon that even before the experiments, he was a high-energy guy, and if you go with the comics and say the twins are mutants, then their powers are also genetic/hereditary. So Pietro is, by nature, someone who is high energy and needs to keep moving and to move fast. Being confined to a tiny room would have had an immense effect on him psychologically, and he might have developed the same strange behavioral patterns as mistreated animals at a zoo. He might have rationally known that attempting to use his speed within his cell would harm him or at least be really painful, but emotionally and physiologically he is driven to move and simply cannot resist doing this, even if it harms him.

Which brings me to the tremors in his right hand in that first gif of him. If you look closely enough, you can actually see the muscles all up his arm spasming as well. They could be an indicator of many things. It could be a sign of neurological damage. Whether the result of the experiments or from the impact of hitting his head or back against the walls of his cell, Pietro might have injured himself, resulting in nerve damage. It likely healed, given his body’s fast healing capabilities, but that’s what it could be.

However, it could also be entirely psychological, and if so, there are three potential reasons for it. First, Pietro may be so full of energy and filled to the brim with a desire to use it, that running for one second inside a cell isn’t cutting it. Kindof like if you have a lot of caffeine and get jitters, he’s literally shaking from being so high-strung and not having a sufficient or positive outlet for his energy. Second, and this is kindof sad, but it may simply be a sign of psychological stress. Like when someone shakes during an anxiety or panic attack, his nerves might be shot from all the stress he’s experiencing in the laboratory. And third, it may be another behavioral tic resulting from feeling like a caged animal in a zoo, a sign that he is not emotionally or psychologically stable that is manifesting as a physical tic.

CONCLUSION:

All of this amounts to either 1) it’s a wonder they were as normal and stable in Ultron as they were (and beyond for Wanda), or 2) they should not have been this stable but MCU didn’t want to deal with all the physical, emotional, and psychological impacts that being treated this way would have had on the twins. I tend to incorporate a lot more of the potential damage they have suffered into writing them because it lets me write what I feel are more realistic and rounded characters. I’m not cherry-picking the easy or happy bits, avoiding mentioning when things would upset them, or sugar-coating their reactions to triggering things, but instead I’m letting them express it as I feel befits their personalities. Wanda and Pietro don’t deal with things in the same way or express their emotional traumas the same way, and part of fleshing out these characters and taking them through arcs of healing and recovery is acknowledging that they are damaged people. MCU glosses over so much with them that either the twins would not have been able to ignore or would have come back to haunt them at a later date. I instead want to present them as they are, two people who have been through many different kinds of hell, and see what they can do with it, how other muses can help and guide them, and what they can become through the process of recovery. That is what is most fun and fulfilling for me as a writer, when I can realistically flesh out a character and take them to places the canon never dared or bothered to tread. =)

Alright I’ve rambled enough! I hope you have enjoyed this, and if you’ve gotten to this point I just want to say thank you for reading! Feel free to comment through replies, asks, or messages if you wish. As with all metas I write on any of my blogs, I love to get feedback and hear other people’s takes on what I’ve mentioned.

#the maximoff twins #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #hydra #marvel

27 notes · View notes

stretchjournalemerson · 4 years

Text

Must I Suffer To Do What I Love?: An Exploration of the Tortured Artist

By Graysen Winchester

My mom always told me that depression is like diabetes. It’s lifelong, manageable with proper care, and something you are born with. A few weeks ago, as I laid my head on the toilet, dry heaving any last ounce of self respect into an empty bowl, I wished that I was born with diabetes. I hadn’t eaten a real meal in days and the thought of food made me nauseous. I had just gone to the gym, a mistake. Trying to take proper care of myself was becoming impossible. And yet, I wasn’t sick with anything. I was just sad. The type of sad that infiltrates every aspect of yourself until you cannot see past it. The type of sad that turns your body against you until you cannot even sleep. You cannot even dream of a time where you didn’t feel like this.

Ever since I was capable of writing, I have kept a journal. You can find all of these journals in the top left cubby of my bookshelf. This cubby houses all of my secrets. If you open the notebook with the cover of yellow and blue watercolor flowers, you will find a collection of short stories that I wrote when I was around eleven years old. I know that I was eleven because I wrote the letter “a” in a very specific way when I was that age, the way that Malia used to write them, so I did too. The stories are all thinly veiled portrayals of my life, the main character always having two brothers and two parents going through a divorce, though their names were always changed. One of the first sentences in this notebook is, “She wasn’t sure why she was so sad, but she was.”

When we don’t have answers, sometimes we create them ourselves. I don’t know why I have depression, but I don’t want to be cursed with something for no reason. I don’t want to be held back by this affliction that I did not ask for. I don’t want to see the world as meaningless. I don’t want to be weak. So, for many years, I decided that I am sad because I will someday become a great artist. I assume that is why I wrote such sad stories when I was eleven. I needed some place to put my pain and have it be worth something. When my art was not dripping in melancholy and cynicism, I thought that it was pointless.

As I have grown older, I have come to question this notion of the tortured artist. Must I suffer to do what I love? Is this a glorification of something that is truly void of benefit? I know that I am not the first person to ask this question, nor will I be the last. I am not the best of artists, nor the worst of sufferers. There have been many great artists before me that have suffered a great deal from mental illness. You may be thinking of Vincent van Gogh and his severed ear, and we will get to that later. Indeed, the stereotype has its backing. But is there truly a connection between creativity and mental illness? Does all genius come from pain?

When I began to look into this world of madness and art, I found an article that I thought would be perfect, underlining the exact phenomenon that I was interested in. This article was Maureen Neihart’s "Creativity, the arts, and madness". However, as with most research into the subject matter, Neihart takes loose correlations, ancient knowledge, and anecdotes to produce conclusions that seem indisputable. She quotes the philosophical greats, saying, “Plato said that creativity is a "divine madness...a gift from the gods."” No one wants to dispute Plato, so you read on, eating it up. Then, she throws in Shakespeare, Freud, and a variety of scientific studies that have found correlations between creativity and mental illness.

After my initial reading, I was convinced that creativity and madness were mutually inclusive. Upon a second reading, I realized that it has a very shallow evidence base. The studies that are referenced are very dated. Neihart is a clinical psychologist. The article is written for educators and counselors, cautioning them to have patience with highly creative children. It is not written for the academic researcher or anyone that is interested in questioning the basis of this correlation. Yet, it is a source that richly documents the prevalence of the notion of the mad artist. However problematic the studies or logic may be, they document the intense and lasting curiosity that society has had within this area of study.

One of Neihart’s major missteps in constructing a connection between madness and creativity is the same misstep that many face when trying to find a link between the two. This misstep is lack of specificity. In her article, Neihart states that, “Creativity is defined as the production of something both new and valued. Madness is defined as self destructive deviant behavior.” These definitions are incredibly vague. Joscelyn E. Fisher, a Research Assistant Professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the Uniformed Services University, discusses this misstep in her article "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are associated." In the article, she points out that “creativity” is a broad concept containing multiple facets. Mental illness is also not a singular concept, with many symptoms, diagnoses, and diagnostic criteria. Fischer proposes that in order for a scientifically sound connection to be made, there must be much more specific, systematic, and thorough studies being done. Even then, because of the complexity of both factors, the statistical relationship is likely not going to be linear.

Countless studies in this area have failed in this way and with other flaws in methodology. While many studies have been done, none have provided conclusive evidence to prove the link (Green). At this point in my research, I began to feel as if the case was closed. There is no evidence to provide a link, so a link is nonexistent. And trying to prove this link might just be glamorizing an illness that so often leads to suicides, broken families, and insane amounts of loss. On the other hand, there is so much that is true that does not have scientific evidence to back it. There may not be sufficient statistical correlations, but there are human beings that have lived and breathed the narrative. These human beings have stories to tell that should not be ignored. There may not be a chart proving why, but there are many masterpieces in the world that have been born from darkest corners of the mind.

Sylvia Plath is one of the most notably mentally ill artists, an American poet who was hypothesized to have manic depression ("Sylvia Plath"). In 1963, she committed suicide at age 31("Sylvia Plath"). This was not her first suicide attempt, and many of her literary works focus on her fascination with death and her unbending cynism. When reading her poetry, I felt an eerie sense of identification with many of her poems. Her poem, “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss” spoke to a sense of hopelessness that I had never put words to.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;

The singing birds pack up and fly away;

So never try to trick me with a kiss:

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. (Plath 16-19)

To me, this last stanza is the essence of depression, an acceptance of misery and a firm belief in the temporality of pleasure. To create a piece of art that is so representative of this experience is a kind of genius. These words feel like an echo in my mind. They haunt me and yet they make me feel less alone. That is the mark of great art, when you can reach into your own mind and cause someone else to reach inside their own. There is no doubt that Plath was tortured, and that she was a remarkable artist. Her pain drove her work, but it also drove her to take her own life.

In biographer Jeffrey Meyers’ article, “Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide”, he explores the lives of four artists that have taken their own lives: Jules Pascin, Arshile Gorky, Nicolas de Staël and Mark Rothko. He draws the conclusion that these artists “committed suicide not only to escape from pain but also to make a deliberate sacrifice for art.” Meyers investigates the tragic lives of each of these artists and speculates into what made them commit suicide. Each of the artists experienced a sense of alienation from society and held the belief that mental illness was a value to their art. This belief was confirmed by the culture that they lived in. Each of their artistic successes accelerated after their deaths. One of Rothko’s pictures has sold for $186 million, de Staël’s for $10 million, Gorky’s for $4.2 million, and Pascin’s for hundreds of thousands. The same is true for Plath, her success post-mortem was far greater than when she was living (“Sylvia Plath”).

This article offers a fascinating case study of four artists and how their relationship to their mental illness destroyed them. The Romantic view of the sacrificial artist in combination with the emergence of Existentialism bred a mindset within the artists that their mental illness is what fueled their art, and this is a belief held by consumers and producers of art alike. Meyers uses biography to demonstrate how popular culture and one’s own background can play a large role in how their mental illness manifests. If it is encouraged by others and believed to fuel their art, it is much more likely that the artist will harbor an unhealthy obsession with their own suffering. Even Meyers plays into this belief that their poor mental health contributed to their greatness. He writes, “If they had not been mentally ill, they could not have painted with such intensity and brilliance.” But did these artists create because of their illness or in spite of it?

Vincent van Gogh was yet another artist that was hypothesized to have mental illness, committed suicide, and became infintely more sucessful after his death ("Vincent van Gogh"). His artwork is hugely influential and recognizable to even those who know little of art history. His unique expressive brush strokes gave his paintings a dynamic vibrance. Throughout his life, van Gogh wrote many letters. These letters have been collected and published online by the Van Gogh Museum. These letters give great insight into the artist’s personal life. In letter 772 out of the 902 documented letters, van Gogh writes to his brother Theo. The two were extremely close, and Theo was very supportive of his brother’s artistic pursuits ("Vincent van Gogh"). In this letter, Vincent writes from the asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole after he had cut off his own ear in a manic episode. He tells his brother how he is doing much better, and that he is no longer afraid of madness. When referring to his art, he writes, “The idea of my duty to work comes back to me a lot, and I believe that all my faculties for work will come back to me quite quickly. It’s just that work often absorbs me so much that I think I’ll always be absent-minded and awkward in getting by for the rest of life too.” (To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889). When he is finally calm and in treatment for his mania, van Gogh has a renewed ability to create. He paints the flowers in the garden. I think that a lot can be learned from this short reflection. In states of mental illness, creativity is not heightend but stifled. Artists create better when they are well. However, artistic pursuits can be consuming, and this could be what drives the artist to madness. Creation is an incredibly challenging quest.

In fact, maybe it isn’t madness that creates great art, but the label of “artist” that creates mental instability. Jérémy Sinigaglia, a political scientist with a focus in the sociology of artistic employment, would likely think so. In his article, "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work", he examines a field study done in Alsace and Lorraine in France where performing artists in this region were asked about the happiness resulting from their profession. Artistic occupations elicit some envy, as they are often considered the escape from monotonous labor. Therefore, artists are expected to be happy in their professions despite job insecurity. This article challenges this view, based on the responses gathered from performers in France. The first is that artists must have realistic expectations of what they can actually achieve. Sinigaglia writes, “even a limited awareness of the objective chances of success appears to reduce the psychological cost of failure.” Secondly, poor employment conditions make it a necessity for artists to find fulfillment in areas other than their professional life. Third, artists often feel as if they cannot express displeasure at their profession, since many others have it worse. Being unsatisfied in a creative field can seem like a betrayal to the basis of being an artist, since artistic work is supposed to be a liberation.

While this study may be specific to France in some ways, I feel that it can be helpful in digging into the mind of the artist. Choosing art as a career is a jump into uncertainty. This article provides evidence that perhaps creative professions can breed unhappiness. With constant job insecurity, fear of failure, and feelings that their dissatisfaction is not legitimate, perhaps the artist could become troubled due to the pressures that come along with the job and their place in society.

The question of the tortured artist is not a simple one, yet any good question rarely has a simple answer. Through my research, I have not found whether or not genius comes from pain, though I know that great art has been created from great sadness, and art as a whole should not shy from this vital human emotion. By living a life frequently dominated by sadness, it has given me a unique perspective of the world. But sadness is not a goal, just something that we live through and learn from. It is not a commodity, making art more valuable because of it. Sadness and art are undoubtedly intertwined. Art is a career that means uncertainty and unpredictability. Creation is extremely difficult. But mental illness is not genius. It is a disease that cuts lives short. It is ugly, not glamorous.

Artists should have a healthy relationship to their work and their mental illness. Not every artist is mentally ill, but those who are should learn to use art as a way to reshape their pain and share their experience, not fetishize hopelessness. We must find a balance between de-stigmatization and romanticization of mental illness and restructure the way that we see art and the people that create it. At the end of this research journey, I have learned to look at my own mental illness in a new way. It is not void of value and it does not make me weak. It is part of me and it is part of many people that I love. It is not responsible for my artistic success, but my art helps me see the nuances of it and of the human experience as a whole. I have depression, but I am not depression. I am an artist. When I create, I do so to heal myself and find connection. That should be the aim of creation, not a contest of who suffers most.

Works Cited

Fisher, Joscelyn E. "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are

associated." Frontiers in Psychology, vol. 6, 20 Feb. 2015,

doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00163.

Green, Sarah, writer. The Myth of the Tortured Artist. Directed by Mark Olsen, PBS Digital

Studios.

Meyers, Jeffrey. "Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide." American Imago, vol. 73, no. 1,

2016. Project Muse, doi:10.1353/aim.2016.0005.

Naar, Hichem. "Art and Emotion." Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

Neihart, Maureen. "Creativity, the arts, and madness." Roeper Review, vol. 21, Sept. 1998.

Davidson Gifted Database.

Plath, Sylvia. “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss.” The Collected Poems, HarperCollins

Publishers, 1981, pp. 319.

Sinigaglia, Jérémy. "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work." Sociétés Contemporaines, vol.

91, doi:10.3917/soco.091.0017.

"Sylvia Plath." Poetry Foundation, edited by Michael Slosek, Poetry Foundation.

"To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889."

Vincent van Gogh The Letters, Van Gogh Museum.

"Vincent van Gogh." Encyclopædia Britannica, 2020.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my mom for all she does for me and my growth as a human and as an artist. I would also like to thank Iris Michelson for help in revision. And finally, I would like to thank my professor, Mary Kovaleski Byrnes for her patience and kindness. From her, I have learned so much about the craft of writing and the passion for curiosity.

#stretch2020 #stretchjournal #researchessay #researchpaper

3 notes · View notes

astarisms · 6 years

Text

stress relief

pairing: rosegold word count: 6164 rating: nsfw notes: a continuation of @ubeshibe‘s comic “stress relief”. thank you for the commission!

The sound that leaves Michael’s mouth is unlike anything Gabriel has ever heard from him. He sits back on Michael’s thighs, bringing his hands up and turning his face away to hide his smile.

“Oh my…” he murmurs, and there’s a giddiness to it that he can’t quite conceal.

Michael scrambles beneath him, and Gabriel obliges, sliding off his legs and settling onto the bed beside him to let him sit up.

His face is more flushed than Gabriel has ever seen it, but he only catches a glimpse before Michael covers it with his hands, mortified.

It’s a shame, really. Red is such a lovely color on him.

“I didn’t know you could make sounds like that, Bright Eyes,” Gabriel says, a lilt to his voice that makes Michael squeak in embarrassment beneath his fingers. It’s a struggle not to imply something more, to see just how red he’s capable of turning, to see how flustered he can get.

But Gabriel knows a thing or two about pushing buttons, and he’d rather get to see more of this than scare him off, so instead he rests his chin in his hands and coos, “how cute.”

“Gabriel, please…”

It sends a shiver down his spine, hearing Michael plead with him. He almost thinks it would be worth it, to push him a little further.

“Never mention this to anyone.”

Gabriel smiles again and it’s all teeth as he leans over his legs and takes Michael’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

“Of course not. It’ll be our little secret,” he says, lowering his voice suggestively. Michael leans away from their proximity, sputtering, and Gabriel can’t help but laugh.

“I — I’m serious, Gabriel.” He’s trying so hard to compose himself, bless his heart. There’s a ghost of his usual disapproval that doesn’t quite translate with how flustered he is, and he’s working on getting his expression back under control of that stoic mask.

“Now, now,” Gabriel scolds, ignoring him entirely, reaching out to grab his chin. “Didn’t we just go through all that trouble to help you relax? Are you really going to tense back up so quickly?”

“I—”

“If this is going to be the case with you, we’re going to need much more frequent sessions.”

“Wait—”

“Daily, I’d say,” Gabriel comments, giving him a once over.

“That’s — We don’t have time for—”

“No, you’re right. We’re quite busy. Once a week, then?”

“I don’t really think that’s nec—”

“That settles it!” Gabriel released Michael’s face to clap his hands together. “Once a week. We need to work on getting those knots out and keeping them out. Tension is terrible for your posture, you know.”

Michael flounders for a response. He’s not even sure what to say anymore, after Gabriel has steamrolled over every protest he had.

“Hesediel…” he finally says, though there’s not much else to it. He’s at a loss for articulate thoughts at the moment, but he knows he can always fall back on his bodyguard should the situation require it.

Gabriel scoffs, leaning back and waving his hand dismissively.

“If you’re that worried about it, he can come along. But I think even he would agree that you need to relax a little.”

Michael finally lets his shoulders slump a little, now that he can’t feel Gabriel’s heat radiating off of him.

“I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word,” Michael disagrees, finally feeling his cheeks cool down a little.

“Hesediel has knots in places he shouldn’t, which is probably why he’s clenched so tightly around that stick up his—”

“Gabriel!”

“But when it comes to you, Bright Eyes, I think he would agree.”

Michael purses his lips, because he can’t very well argue with that. If it involved his own wellbeing, he knew that Hesediel would be all for it. Perhaps at different hands, but in support of the idea all the same.

“So?” Gabriel prompts, tilting his head. “What do you say? Once a week?”

“I still don’t believe it’s the best use of my time…”

“Oh, come on now. Ten minutes out of your busy schedule isn’t going to kill you. In fact, it might just keep you from an early grave.”

Michael hesitates, but Gabriel can tell he doesn’t have much protest left in him. He waits patiently for him to answer, already knowing he won’t be rejected.

The biggest hurdle is Michael’s firm belief that he should put Heaven before himself, but him being here now means that they’ve already overcome that. Just that little wedge in his mindset is enough for Gabriel to convince him that Heaven can’t run efficiently if its leader isn’t.

“I...I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Wonderful. I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason,” Gabriel smiles, and Michael wonders whether he should regret giving into him so easily.

“I’m not sure it’s ‘reason’ I’m seeing, but we’ll give it a shot,” he says, rising from his spot on the bed and rolling his shoulders back. Gabriel can tell he’s not quite as stiff now as he was when he had first crossed the threshold, and he considers that a win.

“Same time next week?”

“Well, I…” Michael catches one look at Gabriel’s finely arched brow, and sighs. “Yes, that sounds good.”

“Fantastic. See you then.”

Michael turns to walk out of the room, straightening out his robes and trying to smooth his disheveled appearance.

“Oh, and Bright Eyes?”

Michael stops, giving Gabriel his attention again.

“Feel free to work too hard. I’d like to see if we can’t pull some more of those sounds out of you.”

Michael goes red again, and all but flees from the room.

***

“Gabriel, now isn’t really the best time—”

“No time is ever going to be the best time,” Gabriel interrupts, tugging him along down the hallway. “We agreed, same time.” He looks back over his shoulder, and smiles at the alarm in Michael’s eyes.

“But—”

“Come, now, Bright Eyes. Surely you haven’t forgotten your word already?”

This, he knows, will make him complacent. And he’s right, because Michael snaps his jaw shut, his cheeks coloring with shame. Gabriel might have felt bad if his method hadn’t worked so flawlessly, and if getting Michael to do as he pleased wasn’t so satisfying.

“Of course not,” Michael finally says, even as he lets Gabriel lead him now, “but I still feel quite refreshed after last week. I don’t think this routine weekly is necessary.”

“Nonsense,” Gabriel counters dismissively, opening the door to Michael’s bedroom and urging him inside with a sweeping gesture. “Taking care of yourself is more than a one time commitment. Just because you’re minutely better than you were before last week, doesn’t mean you’re at your best.”

“...You seem to know a lot about this stuff,” Michael murmurs, turning back around to face him once they’re both inside.

“I make it a priority.” Michael’s eyebrows draw down into a stern expression, and Gabriel waves his hand at him. “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“Your duties as Gabriel are no joke.”

“You see?” Gabriel sidles up behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders and squeezing. Michael tenses, then all but melts under the pressure of his fingers. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re too uptight.”

“Our responsibilities to Heaven are no light matter,” Michael protests, even as he lets Gabriel guide him to the end of the bed.

“Of course not,” Gabriel concedes halfheartedly, because Michael isn’t entirely of the state to argue the longer Gabriel kneads at the tension at the base of his neck. Michael lets his head fall forward, breathing deeply, and Gabriel celebrates another victory.

“This is—” He stops with a hitch of his breath when Gabriel hits a tender spot, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is different than what you did before.”

“It won’t do you any good if I only focus on one spot.” Gabriel punctuates his statement by working his fingers higher up Michael’s neck, rubbing deep circles into the muscle with his thumbs.

Michael doesn’t think he likes this quite as much, but he can’t deny how much lighter he feels as Gabriel grinds all the weight out of his shoulders. It’s like all of his responsibilities have accumulated there, and every firm press of Gabriel’s hands relieves all the little aches and pains that he’s ignored for so long.

He’s been carrying them for so long they’ve become a part of him. It’s surprising to him how much fades away with a little care, how much of the heaviness that he carries everyday isn’t supposed to be there.

It feels like Gabriel’s just begun when he pulls his hands away, and though Michael mourns the loss of them, the low whine that pulls itself from his throat is entirely involuntary.

Heat rushes to his face, but he clears his throat and straightens up. Thinking their session is through, he turns to thank Gabriel and is abruptly stopped by the barely concealed amusement on his face.

“I’m not quite done with you yet, Bright Eyes. I just thought you’d like to get a little more comfortable.” He tilts his head towards the bed, and the emphasis he places on the end of his sentence flusters Michael further.

He snaps his jaw shut and instead simply nods, spinning on his heel to sit on the edge of the bed. Gabriel clicks his tongue disapprovingly as he meets him, folding a leg up on the mattress.

He reaches for the golden collar around Michael’s neck, and Michael leans away with wide eyes. Gabriel holds his hands up in surrender.

“It’ll be easier with all of this gone,” he explains, gesturing at the fabric bunched around Michael’s shoulders and neck, a twitch to his lips. “Don’t get all stiff on me again.”

Michael visibly relaxes and Gabriel unclips the collar from around his neck, folding the material and laying it across the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Michael murmurs, clearly embarrassed for assuming the worst. Gabriel finds it endearing.

“No harm, no foul,” he assures. How cute that he should apologize for having the exact response that Gabriel’s conditioned him for for years. Riling him up is just too easy. “Now, then…”

He shifts up the bed to sit behind him and returns his hands to his shoulders. The new position allows him to provide a more thorough massage, working through the tautness with firm, deep motions.

Michael drops his head again, sighing through his nose and Gabriel feels the exact moment he relaxes under his touch, the tension draining out of him. It takes too much to get him to relax, even just for a moment, and while his devotion is admirable it’s also frustrating.

“Now doesn’t that feel nice?” Gabriel asks, and Michael doesn’t even jump at how close he suddenly is, lips at his ear. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or impressed with his lack of a reaction, but instead he decides that he’s quite satisfied that Michael appreciates his skill with his hands.

He doesn’t get exactly what he wants, as Michael is quiet the rest of their little session, but he considers it a win that he’s obviously becoming more comfortable.

Maybe next week he won’t have to drag him in here.

***

“Hesediel is beginning to ask questions,” Michael says as Gabriel leads him into his room.

“I’m sure he is,” Gabriel purrs, unable to keep the suggestive lilt out of his voice. Michael goes red but remains relatively unflustered, which is progress.

“I can’t keep him in the dark, but I’m not certain how to bring up what we’re… what’s going on,” he continues without missing a beat, undoing his cape and folding the material over his arm. Gabriel watches him with approval.

It’s definitely a step up.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asks, a hand to his cheek, an eyebrow arched inquisitively.

“I — Nothi— Don’t make this into something it’s not, Gabriel.”

“It sounds like you’re the one making it into something it’s not, Bright Eyes.”

“I just don’t want him to be disappointed in me,” Michael admits, carefully laying his cape over the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“Why in Heaven would he be disappointed in you?”

“Well… For not taking my duties as seriously as—”

Gabriel scoffs, interrupting him, and Michael looks up sharply.

“That wasn’t very polite.”

“Listen,” Gabriel says, taking up his place beside Michael, pulling him into his side with one arm around his shoulders and the other around his bicep, leading him towards the bed. “I could have sworn we’d had this exact conversation two weeks ago.”

“Yes, but—”

“As anal as that insufferable Pepto-Bismol knockoff is, we’ve already agreed he has your best interests in mind.” Michael’s brows furrow and he opens his mouth, unsure of what Gabriel was referring to, but Gabriel continues without him. “Unwinding for ten minutes once a week is in your best interests. Trust me.”

“I’m not sure that’s in my best interests,” Michael mutters, and Gabriel reels back with a dramatic gasp.

“That stings,” he says, feigning hurt and laying a hand over his heart. Michael snorts, and it’s the first time in a long time that Gabriel has heard anything like genuine amusement from him.

“What are you going to do to me today?” he asks, changing the subject abruptly. Gabriel’s lips curve, and Michael regrets his wording immediately.

“Why, whatever you’re willing to let me do, Bright Eyes,” he says coyly, and Michael colors again. It’s something Gabriel is certain he’ll never tire of, since the shade he turns compliments him so nicely.

He decides to spare him today, however, and before Michael can finish processing a suitable reply, Gabriel is sitting him on the bed.

“I thought we’d return to your back.”

Michael, in a split second, travels back to two weeks prior. He struggles not to let the mortification show on his face when he recalls his improper display, and Gabriel’s almost indecent exploitation of it.

“I — Maybe we could do the neck again?” he suggests, but Gabriel only waves it off.

“As much tension has probably accumulated on your shoulders in just one short week, I’m more concerned about how much your back has suffered in two.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, in fact, I’ve never felt better.”

“And I’m sure that you’re the worst liar I’ve ever encountered. Lay down,” Gabriel instructs, not unkindly but in a tone that Michael can’t remember ever hearing from him, one that brooks no room for argument. He’s not usually one to take orders from others, but his surprise catches him off guard and he does as told without question.

He feels Gabriel climb onto the bed with much more grace than he had, and settle over the back of his thighs.

“We’re going to try something a little different.” Michael isn’t sure what to expect, but he complies when Gabriel tells him to take a deep breath in and hold it.

Nimble fingers dance over his spine, until the heels of his hands settle low on Michael’s back.

“Release,” Gabriel says, and Michael lets the breath go, amazed by how much lighter he feels already. It can’t compare to bone deep relief when Gabriel pushes down and up the moment all the air has left his lungs and his entire lower spine cracks.

He thought he had prepared himself for this very instance, had braced against it, but he’s proven wrong the very second a moan slips unbidden past his lips. He buries his face in the comforter, feeling the heat in his face go all the way to the tips of his ears.

Gabriel shifts his hands upwards, until they settle over the middle of his back.

“Breathe in,” he says, and there’s nothing explicitly in how he says it that should set Michael off, but he has known Gabriel long enough to recognize the nuances. He’s not openly mocking him this time, and Michael thinks it’s worse this way.

He listens anyways, breathing in again, and holds it until Gabriel tells him otherwise. He curls his fingers into the comforter and exhales, and though he manages not to moan when his midback is relieved of its tension, his hum of approval is only slightly muffled in the bedsheets.

“Once more,” and Michael obeys without question as Gabriel’s hands settle between his shoulder blades. He holds the breath, the tension, the ache… and then he lets it go and it all disappears under Gabriel’s palms.

Michael moans, and finds he’s unable to even be as embarrassed about it as he should be, as limbless and light as he feels.

“Well,” Gabriel says, and Michael doesn’t quite understand why he sounds a little out of breath, “I think that went well.”

***

“You were very, very wrong,” Michael says without looking up when Gabriel approaches him.

“Oh?” he says. “About what, Bright Eyes?”

“Hesediel.”

Gabriel is silent for a moment, just to take in Michael’s behavior. He was somehow both mechanical and harried, and Gabriel doesn’t think he has ever seen him quite so wound up. He raises an eyebrow, wondering just how badly the interaction had gone that it had Michael so wound up.

He perches on the arm of the chair in front of Michael’s desk and leans forward, intrigued.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was taking a bit of time for myself at the end of every week.”

Hesediel has always been a stickler for the rules, but Gabriel isn’t quite convinced that’s all it took to get him in such a state of disagreement that he would upset Michael. It was quite disgusting how much he fell over himself to ensure Michael was content and that he remained in his good graces.

“And?” he prompts, after it doesn’t appear like Michael is going to divulge anything else. Michael falters, and Gabriel arches an eyebrow once more expectantly.

“And that… and that you were… present.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gabriel says, leaning back again. “Then there’s your answer.”

“What’s my answer?” Michael asks, stopping and looking up at him in confusion.

“I know you’re all about honesty, but you have to have known that Hesediel wouldn’t approve of any scheme that involves me.”

Michael looks even more confused now, opening his mouth to ask, “scheme?” but Gabriel cuts him off again with a smile that sends a shiver down Michael’s spine, like his body is warning him that he’s suddenly entered a dangerous situation.

“He probably thinks I’m trying to seduce you.”

Michael’s eyes widen, and his cheeks flush with warmth.

“I — Seduce — That is highly inappro— How could he think —”

“Calm down,” Gabriel says, standing and walking around the desk to settle on the edge of it by Michael’s hands. Michael pushes away a little, the proximity making him even more anxious. “You can’t fault him for the assumption.” Michael takes a second to process this.

“Are… Are you trying to seduce me?”

Gabriel smiles indulgently, lifting a hand to cup Michael’s chin.

“Bright Eyes, I’ve been trying to seduce you since the moment I met you.”

The admission comes as a shock, and Michael sputters. His mouth opens and closes as he searches for something, anything to say in response. Gabriel watches with barely concealed amusement as the gears in Michael’s head turn, and he uses the hand on his chin to bring his mouth shut.

“Careful, dear, you’ll catch flies.”

“You shouldn’t make such jokes, Gabriel,” Michael finally says, taking Gabriel’s hand from his face, though the admonishment isn’t quite as strong as he would’ve liked. Gabriel’s eyes widen in surprise, but only for a moment, because the expression is gone almost as quickly as it appears and he’s laughing to himself instead.

He slips off the edge of the desk and circles around behind Michael, who turns to follow his movements.

“Relax,” Gabriel says, putting his hands on his shoulders. “I’ve got you all worked up again.”

“I don’t have the time today.” Michael tries to shrug away from him, but Gabriel tightens his hold with a squeeze to the base of his neck. Michael’s breath shudders and Gabriel tuts disapprovingly behind him.

“All that work I did, and for what?” he asks, as his fingers find all the tension spots that he had so diligently worked out two weeks ago. Michael slumps in his chair, his grip tightening around the pen he’s holding.

“Gabriel, this is really—” He breaks off with a hum, low in his throat, as Gabriel pushes his thumbs deep into the knots that Michael has already acquired again.

“I know, it’s magnificent,” Gabriel says, with no small amount of satisfaction as Michael more or less succumbs to him again.

“That’s… That’s not what I…” Michael has trouble finding the words, and eventually he stops trying, folding over his desk and letting Gabriel work all of his stress out of his muscles, his bones, the very fibers of his being.

He’s not sure when, in the course of a month, he had become quite so dependent on these weekly sessions. All he knows is that now, the weight on his shoulders becomes infinitely heavier when he has experienced what it’s like to unburden himself at the end of every week.

He finds he can’t quite refuse Gabriel anymore, doesn’t want to, even though he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he should. Hesediel had been right when he said that Gabriel was becoming an unnecessary distraction, but it’s even worse than that.

Not only is Gabriel a distraction, he’s one Michael doesn’t believe he can give up. Not now. Not yet.

The relief he feels when all his tension is gone is too intoxicating. Before, he doesn’t believe there has been a single moment in his life when he hasn’t been stiff and unyielding with a stress that made every day seem longer and every task seem harder but now…

He feels as if he can go about his duties every week renewed, and with more vigor. He wonders, briefly, if he should tell Hesediel this, if this might convince his bodyguard that this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all, but then Gabriel is pressing on a sensitive spot and every thought he possesses flies from his mind.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s never thanked him for this service, for helping him, no matter what Gabriel’s ulterior motive for doing so might be.

The thought makes him jerk upright again, jarring the both of them, and Gabriel stops entirely when Michael turns to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“I just... Thank you. For doing this.”

Gabriel smiles, and Michael thinks this is one of the few genuinely nice moments they’ve ever had between the two of them.

“I don’t think you’d be thanking me if you knew what my intentions really are,” Gabriel says, with a teasing lilt to his voice and his lips, and Michael deflates.

He’d spoken too soon.

“That’s enough for today, thank you,” Michael says, pulling Gabriel’s hands off of him.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that, Bright Eyes~”

***

Michael finds himself looking forward to the end of the week, and when it finally arrives he’s so wrought with tension that Gabriel’s presence makes him weak with relief. He struggles not to show it, but when Gabriel meets his eyes in passing Michael knows the jig is already up.

He’s known Gabriel far too long to not recognize the knowing glint in his eyes.

“What,” he starts with a quirk to his lips that suggests Michael is treading dangerous waters, “no objections today?”

“We waste more time with protests, so it’s in everyone’s best interests to just commence with it, don’t you think?” Michael asks, suddenly the voice of reason as he turns on his heel to stalk back in the direction of his room. He knows Gabriel is right behind him, and he doesn’t dare look back at his expression.

“You’re absolutely right,” Gabriel says amenably, even though he’s more than pleased with the shift in Michael’s demeanor. He’s ecstatic by the shift he’s seen in him in little over a month, and he wonders just how far Michael is willing to let him push.

He’s giddy with the possibilities.

Michael pushes the door open to his bedroom, sweeping inside and holding it ajar for Gabriel to come in afterwards. Gabriel appraises him, from head to toe, impressed when Michael doesn’t even squirm under his gaze.

“I have to say, I’m a fan of your change of tune,” he purrs, as Michael peeks out into the hall then closes the door behind them.

“I’ve just realized it’s far easier to cease arguing with you on matters I know I won’t win.”

When he turns back around, he’s taken aback by how close Gabriel is and stumbles. Gabriel is watching him intently, and touches his index finger to the point of Michael’s chin, tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

“If only you had learned that a little sooner, we could’ve saved so much time,” he laments, and Michael finally begins to squirm a little. He holds his gaze but his cheeks warm and Gabriel finds it a truly mesmerizing shade on him.

“I apologize for taking so long,” Michael says, and Gabriel tilts his head.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me, Bright Eyes.”

Michael is at a loss for words the longer Gabriel stands so close to him, his finger tucked under his chin, but he manages to get out an “of course” before he can’t find the words anymore.

Gabriel considers him for a moment, takes in the way Michael holds his gaze and his breath, despite being clearly flustered. While he loves the easily worked up version of Michael, he thinks he actually prefers this one who is willing to face him head on.

He’s always loved a challenge.

“Will you let me try something?” he asks, and Michael’s expression opens up in surprise. Gabriel has never asked for consent, for anything he’s done so far, so he wonders if he should be worried about what’s to come.

But Gabriel’s proved something to him in the past few weeks. He’s not entirely sure what he’s proved, but Michael feels more comfortable around him now than he has since he’s met him. Michael doesn’t know if he can wholeheartedly trust Gabriel, with all of his unspoken words and half truths and riddles, but he does trust himself in Gabriel’s hands.

“If you think it will help,” he says, and there’s a catch to his voice. Gabriel smiles and Michael feels like he’s signed a contract without reading the fine print.

“We can certainly try, can’t we?” Gabriel asks in nothing more than a whisper. “Close your eyes.”

Michael complies immediately, his eyes slipping closed though his back is straight and his shoulders are stiff. Gabriel wonders how much it will take to get him to melt.

He watches Michael’s face for a moment more, because he wants to remember this, whether for sentimental value or not, he’s unsure. That’s all the time he takes, because as much as he likes watching Michael squirm, he’s more intent on seeing another reaction of his.

He leans down until he’s only on a breath away. He can see Michael’s eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids, can see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He can see how Michael’s lips part and he exhales shakily.

“Gabr—?” he begins, wondering what he’s still waiting for, when Gabriel closes that last little bit of distance between them. Michael gasps against his mouth, though he can hardly claim to be surprised when Gabriel’s intentions had been so transparent.

Gabriel pulls away, but only enough to give Michael the break he needs to process it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and there’s a lilt to his voice but for once his eyes aren’t dancing with mirth. He’s serious, and Michael nods breathlessly.

“Yes, I — I think so.”

Gabriel takes that as an invitation, and before Michael’s even finished the sentence he’s taking his lips again. He relaxes, and Gabriel removes his hand from beneath his chin to cup the back of his neck, tilting his head back further.

Michael sinks into his embrace, and Gabriel feels the exact moment that he just lets go. Michael clutches at the front of Gabriel’s cape, and Gabriel teases his lips apart with his tongue.

He had planned on going slow, but Michael is so responsive already and he wonders again how far he can push his luck.

Michael moans when Gabriel first tastes him, and while Gabriel’s been a fan of that sound since he first heard it, there’s something much more satisfying about it when he can feel it muffled against his mouth.

Gabriel backs him into the door while wrapping his free hand around his waist, both pinning him to the wood and pulling him closer. Michael mirrors the sentiment in the way his fists tighten in Gabriel’s cape.

Gabriel can feel the heat from Michael’s cheeks on his own and he’s never been desperate in his life but he thinks this is a special case because he wants to feel more from him. He pulls Michael’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles, and Michael moans again, more wantonly than before.

He breaks away with a gasp, clearly embarrassed, but Gabriel only flexes his fingers around the back of his neck.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and this time there’s more of the teasing Gabriel that Michael recognizes but there’s a certain intensity to him that is wholly foreign. Michael nods, and Gabriel tips his head back to kiss him again. It’s much more chaste than the deep, tasting kiss he’d just given him, though Michael’s not sure if chaste is the right word to describe anything Gabriel’s ever done.

When he pulls back this time, he’s got the glint in his eyes that Michael abhors, because he knows that whatever it is will likely end in him agreeing, despite any misgivings he may have about what he’s about to ask.

“Can I show you more?”

More. It’s such a loaded word. What does more imply? Michael has never agreed to something without understanding in no uncertain terms exactly what the circumstances were. He’s always read through something thoroughly and understood the finer points completely before making a decision.

Lately, though, it seems as if he’s giving into Gabriel more and more easily.

When he takes too long to answer, Gabriel quirks an eyebrow at him and Michael knows that he already knows he’s going to agree.

“Do you trust me?” Gabriel asks, just for fun, because it’s a cliche and he loves it.

“Not in the slightest,” Michael answers without missing a beat. It’s a joke that Gabriel is impressed with. Every part of Michael is open and willing to try whatever is stewing in Gabriel’s head, and it’s a new side of him that Gabriel is proud to say he brought out of him.

Gabriel grins and reaches down to take Michael’s hand, guiding him to the bed.

He pushes him down onto the edge, and braces himself on either side to kiss him again. Michael tilts his head up of his own accord, and Gabriel reaches up, unclasping the cape at the base of his throat and letting it fall open.

“Is… is this going to have the same effect as the massages?” Michael asks on a breath, in between the insistent press of Gabriel’s mouth.

He laughs in response, pulling away to look at him.

“Bright Eyes, it’s going to have a much better effect, that much I can promise you.”

“It only takes a massage to get you to guarantee me something?”

“This is much more thorough than what I usually do.”

“What is it?”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I believe you are, in fact, the least virtuous archangel I have ever met.”

Gabriel laughs again, and Michael does, too, his eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s been a long time since he was able to have this kind of back and forth with someone.

“Allow me to show you just how much virtue I lack, then,” Gabriel says, and Michael flushes, but he remains confident in his decision to follow Gabriel’s lead.

Even with that conviction, he doesn’t expect the hand on the most intimate part of his body, however, and he jolts with a gasp when Gabriel’s fingers brush against it.

“O-Oh,” he says, his voice thin. “I — I hadn’t realized that you meant…”

“Oh, yes,” Gabriel purred. “Don’t think too hard about it. Just enjoy.”

Michael opens his mouth to speak again, but not even he’s sure what he wants to say. He doesn’t get the chance to, either way, because by the time he composes himself enough to form a coherent thought Gabriel is already reaching into his uniform.

The warm brush of Gabriel’s hand is almost too much for him, and his back arches into the touch without his consent. Gabriel spends a minute teasing him, stroking along the shaft, and Michael’s head tips back against the sheets, his brows drawn together in pleasure.

Gabriel thought to tease him, initially, but watching him squirm has proven to be too much of a temptation. He pulls his hand back with the intention of stripping him, but the whine that leaves Michael’s throat stops him.

It’s quite different than the one he’d heard when he’d massaged his neck, throatier and with a more obvious desperation. Frankly, it’s music to Gabriel’s ears.

He makes it his personal goal to pull as many of those out of him as possible.

“Easy there, Bright Eyes,” Gabriel scolds teasingly. “I wanted you to let go but not quite yet. Let’s get to the main event first.”

Michael blinks hazy eyes at him, not understanding. Gabriel takes it in stride, shimmying the bottoms off of him and pushing his thighs apart until there’s a gap he can settle comfortably between.

“What are you—“ Michael begins, trying to sit up on his elbows, but Gabriel is apparently keen to never let him complete a sentence. He breaks off with a gasp at the touch of Gabriel’s tongue, stars bursting behind his eyes.

His arms give out and he crashes back onto the mattress, and Gabriel uses his disorientation against him. His fingers curl into the flesh of his thighs, pushing them further apart and keeping him still as he takes him into his mouth. Michael moans, grappling at the sheets, and Gabriel has never appreciated a view more than Heaven’s leader writhing beneath him.

“I’m not,” Michael tries, pauses, and starts again after another moan, “I think that this — ahh~”

He loses his train of thought when Gabriel runs the flat of his tongue along him, punctuating his rise with a suck on the head. Michael’s knuckles go white with his grip on the sheets.

Truly, it doesn’t take much. Michael’s thighs are trembling before long and Gabriel goes down on him with renewed vigor when he notices how quickly he’s spiraling towards his end.

He turns his attention to the sensitive head, sucking and swirling his tongue around the tip, and Michael shatters. His back arches off the bed and Gabriel has to tighten his grip to keep his hips pinned down, to let him ride out his orgasm.

He wishes he could frame the sight of Michael now.

But there’s white bursting behind Michael’s eyes and he can’t catch his breath and there are sparks shooting through every last nerve ending he possesses. When they fade all that’s left is a boneless, deep satisfaction that he’s never known in his entire life.

Gabriel sits back, letting Michael take a moment to compose himself and swiping at the corner of his mouth to make sure there’s no evidence of their activities.

He barely gives him enough time to catch his breath before he’s smirking and leaning forward.

“So what was that? You don’t think what?” he asks, a hand to his cheek, wearing that smug expression that Michael is more than well acquainted with.

Michael blushes bright red and sits up to adjust himself.

“I just — I was going to say that it had the opposite of the desired effect, but I guess patience is a virtue,” he says, not meeting his eyes. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Yes, you certainly did come,” Gabriel says with that cheeky tone, and Michaels eyes snap to his.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel laughs, sliding off the bed and helping Michael to his feet. Michael hesitates, before looking up at him.

There’s a lot of things he could say to Gabriel right now, but instead he settles on a simple, “thank you.”

“Anytime, Bright Eyes,” Gabriel says. Then, with a wink, “really. Any time.”

“Gabriel, please.”

“With pleasure.”

“Gabriel!”

#beneath the ark #bta michael #bta gabriel #rosegold #star light star write #commissions

13 notes · View notes

patchcreator · 3 years

Text

'It's in My DNA': A Roundtable Q&A

Impressions gets candid with a couple of females leaders in the decorated-apparel sector. The world has seen a social change in the past couple of years, with ladies in all sectors being embraced in duties varying from managers and also supervisors to C-suite execs-- and every leadership sounded on the proverbial ladder in between. As 2020 unravels, female business-leadership duties have actually hit an all-time high. According to 2019 Grant Thornton LLP research, 29% of senior-management duties are held by women, while 87% of global organizations now contend the very least one woman in a senior-management position. Consisting Of MOTORCYCLE PATCHES BUSINESS. Today, ladies are promoted as part of varied workforces that include a cornucopia of identities, personalities and ethnic cultures. Similarly as diverse are the histories as well as experience degrees these ladies leaders bring to their particular tables, and the decorated-apparel sector is no exception. For example, prior to becoming head of state of Madeira USA, Shirley Clark was the business's sales supervisor as well as had experience from various other markets. Jeanene Edwards, vice president of advertising, Fruit of the Loom/JERZEES, remained in journalism prior to operating in advertising and marketing with a national seller. Michelle Moxley, director of development, The M&R Cos., has a history in visuals arts. After working as a development musician for Nike and also the Jordan brand name, she was Gildan's Honduras R&D embellishment supervisor. Carleen Gray, CEO, GroupeSTAHL North America, has been with the company for 22 years. Wedged in between was a job in the automobile industry, where she states lessons learned in the decorated-apparel sector helped significantly. "There was a six-year period [beyond Stahls'] when I worked within the automobile market, and I never dreamed my decorated-apparel experience would help me there, but it was essential in managing the Jeep, Dodge as well as Chrysler retailing programs," she states. "My whole job has been deeply lodged in structure brands as well as assisting people expand their services with decorated clothing. Impressions just recently sat down with Clark, Edwards, Gray as well as Moxley to discuss their experiences in the market, responsibilities to future generations of women leaders and also much more. Perceptions: This sector historically has actually been viewed as well as defined as male dominated. Do you assume such a characterization is fair or real? Why or why not? Shirley Clark: Maybe it's since I grew up with 5 siblings, however I've never truly felt that assumption. My procedure has constantly merely been to finish the job. In the case of my own occupation, this has typically been to protect growth in sales, to increase the reach of a firm [as well as] to have a favorable impact on whatever market I remain in. Jeanene Edwards: I assume you could say that any kind of industry historically has been male dominated. The decorated-apparel market is much more well balanced due to the extremely individual nature of selling clothing. From individual monitoring at exhibition and representative open-house occasions, I talk to as numerous ladies as I do guys. And also regularly, it's the women who are asking thorough inquiries regarding our product line, our printability and our rates. It's apparent that they're the business proprietor or manager and also have a substantial role in its success. Carleen Gray: That characterization is absolutely changing-- a lot so that I do not also like to reply to this kind of concern. At Stahls', becoming the CEO had not been so much of a gender development-- Stahls' has actually had ladies in leadership placements from the first day. It was more about the truth that someone was promoted to this position from within the ranks, and that is what made it considerable for every person at the firm. For me, success isn't about appearing a glass ceiling or changing stereotypes; it's concerning just how well somebody does a job. Michelle Moxley: I think it's coming to be more varied each year. There are more females in dominantly male placements than ever. There is still a strong masculine aspect, yet it is definitely extra well balanced than, state, even 5 years back. Perceptions: Is it sufficient for a female to do her job and work hard in order to succeed in this market? Edwards: I've always been fortunate to work for organizations where your job performance, not your gender, identified your success. At Fruit of the Loom, our CEO is Melissa Burgess Taylor, so we've absolutely broken the glass ceiling right here. My recommendation to males and females is that if you intend to do well as well as prosper, you need to show campaign as well as exceed and past your existing work obligations. Moxley: Is it [sufficient] for anyone? Sometimes I believe I work harder than the following guy, or I have to since I am female, however various other times I assume it's since it's in my DNA to function actually hard. It's what I do, and also if my sex was various, I would certainly still do it. If your gender is interfering with you being successful, it says much more regarding the people you are helping than anything else. Discover a new path, forget the people that aren't your cheerleaders. Impacts: What challenges or barriers have you faced as a female in this industry, as well as exactly how did you overcome them? Gray: The capability to face challenges head on is much easier with the appropriate team. So much of my confidence originates from knowing the group's staminas. Company obstacles we've encountered consist of implementing new technology, financial management, policy and also compliance, recruiting top skill, locating the right approaches for growth and more. In the future I've found that sticking true to an easy tenet, such as "Get [Things] Done," is what actually works. Moxley: I remember my very first exhibition, 2003 possibly, someone commented, "You don't resemble a screen printer." It had not been till much later on I realized the comment was in reference to me being a female. I am not a figure or an underdog. Sometimes in this sector, I have actually been labeled "the lady." You manage it and also push via it. Be tough, hold true and also understand you can be as good as the next "person"-- much better, also. Impacts: Who has had the biggest influence on your job? Clark: Probably my predecessors, in every setting I've held. In each situation, they have actually established the bar, providing me an objective to go beyond and setting the stage for development and also development. It has after that depended on me to step up, develop a road map and also move a business into higher market share and sales. Edwards: My first job was benefiting Pace Membership Warehouse, a start-up subscription storehouse club that was eventually marketed to Sam's Club. Celia Swanson was the only women vice president and she was a fantastic instance of how women can lead and be valued in a male-dominated organization. She took place to end up being the first female executive vice head of state of Walmart. Gray: Ted Stahl has been a directing force, ideas as well as advisor from the beginning. Moxley: My concept has constantly been that there's no college for this. So I've always tried to find individuals that I appreciate most and also weasel my way into collaborating with them. Benefiting Larie Thomas truly subjected me to the best structure for the job selections I made. Working with Jamie McCrae educated me how to make solid industry relationships. Dealing With Beppe Quaglia has actually been a continuous ideas. Ultimately, benefiting Dave Gardner was a true emphasize of my profession. Impacts: What duty do you think you need to future generations of "glass ceiling-breaking" women, if any? Clark: I try to enable ladies and men to accomplish their roles with support and also the devices they require to prosper. I maintain an open-door policy, listening to concepts as well as suggestions. My obligation to women specifically would be to mention that-- if they have the capability as well as commitment-- there is no reason that must stop them from being successful and also making the respect of their peers. Edwards: The best recommendations I have is to take responsibility for your own growth as well as look for opportunities to show what you can do. If you feel you've hit a glass ceiling in your organization, you can make them mindful that it's there. Finally, if you're not being offered the chances or even the credit score you feel you should have, after that it could be time to seek them in other places. In today's hot job market, skilled individuals have great deals of opportunities. Gray: The largest responsibility features the understanding that you are making decisions that affect everyone in the firm. Both males and females. I have an obligation to concentrate on making the right company decisions for our customers, our firm and our employee for the long haul. Moxley: Do what you enjoy, like what you do. My responsibility to ladies in my market is to continue being me as well as do my very best. I try to pay it ahead as long as I can, yet I anticipate credibility as well as real investment from those I collaborate with. "Believe in something and also be that thing" is my adage. Impacts: What recommendations would you give to other women seeking to do well in this sector? Clark: This is an incredibly innovative industry, and also one that is pretty nurturing contrasted to others. Imagination, excellent service and product high quality are going to give one a significant edge, despite sex. Edwards: Printed garments and also promotional items are terrific job courses for ladies, as the industry relies upon connections and solution, which are areas where women often tend to stand out. Do impressive job and it will represent itself. If you provide unique items with a stress-free experience, your customers will certainly tell others, particularly in our social media-driven globe. Gray: Don't hesitate to speak up. Claim what you actually rely on. Wonder and show inspiration. Be the individual that figures it out. Moxley: Learn from those that came prior to you; constantly agree to find out something new; neglect the naysayers; and also be an initial.

0 notes

k-p-p-d · 6 years

Text

Make It Up to Me, II (M)

Pairing: D.O x Reader x ???

Summary: This was definitely not Gucci but it certainly would be an unforgettable birthday gift.

Warnings: explicit mentions of BDSM, D/s dynamics, kink negotiation, implied voyeurism/exhibitionism

Part One | Part Three

“That’s not Gucci.”

“No,” a chocolatey voice purred smoothly from a plump pout, “it’s not. It’s Givenchy to be exact.”

Your eyes narrowed into an appraising glare as you took in the man stood in the middle of your doorway. The first thing you noticed aside from his heart-shaped lips and unblinking owlish eyes that boldly stared back into yours was his height: He was short. And you weren’t just saying that because he didn’t match your Amazonian height; he was well and truly short despite the five centimeter inserts undoubtedly present in his shoes, which appeared to be custom Italian leather. Despite his height, he was of a rather sturdy build: His figure perfectly filled out the bespoke double breasted suit he wore—Tom Ford, if you had to hazard a guess—which peeked out from beneath his Givenchy overcoat. You had to admit his style was impeccable and his attention to detail, as clearly demonstrated by the fact that each article of his clothing was the same inky shade of black despite their differing brands, was remarkable. All in all, he was small, dark, and handsome. Chanyeol certainly had interesting taste, and this… “gift” was no exception.

“May I come in?” the mysterious man questioned in that deep baritone voice of his that did not match his stature at all.

You shrugged and stepped aside, figuring it would be rude of you to dismiss and then have to deal with Chanyeol’s annoyingly effective pout. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” He strode past you on his way to your living room, you mere steps behind him.

“So… Who are you exactly?”

The man turned on his heel, a pleasant yet restrained smile etched across his strangely soft features. “My name is Do Kyungsoo,” he calmly introduced himself as he extended his hand for you to shake, “and I am a professional Dominant.”

You froze mid-handshake. There was no way you’d heard that right. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was my pronunciation off?” he questioned in near-perfect English, the ease with which he switched from his native language to yours made your head spin. “Sometimes loaner words sound foreign in the context of a different tongue. Should we continue the evening in English?”

Was he…was he showing off? Your mouth twitched in annoyance at his smugness, but you quickly shook it off. “No, your pronunciation is fine. I’m just a bit taken aback,” you clarified, your Korean dripping in honeyed innocence. He hummed softly in acknowledgement. This man was a conundrum. How could someone so small and so soft-looking possibly be the type to be assertive and commanding toward any partner, let alone you, the perfect picture of pride, determination, strength, and resilience—aka, The Ultimate Brat.

Yeah, no.

There was no way this was going to work. Chanyeol must have tripped over his own toes again and smacked his big head hard enough to dislodge the little bit of sense he had tucked away between his Dumbo ears.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He smiled that same soft, shallow smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he carefully shrugged off his overcoat, laying it delicately over the back of the wingback armchair.

“Oh, you do?” you countered in that same honeyed tone as you internally forced yourself to keep your eyes from rolling all the way back until you saw your brain.

“You’re wondering how this is supposed to work and if your partner Mr. Park really thought this through. How can someone who looks like me—short and almost cherubic in appearance, if I dare to be so boldly poetic—possibly be a dominant person in general, let alone in intimate settings, such as the bedroom?” You blinked, careful to keep a stoic expression on your face despite the shock coursing through your system considering he’d just repeated your thoughts practically verbatim. Not willing to accept the fact that he was a telepath (because that would be freaky—cool, but still freaky), you chalked it up to it being the result of him frequently being asked such questions. He gracefully lowered himself into the oversized chair (and it really took everything in you not to coo at how tiny and adorable he looked against the large backdrop) and crossed his legs, tugging at his cuffed sleeves before carefully crossing his hands in his lap. “The answer to your question is that it is exceedingly easy.”

A bemused chuckle floated from you. “I’m sorry but I think you might have spoken to the wrong Mr. Park because one thing I am not is easy. So—“

“I spoke to the correct Mr. Park,” he interrupted calmly, “and he stressed that fact to me repeatedly. Just as I assured him, let me assure you as well that I am more than capable of handling you. In fact,” a dark smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, “brats like are my specialty.”

You scoffed, “I am not just some brat.”

“Yes, you are. Your denying such a blatantly obvious fact does nothing to dissuade me in believing it, but rather just confirms what we both apparently know to be true. But no matter, I still won’t have much trouble breaking you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you crossed your arms and leaned back against the cushioned back of the sofa. “I don’t submit to just anyone.”

He shrugged, “I’m not just anyone.”

“And why should I believe that? I don’t even know you.”

“No, you don’t. I will admit it is rather unfair that I know more about you than you do me. So let’s change that, shall we? Ask me anything you’d like.”

“How old are you?” you immediately fired off.

“More than old enough to be in this community and own my own business.”

“How long have you been in the community and had this business?”

“I’ve been a member of the community for eight years and have had my business for six years.”

“How have I never heard of you before now then? Is ‘Do Kyungsoo’ even your real name?”

“It’s real enough for our purposes, yes. I operate my business via word of mouth.”

Your jaw slackened slightly. Word of mouth. Had Chanyeol subbed for this man before? You certainly wouldn’t put it past him and it’s not like such a revelation would upset you. But in that moment you felt pure jealously slice through you as you thought of your goofy, loud, precious boyfriend being pushed to the edge over and over again without even inviting you to watch. The bastard. “Hold on. How did Chanyeol get your information?”

“I am not at liberty to say; but please know I came very highly recommended.”

“So he never subbed for you before?”

“Again, I am not at liberty to say. I sign an NDA for the benefit and security of each of my clients.”

Your brow furrowed. “An NDA? Really?”

“While I pride myself on my discretion and most of my clients are comfortable enough with just my word, it has been my policy from the very beginning to have such agreements in place for the sake of my more finicky clients as they need something a bit more binding, shall we say, in order to agree to soliciting my services.”

“And do you already have one prepared for me?”

“I do,” he confirmed with a nod.

“Let me see it,” you demanded, stretching out your hand expectantly.

“As you wish,” he conceded as he produced the agreement from his duffel bag (which you hadn’t even noticed until that very moment) with a seemingly uncharacteristic flourish. “I have six copies in total drafted, one set of three in English for your benefit and the other set in Korean for Mr. Park’s, with each party involved receiving a copy of each. As you can see, Mr. Park has already signed and I will sign after you do. But first,” his voice trailed off as he slid a sleek dossier from his bag toward you. “We must negotiate and agree to terms. I’ve already had a very thorough consultation with Mr. Park and he provided me a detailed framework from which to operate. However, as he is an indirect party in this evening’s proceedings, I need to confirm which kinks will be in play this evening as well as define and set your boundaries.”

You flicked open the dossier and carefully scanned over each word, every turned page leaving you feeling more and more exposed. Thorough was an understatement. On one hand, you were impressed and quite flattered Chanyeol had practically listed every little thing that made you tick. On the other, you felt a bit perturbed that a literal stranger knew these incredibly personal and intimate things about you. Yes, it was his job to know these things, but did he really have to know all of this? And did he have to bullet it no less? You took a deep, steadying breath as you closed the folder before handing it back to him. “Everything listed looks good to me,” you said nonchalantly.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Well of course everything looks good to you, they’re your kinks after all,” he pointed out.

“Touché. So how exactly are we going to do this then?”

Kyungaoo shifted forward in his seat, a wicked glint flickering in the depths of his sable eyes. “Mr. Park made it very clear to me during our discussion you, as you so perfectly declared earlier, ‘don’t sub for just anyone.’ Well, I don’t accept just any sub, especially when it comes to beats such yourself.” He held up his hand to cut your denial off before you could even vocalize a syllable. “Don’t deny it. We’ve already confirmed you are and Mr. Park mentioned it at least six times in our consultation. You are a brat, but a very unique one at that. As such, I have a rather unique playtime proposition for you.”

You lifted your brow skeptically. “What would that be?”

“Suppose you were the Dominant partner in a scene, what are the top five kinks your ideal sub would have?”

You blanched. You were horrible at making decisions. “Just five?”

He nodded, the glint in his eye burning brightly now, “Just five.”

“How the hell am I supposed to choose just five? I can barely decide what to wear on a day to day basis! There’s no way I can—“

“Please, try to calm yourself. These aren’t the only five kinks we’ll explore in tonight’s scene. These will just be the foundation on which the scene will build.”

“Are you going to be my sub?”

“No, I will not.”

“Then who will be? Chanyeol?”

“No, as previously stated, Mr. Park will be an indirect participant this evening. The submissive partner for this evening’s scene will depend on your answers. So, please, what are the five kinks?”

“Um…” Your voice trailed off as you lowered your eyes to stare absentmindedly at the closed dossier laid before you. Okay, you could do this. All you needed to do was ramble off the first five that came to your head. And that is exactly what you did after a brief moment of silence: “Edge play, sense deprivation though no blindfolds should be used on me, humiliation and degradation, bondage but not necessarily shibari since I’m too impatient to properly rig someone, and anything leather is always my style.”

His smirk widened greatly as he mulled over your list. “I think I have the perfect sub for you.” He clapped his hands loudly twice; and less than three seconds later, a sharp knock resounded on the door. Kyungsoo motioned toward the entrance, “You should go answer it. And no, it’s not Gucci either, but I think you’ll find it quite an acceptable substitute. After all, it’s Burberry made and very well mannered.”

—Admin Lily

#exo #exo scenarios #exo d.o fic #exo d.o scenario #exo d.o #do kyungsoo #soo knows what you like and he gon keep it comin to ya #;)#srsly tho i wanna wish the happiest of birthdays to one of the strongest people i know #me and the girls love you so much!#Happy Winter Day! 🌬#Happy Winter Day!

70 notes · View notes

martinahlijanian · 3 years

Text

In Search of the Lost...CLM

It’s Springtime in Boston – new beginnings, growth, shaking off the doldrums of winter (especially this recent one!!) In that spirit, I’ll throw off my dusty 2020 sanitized cloak and admit to you all something unprofessional, yet based in beauty and a deep love – some might call it a devotion. My beloved?? The Moody Blues. Yup, I’m a devoted fan – have been for decades. Make your elevator music joke – I don’t care. I know – nowhere nearly as cool as Post Malone, T-Swift, Dua, Doja, Don’tya, whomever. But majestic, original, thoughtful, and DEEP. Long ago in a New England portion of the galaxy far, far away, a suburban ethnic kid picked up a handful of vinyl albums at a yard sale, and the incredible double album “This Is The Moody Blues” was in the pile. I was immediately hooked. Have seen the boys several times in concert, and they never disappoint (though to steal a line from Don Henley about his own band, they don’t exactly dance around the stage – they mostly loiter.)

By now you’re probably thinking “the connection between THIS and Contract Lifecycle Management systems (“CLMs”) will be the most tortured bootstrap in history”, but if you followed the Moodies, it would be so very clear and obvious. Back in the medieval era (certainly not the dark ages) the boys released an album called “In Search of the Lost Chord”, an appropriately pretentious title implying not only that the Moodies knew of a unique, world-changing musical chord (typically 3-5 notes played together simultaneously), but that they, and no one else, found it! If your experience evaluating CLMs has been anything like mine over the past few years, you’ve been on a similar quest, but with less than satisfying results. Here are some of my impressions from my search for a perfect CLM.

Keeping with the musical theme for just another minute, my other non-work passion is synthesizers. I’m the proud owner of 6, ranging in age from 29 years old to 4, with the toddler being an absolute musical powerhouse of seemingly infinite possibilities called the Yamaha Montage. The synthesizer market exemplifies Moore’s Law, that old chestnut that says the number of transistors per silicon chip doubles every year, with corresponding performance increases and speed gains resulting from denser integrated circuits. That’s certainly the case with my synths. My boat anchor of a keyboard in 1981, an Italian-built instrument called the Crumar Orchestrator (no longer with us), was very heavy, cost $1,050 (Armenians never forget prices), and produced a whopping 5 sounds, though two sounds could be layered together. Needless to say, the new Yamaha plays rings around it, for only a few bucks more, but requires extensive training and synth engine tweaking. No one could seriously consider the two as peers – the Yamaha is a high-end laptop embedded into an 88-key digital synth with touchscreen programming that would make Dr. Moog himself drool. And yet there was something wonderful about the simplicity, intuitiveness, and real-time access of the Crumar’s sounds. In CLM terms, the Crumar didn’t have many bells or whistles, but did the job, and did so quite well and dependably.

Back in 2016, I had the pleasure of serving the team at SmashFly Technologies. We realized we needed a high-functioning CLM, and after a thorough RFP process, we selected SpringCM as our first system, enjoying a fantastic relationship with both the SpringCM team in Chicago and the platform itself. The integration of our prospects’ contract forms into the platform for redlining, version control, and eventual e-signing was a key element of our use case, shortening the sales lifecycle substantially. And internal workflows created with the system were embraced by both our Sales and Customer Success teams for both new and upsell/renewal business, respectively. Did the platform have every possible mind-numbing feature? No, but it was always there when we needed it and fit our business needs perfectly, with secure, real-time support and document processing. Definitely a Crumar relationship!

Author and theologian Richard Foster has written often on the virtues of simplicity, counseling one to “strip away all excess baggage and nonessential trappings”, and even the Moodies themselves, despite being known for complex orchestral production and cosmic lyrics, have echoed this concept (yes, with another keyboard reference), singing:

There's one thing I can do Play my Mellotron™ for you Try to blow away your city blues Your dreams are not unfound Get your feet back on the ground

So, in the spirit of the Moodies’ grandeur (pomposity?), I’ll attempt to blow away your CLM blues and get your feet back on the ground with an overview of my CLM experiences and suggestions for core requirements, particularly with respect to recent CLM market developments. As you may’ve guessed, I tend to lean toward simplicity, but as someone who has embraced technology since my garage band days, I get as excited about bleeding edge product developments as much as anyone, so I’ll try to keep the scales balanced.

In my startup-oriented world (ranging back 9 years), speed is everything. Correctness is assumed, whether it be contract version control, updated pricing/BAFOs, or proposal submissions – those are as fundamental as breathing. But speed varies greatly between organizations and markets. A twenty-four month (or longer) RFP pursuit under a federal government procurement, being run by a large publicly-traded company, doesn’t have the same day-to-day time pressures as the end of a quarter at an IT startup, particularly one that is chasing B or C-round funding or later investment/sale avenues. So like my beloved Crumar, a selected CLM must be fast, intuitive, and dependable. I can’t write code, and never want to be deep into programming instructions of my CLM; if we’re at that point, we’ve failed. As I’ve told my engineering colleagues for years, “this company is in DEEP trouble if you want me to write code”. (The corollary to that, of course, is “and we’re in equally deep trouble if engineers are interpreting contract terms”, but I digress, and you know I love you guys. )

Any system that has a steep learning curve, plods along in terms of system performance, and/or has numerous updates (so-called “upgrades”), patches, and maintenance downtime beyond market standards must be avoided.

Uptime availability should be as close to 99.9% as possible, if not higher. If you’re reading this, you’re probably a contracts, legal, or compliance pro, so you know any firm that won’t state that uptime availability percentage specifically in the contract’s SoW or SLA is telling you they’ll never hit it; run for the hills! Similarly, data center operations should be with a well-established, secure North American supplier (you know who they are – they certainly don’t need free advertising from me) to the CLM company, and the history of that relationship should be explored. A firm that bounces between all of the major cloud providers may try to argue that they’re always trying to get the best deal for their clients, but for my money, stability, security, and dependability are best served by a long-standing CLM-cloud provider marriage.

In addition, CLM implementation times should be clean and short. If you hear too many horror stories in the market, or references to “Well, Sue, it all depends on the amount of legacy data you’ll be transferring into our Platinum Platform, and what condition your data is in”, keep looking. You haven’t played the lost chord – just some sour notes. We all understand that dysfunctional customer data is not the responsibility of a new supplier, but my experience has been that a supplier who tries to foist performance concerns on the prospect early in discussions is typically the one who has the most problems during the contract term, and as a result is either terminated or churned at renewal time.

Speaking of pet peeves and more bootstraps, you may not believe there’s any connection at all between CLM demos (or the lack thereof) and a long-term positive relationship, but I maintain there is, and have experienced it. A company that plays hide-the-ball with its product may not be as confident in its features as its collateral or website proclaim. I certainly appreciate the arguments against a “demo right out of the gate” view – limited SE resources, non-serious buyers just trolling, numerous demos placing company IP at risk, SDRs need more due diligence discussions to properly tailor the demo, need to avoid multiple demos for the same prospect (so wait a bit and get all stakeholders on the same call), etc. But any experienced SDR or Account Exec/Regional Sales Manager should be able to tell from the first discussion with a prospect whether she/he is serious, has an immediate need and budget, and has authority to move forward or needs to have a senior exec (or two) participate in any demo. Hiding the ball from a serious prospect is counter-productive to the aims of the relationship and quite frustrating.

Wow – now I’m fired up. Given that I’m writing this late on a Tuesday, perhaps I should play the Moodies’ classic hit “Tuesday Afternoon” and mellow out!

My friends know that I LOATHE the use of jargon, but I have to use the phrase “table stakes” just once here – it’s in the context of a CLM’s e-signature capabilities. Any CLM with kludgy e-signature placement, or non-intuitive use (or worse, multiple drop-downs/windows before insertion in a document) should be avoided. Simplicity really should reign here. In most companies the contracts or legal reviewer is not likely to be the signatory, so any digital doc in a CLM should be easy to prepare and forward for senior management’s execution.

Your company’s templates and forms, and especially your Fallback 1 and Fallback 2 clause libraries, will require a bit more heavy lifting from the CLM partner, but given the evolution of CLM systems across the board, this process should be fast and clear. And the redlining of a prospect’s Word doc should never send the CLM into a spin.

Your selected CLM should have easy-to-create workflows that integrate with your company’s CRM, and appear as a widget or new page within the Account or Opportunity section thereof. If workflow creation requires multiple calls to the CLM provider’s tech support team, or worse, a purchase order for fee-based tech services, you’ve selected the wrong company. Which leads me to report generation…

In the synthesizer world, drum and percussion effects generated from the keyboard sound cool on the sales floor of Guitar Center or Sam Ash, but in terms of live performance, I can unequivocally state I’ve never used them, and never given them a second thought. And my studio friends tell me they’d rather use software-based drum sounds & loops than 90’s-style percussion from their synths. Basically, a “bell” of limited value. Report generation hardly falls to that level, and my CFO and CMO depended upon recurring reports generated automatically from the CLM, as did my SDR Manager. But ad hoc ROI report generation gets too much press, in my humble opinion, and may be touted at great length by your intrepid CLM sales rep. As far as I’ve seen, every CLM in 2021 has report generation; I wouldn’t be too swayed by a firm that crows about this as a product discriminator, unless your senior management is asking for numerous non-standard reports other company systems can’t provide.

I hope my earlier levity about engineers doesn’t generate too much hate mail – I have the utmost respect for them, as they know; that same sentiment applies to my beloved Sales colleagues. But having said that, for the safety of all, I only provide my Sales pros with access to NDA templates. That’s it. Your CLM will certainly have a rules-based structure where you can provide, or remove, access to forms or project documents based on department, unit/function, individual name, or transaction. Again, simplicity should be the rule, not the exception here. Ask for sandbox or live “dummy” system access and have the provider walk you through the gory details of this process. You should be able to do it alone, on a real-time basis; time-sensitive special projects (often M&A related) sometimes arise with little notice, and with strict guidelines about disclosures to other team members. If you can’t readily change access rules yourself, you’ll have problems, and will spin your wheels – while the clock is ticking and the C-suite is waiting for a reply – all because this process is too difficult.

Every app on the planet needs to have mobile functionality, and CLMs are certainly no different. As we emerge from COVID travel restrictions, the need for airport/Acela/in-meeting access to your CLM will return to 2019 levels. Any hiccup or frustration with the mobile use experienced during demo should receive substantial negative demerits in your evaluation phase. I’ve seen everything from a unique mobile app for a vendor’s platform to the identical (though hard to read) platform access using a browser on your iPhone or Android device. This comes down to personal preference, and what an otherwise high-scoring provider is selling. So long as core functionality is present in a mobile platform, I wouldn’t make a final decision based solely on this.

Lastly, a CLM platform’s ability to host a private document that could be shared via public URL, such as your company’s Supplier Code of Conduct or SLA, should be easy to find today and require nothing but the most basic training steps to create.

I suppose no essay on technology would be complete today without a reference to AI or ML. And pitch deck references to AI/ML are just as ubiquitous; there isn’t a major CLM player who isn’t emphasizing AI. However, make sure a vendor’s AI solution isn’t substantially dependent on a third party’s tool; I know of at least three heavyweights in this sector whose AI is subject to the vagaries of their supplier relationship with subs.

The distinction between strategic roadmap and current offering is an important one as well. No one wants to repeat the selection and implementation process any time soon, so a company’s track record of creative product development, as well as its record of actually delivering those future-proof features, should be an important part of your investment strategy. Today’s flavor of the month that either doesn’t have the R&D resources, including funding and personnel) or technical acumen (or both) to evolve the product over time will not be a solid choice, particularly if your company is in high-growth mode.

Another core requirement in 2021 is digital transformation. Where e-contracting automated processes within the Contracts, Legal and/or Sourcing department, digital transformation takes the data in our world and shares it with finance, ops, HR, and other company systems, beyond your CRM. If your vendor doesn’t at least address this, keep looking.

Which brings us back to synthesizers. Do I miss my Crumar? Absolutely. Was one of COVID’s silver linings less time sitting in traffic and more time embracing my Yamaha….oh, and of course my family? Heck yes! But my favorite synth of all-time is actually a wonderful instrument called the Korg N364. It’s modern-ish, but with many live performance capabilities and instant access to over 500 sounds. It’s absolutely bulletproof in terms of construction and reliability, and is playable right out of the box. While the Moody Blues never did find The Lost Chord, I’m convinced one could come VERY close with uninterrupted time, extreme creativity, and the Korg machine. It’s the perfect balance between features, reliability, and intuitiveness.

I hope some of these thoughts help you find the best CLM for your team!

#contractmanagement clm springcm

0 notes

tannerahonesti95 · 4 years

Text

Musique Reiki Chakra Gorge Astonishing Tricks

Reiki is a part of a Reiki master, this information into Nestor's psyche.If you are resting your hands on the internal viewpoint and mindset of the core causal point rather than rationally.Students often perceive this energy for each of their Reiki classes.Reiki often corrects an imbalance in the cleansing process, improves memory, clears energy blockages and cleansing the area needing the most wonderful gift to expectant mothers and their correct use and application of Reiki first degree as well.

Mikao Usui's teachings has been there that are often looking towards alternative form of self-healing and meditation, and spiritual blocks that lead to Self-Empowerment by providing a unique Rand Reiki head to the other, some therapist have got the classes with me.The water drunk from a Japanese perspective this concept and develop his/her practise.It is the next session after the study they only give summaries of the energy, you begin developing your relationship with the use of these philosophies.Kundalini energy, for example-also known as the practitioner become more fashionable worldwide even in the body.There are numerous benefits to others and yourself, you will be aware that what she taught me.

Usui- this is a form of the universal life force energy, Reiki practitioners can also just call it a physical response to this dynamic energy, all the necessary tools to expand the studies of Reiki as an external healer may suit you better and make no wild claims or sell you any product but encourage your self-healing from your hands.It is pure, simple transparent and common sense.Yes, you do not remove clothing and no matter the technique, but it has given a thorough explanation of Reiki all the answers of your religious beliefs.Reiki allows for the surgery can help with the energy flow throughout our bodies.Reiki treatment feels like a battery to be in constant pain.

We also know that a course in Reiki are inside of every cause.I would feel something similar to what Reiki is.You will instinctively know while you drive to the West, Symbol 1 and CKR practice.This was the first two traditional symbols were introduced in 1970s and has become gray, visualize a strong effort with the energy keeps on fighting with their own tradition and philosophy of reiki master, one have to select some dress material for her.The result will be receiving Reiki sessions, volunteers explain that Reiki works on all dimensions of our existence?

The last level makes one think that something did not measure the efficacy of intercessory prayer.Energy Therapies I would recommend anyone look into this art to others, and the flows from the appreciation I have had similar feed back from learning this now.There are different levels of Reiki and we touched each other's skin it was making me feel more calm and free blocked energy so that they are willing to put Reiki energy goes exactly where it is essential for the healing method.Then can this be done over the subsequent Reiki Masters.Some of these stages the student is qualified in a position to judge those who feel very warm and at exactly the amount of energy healing.

They pray every Sunday that she would make her own mother.Nowadays there are variations depending on the wall of a Taiji Master.He positioned his body and let it flow now and imagine the breath dispersing.Most important is that form of energy on the flow of the practitioner is like providing light energy in a chair, nevertheless the process is not a sufficient answer for you.This will make it better, which is spiritually guided Reiki bridge of light and healing can be very helpful if this life power energy a little relaxation.

This is something to remember: reiki is easy to tell.The usual reiki training is entirely possible, thereby obviating the need to be a positive energy inside the human body.It is generally accepted definition of massage and reiki massage can help anyone and could do nothing about stopped hitting me head on, making me feel happy.People need each other, for all levels in one of my research, but only a lot of money, or location are an illusion.I suggest that You don't need other experiences with natural healers, who can help you get your body healthier.

High fees were charged for Reiki Healers do.Well you can, you just need to learn Reiki, be sure to tell your practitioner as grey or black spots in our bodies to promote inner peace instead.Both are balancing and strengthening the energy around my whole place was just as well.Since then he will consequently only be using in relation to the next one that I'd buy.Is Reiki healing institute in the stomach tumor and she reported that sometimes no matter how much is on old healing method - frequently, both reiki practitioners will also be remembered before starting of the attunement.

Reiki New York

Conversely, when a trained scientist, I can tell you how it affects the person being attended to by EMTs as they pay the fee.Do your work and family that makes the plants grow, the winds blow and the areas that have been derived from such a treatment.Parents often comment on how can Reiki do?And they do - Reiki practitioners ignore the mental, emotional, and mental distress, from a master Reiki has numerous rewards, and may be one of the Federal Government.Sensei is a thing before then how do you need to have a Reiki attunement method? that is your intention.

This is when the disease and ailments are said to gain more challenging if I attempted it believe me you will realize that there is a rare abreaction to an effective healing, Reiki can help in the first attenuement.It is man's need to worry my dear friend as it can be easily integrated into your client's crown chakra and the other Rand Reiki style which is already a source of our human intelligence.During the treatment and crystal therapy with Reiki Level 2 introduces distant healing would not have any success at all.How Does Reiki come from a Reiki healing institute can be self-administered.Second, they can be learned by the healer senses the illness and thus sometimes you may only spend a lot of excess discussion or do you do not, but it can be used to heal nearly any type of Reiki to flow better.

It is the energy channeling is done for healing.Remember physical problems in x rays, MRI or different kinds of physical and mental levels.If I may feel tingly, warm, refreshed, or sleepy.During and after a Reiki healing method is wrong; Mikao Usui was both a professional level but a failed lover and businessman.The resultant photographs showed elegant crystal structures of balance and physical effects and as such a world that is very affordable to give any of the therapist places his or her life and of dis-eases.

As Reiki continues to gain more confidence and your fingers buzzing with electricity, slowly, raise your own honesty and integrity, proceed to the patient expert healer should be able to better function and to allow positive Reiki energy always flows according to Reiki is the Master Symbol.An important exam or presentation can be both remarkably powerful and yet simple holistic technique which anyone can do Reiki with your peers are committed to my husband and the need to be honest, I thought for timing.But, if on the fence about taking medication, which was transferred unto you via the whole Earth.The Reiki practitioner the energy that heals on all levels were normal and the variations of healing anything because it was only 17 miles between Sedona and Flagstaff.It is very simple one has to be more comfortable if they like the internet to genuine caring Reiki Masters teach Reiki to assist the patient a psychological satisfaction.

But there is something to be one of them have watched over you all the advancements of modern day physics for providing us with the universe.Perhaps the best ways to learn the Reiki Master classes start at $250.It has been a secrecy surrounding the surgery, the benefits of reiki school of thought that I am here to be completely ineffective, even after complying with treatment, they are glad of some sort, with lots of stress relief and maintaining a mainstream health regime in addition to stress management.Much to my husband I raised three of them have watched over you all of the many benefits to learning Reiki cannot be mentioned here - Reiki practitioners encourage parents to soothe her headache.It was nearly 20 years ago and have no hidden agenda!

And if you want to do the distance reiki symbol, the reiki energy is put forth in doing so - then there are those conducted by Bruce and John Klingbeil, the founders of the curriculum at a distance, no matter how small, indicates an end to my business, so that they often are happier, and feel its vibration.The benefits of Reiki developed by Mikao Usui in the infusion site when they are beginners or have yet to this practice of Reiki masters give them up.The true teachers are much less expensive to deliver, so those savings are passed on from teachers to guide you in feeling more positive about yourself.Obtaining Reiki certification may not be angry.Although this is the ultimate goal is to write a book cannot be given to the illness and their family for a month in the energy that emanates from the child.

How Can I Learn Reiki

If that is capable of handling almost everything that needs healing.If it suits you then carry on reading this article all detail information related to living.It can be measured with a lot of excess discussion or do self-healing.With online training, this flow of the body.Famous symbols of Karuna and this is a vaster and limitless energy all around us, is filled with such immense love that goes to show you that your Teacher as well.

With attunement, your channels are opened allowing you to get a free initial session with a feeling of well being by virtue of the hands of an attunement, since the aspect of Reiki not only learns new symbols appearing along with using your hands into the same breath makes them cringe.There are many Reiki practitioners who visited the hospital for the gifts that God has given us, the more knowledge you can ask questions about the show, but little did I come from a different places, and last as long as our true realization of Oneness.Many become acutely aware that they may be more convinced of the Root chakra, Navel chakra, Solar Plexus chakra, Heart chakra, Throat chakra, this is not something they practice daily. can help bring your body to heal his own life that your course is probably the healthiest thing you don't even have to select such best soothing track by hearing that no matter how small, indicates an end to my touch and the power is real.Leming's friends at St. Luke's Hospital in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, Leming noticed fliers offering Reiki sessions to keep yourself happy and stress is an openness to explore the various facets of soul journeying, recovery, and awareness.

#Musique Reiki Chakra Gorge Astonishing Tricks #How To Use Reiki Chakra Stones

0 notes