#commoners were going in just to fill their pockets with food from the buffet to sell it on the marketplace the next day
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I just read a detailed account of the Bal des Ifs and I’d never realised how funny this event was when you don’t focus on Madame de Pompadour. All I was taught at school is that it was the masquerade ball in 1745 where Louis XV first took (public) notice of la Pompadour, but what I didn’t know was that the former royal mistress had recently died so there was a vacancy so to speak, and a lot of noblewomen showed up specifically hoping to catch the King’s attention.
But he came dressed up as a shrub (a yew tree similar to the ones in the royal topiary gardens) along with seven other men in identical costumes, so no one knew for sure which one was the King. People always focus on how Madame de Pompadour recognised the royal shrub and talked to him, but what about the women who didn’t!! History is written by the winners but I want to hear about the women who doggedly danced the minuet with random shrubs hoping this one was the one. My book mentions that a determined noble lady followed a yew tree outside the room on a hunch, only to find that she had bet on the wrong shrub. This is what the shrub costumes looked like by the way, imagine stalking one all over the park of Versailles at night because you think his gait looks kingly and you are an ambitious noblewoman
#findings#this ball was a mess! at one point the versailles bouncers gave up on checking the guests and anyone could walk in so#commoners were going in just to fill their pockets with food from the buffet to sell it on the marketplace the next day#the infanta of spain danced with a masked man who was so knowledgeable about spanish royal gossip she believed him to be#a grandee of spain but he turned out to be a former cook at the spanish court#i need to find a book or a thesis on versailles masquerade balls
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what about hc’s for Masky, Hoodie, and Toby’s s/o being royalty
Masky
This boi is insecure as hell.
And with his s/o being literally the highest you can go, and him being where he's at on the scale, it doesn't look too good in his favor.
If he knew you were royalty, there's a good chance he wouldn't have made a move in the first place.
Cause he thinks you're so out of his league.
If he does, however, manage to stick around, expect a lot of standoffish behavior.
He'll need some time to wrap his head around the idea of dating royalty and being relevant to all of these important people.
An introverts worst nightmare.
He'd rather die than to attend a big party.
He'll whisk you away alot to secluded areas away from everyone else, and expensive clothing, and polished walls he's afraid to brush up against.
Just to get a taste of what else is out in the world beyond a castle.
Hoodie
After realizing you're not as royal as you look, he'll try his best to shrug it off.
"Eh, whatever."
Literally the most laid-back guy you'll ever meet.
If you drag him along to a party or some kind of high-end social event, he'll grit his teeth and find the nearest bathroom to hide in while everyone else chats away.
You'll be able to find him stuffing the expensive buffet food in his pockets tho.
You join him, of course.
And with personal tailors like yours, you can bet your dress has pockets for this occasion.
He'll help you find a way to surpass any security and sneak you out to his apartment.
His scent fills the place and it's so comfortable to know you don't have to worry about keeping your posture painfully straight or crossing your legs when you sit.
Toby
He wants to know every little detail about your life, ofc.
And he's always asking questions about random things if you decide this take him inside this giant castle that looks like it stepped out of a disney movie.
He calls you "Your Grace" teasingly whenever he fetches you something.
"Of cOurSeEE, Your GrACe~~"
Even though you could have everything the world has to offer, little trinkets from Toby always make your day shine a little better.
If there's anyone in a higher power of you, he'll get intimidated easily and most likely avoid any events that they're attending.
He tries to whisk you away to the real world often.
Just to get a taste of common life.
Busy streets (Toby doesn't like them either), little cheap coffee shops, community parks, getting chased by geese, and baking together.
Anything's his favorite as long as you're next to him.
#proxy#masky#hoodie#toby#creepypasta#creepypasta imagines#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta imagine#creepypasta blog#Marble hornets
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Come with me. Part 2
Pairing: Obi-Wan x Reader
The building you entered could only be described as a castle. You kept close to Obi-Wan as you entered the great hall, it would be easy to get lost among all the merry people dancing, eating and in general having fun.
“Hold on to me,” Obi-Wan said giving you his arm when he noticed you were feeling overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place.
You found your table and sat down. Anakin seemed kind of antsy, he just couldn’t sit still as he looked around the room.
Obi-Wan let out a sigh “You may go,” he said looking at the both of you “Just stay out of trouble. If anything goes wrong, we all meet here.”
Anakin shot out of his seat smiling as he ran after a waiter that was carrying glasses filled with a dark liquid.
“I’ll get something to eat,” you announced as you got out of your seat.
Obi-Wan gave you an approving nod.
-
At the buffet you looked around for something that would resemble food from earth, it’s not that you didn’t like to try new things but the last time you got too brave with food you didn’t know, you ended up sick for days and you didn’t want to risk it on a day like this. Everything looked over the top, in fantastical shapes and elegant arrangements. There was so much to choose from it made your head spin, you decided to get a drink first. You chose a blue cocktail with something that looked like an orange peel constantly spinning inside, it smelled sweet and fruity.
“Be careful, that one may look innocent but it’s really strong.” Said a tall man in a red suit pointing at your drink.
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” You said politely.
The man took your hand and kissed it, “My name is Rin. Welcome to my party Miss…?”
“Oh! I’m Y/N,” you couldn’t believe your luck! The host of the party was one of the people who’s signature you needed, if only you could get him to sign those documents. You chatted with the man for a while without disclosing that you were with the Jedi and you decided to take him to Obi-Wan who had all the paperwork.
-
Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wide when he noticed you approaching the table with the man.
“Master Obi-Wan, this is Rin. I believe you have a common goal.” You said smiling.
“Y/N has told me so much about you master Jedi, could we have a chat? ” Rin said shaking Obi-Wan’s hand.
“Please.” Obi-Wan said gesturing to the empty seat next to him. Obi-Wan glanced at you and you gave him a proud smile.
You put your drink on the table “I’ll be right back.” You said smiling to the men as you walked back to the buffet.
While you walked away Rin couldn’t keep his eyes off you “That’s one fine looking girl. Such an innocent little thing, I wouldn’t mind teaching her how to please a man.” He chuckled.
Obi-Wan was sure he misheard the man, “Excuse me?”
“Never mind,” Rin said fiddling with something in his pocket.
Obi-Wan sat up and started reciting the little speech he had prepared “The Jedi Order has sent me to… what are you doing?” Obi-Wan noticed the man dumping a pink powder into your drink.
The man smirked “Let’s make a deal. You don’t tell that sweet piece of ass about this…” he wiggled the now empty sachet in his fingers “..so I can give her the best fuck of her life, and I’ll sign all the contracts you want. Deal?”
Obi-Wan was silent, not believing what he just witnessed.
Rin took Obi-Wan’s silence as disapproval but he wasn’t fazed “Don’t worry about this, it’ll just loosen her up a bit, make her more submissive, if you know what I mean.” He gave Obi-Wan a knowing smile “After I’m done with her, she’ll have to stay in bed for a week!” he laughed loudly.
Obi-Wan said nothing.
Rin was getting a bit irritated by Obi-Wan’s silence “What? Did you think you had a chance? After I’m done with her, no man will ever be able to satisfy her like I did.”
That was when Obi-Wan lost all his self-control as he lunged at the man, knocking over the entire table. The commotion made everyone stare in their direction. The two men started to wrestle on the floor.
The man was no match for a Jedi, Rin screamed pitifully for him to stop but what made Obi-Wan stop was you grabbing onto his arm mid-punch.
“Master-!” you pleaded with Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan came to his senses as he looked around the room “We’re leaving!” he said quickly getting to his feet and grabbing your hand. In the corner of your eye you saw Anakin follow you, with a bewildered expression on his face.
You ran with Obi-Wan as fast as you could in your dress “Master, what happened!? What about the alliance?”
Obi-Wan said nothing.
-
Obi-Wan did not tell you what exactly went on, all he said was that you needed to find another way to finish the mission. Anakin went to bed early, mumbling from time to time about not being able to eat anything. You got ready for bed but you needed to talk to Obi-Wan.
-
Obi-Wan sat at the table, looking through the documents. He couldn’t believe he lost his temper like that, this has never happened to him before.
“Can’t sleep?” You came out in your nightgown that was even shorter then your dress from before. Maker, you looked beautiful with your hair slightly disheveled and resting teasingly over your chest.
If he looked at you for a moment longer he would never be able to get his concentration back so he stared intently at the documents,“ I just need to figure something out.”
“Was it something I did?” you asked as you sat down next to him.
“No! Of course not. It was I…” he let out a tired groan “I just lost my temper. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have handled this differently.”
You put your hand over his. “We’ll figure something out.”
It was incredible what such a small touch would do to him, totally making him fall out of balance. He had to take in a few slow breaths to calm himself. He wanted to touch you back but he pushed that thought aside. He gave you a small smile.
A light started blinking, someone was trying to contact the ship. There was a message form the host of the party requesting a meeting with the three of you as soon as possible. Obi-Wan stood up and sent a message that he would be arriving the next morning.
You looked at him with concern, “Do you have a plan?’’
“A lot of apologizing. That is my plan.” He said looking exhausted.
“I really wish you would tell me what happened. Maybe I could help.”
“This is entirely my doing. Just… be there with me.”
-
The three of you went back to the castle. You entered a room where a tall man in a green suit sat on a throne and Rin stood next to him, looking quite nervous.
The man stood up and opened his arms “Welcome! As I understand my son offended you last night.” He said slowly approaching Obi-Wan “Please accept my most sincere apologies. I do not wish to quarrel with the Jedi, if you can find it in your heart to accept out apology and leave this incident in the past I will gladly sign all the documents you require.” The man bowed and then gave his son a slap on the back to approach you.
Rin bowed deeply to Obi-Wan “Forgive me Master Jedi.”
“I too, apologize.” Obi-Wan bowed back.
Rin smiled and approached you, taking your hand “My dear lady, I do apologize for my boorish behavior. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright.” You replied feeling awkward, you didn’t really know what happened but you felt like the entire situation was over the top.
“Thank you, I shall be forever grateful. ” he said kissing your hand and lingering on it way too long.
The man in the green suit coughed “That’s enough, son.”
The man let go of your hand but before he went back to stand by his father he gave you a wink.
Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his saber.
The man spoke again, “I would like you to remain as my guests…”
Obi-Wan cut in “That won’t be necessary-“
The man held his hand up “Please, after the way you’ve been treated it’s the least I can do. I’ll call in a few favors and I’ll get you your remaining signatures.”
Obi-Wan seemed to relax a bit “That is very generous…”
The man laughed “Let’s not be so formal! How rude of me! My name is Ran.” The man shook Obi-Wan’s hand.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
-
After you chatted for a while it was settled that you and Obi-Wan would remain at the castle, while Anakin had to go back to the temple for another mission that popped up.
Rin took your arm as he led you and Obi-Wan to your rooms. “I have an entire wardrobe of our traditional dresses I would love for you to try! I’m sure it will all look beautiful on you!”
You glanced at Obi-Wan who obviously did not like how Rin was holding your hand “That won’t be necessary, I’m quite comfortable...”
“Nonsense! It will be my pleasure! Oh! And I simply must show you our gardens, they are spectacular! We have plants you won’t find anywhere else in the galaxy. And it you’re good maybe I’ll show you my room…”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
You looked back at Obi-Wan who looked like he was just a few word away from punching Rin again.
Obi-Wan had no idea how he was supposed to maintain his sanity and hold his temper. For the next few days you were going to be walking around in paper-thin dresses while some pervert tries to have his way with you. Maker. Why are you testing me like this? Obi-Wan thought to himself.
Author’s note: Yup. Obi-Wan might go crazy.
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Hi! How are you? Can i request a james potter x reader imagine where the reader is studyin so hard that its unhealthy and james tries to understand why, then he learns that she feels like a disappointment because her brother is so smart but she is not? Thank you
Word Count-1537
Send Requests Here
I actually loved writing this, you are very welcome.
I grabbed my books from my desk, placing them onto my bed and running my hands through my hair and taking a deep breath not feeling so well.
“Are you going to study again?” I heard behind me, I turned around and looked at Lily who leaned against the door. “I don’t think I haven’t seen you take a break from studying all year, N.E.W.T.S aren’t until next year y/n,”
“I know Lily,” I sighed turning back around and tossing my glasses onto my face. “I just am preparing for year seven, three months and then studying will really matter, I just need to do this okay,” I placed my paper and quill on top of my books and picked them up. “I’ll see you later Lily,”
The halls were not so filled on a friday afternoon, people usually hanging out watching quidditch practice, hanging out in the courtyard or with friends at Hogsmeade, never was anyone in the library on a friday afternoon, but me.
“Good Afternoon Miss Y/L/N,” Madam Pince said smiling and looking up from the book she was ready. “Studying again for the fifth month in the row,” She huckled looking back at her book.
I placed myself in my normal area in the library, straight to the back where I was almost unnoticeable. My stomach had felt nauseous and my head inking in pain but I pushed threw it, opening up my DADA textbook and taking out my paper, studying up on Wolfbane and Dementors, the two things I had the hardest time studying.
Hours had passed and my hand was beginning to feel numb, almost five pages front and back were already filled out placed beside me on the table. I pulled out my sixth paper and began writing about chicken feathers and dog tongues.
“Y/n,” Someone hissed walking down the book isle towards me I looked up and shook my head. “What are you doing?” James Potter asked crossing his arms and looking at me annoyed.
“I’m just studying James, don’t you have something better to do?” I asked looking back at my book and began to copy definitions and importance.
“Well from what I heard from Lily is that you come to this library every single day, studying until you come back to your room drained and looked dead, when was the last time you ate something?” James asked sitting down and closing my book, losing my concentration and making me look up at the boy.
“Does it matter James,” I huffed shaking my head, the brunette boy just looked at me with eyes beaming in. “Since breakfast, but it’s fine James, I honestly don’t even want food, I just want to study, Newts are only a year away and I need to just retain all the information I can,” I paused getting overwhelmed.
“Let me make you a deal then,” James pipped up catching my attention and almost bringing me back to my senses. “Let me bringing you something to eat, and then i’ll study with you so your not alone, I probably need some sharpening up to do as well,” I smiled a bit.
“You don’t have anything better to do on a friday afternoon?” I asked raising my eyebrows up a bit. James shook his head and looked at me with the same blazing eyes. “Fine, okay yeah sure,” I huffed leaning in the back of my seat, dreading myself to wanting to eat a buffet right now.
“Stay here, I promise i’ll be quick,” James said hoping out of his seat and walking back, I watched him walk out the door and I sat up on my seat slightly coughing and not feeling so well. I placed my hand on my head wishing my headache would just disappear, letting a few tears run out, not knowing how long I was sitting there.
“Fruit and cookies, with a side of apple juice and water,” James said making me jump out of my thoughts, I looked up at James who was joined with Sirius and Remus on each side of him.. “Are you okay?” He asked sitting down and placing the food on the table.
“Yeah yeah, i’m fine,” I yawned rubbing the tears that dropped down from my face and looking at the food. “You don’t have anything better to do on friday?” I asked the two boys.
“Nope, whatever James is doing we normally do, unless we don’t wanna do what he does,” Sirius said grabbing a cookie from the bag and munching down on it.
“So, you eat and we study, okay,” James said taking my books and papers away without me able to say a word, he slipped the apple juice and orange infront of me before I had to chance to deny.
Hours passed and my energy was higher than when I had come in here, my headache was still lagging and my brain was running, I yawned once more before I could stop myself.
“When was the last time you slept?” James whispered knowing the two boys were having their own conversation and knowing that they weren’t listening to us.
“Honestly, I don’t even know,” I mumbled leaning back in my seat. “But i just need to study, I don’t know everything yet,” I whispered closing my eyes
“Okay, study session is over,” James said standing up from his seat, I opened my eyes and looked over. “Come on, could you guys take everything back, i’m gonna help y/n with her stuff,”
“Yeah yeah, come on Moony,” Sirius said grabbing our garbage and swinging his free hand over Remus, walking away.
“I’m fine James, go on,” I mumbled rubbing my eyes and helping myself up, fumbling a bit but feeling James hands catch me before I had fallen to the ground.
“You are not okay, come back to the common room or i’m bringing you to Madame Pomfrey,” James said helping me back up, I leaned against the table. I didn’t say anything but pick up my books from the table.
“Why are you doing this to yourself y/n?” James asked taking my books, leaving me with my paper and quill. “Your almost killing yourself, you can’t remember the last time you slept and you don’t eat three meals,”
I felt tears flutter in my eyes again, slamming the library doors open I walked out leaning against the nearest wall and closing my eyes. The present of James sent shivers down my spin.
“It’s my brother,” I whispered leaning my head against the wall.
“Joshi?”
“No my older brother, Traven, all my parents do is talk about is achievements, talk about how smart is he and here I am, being the disappointment and not being as smart, even Josie is already getting my parents graze and he’s only a year one,” I cried out dropping to the floor and tossing my head in my hands.
“Hey hey hey,” James whispered placing his hands on mine. “You are not a disappointment y/n,” He whispered leaning his head against mine. “Don’t ever think about yourself like that, you don’t need your parents approval for anything, you’re your own person,”
I uncovered my eyes and looked up at James. “With all the times i’ve been friends with the girls, they’ve never said anything like that,”
James stood back up and put his hand out infront of him. “Come on, i’ll bring you back to your room, you need sleep,”
I took James hand and stood up, placing my quill and paper tightly in my hands. “I’m sorry about all this,” I mumbled leaning on James a bit.
“I’ll study with you, when you need it, you are almost the smartest person I know, besides Sirius who is determined to know more than anyone,” James chuckled making me chuckle back a bit.
“I slept yesterday, in the middle of class, for ten minutes until Snape almost caught me but Lily woke me up,” I said holding the railings of the stairs as we walked up, feeling unstable.
“Are you okay to walk up the stairs?” James asked stopping me and looking over. I nodded my head unable to talk, we continued walking and my head felt a bit better but my eyes wanted to glue shut.
“Chicken feathers,” James whispered to the fat lady, she nodded her head and we walked into the empty common room. “Goodnight y/n,” He said turning to me.
“Thank you, a lot James, for talking with me and all,” I said smiling and looking at my books in his head. “I’m sure I can make it up the stairs with my books,”
“I know but I insist,” James chuckled taking his wand out from his robe pocket and waving it at my books, we watched my books flutter up the stairs and into the first open room, we smiled at Lily and Marlene who got started and let out a yelp.
“Goodnight James,” I smiled nervously not sure what to do, but James did, he stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around my body.
“Don’t let anyone tell you that your not good enough, because I know your good enough to do anything,” James whispered in my ear, I smiled leaning against his shoulder just a bit longer, playing his words in my head and letting the world spin around me well I stood still, hugging the only person who understood me.
#jamespotter#james potter#jamespotter x reader#jamespotter x y/n#james x you#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n
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Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.2 Banquet of the Gods
Summary:
You have acquired heavenly pastries.
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What is that godly smell!? Kagami was already salivating as she flew towards a veritable buffet of fragrances. Wait, no, it was a literal buffet!
In the middle of a meadow, the feast of heaven's food laid surrounded by wildflowers. Pastries of all kinds made with grain from the Field of Reeds (they carried the distinctive sweet scent of the afterlife). Flesh of divine fruits and monstrous animals steamed the air.
Adrien's stomach growled and Kagami's joined it.
Shifting into a form with hands Kagami sat properly before the table loaded with different plates. She reached for a golden, crispy, mouthwatering-
"I thought that would get your attention!"
Snatching her hand back Kagami turned to see a goddess with dark, shoulder length hair, clear blue eyes and red, spotted armor. Her arms were crossed as she narrowed her eyes at both of them. Adrien, having already stuffed his mouth with one of her honey cakes, coughed in surprise.
"Well?" Marinette asked, tapping her foot. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Swallowing thickly, Adrien asked. "How'd you catch up to us?"
"I asked Max," Marinette replied with a roll of her eyes. Implying that anyone with common sense should've asked Max too.
Deliberately keeping eye contact Kagami reached for Marinette's food again. Ignoring her raised eyebrow Kagami took a bite and chewed savoringly. Taking advantage of Marinette's attention being off him Adrien shoveled food into his mouth and swallowed.
Eyebrow twitching, Marinette kept glaring for a moment more before she sighed and sat across from them. "Did neither of you bring proper food when you decided to run away?"
"That is an exaggeration." Kagami took another bite.
"Yeah, yeah. Did you?"
"We brought some golden apples!" Adrien supplied. It came out more defensively than he meant it to.
"Oh, really! Then I guess you don't need any of this then do you?" Marinette threateningly pretended to reach for their plates.
Kagami swallowed quickly. "Uh, I wouldn't-"
Shifting, Adrien snapped his jaws onto an entire meat pie of erymanthian boar. Swallowing it whole, Adrien shifted back in the middle of licking his lips. At least having the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry. Hungry."
Marinette sagged in resignation. "I can't believe I have to clean up your mess." She grabbed a piece of ambrosia and popped it into her mouth.
"... Well, you don't have to," Kagami pointed out.
"No, I'm gonna."
Adrien nodded, embarrassment already forgotten. "Besides. You know how boring everything would be without us!"
"Ah," Marinette sighed wistfully, "Sweet peace."
A marble of shadow flicked another piece of ambrosia out of Marinette's fingers. Turning into a mushroom were it landed among the grass.
"Hey!"
Sticking his tongue out, Adrien grabbed a pitcher of nectar and began downing it by himself.
Kagami almost choked on her peach dumpling as laughter bubbled up. "We- ahem, We're grateful for the chance to eat your cooking again, Marinette."
"Uh-huh, I'm sure." She side eyed Adrien who merely smirked past a full mouth. "He was supposed to bring you back, not go running off with you."
"I'm guessing the council didn't take it well?" It would be lying to herself if Kagami didn't admit that the council's floundering filled her with pleased satisfaction.
Marinette shrugged. She didn't have warm, fuzzy feelings for them either. "They're upset you keep messing with their holy hit list."
"Pfft!" Nope, Kagami needed to focus. No giggling!
Adrien beamed. "You used my joke!"
"It was a joke?" Marinette looked genuinely surprised.
"Did they explain the circumstances?" Kagami asked.
"You know they're not big on explaining." Marinette wrinkled her nose in annoyance.
"Right. Adrien cursed a city-"
"Thrown into the hell pit just like that. Harsh."
"-and it was a bit too effective. I'm going to end their drought."
Marinette raised her eyebrows skeptically, gaze going from one to the other. "Adrien. You cursed a mortal city? What'd they do, kick kittens?"
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, you know..."
"That's not important," Kagami said too quickly. Suddenly realizing that Marinette was probably the one who'd take the most offense to... certain transgressions.
"Alright keep your secrets." Marinette's brow furrowed, as though suddenly realizing. "Did you both seriously start eating without checking whose food this was? What if it was cursed!"
"I'm immune to curses." Adrien reminded her, nonchalantly reaching for Kagami's peach dumplings.
Kagami lightly smacked Adrien's hand away. Get your own. "And I'm a dragon."
"Oh, that's right! Because that decade you spent in your creature forms totally didn't happen," Marinette deadpanned.
"Th- That's different!" Adrien spluttered.
Pink dusted Kagami's cheeks but she wasn't going to let that stop her. "Fascinating. And how would you describe what happened after?"
Marinette turned beet red.
"How did it go Adrien?" Kagami asked, not quite able to mask her predatory glee. "It appears I've forgotten."
Making no such effort himself, Adrien cleared his throat. " 'Don't be silly, Adrien! I'm a goddess of creation! There's no way I could fall under a curse like that!' "
"I don't sound like that!" Marinette's indignation making her pitch practically identical to Adrien's imitation.
Dragon and cat burst into laughter.
"I could've convinced the other creator deities to let chaos continue," Marinette mumbled to herself. "Nice, empty, swirling clouds of proto-matter. No cheeky dragons making me suffer this humiliation."
Adrien smirked. "The destroyers would never have let you. We're easily bored, you know."
Kagami nodded sagely. "Yes, and how much poorer the world would be if my kind wasn't around to promote humility by saying: Ah, but are you a dragon?"
Raising her fist in the manner she'd seen mortals doing, Kagami met Adrien's knuckles with her own.
Marinette pouted. "I hate both of you."
"We love you too, Marinette," Kagami grinned.
"And we love your cooking!" Adrien raised another pitcher of nectar to wash down his seventh helping.
"Speaking of food," Kagami said, eyeing the self refilling plates. "You could come with us?"
"Tempting, but someone has to report back because someone else didn't." Marinette narrowed her eyes at Adrien in an unmistakable accusation.
Adrien straightened, eyes going wide he pointed at himself and mouthed Moi? If Kagami didn't know better she wouldn't bought his innocent act.
"Yes, you!" Muttering under her breath about chaotic cats Marinette pulled out a large tablecloth. Red with black spots she threw it over the table, covering it entirely. With a swish she revealed nothing but flattened grass.
"Here," Marinette offered Kagami a spotted, red cloth. Small enough to fit in a pocket. "I don't want to resurrect you two this century. The paperwork is killer."
"Thank you, Marinette." Kagami took the gift and placed it in her robes before she- Er, Adrien could start drooling over it.
Glancing between the two goddesses Adrien rose. "Well, it was fun catching up!" Bowing with a flourish, he grinned. "Hate to eat and run but we have a rainy season to jump start." Stepping forward, Adrien kissed Marinette on both cheeks.
Color tinted Kagami's cheeks a shade darker. Stupid platonic kisses.
Shifting, Adrien leapt into the sky.
Kagami wrapped Marinette in a hug. "Don't strain yourself too much on our account."
Marinette returned the embrace. "Stop charging in fangs first then."
Chuckling, Kagami looked her in the eyes. "Too late for that. Maybe next time."
Stepping back, Marinette wagged her finger. "I'll hold you to that."
With a grin Kagami blasted skyward. Wind blowing across the meadow. She slithered on the air. Quickly catching up to Adrien who strolled leisurely across the clouds, waiting for her to catch up.
With full bellies and high spirits they sailed closer to completing Kagami's quest.
-------------
@kagamiappreciationweek2020
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Reunion
Summary: could you do a stan x daughter where she meets the losers club for the first time? like maybe at the restaurant scene from CH2?
warnings: swear words
In spite of the fact that the temperature didn’t differ much from outside, Dalia’s glasses fogged up instantly upon entering the restaurant. The abundance of spices assaulted her sense of smell, but the combination of herbs formed a plenary attraction, opening a black whole in her stomach from hunger. Her last meal was a sandwich she ripped from home, hours before landing in the airport of Maine and purchasing the first rental car they found.
Her dad offered to buy her something to eat on the way over, but she declined. She picked up part of Stanley’s quirks growing up, and though not nearly as bad, food originating from a place she didn’t thorough investigated was a big no go. Not only that, but finding food that qualified as kosher is hard to do, and Dalia didn’t think it was worth the hassle.
Blind thanks to the fog clogging up her specs, Dalia removed her glasses and squinted around the entrance hall, waiting patiently for the mist to retreat.
Her dad did the same thing, only he didn’t necessitate the usage of them, so he tucked them away in his front pocket. Dalia could tell his hands were dithering, aiming wrong twice before finally managing to slip them in.
‘Dad, are you okay?’ she asked him, worried for her father’s sanity. She had been repeating the question ever since they left Atlanta to reclaim Derry, but so far Stan dodged the truthful answer.
‘I’m okay.’ He lied again, a sweat drop slithering down his forehead, smiling reassuringly.
The haze cleared, Dalia slipped her glasses in place and returned the favor, coming to grips that whatever it is that her father is struggling with, he’s not about to spill the beans.
‘Chin up dad, I for one can’t wait to meet your friends I’ve heard nothing about for so long. Should I tell them you did? Should I introduce myself with: ‘I’ve heard so much about you?’
Stan laughed winded, shaking his head dismissively. ‘No, that’s alright. They won’t mind, trust me.’ A waitress approached them with two menu’s in her hands, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
‘Good evening, how may I help you?’
‘Good evening, I am meeting my friends tonight. I assume the name the reservation is placed on is Hanlon Mike?’
The warm and greeting smile on the waitress face turned sour, scrunching her nose up in distain. ‘Of course, follow me.’
She led them deeper in the restaurant, and the more distance they bridged to the reserved table, the more it became clear why she didn’t appreciate two others joining. The ruckus the group havocked audible from the buffet counter, loud voices banding together in loud and abrasive symphonies. A chair was left unattended, presumably for Dalia’s dad, in between a man she watched on tv occasionally, against the wishes of Stan, and a smaller, pensive man.
‘Here you are,’ she explained, halting just outside their line of vision, making a getaway as fast as possible, forgetting the menu’s in her hands.
‘Okay, okay please. Come on guys is Stanley coming or what?’
A loaded silence fell over the group, but Dalia’s father suppressed his announcement, simply looking at the group and letting his gaze swipe over all of their faces.
‘Stan?’
‘Stan, Stan urine’, The famous man murmured, tasting the name on his tongue. Dalia witnessed the exact moment it caught on who they were talking about, his face breaking open in a grin.
‘Stanley Urine, no he’s a fucking pussy he’s not gonna show.’
Dalia snorted, curious as to what the reaction of her father would be, while Stan grinned extravagantly. ‘Are you going to let him talk about you in that way dad?’ She elicited a response, dying to get to know the people who unhabitable spoke about Stanley Uris in such a way. As far as she knew, people in Atlanta held Stan in high regards, only to slander his name behind his back, but they never dared refer to her dad as Urine.
‘Speak for yourself Tozier, as I do recall correctly, I jumped down from the barons to retrieve your coke bottles. Would a pussy do that?’
The group was surprised Stan showed up, their faces betrayed their mindsets, but they were even more flabbergasted at the girl Stan brought with, her hair and stance a carbon copy of Stanley Uris himself.
“Tozier” jumped on his feet first, enveloping his former best friend in a hug, patting him on the back at the same time.
‘Can’t believe you fucking showed up dude.’
‘Believe it’, Stan added dryly, his full warms already filled with the only girl in the group, a hug between two people that obviously care for the other. “Tozier” then addressed her, not hugging her but instead offering up a high five, as one does to a toddler renouncing, but Dalia grants him one anyway.
‘Guys, this is Dalia, she is my daughter. Dalia, these are Richie, Eddie, Ben, Beverly, Bill and Mike.’ Stan point each of them out, a wave hitting your way at each name. Mike nods thrilled, sticking out his hand for you to shake, which he then does excessively. ‘We talked on the phone’, he reaffirms, the brief two second conversation you engaged in as you answered Stan’s phone brought to the forefront of your memory.
‘Yeah that’s right. Nice to add a face to the voice.’
‘Here sit, I’ll ask for another chair, I wasn’t sure you were coming along or not.’ Mikes eyes dash over to Stan, searching for something there, retreating after Stan gives a firm nod. An extra chair is shoved along side the table, a bit to tiny to fit everyone perfectly, your arm squashed against your dad and Eddie on the other side.
It’s not as cumbersome as Dalia feared, everyone reverts back to their rolls in the group, easily distinguishable even to an outsider like herself, the losers club Bill elucidated they preferred to be called, and they take her in as if she always belonged in that spot.
‘Wait, wait I have to know, is your daughter into birds as well?’
‘Kinda, I grew up with bird facts so I know a lot about them, but I don’t do any additional research.’
‘Oh Stanley you’ve made your kid into the same dork as you were?’
‘As I said all those years ago, birds are intricate little things and if you cannot wrap your brain around that that is your loss.’
Richie narrowly avoided sticking out his tongue, a piece of food landing in his hair, the culprit being Eddie in retaliation.
‘Hey’, Richie called him out, fishing out the bit with a giant smile.
‘Dalia’, Bev addresses her, hands clasped around her glass, ‘do you have any stories you’d like to share with us?’ A glint of a twinkle sparks in her eyes, fishing for juicy stories about her friend, and quite possible on Dalia herself.
‘Eum, well there was that time dad forgot about date night with mom and was in the doghouse for a week.’
S-s-stan, tell me you didn’t, that’s grounds for a d-d-divorce.’
Richie yawned. ‘Boring.’
‘What can I say Richie? Some of us have common sense and prefer a household over binge drinking at forty.’
Dalia’s mount gaped. Never had her father spoken to anyone in that regard, the wit and dry humor he bounced of Richie sure was a sight to behold.
‘Stan the man I am offended. How are you so sure I don’t have a wife waiting for me, her beau? She’s terribly sad to see me go, but I promise her I’ll never meet anyone as cute as her ,’ he grinned shark like, teeth baring and preparing for the backlash of the joke about to emit.
‘Don’t you dare’, Eddie grit out, catching on to the joke.
‘Well, no one besides little Eds of course.’
‘I’m not fucking little, I’m average sized. Stan tell him.’
Dalia’s dad raises his hands in surrender. ‘Do not involve me in your antics, I have nothing to do with this.’
‘You are tiny Eds, always have been and always will.’
‘Fuck you I’m not.’
‘Wow there are children present Edward, language.
Dalia twisted in her chair to face her father, inching closer to whisper something only he was to hear. ‘Are they always like this?’
‘Oh you have no idea,’ Stan confirmed, fondness hiding behind a mask of indifference.
‘Yes,’ Ben staunched with hopeless eyes.
‘They’re fun.’
‘Yeah they are.’
‘Thank you for taking me with you dad, for sharing your friends with me.’
Stan squeezed her wrist softly, smiling tenderly in lieu of a hug, the motion still having the same effect as the hug would have had.
‘Anything for my little bird.’
‘Does that mean I got to play around with calling our last name Urine.’
‘Oeh better watch out there Stanny boy, I seem to be having influence on your family already.’
‘This was a mistake.’
#stanley uris x daughter#stanley uris#stanley uris imagine#adult losers#adult stanley uris#restaurant scene from chapter two#My writing#the loser club imagines#it chapter two imagine
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chp. 2: It’s science fiction
A/N: Thank you to everyone that has ready chapter 1! I didn’t expect chapter 2 to take so long to get out, but it’s my last semester and it’s been kicking my ass! The chapter is sadly short, but I’m gonna try to get chapter 3 out as fast as possible! Let me know what you think!
Previous • Masterlist • Next
Your hike up from the dorms to your first class isn’t particularly your favorite thing, but the weather is definitely better than you’re used to. Move-in day must have been uncharacteristically hot, because today you’re able to wear a pair of jeans just fine, though you still opt for a tank top. The walk is about 10 minutes to the historical building. You marvel at it, admiring the architecture and the fine details within. After a few moments to observe, you finish making your way up the steps to the first floor of the building.
(Think of a building like this)
Lucky for you, your class is only on the second floor rather than the third. You observe the bulletin boards as you walk towards the staircase at the end of the building, noticing advertisements for clubs, fraternities, and sororities are already up. You take note to take a look at them after class. As you come to the classroom, the door is already propped open, the professor standing at the chalkboard as she writes down some information. You avoid the gazes of your classmates as you make your way to an empty seat. Only about half the classroom is filled up, so you choose a seat with other empty seats on either side. It looks like the class can fit about 30 students at a time, a much smaller number than the typical university class. You huff out a breath and start gathering your supplies, glancing at your schedule just to double check that you’re in the right place.
You mumble to yourself as you read over the dates, times, and class codes. “Okay, yeah, room 201 for... damn it...” Turns out, the printed schedule didn’t include the actual name of the class. All you’re given to work with is three numbers that signify the class, but not what it’s about. Whatever, I’ll figure it out once the professor starts.
“It’s science fiction, dumbass.”
With all of your rifling through your stuff, you hadn’t noticed that the seat to the right of you was now occupied. By Bakugo. You glare at him as you return your schedule to its original spot in your bag. “I didn’t ask, asshole.”
You can see his jaw clench at your rebuttal. His voice becomes more grating as he says, “Then don’t mumble to yourself like a damn idiot.” With that last comment, he turns his attention solely to his school materials. You notice that he has quite the assortment of organizational supplies, such as a pristine pack of highlighters, small sticky notes, and a categorized notebook. We’re probably just gonna go over the syllabus, but he looks so prepared...
You’re drawn out of your thoughts as the professor begins to speak. You gather that her name is Professor King and that she will most likely be an average professor. Not hard, but not a super easy A. A manageable class.
As Prof. King finishes going over the syllabus and the schedule for the semester, she announces, “Let’s just do some quick introductions so we know each other’s names. Give us your name, grade, and major. We’ll just go row by row...”
Slowly, the students all cycle through, providing the information asked of them. Eventually, the spotlight lands on Bakugo. He keeps his hands in his jacket pockets, leaned back in his chair as he introduces himself. “Name’s Katsuki Bakugo, I’m a third year chemical engineering major.” After his last word, he turns his head ever so slightly in your direction, waiting expectedly for your introduction.
You ignore his crimson gaze as you start speaking in a chipper tone that contrasts Bakugo’s, “Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m a junior, and I’m an English major!” The introductions immediately move on to the person to your left, but Bakugo’s gaze stays on you.
Under his breath in a volume only you can hear, he says, “Tch. Lame.”
You bite your tongue for now, waiting for the end of class to confront him. The end of class could not come sooner...
You gather up your class supplies at the same speed as Bakugo, making sure that no matter what you’ll be able to confront him without causing too much of a scene. You stand and drape your backpack over your shoulders, but find that Bakugo hasn’t moved to stand yet. He’s probably waiting for me to leave... Well, fine! I’ll leave! You make your way past the threshold of the door and round the corner of the wall and plant your back to it. The perfect plan.
In a matter of seconds your plan falls into place as Bakugo rounds the corner out the door and you start walking next to him. You don’t even give him the chance to react to your presence before questioning, “So what part was lame?”
“Leave me the hell alone.” He speeds up his walking as he gets to the stairs.
You match his pace as you race down the stairs. “Well you obviously can’t leave me alone, so no. If you think you’re so much better than me, then at least tell me why, asshole.”
As you both reach the bottom of the stairs, he turns immediately to face you. It is now that you realize just how tall he is, as he stares down at you with the usual fire in his eyes and the usual scowl on his face. “Why don’t you figure it out yourself and leave me the hell alone, extra?” As quickly as he had turned towards you, he turns away and continues his walk, this time towards the exit of the building. He shoves one of the double doors open as if it were a feather, completely unperturbed by the obstacle. You slip through before the door closes, matching his pace once again as you walk next to him.
“Since you’re not gonna tell me why, I’ll just follow you until you do! I’ve got alllll day!” You hope he doesn’t call your bluff at the end there.
“Tch. Liar.”
Well, that hope didn’t last long.
“Just leave me alone, I know you have another class in two hours. Go bother someone else.”
He turns at the end of the path from the English building towards the plaza. You glance at your phone for the time.
11:30
It is now that you realize you had neglected to get breakfast before your morning class, as your stomach rumbles.
You keep walking besides Bakugo, who keeps changing his pace to annoy you. It works, but you don’t show it. You’re here to annoy him until he gives in. You never reply to his last comment, deciding instead to save your breath until you came up with something more clever. Despite the ridiculous rate of pace changing and the deafening silence between you two, you both walk up to the plaza that hosts the campus café. Your stomach rumbles once more at the thought of food. Bakugo makes no hesitation to walk up towards the doors to enter.
“Lucky you, mister egotistical, I can’t annoy you while my face is full,” you say as you walk in behind him. He scans his student ID at the front as you finish your sentence.
As you’re about to scan your own ID, he responds, “Trust me, you’re just as annoying when you don’t speak.”
Bakugo immediately makes a beeline for one of the buffet stations where chefs were serving up plates and bowls. You quickly follow after him, insistent on your so-called “annoying” presence.
Lunch has just started being served so you’re ahead of the lunch rush, no line in sight. You glance at the menus at each station, forgetting for a moment about Bakugo. I can find him after I get my food...
As your eyes wander, they finally land on the word “Ramen” and your feet start to carry you towards it. As you approach the ramen station, you see Bakugo had the same idea as you. You walk up with your back completely straight, crossing your arms as you come to stand next to him as he awaits his ramen bowl.
“Stop fucking following me.”
You chuckle a bit at his reaction. “For the record, I’m not following you. I just wanted ramen. Is that a crime?”
He grumbles in annoyance as he takes a bowl of ramen as it’s placed on the shelf. Another bowl follows soon after, which you grab before once again following the gremlin. He stops short of a table as he grabs a spoon and a disposable set of chopsticks. You do the same, reaching across him a little to grab your own utensils.
“Stay in your own damn space, dumbass!” he yells out at you. He grabs one last thing before walking away, a small bottle of chili powder.
You quicken your step to come next to him again as he makes his way to a table. “If you didn’t want me in your space, then why’d you sit next to me? Why are you hell-bent on making yourself pissed off?”
He takes a seat at a corner table as he sets his food down. “I’m done talking to you, idiot.”
“Well that’s just fine! I’ll do the talking for us!” You set your food down as you sit across from him and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you liked pissing people off, so why don’t you tell me what’s so lame?”
He huffs in annoyance, refusing to answer as he goes to reach for his chili powder. In a swift movement, you snatch it from him. He slams his fist down on the table in response. “What the hell, shithead?”
“You’ll get this if you tell me!” You were really pushing it at this point.
Bakugo snarls and slams his fist again as he yells, “You wanna know what’s lame? Who the fuck decides to be an English major? Are you brain dead or some shit? Don’t know how to do anything but read shitty books no one cares about?”
You push your chair back as you stand, throw the chili powder towards him, and pick your food back up. “Wow... You’re that far up your own ass? Get fucked, Bakugo.” You turn away immediately and make your way to the other side of the commons, far out of Bakugo’s sight. You’d dealt with your own doubts in yourself enough, the last thing you needed was some shitty comments from the newest asshole in your life.
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Christmas Wrapping - Rowaelin
Merry Shipmas Playlist
~~~~~
Aelin loved Christmas. Her decadent Christmas tree in the corner of her lounge room was evidence enough. But this year she just wasn’t into it. The whole year had been a busy blur and the amount of effort that Christmas required was no where to be seen.
Aelin lay on the floor, the lights of the Christmas tree flickering in the corner of her eye, and she supposed she was fortunate that everyone was away this year. Aedion and Lysandra had taken a cruise to celebrate their long awaited official relationship, Dorian was off on a world trip and she had no idea where exactly he was, and Chaol... well they were friendly again but not 'spending Christmas alone together" friendly. So this year it was her a Fleetfoot.
It was good, it gave Aelin time to breathe and think. She had even turned down RSVPs to parties of work acquaintances and only stayed at the work Christmas party an hour before coming home. And after a busy year this quiet Christmas was the perfect opportunity to catch her breath.
Tonight was Christmas Eve and Aelin hadn’t gone completely without anything to with Christmas. She had the world smallest turkey in the oven, and by small it would still feed her for a good week. The smell was filling up her small apartment and filling her head with memories of so many Christmas's from her past. There was always turkey. It was Aelin's one rule. No matter where she was there had to be turkey at Christmas Eve. Christmas Day had always been a lighter affair, grazing throughout the days, dropping in from house to house. Christmas Eve dinner was used to stretch the stomach out in preparation.
Taking in a deep breath Aelin remembered back to a weekend spent in a ski lodge last winter. It had been after Christmas and her and Lysandra had taken a trip to the mountains for snowboarding. It had been their Christmas presents to each other. Girls weekend. No boys allowed. It had been when the tension between her cousin and friend had been at breaking point and neither of them would take the final leap into what was now their flourishing relationship. The weekend was spent listening to Lysandra's constant go between of 'should I, shouldn’t I" and Aelin had taken a short respite when she had gone to the buffet and loaded her plate with a healthy helping of turkey.
As trains of thought do, they jumped and Aelin found herself thinking of when she had been looking at the hire gear for their trip while Lysandra checked them in. She had been looking at snowboards and was definitely a little out of her depth. As she stood there someone else had come to browse. It was a giant of a man with a wicked tattoo snaking up his bare arm that was showing from the elbow down. Aelin couldn’t help but do a double take and on her second glance she found him to be quite handsome as well.
Besides a brief sideways glance at each other they didn’t interact until Aelin reached up to pull down a snowboard to inspect it. She struggled for a moment before the stranger casually lifted a hand and easily pulled it down for her. She mumbled a thanks and looked at the snowboard. Her lack of knowledge must have been plain on her face because the handsome man looked over and said,
"Need some help?"
That lead to him helping Aelin find exactly what she needed, turns out he and his friends had an annual ski trip and he did in fact know what he was talking about. His name was Rowan and he was one of the most beautiful beings Aelin had eve seen. They ran into each other a lot on that trip. In the common room of the lodge they were staying in, the resort bars and even on the slopes. They had seen enough of each other that they had exchanged numbers, despite how often they had argued about stupid stuff, and promised each other they would catch up back in the real world.
It had never happened.
Aelin let out another heavy sigh.
Rowan.
If Aelin was truthful with herself, she would say that he was one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. One of his mates had been stunningly gorgeous. She couldn’t remember his name now but his golden hair and bronze skin was hard to forget. But it was Rowan she’d found herself arguing with until they laughed, who she found got her subtle little ways and was ready to take anything she threw at him. Aelin’s biggest regret was that they hadn’t kissed. That undoubtedly would have sealed the deal.
The fates had even been kind, or unkind really, they had planned to meet up multiple times, during the summer and even on Halloween. But things got in the way. Like extreme sunburn, broken cars and family emergencies.
The pitching buzzer rang on the oven and Aelin was forced back into the present. The Rowan-less, quiet, only the dog for company present. Aelin got up off the floor and went to the oven to baste the turkey one final time. Fleetfoot padded after her as she walked to the kitchen as dogs do, in the hope of a food like treat.
“Soon girl,” Aelin said over her shoulder as she tended to turkey. Fleetfoot only sat and thumped her tail against the floor. “Now,” Aelin said as she washed her hands, “time to prep the cran...”
Aelin groaned and slapped her palm to her head. She’d forgotten the cranberries. Turkey just wasn’t turkey without cranberries. So Aelin pulled on her boots and coat with a sigh and colourful curse at herself, and she was off to all night grocer down the road hopefully with cranberries in stock.
Luckily there was no snowfall as Aelin walked the short block to her designation. It was bitterly cold though with the promise of snow and she was regretting not putting a scarf on. Aelin didn’t contemplate browsing the isles as she entered the store. She was here for cranberries and cranberries only, so once she picked them up she made her way to the checkout. There were a few people in front of her so she pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced over the merry Christmas Eve texts from her family and friends. Then she looked up.
She couldn’t believe it. There just ahead of her was Rowan. In all his silver haired, stern faced, muscled glory. Aelin blinked is disbelief. Surely not. Had the fates been so kind to her the Christmas Eve? Did Santa truly exist?
Rowan must of felt her eyes staring into the back of his head because he turned. And smiled. Aelin had to remind herself to smile back. Rowan then motioned for those few people in front of Aelin and before she knew it Rowan was directly in front of her. Now she couldn’t help but smile.
“Hey.” He said, smiling.
“Hey.”
“Spending this one alone,” Rowan said indicating to the small pile of groceries in his arm. “This years been a little crazy. Thought I’d give myself a break.”
“Me too,” Aelin replied. “What brings you here...” Aelin looked at what exactly Rowan had in his arm, “You forgot cranberries too!”
Rowan smiled again as Aelin held up her own cranberries, shaking them a little. Then they both laughed. Here they were after almost a year of chasing each other.
“Yes, and the turkey.” Rowan added once they had both stopped laughing.
Aelin looked at his said turkey, it was turkey slices. Turkey sandwich slices. That was not turkey, turkey probably wasn’t even listed on the ingredients.
“That’s not turkey,” Aelin said with a slight frown. “It’s probably one of the greatest insults to turkey.”
“What was I supposed to do? Cook a turkey for myself? Not likely.”
Aelin looked at him. A wicked smile spears across her lips and she sent a very sincere thank you to Santa.
“Well now that you mention it.”
Almost a year later...
There had been one requirement to her agreeing to Aelin moving in with Rowan. It had to be done by December first.
Because it was on December first that Christmas started. That was the day that the decorations made their way out of their boxes and ended up in their places on the tree and around their new house.
They had cut it fine. It was November 29, meaning they had one day to unpack their basic essentials then it was full on dedication to Christmas prep. Aelin stood in her new loungeroom already thinking of which corner the tree should go when arms snaked around her waist and a warm body pressed against her back.
“Uh-ah no breaks, we’re on a tight time schedule,” Aelin said but she made no effort to move away and neither did Rowan.
Aelin just smiled to herself thinking about how glad she was that they had both forgotten cranberries that cold and lonely Christmas Eve.
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bigger than the sound
fallen hero fanfiction chargestep and intrigue ~3k words [ao3]
title taken from [Cheated Hearts by Yeah Yeah Yeahs]
–––
“Thanks for coming with me,” Ortega whispers from the corner of her mouth.
“Of course, thanks for inviting me.” A smile flits across Jane’s face as she studies the mess of an abstract portrait hanging on the wall in front of them. “Hopefully no super villains crash this party.”
Ortega laughs, uneasy, as she rubs the back of her neck. “Anyone that does is going to regret it.”
Jane arches an eyebrow as you try to keep her from smiling. In the aftermath of the Gala fiasco, security has tripled in order to keep the city’s elite feeling safe. The Mayor’s Guardian force was milling around here somewhere, ready to jump into duty in a split second. For the Rangers, beside Ortega, Jane has seen Herald milling around somewhere and it wouldn’t surprise you if either Argent, or Steel, or both had been bullied into attending.
The Mayor needed to prove to her benefactors she was worth keeping in office. The Rangers needed to prove they were worth keeping in Los Diablos.
Taking them all head-on as Banshee would be a pointless suicide.
Lucky for you then, Ortega still owed Jane a second date.
No explosives this time. No dramatic fights. No terrible mistakes with people screaming and blood everywhere and emergency rooms filling up. Going to do this right. Going to do this quiet. The bastards won’t realize the damage until it’s too late.
“Charge! How’re you holding up?”
Jane and Ortega turn together to find Herald walking towards them. It’s a little strange seeming him in a tuxedo again. All crisp angles and sharp features. He raises an arm to wave and you think Jane spies a glimpse of blue sleeve from a Ranger skinsuit underneath. Well, that confirms what you suspected from the Gala. Wonderbread really is ready to throw-down at a moment’s notice.
Is Ortega? She’s in a suit this time instead of a dress. Easier to fight in?
Ortega waves back at Herald with a smile. “Haven’t throttled anyone yet, how about you?”
Herald takes Ortega’s hand and pulls her into a quick hug. “Oh, this is old hat to me. I just focus on the art, and see how many fancy hors d’oeuvres I can sneak before anyone notices.” Ortega laughs and Jane politely covers her mouth to hide the smile. He shifts his gaze down to Jane and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Sides–?” He flinches and shakes his head. “Wait, no?”
Jane keeps her face blank. Sidestep? Sidestep who? Never heard of the bitch.
There is a tense silence and then Ortega breaks it with a forced laugh. “Sorry, this is my friend Jane I was telling you about.” She gestures towards you and then from you to Herald. “And Jane, this is Herald, but you probably already knew that.” More forced laughter.
“Sorry,” Herald rubs at his knee, “you just reminded me of someone.” He shoots Ortega a curious look.
Was it too late now to go back and dye Jane’s hair? You idiot. You stupid vain idiot. All the more reason to keep your two lives separated. Why did you have to go and get Jane involved with Ortega? Moron. Fool. Buffoon.
Jane keeps her face a careful blank. “It’s… nice to meet you too, Mr. …?”
Herald smiles, awkward. “Just Herald is fine. Nice to meet you, Jane.” He doesn’t offer a hand to shake.
When Ortega and Herald descend into small talk Jane breaths a small sigh of relief and politely detaches herself from the conversation. A few tense moments, but it had at least bought you some needed freedom from Ortega. Time to get to work then.
“Excuse me, folks, I’m just gonna duck into the restroom real quick.”
Ortega nods, “You know where it is?”
“I’ll figure it out. I’ll see you at the shrimp bar, sweetie.” Jane winks at Ortega, a smirk spreading across her face at the slight color on the hero’s face. Still got her.
Your sense of direction as Jane isn’t as strong as Ariadne’s but enough time spent studying floor plans makes up for it. Weave through the crowd, past the buffet table. The further from the food and the booze Jane gets the less people in ritzy outfights milling around being offensively rich.
There, next to the restrooms, a side entrance for the gallery. A very bored looking cop stands next to the door, watching the guests.
Mustering up all the elitist disdain she can muster, Jane approaches the door and gives the cop a dismissive glance. “I’m taking a smoke break.” The man frowns but otherwise doesn’t stop Jane as she steps through the door, pretending to fish through her purse. Perfect.
Outside, the street gives a clear view to the Hero Museum just down the block. Once again closed for renovation and repair. The dumb bastards. Maybe you’ll trash the next grand opening too. Keep it up until they get the idea.
It doesn’t take long to spot her. The woman pacing back and forth down the sidewalk, staring anxiously at her phone, purse hanging loose in the crook of her arm. Jane whispers to get her attention and when that doesn’t work progressively raises her voice. “Hey! Ochoa!”
She looks up, sags in relief and hurries over to Jane, her movements stiff and awkward in the tight black and gold floral dress. “Finally! I was about to call the whole thing off.”
“Do you want your dirt or not?” Jane hisses.
“Please, Jane.” Mia Ochoa’s frowns, “I’m an investigative journalist, not a tabloid columnist.”
“Sure, whatever.” Jane glances up and down the street. She keeps a hand in her purse, fingering the gadget from Dr. Mortum that should be disrupting the video cameras. How long did the charge last for again? Five minutes? “Sit tight, I need to get the pig out of the way first.”
“You’re not going to–?”
Jane snorts, “I’m not going to hurt anybody. I’m not stupid.” She tilts her head, thinking. “Well. I’m probably not going to hurt anybody.” She shakes her head and holds up a hand. “Whatever, wait here. This’ll only take a second.”
“Ugh,” Jane contorts her face into a visage of barely contained fury as she steps back inside. “I can’t believe some people.”
The cop sighs, “There a problem, Ma’am?”
A short bark of a laugh. “Problem?” Jane glowers down the hallway. “Yeah, there’s a fucking problem.”
“There’s no need for that kind of language, Miss Smith.”
Jane snarls, “Tell that to the asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself.”
That gets the cop’s attention. “Again, is there something I can help you with, Ma’am.”
Jane holds her breath. You’re about to do something really shitty. Oh well. Sorry Kieth, it’s for the greater good. “Yeah, alright.” Jane sighs, avoiding the cop’s gaze. “someone ought to teach that damn waiter at the cocktail bar some manners. I’m not the only woman either he’s harassed tonight. The ass.”
The man’s eyes narrow. “I’ll see someone talks to him.” He puts a hand up to the walkie-talkie strapped to his breast pocket. Presses the button. Jane holds her breath. “Hey, Sam? I got a woman here reporting a problem with one of the help.”
The cop frowns as no one answers.
“Sam? You there?” No response. “Kim? José?”
Jane crosses her arms, and taps her foot. “I thought you said you’d take care of it.”
He shakes his head, “Something’s wrong with my damn walkie.” He taps it one more time and shakes his head. “Goddamn this garbage keeps busting. Sorry miss, I’ll have to find my superior.” He shoots Jane a glance, eyeing her up and down. “In the meantime, use some common sense.”
Jane huffs, as the cop walks off, grumbling about equipment.
Honestly, you half expected that not to work. Thank you, Dr. Mortum.
A quick glance around to check for any other eyes and you step back to hold the door open. “Alright Ochoa, you’re in.”
“Finally.” The reporter quickly steps inside and you let the door close. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this.”
Jane frowns as she digs through her purse again. “Yeah, well, if you want the real meat you gotta go where they don’t want you to be.”
“Oh believe me, I know.”
“Ah, here we go.” Jane pulls out a small laminated pin, holds it up for Ochoa’s inspection. “Your own name pin. It’s like you were supposed to be her all along.”
“Oh!” The woman takes it from Jane’s hand with a look of surprise. “You thought of everything.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
As the two of you walk down the hallway to rejoin the main event Ochoa pins the name tag to her chest and smoothes out her dress. “Alright, well, thanks for getting me in. I can take it from here.”
“Just don’t forget our deal. You owe now.”
The smile fades from Ochoa’s face. “Of course.”
Jane scans the room as the two of you step in. There’s Ortega and Herald still talking in the far corner, and then there’s… “Actually,” a tight smile crosses Jane’s face, “how do you feel about in introduction to the Mayor’s right-hand man?”
Ochoa’s eyes light up, “I’d love it.” She frowns, “But do you think he’ll talk?”
“I think you might be surprised.” Jane grabs Ochoa’s hand, pulling her through the crowd. There we go. Jane raises her free hand in greeting, “Professor Vanderpoel, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The balding clerk turns with startled surprise towards Jane, as the other two men in his group stop talking, watching the two approaching women with mild interest. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”
Jane laughs, a bright smile on her face. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already? Tell me you at least remember the linden trees?”
A cascade of color rockets up the man’s face. “That– that was a very different time in my life.”
One of Vanderpoel’s companions laughs and elbows him in the side. “You never told me you used to teach!”
Vanderpoel flinches, “I haven’t for eight years.”
Jane nods, knowingly. “Such a shame what happened! Still I’m so happy to see you’ve bounced back without any problems.”
“Well…”
“Anyway,” Jane cuts him off without mercy, “I was just catching up with my good friend Mia over here,” Jane tugs Mia forward by the arm. “When I saw you over here.”
One of Vanderpoel’s friends tilts his head, “Mia…? You look familiar.”
Ochoa’s smile is strained. “I’m a reporter for LD Confidential.”
Jane laughs, “Don’t worry, she’s not working today.”
Vanderpoel’s two friends laugh with Jane, but Vanderpoel himself has a thoughtful look in his eye. Encouraging. Banshee’s bridge-side chat with the man had been sinking in after all.
The man on the right claps Vanderpoel on the back. “You know some lovely ladies man, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us!” A strange look crosses across Vanderpoel’s face and the three men make room for the two of you to join their conversation. You can’t stop the smirk on Jane’s face. You’ve got them.
S u c k e r s.
Not every bomb needs to be literal.
A few more minutes of smalltalk to help work Ochoa into the conversation and then Jane politely excuses herself from the group. She’s got a date to rejoin after all.
Ortega perks up as Jane crosses the room, a glass of wine in each hand. She doesn’t wait to ask before offering Jane one of them. “I was beginning to think you might have ditched me.”
Jane smiles, laughs, as she takes the wine glass. “Sorry, sorry, I saw some people I knew and got distracted.”
“Oh?” Ortega’s focus zeros in on Jane, “Anyone I’d know?”
“Oh, I doubt it.” Jane shakes her head and waves a hand to dismiss the idea. “Just some old college friends. “ She glances about the room, “Herald still around?”
Ortega laughs, “He’s around somewhere. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering.” Jane sips from her glass. “You have a lot of attractive friends.”
Wait, fuck what? Why did you say that? What the fuck? What happened to that masterclass of infiltration?
Ortega blinks, surprised, then laughs. “I hadn’t pegged you for being into men too.”
Jane glowers up at her. “So what?”
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m bi too.” Ortega smiles, pats Jane on the shoulder, then lets her hand run down the arm.
“You are?” Jane winces, “Ugh, what am I saying, of course you are. Sorry, I’ve apparently lost my mind tonight.”
“I suppose my love life is pretty well documented at this point.” There’s a bitter tinge to Ortega’s voice that catches you by surprise.
“I’m surprised we haven’t shown up in a tabloid yet,” Jane admits.
“The press don’t follow me around like they used to.”
“Miss it any?”
“God no.” Ortega smiles widely, and then the smile quickly fades. “Sometimes I wonder how many relationships it cost me.”
Huh. “Was it that bad?”
“You got out for dinner with one guy and suddenly they’re your boyfriend. After awhile I just kind of embraced it. Especially once I became Marshal. At least I could take some ownership over it that way, you know?”
“I’m… sorry, that sounds pretty rough actually.”
“It’s in the past now.”
Silence threatens to stretch out between you two. Jane coughs, “So… when did you figure out you liked women, then?”
Ortega rubs her neck, “When I figured it out…? Hrm.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I’m just… it feels like so long ago, now.” Ortega sighs. “I guess… there was this vigilante…”
Jane holds her breath. No– It couldn’t be, could it? “A vigilante?”
“Well, I had just joined the Rangers properly.” Oh. “This vigilante, Axel. She was this speed boost that worked in the south end of the city. She was Latina too, and we just… kind of hit it off.”
“Wow,” Jane says. You try to wrack you memory for anything about an ‘Axel.’ It’s not ringing a bell. “What ended up happening?”
“It wasn’t easy trying to keep it out of the press. Eventually it got to be too much and we just kind of… mutually broke it off. She retired not long after. Or moved, maybe?” Ortega crosses her arms, thinking. “That’s it, she moved down further south. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“She didn’t want to go public?”
Ortega sighs. “This was like the early aughts. Things were starting to change but…”
Jane frowns. “There would have been consequences.”
“Yeah. I think…” Ortega stares at the floor between the two of you, lost in memory or maybe regret. “I think maybe I had been too pushy. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. The new face of the Rangers. They told me I needed a relationship to look ‘normal.’”
“Human.”
“Yeah,” Ortega laughs, bitter. “That too, I guess. Not that it was an excuse mind.”
“Would a relationship with a woman really of worked for that though?”
“Well, we’ll never know now. I wanted to try but…”
“But?”
“I don’t think I gave her the space to really process what coming out would mean. We just fought about it. A lot.”
Jane rocks back and forth on her heels, avoids looking at Ortega. “That’s rough, I’m sorry.” Ortega never shared this with you – with Ariadne. You’re not sure what that means. How to feel about it.
“Well, hey,” Ortega looks up, catches Jane’s eye. “I learned from it. Eventually.” She smiles, and Jane smiles back. “Well, I told you my story, what’s yours?”
Jane blinks, bites her lip. “Oh! Uh. Hrm.”
“Sore subject for you too?”
“Uh… not exactly…” Jane laughs while panic runs through your head. “Like… when I figured out I liked guys…?”
“I was thinking more women? Society kind of expects the male interest.”
Jane forces a laugh. “I guess that’s true. I’ve never actually dated a guy though.”
Ortega shrugs, “Doesn’t make you any less bi. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Is it still bi if you don’t want to date guys though?” Jane frowns, looking away. Floor, artwork, the crowd. Anywhere else.
“Oh. Hrm,” Ortega pauses, “I guess that’s up to you? I’m not the sexuality police.” She laughs and Jane finds herself joining in.
“Oh good. I’m safe then. I mean… guys can be… attractive, I guess.” Jane shrugs helplessly, “But… I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of afraid of them?”
“Jane…?” There’s a note of concern in Ortega’s voice, and Jane cringes. This conversation is getting too real.
“This isn’t really the place to talk about it.”
“Okay. I get that. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Jane sighs. That is absolutely not a subject you want Ortega to chew on. You need something to distract her. “ As far as women go, well..” You need to think of a story quickly. “There was this… girl I worked with in – in… college.”
“You know,” There’s an impish grin on Ortega’s face, “they say you should never date a co-worker.”
Jane scowls, “Oh believe me, no dating was involved.”
Ortega puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! You just pined from afar?”
“Uh… more like, right next to her. For five years.”
“Ouch. She never caught on?”
The pained expression on Jane’s face matches the one in your heart. “I… have no idea?” Jane sighs and downs the rest of her wine glass in one go. “Honestly, I didn’t really… realize what it was I was feeling until years later. And then it was too late.” She shrugs and looks away. Can’t believe this conversation is happening. Have you lost your goddamn mind?
Ortega is shaking her head, equal parts amused and pitying. “I never would have pegged you for the shy type.”
“Hey!” Jane crosses her arms, “not shy enough to keep from kissing you.”
Ortega laughs again, “I’ve noticed.”
“I learned from my mistakes too,” Jane lies.
#fallen hero#fallen hero: rebirth#fallen hero fanfic#fanfiction#wlw fanfic#fhr/Ariadne#mc#ortega#the puppet#herald#mia ochoa#vanderpoel
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Lore Episode 130: In Plain Sight (Transcript) - 25th November 2019
tw: none
Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!
In early winter of 1822, Captain Samuel Barrett Edes became a hero. He was sailing in the south-east Pacific when he and his crew encountered a Dutch ship that was in trouble. Edes managed to save every single one of the Dutch soldiers, and then headed for the city of Batavia, known today as Jakarta, to drop them off and see if a reward could be collected. While he waited, he did some shopping. Now, Edes wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but he owned a small portion of the ship he sailed and of course, he was expecting a handsome reward for his heroic efforts. With this in mind, he kept an eye open for something unusual and conversation-worthy to take home, and that’s when he saw it. It was a mummified mermaid. It was over two feet long, had the curved tail one might find on a fish, but the upper body of something much more human in shape. It was brown from the preservation process, wrinkled with age and entirely addictive to look at, and Captain Edes knew instantly that he had to own it. In late January of 1822, he did something bold. He sold the ship he did not fully own and used the proceeds to buy the mermaid. Then he found transportation back to London and put the odd creature on display, because just about everyone who saw it believed that it was real.
Of course, there were those who could see through the hoax. Captain Edes had been fooled by a clever craftsman who had sewn the torso of an orangutan onto the lower half of a large salmon. Elements were added to the face and hands to give it a more humanlike appearance, but those with training in natural science and anatomy could spot the hidden clues that gave it all away. That didn’t matter to most people, though. The idea that mermaids could be real had been around for centuries, so when something as powerful as a mummified specimen floated into their world, they were blind to its flaws and impossibility. They wanted to believe, deep down inside, that the hybrids of folklore actually existed. Today, we know a lot more about our world than we used to, but if we were to go back in time and live through a less learned age, we would be amazed at the stories that await us, tales of creatures that sit at the very edge of our imagination, living things that defy logic, and monsters that inspire wonder. Our hearts want to believe while our minds are ready to move on. Instead, what we tend to feel is a mixture of deep curiosity and primal fear, and if the tales from the past are any indication, there’s a good reason why. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.
When we talk about the natural world, the very first thing we need to do is gain some perspective. Today, we live in a technologically rich society. We carry supercomputers in our pockets that are more powerful than the ones that sent the first humans to the moon. We can walk past an intriguing part of our neighbourhood, pull out our phones and look at a satellite map or do a search for more information. We’re still hungry people, curious and drawn to unanswered questions, but rather than starving in a house with little food, we feast each day on a never-ending buffet of answers and information. Today, if you want to know something, chances are good you can learn about it in an instant, but hundreds of years ago, that was an impossibility. Not that people didn’t try, though. 2000 years ago, a Roman named Gaius Plinius Secundus attempted to gather everything knowable into one place, and he did an admirable job considering the world he lived in. Gaius was born into a wealthy Roman family in the year 24AD and followed a path of privilege all the way to the top. He was well educated, well connected, and when he entered the Roman military, he quickly rose to the second highest level possible – the equestrian order. Once out of the military, he served as a lawyer, before being assigned various governorships around the empire, and towards the end of his life, he had the privilege to serve as advisor to two different emperors. Today, we know him as Pliny the Elder, but in his day, Gaius was a success story.
Looking back, his biggest legacy was his 37 volume collection of knowledge called Natural History. It was possibly the world’s first encyclopaedia, gathering everything known about a whole array of subjects, from farming and botany to geography and anthropology, but the most influential contribution, filling up volumes seven through 11, were his writings on zoology, the study of all living creatures. But here’s the thing – Pliny the Elder, like everyone else in his society, lacked the proper tools to dig deep and apply hard science to every creature he wrote about. He also lacked the ability to travel and see each animal he described, so he relied heavily on others, like Aristotle’s Historia Animalium and the writings of Eratosthenes and Hipparchus, and that meant his collection was less than perfect. How so? Well, his work on zoology included such amazing animals as dragons, mermen, and even something called a blemmyae, a race of hairy, human-like beings who literally had no head on their shoulders, with eyes and a mouth right in the middle of their chest. Pliny was thorough, for sure, but not very discerning with his source material.
But what his work did do was give birth to something a lot of people have heard of, a type of book known as a bestiary. It took a while for their availability to spread, but by the early middle ages, bestiaries were a common enough resource. They were, at the basic level, books about known animals, typically with colourful drawings to help the reader visualise the specific details of each entry, and over the centuries, some editions became more popular than others. One of the most famous is the Aberdeen Bestiary, an illuminated manuscript that dates back to the 12th century. Aside from being a beautiful example of medieval artwork – and I mean that, you should seriously do an internet search for sample pages – the Aberdeen Bestiary is also a powerful example of just how popular these books really were. It’s filled with images of all sorts of animals, along with rocks, fish, trees and even worms, and a lot of the entries in the manuscript include notes about the nature of the thing in question, making it a valuable reference tool for any budding naturalist. But these bestiaries did more than that – they inspired the popular culture of their day.
England’s King John, who reigned from 1177 to 1216 was said to have a copy of Pliny the Elder’s Natural History in his personal collection, and John’s son and successor, King Henry III, even used images from it to decorate one of the chambers at Westminster. As their popularity spread, more and more writers got in on the tradition. The Norman poet Philip de Thaun wrote a bestiary about a generation after William the Conqueror invaded England, and it became a gift for King Henry II’s wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Even Leonardo da Vinci made one. It seems if you were an intelligent person in the middle ages or the Renaissance, making your own bestiary was practically a rite of passage – and let’s be honest, colourful manuscripts filled with unbelievable creatures and animals that defied logic couldn’t not be popular. Humans have this innate desire to look at curious things. We’ve always been rubberneckers, straining to take a long, hard look at things that sit outside our normal experience, and the spread of bestiaries is proof of that. But those ancient books and manuscripts also teach us something else about ourselves. Human beings are creative creatures. When faced with a mysterious gap in our knowledge, we’re more likely to invent something to plug the hole than to leave the question unanswered – and what we’ve come up with is equal parts entertaining and downright terrifying.
I mentioned earlier how the internet and the accessibility of powerful devices has given us an edge over our predecessors, and in a lot of ways that’s true. Yes, we have access to a huge majority of our collective knowledge, but not all of it. In fact, there are still things we don’t know. For example, scientists today believe that there are roughly 8.7 million animal species on this planet, and yet 86% of the ones that would live on land still haven’t been discovered or studied, and it’s even worse inside our oceans, where over 90% of life is still a mystery to us. We know a lot, yes, but our world is massive and diverse, and that makes the learning process slow and tedious. Some animals are also a bit harder to track down, they’re less abundant or more shy, and so it’s made studying them more of a challenge. A good example is the platypus. For a very long time, scientists thought the descriptions of it were nothing more than a hoax. I mean, it was rumoured in 1799 to be a hybrid of a duck and a water rat, part mammal and part bird, with venomous spurs that could kill a dog, and while we’ve learnt more about them over the years, the platypus is still an allusive creature. A recent documentarian was able to get what he considered to be a goldmine of actual footage of the animal, amounting to about 30 seconds, and when only half a minute of film is something to celebrate, you know the animal is hard to study.
Of course, while we’re searching for new species, the ones we do know about are slowly dying off, which doesn’t help. Some estimates place the number of species on the edge of extinction at around 20,000, and more get added to that list all the time. For the medieval writers of bestiaries, this would be their worst nightmare. All those creatures belong in their books, and yet they keep slipping away. But at the same time, not being able to see an animal never really stopped those ancient writers from including it in their catalogue of life on earth. In fact, there are a lot of entries that would cause most people to scratch their heads, because while, yes, we’ve grown in our understanding of the world around us, these bestiaries serve as a time capsule of our gullibility. As far back as Pliny the Elder’s collection on natural history, we can see those less believable creatures pop up. He once wrote that thousands of sea-nymphs known as neriads had washed up on the shores of what is modern day France, and that they looked just like the nymphs of the land, except that they were covered in fish scales. He also wrote about that fiery bird of legend known as the phoenix, which was known to burst into flames before re-emerging from its own ashes. And of course, I’ve already mentioned his fascination with mermen and blemmyae. It seems that Pliny the Elder had an obsession with gathering all known creatures, whether or not he had witnessed them with his own eyes.
Other historians added their own contributions to those mystical lists as well, and if I ran through it for you now, it would sound like a recap of the Harry Potter series. Hippos and elephants shared the same space as hippogriffs and mandrakes. There were dragons and tritons, giants and sea monsters. Honestly, it sometimes seemed that if a young child could draw a picture of it, that was good enough to get it included. Of course, some creatures were more popular than others, and that popularity varied from culture to culture. In Europe, one of the most talked about creatures of all was also one of the smallest, but don’t let its size fool you, because there was nothing safe about the basilisk. Our old friend, Pliny the Elder, wrote about it 2000 years ago, describing it as a serpent with legs that was no larger than a foot in length. But what it lacked in size, it more than made up for with attitude and special features. A basilisk was said to stand tall on its back legs and had a crown-like plume on top of its head. And they were dangerous, too – according to the stories, basilisks were so poisonous that even looking at them could get you killed. Other creatures avoided the like the plague, and wherever they chose to make their nests, the plant life would die and wither away. One description I read said that if a man on horseback stabbed the basilisk with a spear, the poison was so powerful that it could climb up the spear, kill the man, and then kill the horse as well.
Of course, when something is that powerful and deadly, it eventually becomes the centrepiece of tales of valour. It’s said that Alexander the Great once killed a basilisk, and like many of the other legends about him, he did it in a way that proved not just his might but also his intelligence. It’s said that he polished his shield until it was like a mirror, and then approached the creature holding it outward. When the basilisk saw its own reflection, it fell victim to its poisonous gaze and instantly dropped dead. We can find images of the basilisk in just about every bestiary in existence, most of which look like a cross between a snake and a rooster. There’s a statue of one in Vienna, commemorating an 11th century hunt, and there’s even a church in Sweden with a carved relief showing St. Michael stabbing one with a spear. So popular was this creature that people sold powders that they claimed to be ground-up basilisk, something that most people purchased for use in alchemy, but more than a few used as an antidote to poison. Everywhere you look through the middle ages and earlier, the basilisk is waiting to rear its poisonous little head. You can see society’s attraction to it in their folklore and superstition, a mixture of fear and fascination, of wonder and disgust. For centuries, it popped up in stories whispered all around Europe, like a well-loved character in a popular book series. But if one account is any indication, it might not be a work of fiction after all.
The people of Warsaw had a problem on their hands. They were two decades into a new political structure known as the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and while it gave a lot of freedom to the wealthy and elite, it left the lower class in a constant state of fear and oppression. Life in the city was challenging for many people, but that was the new normal. In 1587, though, something happened to put the people of Warsaw on edge. Livestock in the area around an old, ruined building had begun to turn up dead. Even a few of the neighbouring residents had been found poisoned in their beds, washing over the community with a wave of grief and loss. And in the midst of all that confusion and pain, two of the neighbourhood children disappeared. Well, disappeared might not be the right word for it. Folks had seen the two young girls playing near the ruins, they had watched them laugh and skip and revel in the freedom and joy that came with childhood, most likely muttering quiet prayers that it would last as long as possible. The neighbours knew what sort of hard life awaited those girls once they were old enough to work and carry their own weight. Their joy must have been bittersweet.
And then someone watched them step inside the ruins. That was the first reason to worry. Folks avoided the ruins for a good reason – it was dark and dangerous, and the cellar beneath it had been a den for all sorts of animals. So, whoever it was that watched them disappear into the shadows most likely headed over to warn the girls’ parents. When everyone arrived at the ruins to call them out, though, they were no longer visible. While there was a good chance they had simply moved on to a new playground, someone decided to peer inside the dark cellar, and there, laying on the broken stone floor, were the sleeping forms of both girls. So, one of the older women stepped inside to wake them. A moment later, though, she collapsed into a heap beside the girls, sending the growing crowd into a panic. They didn’t know what was causing the people inside the cellar to lose consciousness, but they knew there was something dangerous about the dark space, so they sent for a fire hook – a long pole with a metal hook on the end – and then reached in and pulled each body out into the light. All three of them were dead, and not just dead – they were bloated and dark, as if they’d been dead for days. Most frightening of all, though, was that their eyes seemed to be protruding from their sockets. No one could be sure, but it almost looked as if they’d been frightened to death.
Wanting answers, they sent for Benedictus, the king’s very own physician. If anyone would have the skill to identify the danger, it would be him. And, sure enough, after taking a long look at the trio of bodies, he brought them a definitive answer. All of them had been killed by a basilisk. In an instant, the atmosphere around the old ruins changed. Newcomers came to watch, while leaders gathered to form a plan. Something had to be done, and just like the stories all of them had grown up with, it seemed that a basilisk hunt was in order, but the trouble was no one wanted to risk their lives by entering the cellar to kill it – not even Benedictus, who seemed to know the most about the creature. But they had an idea. A group of leaders from the community quickly headed to the local jail, where two men awaited execution for various capital crimes. Each man was given the same offer: come kill the basilisk, and you will receive a full pardon and your freedom as a reward. It seemed like an easy choice, too – inside jail, there was no chance of survival. Outside, though, there was at least the possibility they might survive. It made sense to everyone.
The first criminal declined the offer, but the other one, a man named Johann Faurer, agreed to help. He was escorted from the jail to the old ruins, where Benedictus awaited him with tools and instructions. The townsfolk had quickly gathered dozens of small mirrors and sewn them onto a pair of leather pants and a coat. I imagine Johann gave the old physician a sideways glance at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, but at the same time, he would have known the folklore just as well as everyone else. Alexander the Great had defeated a basilisk using a mirror-like shield, so why would it not work for him? With a crowd of over 2000 witnesses watching, Johann began to carefully walk into the ruins, where he entered the cellar. He had a long rake in one hand and a torch in the other, to light his way, and as soon as he stepped into the darkness below, he cried out that he could see it – a long, serpent-like tail, with a head that resembled that of a rooster, right down to the crown-like plumage. Benedictus called out instructions to the man. “Grab it with the rake,” he told him, “and then carry it out here into the light.” Johann shouted back that he understood, and the entire crowd began to shift and rumble. If a basilisk was going to be dragged out of the ruins, no one wanted to be around to see it, so they all ran for cover and hid their eyes. When Johann emerged, he held the writhing creature by the neck in one of his gloved hands. They daylight somehow made it weaker, and that gave Benedictus the courage to step closer and examine it. It looked exactly like the bestiaries of old had taught him – the body of a snake, four long legs and a head that looks very much like a rooster.
But sadly, this is where the account of the basilisk hunt ends. Whoever had been recording the events had most likely been in the crowd, and when Johann had begun to emerge from the cellar, they had followed the crowd into hiding, which leaves the ending a bit of a mystery. Who killed the creature, when all was said and done, and how did they do it, knowing the risks the old legends spoke of? What we do know is this: the Warsaw basilisk hunt of 1587 was the last time the creature was reported anywhere in Europe. Maybe it had been the last of its kind, and its death marked its extinction, or perhaps the few that survived had a knack for staying out of sight – like the platypus of Australia. Either way, all that was left from that moment on were legends and stories. Like so many creatures that have once walked the earth, the basilisk – if it was ever real to begin with – has slipped into the shadows of the past, and it’s never been seen again.
There really is something delightful about the bestiaries of old. Their colourful pages and evocative descriptions were beyond sensational. In a world without television, radio or easily accessible works of fiction, those catalogues of natural history were the closest most people could get to travelling the world. Of course, the things most authors chose to include in their bestiaries would probably never make the cut in our modern times. After all, headless tribesmen with eyes on their chests, unicorns and sea nymphs all feel more like characters in a fantasy novel than entries in a study on the world’s flora and fauna. And yet some of those expectations have been broken over the years. For centuries, sailors told stories about the kraken, enormous sea creatures that could reach out and drag an entire ship underwater with its long tentacles. King Sverre of Norway recorded its description way back in 1180, and for hundreds of years people claimed to spot them in the waters of the ocean. Then, in 1853, the carcass of a giant squid washed up on a Danish beach, giving the legend new life. Over the century and a half since then, scientists have determined that there is indeed a giant sea creature that fits the ancient descriptions – give or take a few sinking ships, of course – and while they’ve been challenging to catch on film, we now know they exist. And those mermaids of old might have roots in actual animals as well. Many scientists and scholars now believe that old reports of mermaids could very well be mistaken sightings of an aquatic mammal known as the manatee. As is so often the case, our misunderstandings had given birth to frightening legends, only to have science bring a bit of clarity to the tale. Sometimes the monsters of the ancient world turn out to be real, and sometimes legends inspire new discoveries.
In the part of the world that stretches from Mexico to South America, scientists have been familiar for over a century with a lizard from the iguana family. It’s not the largest reptile around, but it can grow to around 2ft in length, and it can run at amazing speeds. Some scientists refer to it as the Jesus Christ Lizard because of its strange ability to run across the surface of water. But its most common name is based on other features, like its tendency to run on two legs and its serpent-like body – a body that’s topped with a head and plumes reminiscent of a crown or a rooster, which is why its name is both logical and a bit of a throwback. They call it the basilisk.
There’s something enticing about the mysteries that fill the gaps in our knowledge of the world around us. Looking back at the bestiaries of the middle ages, its clear humans have had a lot of fun filling those holes, and the creativity of the past has continued to inspire stories today. But there’s one more creature I want to tell you about. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to learn all about it.
[Sponsor break from Bombas, Casper and Fracture]
They had fallen in love, and it was something that would change their destiny forever. At least, that’s how the legend tells it. Long ago, a young man lived on a small island surrounded by deep blue seas, and in the process of hunting one day, he encountered a beautiful young woman. But the hunter quickly learned that there was more to her than he could see with his eyes. The woman, it turns out, was a fairy. In fact, she was well known to the locals there, who referred to her as the Dragon Princess. Despite their differences – him, a normal human being, and her, a magical fairy – the two of them fell in love and were soon married, and that helps this tale become on of those happily ever after stories that we all love so much. The couple went on to have twins, a boy and a girl, and just like their parents, they were an odd pair. The boy was just like his father, a human with no magical powers of his own, while the girl took after her mother, and because of that, both parents decided that the children should be raised in separate places to help them fully become who they were meant to be.
According to the legend, it was many years later when the son was out hunting, just as his father had taught him. He was creeping through the forest, his spear balanced in one hand, when he spotted a deer. He quickly threw the weapon, which found its target, and a heartbeat later the young man was carefully making his way over to collect his prize, and that’s when the dragon stepped out of the trees. It was enormous and frightening, and it clearly wanted to take the deer that he had just killed. The young hunter spoke to it, begging it to leave his future meal alone, but the creature ignored him and proceeded to move toward the deer, so he lifted another spear and got ready to take aim at the dragon. Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows of the forest and stopped him. It was his mother, the fairy princess, who he had not seen since his childhood, and as she approached him, she spoke a word of warning. “Do not throw that spear”, she told him, “for that is no ordinary dragon. That is your sister.” Instead, she taught him to live in harmony with his sister, and according to the legend, that fateful meeting set the destiny of their entire community on a new path. Even today, if you were to visit the place where they lived, the people there would tell you that they are descended from dragons, illustrating how that harmony has continued.
And of course, this story is just one of many tales about dragons that fill the pages of folklore. In fact, most of us would be hard pressed to find a creature mentioned more often than those magical beasts, from the 11th century legend of King George and the Dragon to the fantasy novels and television shows of our modern world. They really do seem to be the king of monsters. Dragons are also one of those nearly universal creatures. It seems just about every culture around the world has had some version of them in their folklore. The ancient Egyptian god of chaos was Apophis, represented as a giant serpent. The Babylonians had their own god of chaos called Tiemat, and in Arcadian mythology there were not one but three dragons on display. Norse mythology features a giant serpent who gnaws at the roots of the world tree. In Ukrainian folklore, there is a dragon with three heads, while images of dragons can be found all over medieval heraldry. And of course, few cultures on earth hold as tightly to their dragon mythology as the Chinese, who have been decorating objects with images of the creature at least as far back as the Neolithic period, and we could speculate why, I’m sure. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see how the accidental discovery of dinosaur bones might spark fear and wonder in the minds of humans thousands of years ago. The places where stories of dragons are most common are also places where such fossils have been uncovered, so it does make sense.
So, when Europeans arrived on an island in the Flores Sea, just south of Indonesia, they probably didn’t think twice about the local stories about dragons. In fact, those tales were probably a bit old hat, as they say. Dragons lived in caves, breathed fire, were vicious killers and could fly when necessary – nothing about all of that was new. What was new, though, were the things they saw there. On an island surrounded by deep, blue sea, an island full of people who believed they were descended from dragons, mind you, they discovered a creature that brought all of their legends to life. It lived in the caves along the shore, it was an enormous killer, and it sometimes even followed its prey up into the trees. It ticked all the boxes. These were 300lb serpent-like monsters that could bring down a half-tonne water buffalo. When they licked the air with their bright red tongue, it looked as if they were spitting fire, and they even dug into the graves of the dead looking for treasure. Of course, that treasure was always food, not gold. And they’re still there, crawling across the sandy beaches of the island, living in harmony, more or less, with the people who still call the place their home. They might not have wings or piles of golden treasure to curl up on, but they are the largest lizard on earth, measuring in at over 10ft in length, and they’re deadly. Sometimes the tales of the past stay shrouded in mystery, and other times we manage to crack the riddle and shed new light on the shadows that once frightened us. This living, flesh and blood dragon seems to offer a fresh answer to an ancient question, however incomplete it might be, but at least we now know that there really is one place in the world where that old cartographer warning is actually true: Here, on Komodo Island at least, there be dragons.
[Closing Statements]
#lore podcast#podcast transcripts#aaron mahnke#basilisks#dragons#bestiaries#cryptozoology#europe#poland#130#transcripts
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Together
By Blue Dragon
Pairing: Mel/Janice
Rating: Mature
Synopsis: Mel and Janice are on another dig with friends, and come to terms with the shifting nature of their relationship.
Staring out at the sun setting low on the desert horizon, Doctor Janice Covington pulled a cigar from the inside pocket of her jacket. This was her favorite time of day. The locals hired on to be diggers had all gone home, except for those few trustworthy enough for sentry duty, that is. The rest of the staff was either taking a breather before dinner or preparing for tomorrow's labors.
Hopefully, they'll get better, Janice thought as she lit her cigar. The day's labors were nothing to write home about.
It was the time of day where Janice was free to stand outside her tent in the meager shade, relax with a cigar and survey her kingdom.
Not that its much of a kingdom, she told herself, letting the thick smoke play in the air as she exhaled. But it will suffice. At least for now. She thought about that for a moment or two. "No, this is all I want. All I can handle." She muttered aloud. Looking around to see if anyone was in hearing distance, Janice chuckled. "Wonder if Gabrielle talked to herself. Guess I'll never know."
Janice relaxed after ascertaining that no one would be privy to this little habit she shared with both her father and mother. Thinking aloud was apparently a genetic trait. At least in her family. At least that was what her father told her. How could she know?
Shaking her head to free her mind of what ifs surrounding her family, she settled on contemplating the more recent past. Three months recent in fact. She grimaced at the memory of Ares and his "cursed" tomb. It had taken this long for the team to regroup, move the dig about two miles to the south, and get settled in. Surprisingly, the cover story they devised had worked and the crew was able to continue with their work unsupervised for at least the last month. The first two months had the Greek officials out to the sites every other day to make sure no more accidents occurred.
The cover story was that Smythe had held Janice, Melinda and Jack hostage in the tomb while his bullies searched it. Unfortunately, they didn't find anything. Also unfortunately, when one of the thugs opened a previously sealed door to another cavern, Smythe himself went to investigate. Too bad that the cavern was filled with natural gas and Smythe was a smoker. Apparently his cigarette caused a massive explosion. Janice, Mel, and Jack were barely able to escape with their lives. It was only fair, they were in a different part of the tomb after all and couldn't see what was going on.
The Greek officials said nothing condemning towards them. It wasn't their fault. These things happen. It was a risk in Archeology. Everyone knew that. They did warn Janice to be more careful about trusting certain people and to make sure that the caverns were aired out properly in the future. She agreed with appropriate humility, and all was well. The head of Greece's Department of Archeology didn't like Smythe anyway. He was happy it was "all above board" as he called it.
Getting Jack to agree hurt. A lot. She ended up bribing him with two of the Joxer Scrolls as he called them. She wasn't too much worried. Knowing Jack, he'd have them translated, put in a box and they'd be the archeological find of the next century when his great grand kids finally clean out his attic. With her luck, they end up being the basis for a cheap movie or radio program. What was it Ares had said? Idiocy was a family trait? Nope, She thought, nothing to worry about there.
The locals that had helped set everything up for the explosion eagerly went along with the idea. In exchange for an extra two days off, one with pay, of course. Most of them were just happy to be rid of the curse that had haunted the dig site. None of them realized that Smythe was cause of the curse. Then again, they really didn't care.
Convincing the rest of the staff and the students working the dig was also not a problem. She simply told them what she told the Greek officials. The senior staff members were all on a holiday anyway, playing around in one of the nearby villages buying supplies, getting laid, relaxing, whatever. Janice really didn't care what they were doing at that time, just that they believed her story. They did. After all, being able to talk her way out of anything also ran in the family. She did, however, tell two of her most trusted friends on the staff, Julie Waitreford and Roger Grant, the truth. They didn't believe her. She hadn't expected them to really.
Melinda, on the other hand, had posed a problem until Janice had her recite the story aloud. Janice had laughed hearing Mel's version of events. She could still hear the Southerner's voice in her head:
"Well, Smythe and his bunch of bullies accosted us and dragged us into the tomb. We found the Scrolls after Smythe had disappeared, and then found half of this round killin' thing that had belonged to Xena. Smythe showed up with the other half and tried to kill me. Dr. Covington saved me and we went into this other part of the tomb where all the torches lit by themselves. Then I was possessed by Xena so she could fight Ares, the God of War. The next thing I know was Dr. Covington helpin' me to my feet and then blowin' up the tomb to keep Ares from escapin'."
It still made Janice smile. After hearing for herself just how incredible the story sounded, Melinda agreed that the lie was better. Although she still didn't agree with the concept of falsehoods.
The dinner bell rang at that moment, tearing Janice away from thoughts of the tall, dark and enigmatic Southerner. She took one last look at her little kingdom, extinguished her cigar, put it away to keep it safe for later and went to wash up for dinner.
***
Dinner in the common mess type tent was a self serve affair. It was set up in a buffet style line and the staff, whatever field workers stayed at the camp, and their families could help themselves to whatever the cooks had decided to make that day. The kitchen was only open for three meals, and only for an hour and a half for each meal. It was a strict policy that if you missed out, you were on your own. Long ago, on one of her father's digs, Janice had learned never to wait and try her luck. She didn't appreciate missing a meal.
Janice grabbed a tray and walked through the line mindlessly gathering food onto her plate. She, like certain ancestors before her, didn't care what it was, as long as it was edible. She had that one, of several, advantage over most of her colleagues. She had found very few types of food that disgusted her in her travels. Most of the time she barely even noticed what she was eating unless it was either very good, very bad, or squid. Squid and sushi fell into the very bad, do not touch, I-can't-believe-you- want-me-to-eat-that category. She made it a point to interview the cooks closely to ascertain their feelings of seafood. If they believed fish should be cooked and squid should be used only for bait, they were hired.
Dr. Paul Stafford, Julie, Melinda, and Roger were already sitting at the "Round Table" when she finished gathering enough food to satisfy her appetite. She walked over and sat her tray down as Melinda was engaging Stafford in a conversation on Southern cooking.
"Really, Dr. Stafford, you must try some of our cuisine. Why I'd give almost anything to taste some of old Melba's hush puppies, turnip greens, creamed corn, fried chicken, catfish, black eyed peas, corn bread and white gravy. You just haven't lived until you've had a plate full of good ole home cookin' Southern style." Melinda finished by looking at her plate as if by sheer will it would transform into the food she was just describing. The rest of the party seemed satisfied by the food in front of them, and showed no interest in turnip greens. Janice was actually wondering what on earth they could be.
"My dear Ms. Pappas, I've actually been to the South. Mississippi in fact. I had to go and stay in this town, they called it a city, but still...Biloxi, I believe. They wanted to find the original site of the founder's landing. I was only there for two days before going to New Orleans, but they had the best shrimp. Its right on the Gulf of Mexico, and some of the restaurants catch their seafood fresh daily before dinner. It was marvelous. I could live without the hush puppies, but everything else was great. Especially in New Orleans. Now, that's a town that knows cuisine." Paul smiled kindly in Melinda's direction before returning his attention to his tray.
As Julie began her dissertation on her favorite meal, Janice studied her companions as she ate. The five of them were the top rungs of the dig's hierarchy, and commanded a table the undergrads and grad students working the dig had nicknamed the "Round Table" in reference to the sharing that went on there. Janice was not a control freak. She asked questions of her teammates and expected questions to be asked of her. In her mind, it was a group effort. Her tiff with Melinda over the discovery of the Scrolls was due to her distrust of the Southerner, and her disgust with what she thought was a spoiled, rich, naive woman-child trying to live off of her father's accomplishments. Xena's appearance straightened that out, but Janice still was not comfortable around Mel, and had only talked with her when necessary. She had only recently begun to warm up to the Southerner. More than warm up to her, if she would admit that to herself, which she wouldn't.
Straight across from Janice sat Paul. Dr. Paul Stafford was with the university funding the dig. He had actually arrived the day after Melinda. His mission, which he had chosen to ignore, was to spy on Janice. He chose to ignore it for two reasons. They were old friends from their days as undergrads and he had kept in touch with her enough after school to know that she did not share her father's moral views on the value of antiquities. He was a nice enough guy, intelligent, funny, compactly built with blond hair and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. Paul and Janice had gotten into a lot of trouble with pranks their senior year when the dreaded senioritis hit them both with a vengeance.
To her left sat Julie "Curly" Waitreford. She was nicknamed Curly in adolescence because of the unruly blonde curls that she insisted on wearing long. Julie was the camp's secretary and generally Janice's right hand. Her father had been one of Harry Covington's most trusted staffers, and her mother was the camp nurse. After Janice's own mother deserted them, Mama Waitreford took charge of a young Janice and her baby sister Amanda. Add to the mix of Julie, Janice and Amanda, Julie's younger brother Robert, who was the same age as Janice, the four of them raised hell on the digs. It was kind of fitting that the four paired off. Janice and Julie still worked together continuing their parents' work and Amanda and Robert were married just before Harry was killed in a cave-in.
"So Janice, what do you think?" Roger asked interrupting her train of thought. Roger had also been one of her father's closest friends and staffers. Both Roger and Niles Waitreford were the only ones who stayed with him until the end.
"I'm sorry Roger, I was thinking about something else. What do you want me to agree to?" Janice asked turning to face him.
"Poker. Just poker. It must have been some heavy thinking if you didn't hear the plans for your favorite weekend activity." He teased.
"Well, I'd have to say that poker isn't my favorite weekend activity," The group chuckled at Janice's innuendo, all except for Melinda who blushed faintly as was befitting a proper Southern woman. Janice cleared her throat after seeing that. "Yeah, sure, I'll play. Same as always? Here about 8 o'clock?"
The rest of the group nodded. Julie excused herself after making a comment about pretending to take a bath in her tent. Paul left a moment or two later heading in the same direction Janice noted. Roger got up to refill his coffee mug, leaving Janice where she didn't want to be. Alone with Melinda Pappas.
"So, Dr. Covington, have y’all ever been to the South?" Melinda asked, obviously trying to make conversation.
"Yeah. I flew through Dallas on my way to Mexico once or twice. Does that count?"
"My dear Doctor," Mel laughed. "We in the deep South don't consider Texas as being all that Southern. Its more Western with the Mexican influence and all." She stated gently.
"Sorry, I guess my US geography isn't what it should be." Janice looked down at her cup and silently begged Roger to hurry back. She wasn't good at small talk, and the beautiful Southerner made her nervous in a way no one else ever had.
"That's ok. I'll forgive ya for it. Its really an easy mistake to make because only Southerners bisect themselves further than the rest of the county." Melinda on the other hand was a master at small talk. It was a Southern art form that had prompted Mark Twain to scorn their favorite topic, the weather, by saying something like "everyone complains about it but no one does anything about it." Melinda never could remember the exact quote, but it was a favorite one of her daddy's.
"So what are you two ladies discussing?" Roger asked as he sat down. Janice hid a sigh of relief and was about to excuse herself for more coffee when Roger placed the pot on the table. He filled Janice's glass and reached over to refill Mel's but the Southerner just shook her head, declining his offer.
"Geography." Janice replied to his question as she reached for the sugar and proceeded to empty at least three tea spoons of the white powder into her coffee.
Roger looked to Melinda for an explanation, but the tall Southern belle just shrugged.
"Well, if ya'll will excuse me, I think I'm gonna go back to my tent and rest awhile. Evenin' Dr. Grant. Dr. Covington." Melinda rose, gathered up her personal belongings, and exited to her left.
Roger watched her leave and then contemplated his companion in silence. Janice just drank her coffee. Finally the silence became unbearable for the older man.
"Janice, honey, why do you avoid Melinda?" He asked as he turned his chair to face hers.
"I don't avoid her Uncle Roger. I just don't know how to talk to her outside of the Scrolls." Roger smiled at the term of endearment. He had adopted Janice as soon as he hired on with her father a little less than twenty years ago. Janice was only five at the time. It had amused her father and scandalized her mother. They did make an interesting sight, a little strawberry blonde imp with a nice base tan as was only befitting the child of an archeologist, and a six foot five black man chasing one another through the camp. For awhile, Roger would have sworn that he was only hired as a babysitter. He didn't mind, and he taught Janice a lot about life. After Ms. Covington disappeared a year later, the confirmed bachelor took it upon himself to assist Harry and the Waitrefords with the two kids she left behind. He made his vow to continue looking after his stubborn adopted niece at Harry's grave side.
"Just talk. She won't bite you."
"I know, but I'm not good at making small talk, and...well...I don't know." Janice continued to stare into her mug as if it held the answers she was looking for. She refused to admit her fear of falling for her.
"Little one," Janice smiled at the endearment and lifted her eyes to meet his. "You know we raised you best as we could..." He started unsure of how to continue. Janice saved him the trouble by interrupting him.
"I have never once, and I mean NEVER, regretted the way I was raised or by whom." Janice made sure to keep eye contact with her uncle. "You helped raise Amanda too, and she turned out fine. Even if she did marry Robert."
"Now Janice..."
"I'm just kidding. Robert's a nice guy and will keep her happy and safe. I'm just glad its her and not me he wanted. I can't see myself doing the whole marriage with children thing." Janice chuckled at the image. So did Roger.
"No, although I can see you happy with someone, but you'll never know if you don't open up to others." Roger dropped his eyes to his cup. "I will tell you that if I was younger, I'd spend a lot more time with Ms. Pappas. She's quite smart and very lovely" Janice almost inhaled her coffee.
"What, I mean..." She sputtered frantically looking for a way to turn this away from where she thought it might be leading. "Are you trying to tell me that you have the hots for our translator?"
"I didn't say that. And no, I don't. I just thought that maybe she'd make a good friend. That was all I meant." He covered a grin by refilling his coffee mug. "Why? Did you think I meant something different?" He asked innocently. She had never told her father about her preference for women. He had never asked, and as far as she knew neither her father nor any of his contemporaries knew. She was wrong. Harry Covington had never asked because he hadn't had to, neither did Roger. They knew it, accepted it, and got over it. It was just one more thing that ran in the family. "She'd make a great partner."
"How did you know?" Janice asked looking at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. "I mean other than the clothes, which is mostly because of the heat and for comfort and stuff like local customs..." Janice realized she was babbling. A nervous habit that also ran in her family. "Did Dad know?"
"Yes your father knew. No, it did not disappoint him. No I do not think less of you." He answered the questions her eyes asked. "Little one, as for how we knew, we raised you. We just knew." He answered vaguely. Roger Grant was not a coward by any means, but he felt this conversation would be more appropriate at a later date. Janice seemed to agree and let the matter drop.
"I, ah, I think I'm going back to my tent and get ready for the poker game," She said standing up and pushing her chair back underneath the table. "Be ready to lose a lot tonight, old man. I feel a winning streak coming on." Janice grinned and left him alone at the table.
Roger sighed and finished off his coffee before he too left the table and headed back to his tent.
***
Melinda Pappas sat on the bed in her tent contemplating the changes her life had gone through in a year. God, has it only been a year? She asked herself, taking a sheet of paper and using it for a fan. I really need to start dressing in something more appropriate for the climate. Mother would never make it here. No wonder Daddy never took her along. The paper fan helped a little, but not much. Mel let her thoughts return to her recent past.
Not long after her daddy died the year before, a week and a half after the funeral as a matter of fact, her mother and grandmother began planning her wedding. It didn't matter to them that Jason was stationed on a ship somewhere in the south seas, as soon as he got leave to come home, they wanted to have the wedding. They also disregarded the fact that Melinda didn't want to get married to Jason. Matter of fact, she didn't want a husband at all. When she first told her mother and grandmother that, they chalked it up to nervousness. She was only 18 at the time, so they decided to wait. She quit dating and began studying whatever her father would let her. That was how she learned ancient Greek.
A year ago she turned twenty-seven, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. She had been "dating" Jason for four years and her mother and grandmother felt it time to take the relationship down the aisle. Her father had gone to bat for her every time the subject came up, so had her older brother who was already married with children of his own. After Mel Pappas died, his daughter lost her edge. The matrons ignored Thomas, and to a certain extent Melinda, and set about making plans for the wedding. A week before Mel had hopped a flight to Greece, Jason's ship was sunk off the coast of an undisclosed island. There had been no survivors. The telegram had come four days after the event. Mel had allowed herself two days of mourning for an old friend, then packed and headed out.
She had actually found the telegram Janice had sent asking for Melvin Pappas's assistance shortly after her father died. He had left all of his books and papers to her instead of her mother. Upon reading the telegram and the note he had left with it, she understood why. It wasn't until Jason's death that she was able to find the strength to defy her mother and grandmother by taking her father's advice to flee the household.
What was it the letter said? Mel asked herself. She had it with her, but didn't feel like looking for it at the moment. She knew it by heart and could hear her father's voice so clearly it was as if he were reading it to her. The only way, you'll ever really be happy, my dear child, is to get out of this house as soon as you can. Greece is a good place as any to start. I know the young lady - Mel smiled at that. Janice couldn't really be called a lady, but her daddy always tried to see the best in others - who is running the dig. I dare say the two of you will get along admirably. She will at least help you to answer some of the internal questions you have about yourself and about life.
Now, here she was in a rough camp somewhere in Macedonia. She couldn't pronounce the name of the local village. “How come I can read ancient Greek, but I can't speak the modern version well enough to ask where the restroom is?” She pondered that for a moment before turning her thoughts to Janice Covington and why her father had advised her to find the young archeologist.
That woman is impossible She thought. Although, she has been getting better. And then wondered why she so badly wanted to befriend a woman that didn't seem to need more friends than she already had. And she wondered why her father insisted that she find Janice. What questions about life? She asked herself. Giving that train of thought up as being too philosophical, Melinda turned her mind to solving the problem of getting through Janice's emotional and mental walls.
Melinda Pappas didn't stop to think about why she was staging expanding her relationship with Janice into a full blown friendship as a battle. She just went a head and prepared a strategy, rehearsed it, worked the kinks out of it, got dressed, and headed out for the poker game. She was determined to at least befriend a certain gruff doctor of Archeology. Though her thoughts concerning the dig's director were not all that friendly or sisterly. Melinda didn't understand that either, but she was willing to make the first step toward finding out what her father had meant.
Melinda did know that drawing battle plans ran in her family; however, she had no way of knowing that none of her ancestors ever needed to attempt what she was going to. She also had no way of knowing that roughly two thousand years earlier, a petite strawberry blonde had set in roughly the same area plotting almost the same thing. The exception was that the Bard wanted in, not the Warrior. Never the Warrior, until now.
Neither Janice nor Mel realized that the Universe, in all its vastness has a twisted sense of humor, and when coerced by the Fates, cajolled by Time, and pleaded with by certain spirits and a forgotten god or two now residing in what has become known as heaven, it releases its power with irony in full force. As punishment for crimes neither woman committed that happened before their country of origin was even thought to exist, both Mel and Janice were forced to take on roles defined by their ancestors. The twist that made the Universe quiver with glee, and the Fates to laugh coffee through their collective noses was that the current players were not cast to play the original roles as defined by the first actors on the stage of life. The Bard had become the Warrior, and the Warrior a gentile Southern belle. Even the originals, resting on their halos in the Fields laughed and placed bets on the outcome with their friends. Neither Janice nor Mel would have appreciated the joke.
***
Janice Covington jumped out of bed. She stood in the center of her tent for a moment or two to let her thoughts catch up to her reflexes. The foremost question on her mind was why she was getting up. The answer was slow to appear, but when it did, it galvanized her into action. She had a reputation to protect, and she was not going to sully that rep by missing a poker game.
She ransacked her trunk to find a different shirt, preferably a clean one. Upon finding one and changing quickly, she grabbed her pile of coins saved for just this occasion, threw on her hat and ran to the mess tent. Janice slowed a few feet away from the entrance to compose herself before joining her friends and colleagues inside.
Paul, Julie, Roger, and (surprise, surprise) Melinda Pappas were already seated around the Round Table when Janice joined them. She took the seat nearest Mel, which had been conveniently left open. Janice peered around suspecting a conspiracy, but her friends just smiled innocently at her. That gave her curiosity a mighty tug, but she decided to play along.
"Ok, hotshot," Paul said to get Janice's attention. "I'm feeling lucky tonight. Think I might make back that money I still owe you from college." He reached around behind his chair and produced a bucket filled with water. "But first, I have a surprise for everyone. Close your eyes." He commanded setting the bucket on the table.
"Paul if I get soaked, I'm gonna kill you." Julie warned. Janice and Roger echoed the sentiment. Only Mel was close enough to see what the bucket contained and was not impressed.
"No one is going to get wet. At least not yet, so close those eyes up real tight." They complied and Paul set before each of them one bottle of German beer. Needless to say, Janice, Roger and Julie were very impressed.
"Now, then, I could only get six, and it cost me...well, lets not worry about that. Lets just enjoy the beer, game and friendship." He stated sitting back down.
Roger produced a pack of playing cards as Janice, Paul and Julie opened their beers. Melinda just looked at hers.
Well, I guess if I wanna fit in, this is one way. When in Rome and all that She thought as she struggled to open the bottle before her. Paul took pity on her and opened it with a bottle opener that had been sitting on the table.
"Ok, the rules are as follows," Roger said while shuffling the deck. "Maximum bet is twenty-five cents US or the local equivalent, dealer changes after three hands, the dealer is also in charge of calling the game, and if you get caught cheating..." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Then you obviously need more practice and deserved to get caught." The rest of the group laughed as he began dealing out the cards. "Five card draw."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Janice said after a long pull on her bottle. "Those Germans may be twisted sons of bacchae, but they do make great beer."
"Gee, Janice, don't you know," Julie asked as she assembled the cards before her in some type of order, "that beer is what Germans do best?"
Those at the table laughed, save for Melinda who tried to turn her grimace into a smile. She detested beer, and generally tried to avoid it. I guess its an acquired taste She thought as she took a smaller sip. Although she did have to admit that this one was better than the beer her brother drank. She soon found herself with another type of problem. She had no earthly idea what to do with the cards in front of her. Bridge she could play, poker was not one of her skills.
The rest of the group anted up and Roger prompted Mel to do the same. Mel noticed that the others were discarding cards and wondered if she should. She held a two of clubs, five of hearts, ten of diamonds, ace of spades and jack of clubs in her hand, staring at them as if they were Arabic. Taking a gamble, she placed the numbered cards face down on the table as she had seen Janice do, and waited. Soon Roger handed her three new cards before turning his attention to Paul.
Gingerly, they placed bets. Each one trying to feel the others out without looking like that was what they hoped to accomplish. Melinda kept an eye on Janice and mimicked her movements, except she refused to raise the bet any. After all, she really didn't understand what she held, and didn't want to be out that much change.
Finally, it was time to show hands, as the betting had begun to wear itself out. Paul and Julie showed only a pair each, one of threes and the other of eights. Roger turned his cards over with disgust. He really didn't have anything good to show, while Janice sat hers down with a smile.
"Three of a kind. Sorry fellas. Looks like this one is mine." She placed three nines on the table and reached for the pile of change. Roger stopped her hand.
"Wait a minute there little one, there's still one more hand to check. Melinda?" All eyes turned to the Southerner. Mel just shrugged and laid her cards down on the table face up. Janice let out a sigh of relief after seeing the pair of aces, jack, five and four.
"Yep, this one is all mine." She wiped the pile from the center of the table and proceeded to mix it with her own. Janice grinned the whole time. Mel shrugged again and handed her cards to Roger so they could be reshuffled.
The next two hands saw Paul winning one and Melinda winning the other. Dealership was then transferred to Janice as Julie went to the kitchen to fetch more beer. This time it was Greek and voted inferior to the German beer by all present. However, it was wet and it was beer so the grumbling didn't last too long.
The group talked as they played and drank. Mostly it was rehashing memories of digs gone by or voicing their hopes for the current site, even the occasional political discussion was started. Although that one was usually finished shortly before it could really begin.
Roger made the next beer run after Janice relinquished control of the deck to Mel. Mel was at a loss as to what to do. She didn't think that the others would be interested in bridge, so she did the only thing she could think of (with a little help from two beers): she dealt them all in a game of go fish. Julie and Roger were ecstatic with the choice as it was a break from the norm, however, Paul and Janice considered themselves avid poker players and grumbled at the choice.
Three hands later, Paul took control over the deck. Janice cheered, mainly because she lost all three hands of go fish, and volunteered for the next beer run. While she was gone, Mel took the opportunity to talk. She had been quite for most of the evening, nervous in Janice's company.
"I'm sorry for that game before, but I've never really played poker before tonight," She looked down at her hands while apologizing. Julie reached across the table and laid her hand on Mel's arm in a gesture meant to convey reassurance.
"Don't worry Mel, it was fun. Don't let Janice fool you. She's just upset that she lost." Julie told her with Paul and Roger nodding in agreement.
"I guess you're right, but I just...oh, never mind...its foolish and this is supposed to be fun. I guess the beer is just getting to me." Mel wanted to talk to someone and thought that Julie would listen, but she didn't want to do so in front of the others. Especially when she didn't know when Janice would return.
"Melinda," Julie tightened her grip on the Southerner's arm and looked her in the eye. Mel saw compassion and understanding there. "I know. Its tough, but its worth it." Julie would have said more, but she looked up in time to see Janice balancing five bottles of beer in her arms. Melinda didn't.
"What's worth it?" She asked before being clued in to the Archeologist's presence behind her.
"Yeah, what are you talking about. What's worth what?" Janice asked setting the beer on the table and laughing as it was snatched from in front of her.
"You are, you scamp. You're worth a pot of gold and the heart ache you give someone who tries to find it." Julie said unscrewing the top of her beer. Her eyes twinkled as Janice did something she rarely did. She blushed. "Seriously, I was just assuring Mel that all the effort we put into unearthing a dig is more than worth it."
Janice relaxed and sat down. Melinda hid a sigh of relief. She was not, by any means, a dumb woman, after all, intelligence ran in her family as well. She more than picked up on the hints that Julie had dropped, the innuendo placed out in the open, and the support of a willing ally.
By the time the evening was over, Janice had made good on her boast. She had won most of the remaining hands of poker and ended up with a good portion of the overall pot. With one annoying exception: Melinda had won the last bottle of German beer two hands before when Paul bet it in lieu of money. The poor guy had a horrible run of bad luck, and was forced to watch the remaining two hands as a spectator. They had adamantly refused to let him cash in more money. No one played with anything but the change they had collected between games. That was why they only played once a month. It kept them from getting into real trouble by losing part or all of their pay.
The last game had come down to Julie and Janice. Melinda had lost all but the beer and retired for the evening after the second to last hand. Roger pulled out early on while he still had some change left, and watched the two women go against each other. Julie had two pair, kings and fours, but Janice had three of a kind. To her chagrin, they were sixes. Roger and Paul teased her unmercifully about receiving the "unholy" hand.
After a few minutes of conversation while cleaning up and finishing what was left of their beers, the group dispersed. Janice was actually the last one to leave and smiled when she realized that Paul and Julie had walked back to his tent. She knew that they would probably see the night end and the sunrise together. A small part of her envied them, but the logical self denying part of her reminded her that she had too much to do to get involved with anyone.
As she walked back to her tent, she contemplated the choices she had made in her life. Satisfied with the outcome she dressed for bed. It wasn't until she reached up to turn out the light that she noticed the single bottle of beer on her desk. Getting up and examining it, she realized that it was the same bottle that Melinda had won an hour earlier. Janice placed the bottle in her desk drawer for safe keeping and went to sleep with a small smile on her face.
***
Days off were always done on a Saturday, and were done on a rotating schedule that had one fourth of the staff off at one time. Holidays were the only exception. Janice had adopted that from her father. It made sure that someone was always on hand in case of an emergency, and it kept the staff happy. Sundays were the one day everyone had off thanks to local law. The diggers had the entire weekend free. It kept them happy.
As a result of the relaxed schedule on Saturdays, it was generally a day to do inventory, clean the recent finds, catch up on paper work and do something other than manual labor for a change. Everyone, whether it was their turn to have a free day or not looked forward to Saturdays. Janice was no exception.
She had the chance to participate in her favorite weekend activity for as long as she wanted. Sleep. She slept long and hard on the weekends, making up for the long days and short nights the week before. When she finally did put in an appearance in the mess tent for breakfast (the only thing that could awaken her from solid slumber was food) only Melinda was there.
"Morning. Where's everyone else?" Janice asked as she sat her tray on the table and took her seat across from Mel. She was usually the last one to arrive for breakfast, which was served at a later hour on weekends, and the lack of Roger made her a little nervous. She figured Julie and Paul were worn out and still sleeping.
The tall Southerner had just finished her breakfast when Janice sat down. She hadn't been able to sleep very well the night before. Her sleep was plagued with weird dreams that she kept trying to remember over breakfast. She failed.
"Melinda?" Janice attempted to get Mel's attention, as the Southerner had yet to acknowledge her presence.
"What?" Startled blue eyes looked up into bemused green as Mel came back to earth. "Oh, I'm sorry Dr. Covington. What did you say?"
"I just asked where everyone else is." Janice was both puzzled and intrigued by the evidence of Melinda's wavering attention. The Southerner was usually on top of things as a rule.
"Oh, Dr. Grant was here earlier, but he left to go direct some grad students in proper record keepin'. Apparently they weren't doin' that great a job, and I haven't seen Dr. Stafford or Julie. Do ya think somethin' bad happened to them?" Janice almost lost the mouthful of coffee she was trying to swallow at Mel's innocent question.
"Nah, I'm sure they're fine. Probably just overslept." She assured the Southerner. I'm sure something happened between them, not to them, but I'm not sure if it was something bad or not Janice thought to herself.
While Janice ate her breakfast, Melinda sat at the table drinking her coffee and furtively inspecting her companion. Janice didn't look quite the ruffian she had first appeared to be. The clothes were pretty much the same, and she still smoked cigars, but after Smythe's unfortunate accident, Janice had quit wearing the gun. Mel reasoned that the overall appearance hadn't changed too much, but her perspective had.
When Janice had been packing up the truck to move the Scrolls to a safer site, she had promised Mel that they would see this out together. She had kept her promise, hiring Mel on as the official translator and giving the Southerner a reason to stay in Greece. The hard part for Mel was that her idea of together was obviously not the same as the good doctor's. Janice had meant being colleagues, Mel had hoped for friends at the very least. It was that hope that kept her in the camp despite the homesickness and heat. She felt drawn to the young Archeologist like no one else she had ever met before.
"Melinda? Earth to Mel. Miss Pappas are you in there?" Janice was standing above Mel looking down on her and waving her hand in front of her eyes. Mel looked up to see a faint sheen of pink tinge the doctor's face as she stepped back and allowed the Southerner some room. Gods, she really has no idea how attractive she is Mel thought. Her eyes followed Janice as the shorter woman reclaimed her seat.
"Melinda, are you all right?" Janice asked, feeling much better with some space between them. Standing by Mel's chair and looking down at her had allowed Janice the opportunity to see down the sundress that Mel was wearing. Janice brought her hand up to wipe away any drool that may have made an appearance at the sight. She should register those breast as lethal. Anyone would surrender just to see them up close.
Melinda looked down at her lap and then back up at Janice. "Yes, I'm fine. I've just had a lot on my mind. That's all." Yeah, like how to catch you and what to do with you once I've got you The Southerner felt herself flush at the thoughts that were running through her head.
Janice did something then that Mel would have never guessed her capable of. She asked if she could help with the problem.
Yeah, I just don't know how to tell you that. Mel thought. Aloud she said, "That's mighty nice of you to offer Dr. Covington, but this is somethin' I need to work on. Somethin' personal."
Janice, thinking that it was jealousy over Paul and Julie's relationship, let the matter drop. Which was good for all involved, because at that moment the two entered the tent.
"See, Melinda, I told you they just over slept," Janice changed the subject (sort of, at least she thought so) and pointed out the couple to Mel.
"That's good. I'm happy for them. You know, that nothin' bad happened to them." The tall, self possessed Southerner began to ramble. "I think I'm gonna go work on the translations a bit more. I'll drop the preliminary notes off by your tent this evening. Is that ok?" She asked standing to her feet. Janice just nodded at the uncharacteristic ramblings the older woman evidenced. Mel nodded back and blindly rushed out of the tent.
"What did you do to her?" Julie asked as she sat down her plate.
"Nothing. At least I don't think I did." Janice replied before standing up. "I think I'm going to go review the new plans and get started on some overdue paper work. Enjoy your breakfast." She smiled and nodded to both Julie and Paul who had just arrived at the table.
"Do I smell bad or something?" Paul asked sniffing his shirt.
"No, why?" Julie asked with a slight grin.
"Then why did they both leave when we came in? I know you don't smell bad."
"Thanks. I think our dear friend and our translator are just experiencing a small case of UST." Julie informed him.
"UST?" Paul looked blank at the term.
"Yep, Unresolved Sexual Tension. Don't worry, I'll have a chat with Janice about it this afternoon."
"As long as you don't resolve it for her." He warned her. "Unless I'm invited." He added waving his eyebrows up and down in an imitation of the movies.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm just going to talk to her." Julie assured him.
"Shucks"
Seconds later, the kitchen staff was complaining of water stains on their table clothes. Which is amusing because the tables weren't covered, but they were relatively new to the English language, so it could be excused.
Paul had forgotten to put up the bucket of water from last night. Because of his comment, Julie deemed a lukewarm water dowsing as fitting. Moments after that, she was running full speed through the encampment with a very wet Dr. Stafford hot on her heels.
***
"Janice, can you spare a minute?" Julie asked as she walked into the records tent. Other staffers and various students were engaged in either cleaning vases or catching up on their field reports. Janice was hunched over a list of the recent finds from the site. It wasn't a long list. This site hadn't been that productive.
"Damn it! I know there's something here." The Archeologist began pacing, heedless of the others present in the tent. Julie had long since grown used to this habit and just let Janice rant.
"There has to be something here. Maybe on the South ridge." She continued on in that vein for several minutes, all the while pacing back and forth in front of the table. Finally she stopped and noticed Julie standing patiently in the corner.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"Paul decided it would be funny to drop me in the stream outside." Julie told her. She looked, to Janice and the rest of the tent's occupants, like a dirty, half drowned rat. Her blonde curls hung loosely around her face and down her back, and she was covered in clay. She looked pitiful. Those not too awe struck by the normally composed woman's appearance found it hard to contain their laughter.
"So, was it?" Janice asked trying to casually hide her mouth behind the report she had been reading.
"Was what, what?" Julie asked shaking her head. That did nothing to improve the situation.
"Was it funny?" Janice managed to get the question out before laughing. Julie looked down at herself and started laughing as well.
"Seriously, Jan, can I talk to you for a minute or two?" The blonde asked. "In private?" She added after Janice had nodded and indicated for her to go ahead with the conversation.
"Yea, I guess so. We can go to my tent if you want." Janice answered as she led the way outside the records tent.
The trip to Janice's tent was quite. Both women were absorbed in their own thoughts, and neither felt like making idle conversation. Janice thought she had a good idea of what Julie wanted to discuss, the relationship between the camp secretary and Dr. Stafford was beginning to heat up. The Archeologist assumed that they would be discussing Paul.
Julie was pondering how to broach the topic she had intended to advise Janice on. That of UST. It was obvious to Julie, Paul (well, maybe not Paul) and Roger that both Melinda and Janice were suffering from it. Though whether it was over each other remained to be seen. They could both just be incredibly horny. She also could have been misreading the signals, but she doubted it. Something deep inside her was telling her that this time, it was different.
They ended up seated in Janice's tent with one of them on the bed, and the other at the desk. They set in silence for a few moments while each one thought of and discarded possible ways to begin the conversation. Janice leaned back on her bed and took the initiative.
"So, Julie, what's going on?"
"Uh, well, I really don't know how to start this..." She trailed off and lit a cigarette to hid her awkwardness with the topic. Janice sighed and lit a cigar.
"Julie?" Janice tried to get her friend's attention after moments passed with no other sounds in the tent other than the exhaling of smoke.
"Sorry, Jan, I guess I wondered off there for a moment. We've known one another for how long now?" The blonde asked.
"Longer than I can remember." Janice answered getting annoyed with the beating around the bush. "Look, Curly, I think I know what this is about."
"You do?" Julie raised her eyebrows in question. She thought this would take the petite Archeologist by surprise. "What do you know?"
"Its kinda obvious. You and Paul have hit it off extremely well." Julie made as if to interrupt, but Janice kept on going. "I love you both dearly, and if you're worried I might be jealous or anything, don't be. I'm happy for you both. Honestly I am. Just don't try to make me wear a dress to the wedding." She chuckled.
"I wouldn't dream of it, but Janice, about Mel..."
"Melinda Pappas may be jealous a little, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. She hasn't known Paul all that long. I'm sure she'll get over it." Janice got out of bed and motioned to the front of the tent. "Now, let's get back to work. Shall we?" She extended an arm to Julie.
"But Janice, what about you?"
"What about me?" The Archeologist was confused by the turn in conversation.
"I mean, you can't do all this alone." Julie took her hand and stared her friend in the eye. "Honey, I'm worried about you. Solitaire is not a good game to play all the time."
"Thanks for the concern, Curly, but really, I'm fine. Happy even." The shorter woman shrugged. "Besides, I'm not alone. I do have friends you know. You are even one of them." Julie smiled sadly. She knew Janice was right, but she still felt she had to try.
"I know, but Janice..."
"Its fine. I'm fine. Let's leave it at that ok? Now let's get out of here before Paul thinks I've seduced you." Janice smiled as she deftly avoided the topic and started toward the tent opening.
"Well, he does have good reason to think that. You are a charmer when you want to be, Janice Covington." Julie laughed and headed out behind her friend.
"Thanks, but I wouldn't even try it a second time. Although it did work once."
"Yeah, but Janice we were only children. You were what, 16 and I was 18?" They both smiled at the memory of their long ago tryst. It was after the death of Julie's mother. Their combined tears had led to one night of misery turned to fumbling passion. It had only happened that once, and neither one of them regretted the act, denied it, nor tried to continue it. Even though Julie sometimes wondered if it would be better now that Janice had more practice. The closest they had came to it was after Harry Covington's death. Julie could now say that Janice was one hell of a kisser, but that was all.
"I think so. You were right. We're much better as friends. Paul's a lucky guy, and you're a lucky girl." Janice picked up her pace a bit before adding one last comment. "He's pretty good too you know. For a guy." At that she took off running. Julie was right behind her.
Janice made it all the way to the stream before Julie tackled her. Soon both women looked like dirty, half drowned rats. Their screams of mock outrage and laughter could be heard echoing through out the dig site.
***
Melinda, like most of the others in the camp had heard the screams as Julie and Janice ended up in the stream. She had gone to investigate, but soon realized her assistance was not needed. So she watched the two old friends frolic a bit before returning to her tent.
She hated to admit it to herself, but she was jealous. Not of Julie really. She was well aware that the two half drowned rats were nothing more than friends, but she envied that friendship. She had began to realize that she wanted that type of bond with Janice, and it depressed her that someone else had been there before her.
It wasn't until she tried to get back to work that she realized she was jealous of Janice and Julie's relationship for more than Janice. She never had that feeling of freedom both women seemed to take for granted. They laughed, drank beer, played poker, did whatever they felt like they wanted to. I bet they bed whoever they want whenever they want, the Southerner thought a little ruefully causing herself to blush. Her experience with sex was limited to maybe three nights of fumbling with Jason. She still didn't understand the attraction so many had for physical acts of passion.
Her mother and grandmother had kept her under strict control while she was growing up. She wasn't allowed to do anything that failed to meet their approval. Melinda Pappas had a lonely childhood as a result. Obviously, they didn't. She thought about the Archeologist and the Secretary. Bet they caused all sorts of trouble. Yes, Melinda was envious of their freedom both past and present. The same way she was envious of her brother, for the same reason.
Visions of Janice as a child soared through the Southerner's mind. Her imagination compared her's with Janice's in various situations. Placing them both in Melinda's memories, she saw Janice defy the Southern Matrons, and herself cower in front of them. The edges of the visions were blurred, as if someone else were showing her these things, or trying to stop her from seeing them. Abruptly they stopped.
You aren't under anyone's control now, you know.' A voice said into Melinda's mind. You have gained your freedom. Let go of the past and embrace the present. You'll never live until you do.'
Melinda jerked out of her bed wondering just when she had fallen asleep. My goodness, what did that dream mean? With each second the dream faded back from her awareness, but the voice stayed. That voice, it was so like Janice, only softer somehow. Gentle.
Melinda put her head in her hands and sat that way for a long few minutes. Finally she decided the heat was getting to her mental state, and resolved to dress more for the climate again. No matter what her upbringing had imprinted on her.
With that in mind, she collected the notes she had made on one of the Scrolls, and went to go find Dr. Janice Covington.
***
Janice had just changed out of her now filthy clothes and was reaching for a cleaner undershirt when someone cleared their throat in front of her tent.
Damn tents. No doors to knock on. She looked down at the pile of clothes at her feet and grimaced. Julie, it was fun, but now I've really got to do laundry. Maybe I can send a few of the grad students into the village Monday to have it done.
"Come in," Janice yelled to the silhouette outside her tent as she put on the white cotton t-shirt and grabbed for a more decent shirt to wear over it. Melinda walked in just as Janice had located one.
Oh, my. Melinda thought as she walked in on Janice. The Archeologist was wearing a pair of khaki pants that had yet to be buttoned, and a plain white men's undershirt, no sock, boots or anything else. Her strawberry blonde hair had been washed but not dried and was pushed back behind her ears. God, she looks great like that, and so young. The Southerner flushed.
Janice, who had forgotten that Mel wanted to talk to her after the translator had reviewed the Scrolls, just stood there for a moment pondering the look in Mel's eyes. Is that look what I think it is? She asked herself before regaining her senses. She turned around, tucked in the t-shirt into her pants, and fastened them. Nah, it can't be, can it?
"Well, Ms. Pappas, what can I do for you?" She asked turning back around to find Melinda staring at the floor.
"Well, I thought that maybe you wanted to read the notes I've made on the Scroll I've been working on." Melinda shyly looked up at Janice and handed her the notebook. Janice dropped her shirt on the bed and took the notebook from Mel's hands.
"Thanks, here have a seat," Janice cleared the papers off her desk chair and indicated that Mel should sit there. The Archeologist stared at the notes in her hand a minute before looking at Mel. "Sit down, really, I don't bite. At least not too hard." She smiled at Melinda until she realized the joke fell flat.
"Maybe I should just let you read over those. We can discuss them when you're finished." Mel had no idea why she was suddenly shy. Janice had on more clothes than those pictures she had found in her brother's room once a long time ago. She had to admit that the Archeologist looked better than those Frenchwomen in the photos, and she shaved too. That was a big plus. It was just that the tank style shirt accented the younger woman's curves, and Mel had to admit, that she look sexy disheveled. The Southerner blushed again.
"Sure, if that's what you want." Janice told her. She was slightly confused about the Southerner's reaction. Maybe there's something in the Scrolls. "Listen, I'll find you when I'm done looking these over. Does that sound ok?"
Melinda nodded and silently left the tent. It wasn't until Janice sat down on her bed to read that she realized how she had been dressed when the Southerner had entered the tent.
"Now, that was an odd reaction," She said to herself. "You'd think she'd never seen anyone half dressed before." The blonde Archeologist shook her head and started to read the understated yet neat handwriting of the dig's translator.
The story in the most recently translated Scroll turned out to be the story of the Warrior and Bard's first meeting with a god. Morpheus, the ancient god of dreams. It was obviously written sometime after the actual event had occurred. Although how much time had passed was not certain.
"This was probably written after Gabrielle decided to become a Bard," Janice muttered aloud.
The Scroll was written from an uninterested third party point of view, but the language used suggested that Gabrielle was the author. She rarely made mention of herself, but Janice felt a grudging respect grow for her ancestor. According to the Scroll, the Bard (who referred to herself as either Xena's young companion, which made Janice raise an eyebrow at the implied relationship, or as the would be bride of the Dreamworker) had managed to keep herself alive and her blood innocence intact long enough to be rescued. It sounded like it was quite a feat, and the young woman had accomplished it very well. Janice was impressed.
Janice rested the notebook on her knee and thought about the tale. She wondered if Gabrielle had really been that humble or if she had written that Scroll before she had been associated with Xena for a long period of time. It’s a shame we know so little about her. Janice thought. After all, Boswell, the man who recorded Ben Johnson's life had his own biography. Homer had his, sort of. At least, he can be proven to have existed outside of spirit saying so She wasn't sure if her colleagues at the university would accept Xena's word of her friend's existence as fact since Xena was roughly 2,000 years dead.
All in all, Janice thought it was a good story and a believable one for her colleagues. The god in question never appeared, and it read like a ancient cult acting out a ritual. The supernatural overtones of the dreamscape would be over looked as creative metaphor by those that either refused to believe or had not been trapped in a tomb with Ares. Ares had turned Janice into a believer of the so called supernatural real fast.
The young Archeologist had first begun searching for the Scrolls to prove her father right. That had been a little over two years ago. She had just gotten her doctorate and was on a dig in Mexico when word of her father's death had reached her. She had made a promise at his grave side in Cairo that she would continue his work and realize his dreams for him. It took her three months to find a replacement for herself at the Mexican dig, and to arrange for university funding to take over her father's dig in southern Macedonia, with herself as the director of course. She tried to keep everything above suspicion, for she was, like her long dead ancestor, an honest, honorable person with a very persuasive will. The university had agreed and Janice stepped into her new position.
It wasn't until they had stumbled onto Ares's tomb that Janice had begun to wonder about the identity of the Scrolls' author. It wasn't until Xena possessed Mel that Janice saw Gabrielle as something more than a tag along. She had seen it in the Warrior's eyes (Mel's eyes as...never mind) as she told the story of Gabrielle. Xena had obviously respected and cared for her friend. To Janice that translated as the Bard was worthy of admiration. From all she knew about Xena, the Warrior didn't suffer fools (except for Joxer) and had very little patience (even with Joxer).
The conversation with Xena had made Janice curious about Gabrielle. Two years after assuming her father's work, Dr. Janice Covington had turned the search for the Scrolls into her own. Oh, she'd admit that she was half in love with Xena, which was why Melinda made her so uncomfortable, but now the search was to know her family, to know her history, to learn about her so-far-removed-I'm-not-sure-you-can-call-her-that grandmother.
"Its about time," A low voice sounded in her ear. "You finally figured part of it out. Congratulations, I won the bet. The next part is easier if you'll let it be." The voice was soft and melodic with a slight accent to it that sounded Australian for some reason.
Janice jumped out of bed and looked around her empty tent. "Some dream," She mumbled as she picked up the notebook from its current resting place on the floor. She tried not to think about the dream, which involved the Warrior, Mel, the Bard and herself. She sat back down on the bed for a moment before making up her mind to go find the Southerner.
"Maybe Mel can shed more light on Gabrielle," Janice told herself. She was aware of the perfectionist side of the Southerner. Mel would translate a rough copy of a Scroll, refine it, proof it, set it aside and work on another before going back to the previous one for a final proofreading. It was a slow process, but Janice felt it was worth it. She hadn't found any errors that first time when she had checked the translation to the original. Not that she would, Mel was infinitely better as a translator than Janice was. So, the Archeologist reasoned that Mel would have rough translations for at least two or three different Scrolls.
With that in mind, Janice grabbed her hat, lit a cigar, and headed out to find Melinda. She made it five feet outside her tent before rushing back inside, pulling on the other shirt she had abandoned hours previous, and then resumed her quest.
The distant thunder sounded suspiciously like laughter. It was the Universe enjoying its game.
***
After leaving the Archeologist's tent, Melinda decided she needed to talk to someone about her confusing thoughts and feelings. She had to admit to herself that she was attracted to Janice, but had no idea what, if anything, she should do about it.
She remembered Julie's comments from the night before and thought that she would be a good person to talk to. Mel had always thought women were easier to discuss matters of the heart with, she had found only two exceptions: she had always felt as if she could tell her father anything, and never trusted her mother. That lesson had been learned the hard way.
With the thought of a willing ally in mind, the Southerner began her search for the camp secretary.
***
Julie had been sitting outside under a piece of canvas trading laughs with Paul when she looked up and noticed Melinda walk by. The tall Southerner looked so sad and distraught that Julie pointed her out to her companion then whistled for her attention. Melinda turned, noticed the couple and shyly walked over to join them.
"Well, well, Ms. Pappas, what's the long face for?" Paul asked as Melinda gingerly took a seat on the ground.
"I'm just tired, I guess." She told him. Julie was not convinced that the Southerner was just tired and searched her brain for a way to get Paul to leave without being obvious.
"Why don't we play some more poker this evening?" the blonde woman suggested. She knew Paul loved poker and would volunteer to set up the game.
"That sounds good, but what are we going to bet? I'm all out of change." They pondered that in silence for a minute before Paul had a brainstorm. "How Ôbout we use matches and stuff like that. I'm sure I can get Roger to help me locate some stuff." He stood up and dusted his pants off, excited about the suggestion.
"That sounds like a good idea. Maybe Melinda and I can go to my tent and see what we can find there. How Ôbout you tell Janice to meet us in an hour?" Julie stood up and extended an arm down to Melinda and helped the Southerner stand. They both dusted themselves off and straightened their clothes.
"That sounds like a plan. See ya there." With that, he jogged back to the camp and Melinda followed Julie to the secretary's tent.
They walked in an uneasy silence, but once in side the tent's entrance, Julie motioned for Melinda to sit on the bed, as she took a seat on her trunk.
"Wanna talk about it?" The blonde asked quietly.
"I'm not sure if I can. I'm just so confused about everything."
"You're attracted to Janice aren't you?" Julie was nothing if not blunt. Melinda nodded and stared at the floor. "Is this the first time you've been attracted to a woman?" She thought that was what caused the taller woman's discomfort. Finding a difference like that, especially in someone with Mel's upbringing, was often tough for someone to face within themselves.
"It's..." Melinda brushed a tear off her cheek. "The first time I've ever really been attracted to anyone." She told Julie in a subdued voice.
"So, you've never been with a woman, sexually?" At Melinda's shake of negativity, Julie continued. "Have you ever been with a man?" Melinda nodded again, still looking at the floor. "Were you attracted to him?" God, getting this woman to open up is tougher than getting Janice too. At least Jan will spill everything once prodded long enough. She thought to herself.
"I was sorta engaged to be married before his ship went down." Melinda took a deep breath before continuing. "My mother was going to make us get married. I had been datin' him for about four years, just to keep them quite. He was a friend, and I loved him, but I was never in love with him. Never attracted to him, never enjoyed it." She was crying openly now, so Julie got up and held her.
"When my daddy died, he told me to come here and meet Janice, but I never really knew why until now. I think I'm falling in love with her, and I don't know what to do about. I don't know what to do." Julie just held her until the tears had run themselves dry and Melinda was ready to listen to reason.
"Well, that's a tough one. Lucky for you, Janice is...," She stopped to find a way to put it delicately, "She does appreciate the female form. She's more than worth any effort. I think you need to decide what you want. If you want her, you'll have to catch her. She won't chase you."
"Why not?" The Southerner asked as she unwound herself from Julie's embrace. She had been worried that Janice would be upset or offended. Or worse, not interested in her. That would hurt.
"She respects you." Came the reassuring response. "Janice won't try anything with someone she respects, unless they give her a clear signal to go ahead."
"Did you...are you...have you..."
"Yes," Julie cut her off "Once, a long time ago. And almost again two years ago, but we're better as friends. Janice... we..." She sighed. "I wish that...sometimes I wish it could be different, but I'm just not that way. Paul's more my type."
"Why not two years ago? What happened?" Melinda was curious despite herself.
"She passed out." A rueful chuckle accompanied that statement. "It was right after her daddy died, well, right after the memorial in Cairo. We went out and got completely drunk. I held her as she cried, and one thing started to lead to another. I did learn that she has become one hell of a kisser, even intoxicated." Melinda blushed and wiped the tear stains from her face.
"Um, don't you think maybe we should go join the others?" Julie asked standing up and heading out the tent.
"Julie," Melinda came up behind her and reached for her arm. "Thank you for that. I really needed someone to..." The camp secretary cut her off by giving her a hug. The startled Mel returned it.
"It was my pleasure," The blonde told her. "Now, go get cleaned up. I'll meet you in the main tent."
The two women parted ways. Neither one saw Janice Covington standing behind them.
***
Janice had fruitless searched the area around Mel's tent and the records tent before running into Paul. He had just returned from putting all the matches and rocks he had collected into little piles on the Round Table.
"Hey, there, boss. What do you say we play some poker tonight. We're gonna bet with something other than money." The blond man was enthusiastic about the planned game.
"Sure, Paul, that sounds great. Have you seen Mel anywhere?" Janice would not admit that she was concerned, but she was.
"Yeah, she went off with Julie. I think they wanted to be alone for a few minutes." Paul didn't see the curious look that crossed his friend's face. "Listen we're supposed to meet in about ten minutes. See ya there?"
"Yeah, sure. Say Paul, when was it you last saw those two?"
"Um, about an hour ago why?"
"I was just looking for Mel. Had a question about one of the Scrolls. That's all." She turned in the direction of her childhood friend's tent and called back over her shoulder that she would see him at the game.
The walk to Julie's tent was a short one, and when she got there, she saw Julie stride out of the tent looking slightly rumpled. Melinda followed her a moment later. It was obvious to Janice that Mel had been crying. As she watched the two women hug and listened to their conversation, she became confused.
That didn't really sound the way I took it? Did it? The Archeologist thought as she headed toward her tent. She thought best while she moved. Nah, Melinda probably cried out her homesickness on Julie's shoulder. That's all.
Janice was surprised by a sudden feeling of jealousy over that thought. And it had nothing to do with her childhood friend. That really surprised her. She ducked back inside her tent to think about it.
"Ok, I know I'm attracted to Mel, I mean really, who wouldn't be? But jealous over her crying on Julie's shoulder? Why? I mean, I like her..." Janice was pacing around her tent as she muttered her thoughts aloud. She didn't hear Roger enter. She didn't see him until she walked into him. "I know I like her...oomph."
"You need to pay a little more attention, little one. Are you alright?" The big man asked, rubbing his chest where Janice had collided with it.
"Yeah, I think so," She answered rubbing her nose. "What are you wearing under that? Armor?"
"Nah, chain mail. Its easier to conceal. You're about to miss the poker game. We're all waiting for you." He advised her.
"Go ahead and start. I'll be there in a minute. I hafta make sure you didn't kill my nose." She shooed him out.
"I'm sure its fine. See ya there," He chucked and turned to leave. "Oh, yeah, Janice? I'm glad you figured it out." He left before she could reply.
"Figured what out? That I like Mel, or that his chest is as hard as his head?" That got her started on another circuit. "I like her and I'm attracted to her. What am I going to do about it? Guess I could find out how she feels. Or I could just go for broke and let her know. What would Gabrielle do?" She wondered as she followed the trail from her tent to the poker game.
Little did she know, that the situation between her and Melinda was still causing the Universe to chuckle. Had she known, then she would have understood why the thunder she kept hearing never got any closer. Janice would also have benefited from asking what Xena would have done, ok, on second thought, no she would not have. The Bard had plotted the capture of the Warrior's heart. Janice was right to ask what her ancestor would have done.
In the Fields, the Bard got pinched for laughing at that. Everyone else got a glare. Warriors are a touchy lot. Even long dead ones.
***
When Janice entered the tent she noticed that everyone was in the same position they were in the night before. She again took a seat next to Melinda. This time, she was a little nervous. She had decided to approach the Southerner after the game to test the waters. She wanted to see where she stood before anything else.
The game was already in full swing, so she just sat back and waited for the hand to be played out. Sitting in front of her was a pile of rocks, a pile of matches, and a pile of chipped pottery. She pondered the pottery for a moment before she recognized it. It was what was left of the vases Smythe's men had broken when they attacked Mel three months ago. She had forgotten that an industrious undergrad had put all the broken pieces in a box. He wanted to see if he could put them back together. Janice had told him that he had a severe obsession with Humpty Dumpty.
"Um, Janice?" Mel felt she was taking a risk by calling the Archeologist by her first name. She was encouraged when Janice turned greenish blue eyes her way and didn't protest. "Can you tell me what I should do here?"
Janice looked around and saw no protest before she nodded and scooted her chair closer to Mel's.
"Let's see what you have." Janice leaned closer to peer at the cards and almost closed her eyes as her pupil's perfume hit her. It was a light fragrance, kinda like fresh roses and vanilla. For some reason, she had been expecting jasmine and leather with the faint sent of horse. It was disconcerting.
Turning her attention back to the task at hand, She noticed that Mel had the most elusive of all hands. A Royal flush in hearts. Not wanting her companions at the table to hear, she leaned even closer to whisper in Melinda's ear. Of course being that close to the translator was a secondary reason. Well, maybe it was the other way around.
"You should hold what you have there. Its an unbeatable hand. Keep a straight face and bet whatever they ask you to." She advised. It took a minute for Mel to understand what she had said. Janice's close proximity was a little distracting, as was the warm breath that tickled her ear.
"Have you ever had one of these?" She whispered back. Causing Janice to entertain several lewd thoughts about the translator. She just shook her head and backed off to a more respectable distance.
The others took their cards and looked at Mel in suspicion when she declined to draw any others. They understood why five minutes later when she won the pot and Janice patted her on the back. The Archeologist had a smile on her face, and Mel returned it when she looked up. For a minute, neither woman could speak. Roger broke the moment when he handed the cards to Janice and explained what each pile represented monetarily.
She looked around and saw understanding smiles on her friends' faces. Well, not Paul's he was a little oblivious about the whole thing.
"What do you say? Seven card stud?" She began dealing before they could answer.
The evening went along almost like the previous one. They drank coffee instead of beer, none of them were really big drinkers. They only indulged on occasion, and the monthly poker game was one of the few occasions they agreed warranted it. Paul still didn't win that much, but Melinda did. Between her and Roger, the others lost their rocks. Nobody complained, not even Janice. They just wanted another evening of fun and companionship. It was hard to find anything else to do in west of nowhere.
Once again, Melinda left before the last hand. The rest voted Roger the clean up man since he won, and since the only things to put up were the cards and substitution betting chips. They all put away their own coffee mugs. Most were taken back to the tents for the evening.
Janice went to Mel's tent after she had lit a cigar for courage. It gave her something to occupy her hands with. She used a cigar as a tool of distraction.
To her surprise, the Southerner was not in her tent. Janice, losing courage, went back to her own.
She had just gotten into bed and fallen asleep when she had a nightmare. According to her watch, only half an hour had passed since she left the poker game. She was filled with an undeniable urge to find Melinda. The urge was so strong that Janice only slipped on a pair of pants, her boots, and threw her jacket on over her t-shirt before she was outside her tent.
Some compulsion led her to the eastern part of the dig. It was an area as yet untouched by the diggers, and looked unpromising. Janice saw her quarry sitting on a little rise staring at the moon.
***
After leaving the poker game, Mel decided to walk around the camp a little. She needed to work things out in her head, and thought the peace and quiet of the dig site would help. She sat down on a little rise overlooking the eastern part of the dig and stared at the stars.
Wonder if they ever saw them like this? If they ever had time to just stop and stare at the stars? She wondered about the ancient Warrior and Bard. Nothing she had read about in the Scrolls so far had said much about their private lives. So far most of them had been about the first year of their acquaintance, and they really didn't even seem to be friends. Just companions without the company.
Kinda like me and Janice. I guess they grew closer over time. Bet we can too, we have so far. She assured herself, after all, things had been warming up between them over the past few days. Maybe when we find more Scrolls, we'll learn more about their lives outside Xena's heroic deeds. Melinda shared Janice's view that there were more Scrolls out there to be found. They just had to know where to look. She believed that the Warrior and the Bard had several years together, and that the Bard had written more than just the nineteen Scrolls they had found. Well, twenty one if you count the two that went with Jack. Three of those not counted in the nineteen were continuations of other Scrolls, and two more contained two stories each, those like the Marcus one were short and distant. That made for a total of 23 stories, twenty one of which they had, and ten of which she had fully translated. Who knew what she would find in the others.
Melinda was so deep in thought over the Scrolls, having cowarded out and not given much consideration to the reason she was on the ridge, that she didn't hear Janice approach.
"Nice night, mind if I join you?" She asked as she extinguished her cigar under her heel. It gave her something to do while she waited on Mel's answer.
"Sure, I mean no, um..please, have a seat." Seeing Dr. Janice Covington standing in the moonlight with only a t-shirt under her jacket and shyly staring at the ground, gave Melinda the answer she was looking for. Yes, she wanted the woman before her, she loved her, she was attracted to her, and she would fight for it.
"Thanks," Janice sat down beside the Southerner. She felt the change in the air flow around them and realized that the thunder she had been hearing all day was gone. The Universe was holding its breath.
"So, what are doing out here?" Melinda asked politely. Her heart was beating so hard that she would have sworn the Turkish forces could hear it.
"I came out to find you." It was said quietly, so quietly that Melinda almost didn't hear it, but then super hearing ran in her family.
"Did you have a question about the Scrolls?" She wanted a negative answer. She really wanted a negative answer.
"No, I just wanted to talk to you. Is that ok?" Now Janice was nervous.
"Yeah, that's fine. Great. Its nice. What do you want to talk about?" Babbling didn't run in Melinda's family, but she was certainly doing that.
"Are you, uh, happy here, Mel?" The Archeologist asked her. Please say yes, please.
"I guess so. I'm not unhappy" At least not now.
"But are you happy?" Janice stressed. Seeing Melinda's shrug she continued. "What would make you happy?"
"You." It was a whisper. Janice barely heard it, and could have ignored it if she wanted to. She really didn't want to.
"I was hoping you would say something like that." The Archeologist felt the wind stir around them as the Universe sighed. "I've begun to like you a great deal. I don't want you to go anywhere like back home. Unless you want to, I mean."
"No. I like it right here. I'm not going to leave you Janice." Melinda promised. "We go together." It was a test. She wanted to see if Janice meant the same thing she did by together.
"Together." Janice reaffirmed. The Archeologist paused for a moment and then leaned over and kissed a startled Mel. "Was that alright? You're not going to flip or anything are you?"
"I'm fine. I don't think could do a flip if I tried." Mel quipped. This time she leaned in, Janice met her half way. They took their time, Janice kept all contact light. She didn't want to frighten Mel by going too fast.
"We have all the time in the world, right?" She asked. Mel, being a little short of breath, nodded. "Then let's take it slow and easy. Together." She promised again.
"Together." Melinda echoed. "Julie was right."
"How so?" Janice was confused by the sudden change in conversation.
"You are one great kisser." Melinda had the distinct thrill of seeing Janice blush for a change.
Janice stood up and brought Mel along with her. "Why don't we go shopping on Monday. We can take off and go to one of the larger villages. And I can get my laundry done."
"That sounds good." Mel stood up to her full height, and then took advantage of it by leaning down and kissing Janice. "Maybe we should go back and go to bed." She blushed again at Janice's upraised eyebrow. It had taken centuries before anyone in her family could do it, and Janice, although she didn't know that, wasn't going to let the skill go to waste.
"I know, separate tents. Separate beds. Shared dreams." Janice took Mel's hand and led her back to the camp.
Together. They both thought.
In the Fields, certain spirits were giving one another high fives, while two were claiming their rewards from each other. The Universe sighed again. The Fates warned it against sighing. That's how comets collide. It replied that this time, two hearts did. Two souls were rejoined. Together.
end
#xena#xena warrior princess#xena/gabrielle#xena/gabrielle fanfiction#mel/janice#mel/janice fanfiction#author: blue dragon#mature#femslash#fanfiction
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Oh, Those Summer Nights. (Part 7) (Brendon Urie x Reader)
Another night spent holed up in a hotel room, lounging lazily atop the crisp linen of the unfamiliar bed and absentmindedly flicking through TV channels. Tyler and Josh were scheduled to play a show at the Sonics Arena about a half hour out tonight, and a quick glance at the bedside alarm clock told you that they were only seconds away from going onstage.
You had opted to sit out of tonight’s show, having so far been to virtually every other one on this tour, and chose to rather stay in your suite; hotel nights weren’t too common while on the road, after all, and you wanted to get the most out of the luxurious boarding before being re-confined to the cramped tour bus for the next however many weeks.
The only problem was that without the boys and rest of the crew, you were alone. Now usually, that would’ve been absolutely fine by you but tonight that wasn’t the case.
It could’ve been a subconscious thing – a side effect as a result of the complexity of the whole Josh/Brendon situation – but you had the unusual desire to be in the presence of other people, prompting you to gather your jacket and purse and slip on some shoes before heading for the Italian restaurant you had passed on the corner of the hotel’s street.
You could really do with some pasta right about now.
~
Brendon lips curved into a huge fake smile. Normally, the smile would have been real, but he wasn’t feeling in the happiest of moods this night. His facial muscles relaxed a moment later, after a blinding flash went off.
He blinked a couple times to rid his eyes of the attack of white light before wrapping his arms around the two fans on either side of him in quick yet affectionate hugs, assuring them it was no problem as they continuously thanked him for stopping to indulge their request for a picture.
Waving his hand as a final goodbye, Brendon continued on his way, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket and watching the way his breath transformed into little wisps of fog as he exhaled. There was an undeniable chill in the air tonight. In retrospect, he probably should’ve recognised it as foreshadowing that no good would come from the next few hours, but he was too headstrong to even give that so much as a wavering thought.
He had come to Seattle for one reason and one reason only – and that reason was currently sitting alone at a table for two in the restaurant he was strolling past, leisurely sipping a glass of iced tea while scanning over the menu.
Brendon’s breath hitched when he caught sight of you, and his footsteps halted. You were sitting in the farthest corner from the front window, almost entirely sheltered from the peering gazes of passing pedestrians. But even so, he spotted you immediately; it was as if he had a sixth sense solely dedicated to all things you.
Every fibre of his being was encouraging him to rush into the eatery, gather you in his arms and just kiss the hell out of you. And after a slight moment of hesitation he decided to do just that.
Well, part of it, anyway.
The rushing in part, to be exact. The other two parts would come later.
Hopefully.
A fresh gust of frosty air whizzed into the restaurant as Brendon opened the door and strode inside. The air inside was toasty – thanks to the heating systems installed in every corner – so the singer shrugged off his coat and slung it over his arm before tangling a hand in his hair and neatening it up a bit.
He started for your table, heart pounding so loud he could practically hear it and an adrenaline overload pumping through his body. His mind was on a rampage with thoughts of what he was going to say to you. It had been all he could think about on the plane ride over, during which he was able to craft a respectable mental outline of what his speech would entail. However, as soon as he had begun walking over to you, that outline disintegrated, and so he went with saying the only thing he could in this situation.
“Hi.”
You didn’t have to raise your gaze from the menu to know who it was – you could sense him. Your lips parted in a small sigh as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t expected him to show up again at some point, but you figured that he would at least have enough of a grasp on the concept of ‘privacy’ to choose to make his appearance at your hotel door instead.
But this is Brendon we’re talking about; you should’ve known better than to expect anything less than a public declaration of his love for you.
Said declaration didn’t seem to be happening yet, though, so you turned to look up at him. He gave you a weak smile filled with so much optimism it almost made you cave right then and there.
But you renounced the urge and rather returned his greeting. “Hi.”
“Do you…” he moved his eyes and cocked his head to gesture at the empty seat across from you, “Do you mind?”
Leaning back in your seat, your shoulders slouched as you sighed heavily and extended a hand to indicate that it was fine.
Brendon moved awkwardly, slinging his coat over the back of the chair before languidly seating himself at the table. He cleared his throat and rested his forearms on the maroon tablecloth; it was clear that he was on edge.
You stared at your ex with a blank face. Brendon used to be able to read you outstandingly well, but it seemed as though that ability had degenerated a decade ago, because over the last year or so, he found you to be wholly unreadable.
There had been a significant change in your character – you weren’t the girl from that summer eleven years ago anymore. And while Brendon loved that – loved the person you had become – it admittedly threw him completely off the rails. He had absolutely no idea how to speak to you, and he’d been failing miserably at it up until now.
Everything he said to you seemed to come out in a way he hadn’t intended it to, resulting in you becoming increasingly pissed off at him. From here on out he wanted to make sure not to make any more linguistic mistakes, which is why the two of you sat in silence – just staring at one another – for a solid three minutes.
At the precise moment that Brendon decided to open his mouth to speak, the waiter appeared and asked for your food order.
“Oh, uh…” Brendon startled, doing a quick once over of the menu before looking up at the waiter, “I’ll have the alfredo, and a lasagne for the lady. Extra cheese.”
He handed the menus over, mentally praying that he’d gotten your order right and that your preferences hadn’t changed; he exhaled in relief when you didn’t object.
“Certainly,” the waiter nodded slightly, “Anything to drink for you, sir?”
Brendon reached a hand up to his throat, which he suddenly realised was uncomfortably dry. “Just a glass of ice water, thanks.”
With a polite smile, the waiter turned and headed back to the kitchen and Brendon turned back to you.
“You remembered,” you intoned, the tiniest of smiles tugging at your lips; Brendon perked up ever so slightly at the sight, thrilled that he had gotten something other than a rage-fuelled reaction from you.
“Yeah,” he susurrated, running a hand through his puffy hair as he tossed you a lopsided grin, “How could I forget? You finished practically the entire dish by yourself when the restaurant served it at the buffet that one night.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest and shifting your gaze around. Brendon’s laugh sounded across the table and you couldn’t supress a few giggles of your own. “I was so sick the next day.”
He laughed even harder. “You were crying, saying how you were never eating it ever again, and then-“
“I ordered it for lunch the next day,” you nodded, laughing too as you shook your head at the memory.
“You were so stubborn,” he shook his head, leaning forward on his forearms as he smiled at you, “You wouldn’t even let me look after you when you were sick.”
“I didn’t want you to see me all ‘ugh’,” you defended, holding up your hands and arching your brows, “Sue me for trying to keep the romance alive.”
“The romance was very much alive,” he scoffed, cocking one brow at you with a slight smirk.
“Yeah, ‘cause you forced yourself into my hotel room and took care of me anyway so that I was back to normal before the sun even set. And then we…” you trailed off, letting those three words hang in the air as you averted your gaze downwards and delicately chewed on your bottom lip.
Both of you knew exactly what you were referring to.
“I’ve had tons of amazing nights in my twenty-plus years, but that night was without a doubt the best night of my life so far,” Brendon spoke, voice so much gentler and amused smirk replaced by the sincerest of expressions.
You looked up at him through your lashes and swallowed.
“I say ‘so far’ ‘cause,” he gulped, gaze flickering to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes, “I hope that some night in the near future will top that one.”
With slightly quivering hands, you raised your iced tea to your lips and took a sip to soothe your all-of-a-sudden-parched throat before setting it back down with a harsh respire.
Setting your elbow on the table, you tangled your hand in your hair and lifted your gaze to meet Brendon’s.
“Bren, I think you should know… Josh and I… we’re… kinda…” you stumbled over your words, not being able to fully enunciate the point you wanted to get across.
What you were able to get out was enough, though, and Brendon’s body visibly stiffened. He was silent for a long moment, staring at you blankly as he let the idea properly sink in. When he eventually did speak, it wasn’t what you’d expected to hear.
“Okay,” he nodded, pursing his lips, “I get that.”
You tried and failed to mask your bewilderment. “You do?” you gawked.
Another nod. “Yeah. I mean,” he ran a hand through his quiff and shrugged, arching his brows, “It makes sense. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”
You were thoroughly perplexed at this point; Brendon’s reaction practically contradicted all of his words and actions over the last few months. He picked up on this confusion, and tossed you a light smirk before leaning forward again.
“I am upset about it, obviously, but I knew it was coming,” he explained, fingers absentmindedly swiping away the condensation on the outside of his glass of water, “Just… can I ask why?”
You cocked your head and frowned; Brendon sighed.
“Are you with him because you want to be? Or is it because of circumstance?”
“Huh, that’s funny,” you muttered, rolling your tongue along the inside of your cheek.
“What is?”
“Tyler asked me the exact same thing.”
The singer swallowed, shrugging again and slanting back in his chair. “Guess you could say he’s rooting for me in this one.”
“Right.” You cleared your throat, eyes marginally squinted in suspicion.
The waiter came by with the food, setting your meals down and asking if you needed anything else. After you said no, he turned and made his way back to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to tuck in.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to leave.”
“You haven’t said anything to piss me off that much,” you shrugged, cutting a bite from the lasagne, “Yet.”
“Obviously my main goal here is to win you back – and I will achieve that goal if it’s the last thing I do – but,” he looked at you earnestly, “for now I’ll settle for you not wanting to strangle me every time we have a conversation.”
“Mm,” you narrowed your eyes and took a sip of tea, “I wanna be friends with you, Brendon; I’m totally on board with that. But you’re wasting your time trying to win me back, because I assure you that it’s not going to happen.”
He nodded, somewhat mockingly.
“I’m serious,” you dropped your fork and steeled your gaze, “I’m over you.”
“Alright, babe.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
You groaned. “If you know, then why are you still trying?”
“Because… If you’re really over me,” he reached over to brush your hair out of your face, letting his fingers linger against your skin for a little longer than necessary, “I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again.”
_______________________________
Thank you for reading x
Taglist:
@darknessdancing
@raversam
@username-number-01834
@moosesmoose
@underscoredarcy
@cupcaitlyn96
#brendon urie#brendon urie x reader#Josh Dun#josh dun x reader#patd#p!atd#panic at the disco#panic! at the disco#tøp#twenty one pilots#emo#music#band#bands#band members#band member imagine#emo trinity#emo quartet#imagine#imagines#fanfic
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The White That Blinds
So today is the birthday of @yurax-mae and, as she’s a friend of mine, I wanted to write something for her. I don’t know much about her OCs, Caroline and Ebigail, but I’ve always been drawn to the former’s design. Also, I’m a sucker for a good relationship so I wanted to get this written.
Goddamn it, Mae, would it kill you to tag your posts featuring Caroline and Ebigail? Also, none of your bloody images load. Fix that, damn you.
Oh yeah; happy birthday. Hope it’s a good one, buddy. And hope you like this, too.
Walking knee deep in the snow was one thing. Walking against a storming wind carrying more snow was another. Having to carry her injured best friend all the while through all that snow was almost too much but Ebigail would not, could not give in; she was determined to bring Caroline to safety in spite of the world itself seemingly out to get her.
Her arms were getting tired. She still wore the thick metal cuffs on her wrists. Carol cut the connecting rope but they couldn’t be removed and they were uncomfortably heavy. Not to mention, with how cold it was, it was affecting the metal and it was starting to bite into her skin. To make matters worse, she was wearing a thin white dress and that was essentially it; her shoes were the barest of sandals. Carol was the one dressed for the snow, with her black hooded coat with matching boots and purple pants.
She was so exhausted and tired… The snow-laden winds obscured any hope that waited in the distance, if there was even any to begin with. She couldn’t even see that well anyway as her eyes were growing heavy with fatigue.
This felt impossible. More than anything, she wanted Carol to wake up. The strong, confident Carol who saw rivers, chasms, and mountains as challenges and wastes of time, never as unconquerable forces of nature. She’d have found their way out of this blizzard by now. She’d smirk and tell her they would march out of this like an evening shower as she rolled her shoulders.
Ebi couldn’t believe like that.
Ebi wasn’t strong like that.
Her heart and body were weak.
She was going to die here and take Carol with her.
That thought had to be defied. To defy it was the only thing that drove her on. Carol didn’t deserve to die. Ebi was worthless but Carol had so much to give to the world, more than Ebi ever would.
And yet Ebi knew, in this tundra, that she could not save her.
She begged for someone to save them like Caroline saved her. For someone, anyone, or anything to come in through the winds and take Carol off her shoulders and to safety. They could leave Ebi behind for all she cared; all that mattered was getting Carol out of this hellscape.
Suddenly she could see a tall dark silhouette ahead beyond the snowstorm.
Ebi nearly tripped in her own disbelief. Something was there, something that could break through this. Something that could save Carol, maybe even herself.
Stay awake… Stay awake… Only her thoughts kept her up as she pushed on with one step after the other. If she fell, she’d never get back up. She just needed to get close enough to make out what that object was. She didn’t have the mental energy to guess; all she could do was discover it for herself.
Her vision blurred and dimmed. Her legs and arms were frozen and numb. She couldn’t feel herself breathing anymore. Yet she finally reached the silhouette.
It was a cave. Shelter.
She scurried inside and threw herself on the ground. As rough as the earth was, she was too numb to feel any pain from the fall. The earth was also cold but at least it was dry and she was no longer being buffeted by the howling snow. She rolled Carol off her shoulders onto the ground next to her, relishing in the relief from the load she was bearing.
Free from the wind, Ebi remained lying where she collapsed. Her panting filled the dark space as she got her breath back. She just needed some more energy. She just needed to recharge.
All the while her eyes never left the unconscious Caroline lying beside her.
Ebi could still hear the wind roaring outside. How did she survive getting here thought that, and while carrying Carol? She almost couldn’t feel anything at this stage and yet she had walked all the way here after all this time. She shouldn’t have. Every instinct told her she shouldn’t have been able to make that trip. That’s up to Caroline…
Carol still wasn’t moving. That was to be expected, given the trek through the snow, but Ebi felt there should be more to do, that they couldn’t relax just yet. She moved closer towards Carol and rummaged through the pockets of her black coat, hoping she would forgive her for the invasion of privacy.
She found what she needed very quickly: a heatstone, an opaque orange gem in which dwelled a faint yet restrained light. She took it to the middle of the cave and placed it in the ground, although the effort took nearly all the strength she had left. She placed her hands on the heatstone and closed her eyes to focus. She prayed. She pushed her thoughts as hard as she could onto the heatstone, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t faint from exertion before...
The heatstone started shining. Its light pierced its husk brilliantly, lighting up the cave with a warm light.
It brought an energy that already invigorated Ebi to smile.
She then collapsed on the ground. They had shelter. They had light. They had warmth. Now Ebi could finally sleep, having hope.
“… wake …”
The voice came to Ebi, although it was muffled by her exhaustion. She had no strength to open her eyes, much less respond in kind.
“… Eb, wake up…”
Oh, it was Carol’s voice. Ebi would’ve smiled if she was able. She felt sad for not being able to respond to Carol, even if she was tired.
“Eb, you okay?”
She tried as hard as she could and managed to breathe out a “Yeah…”
“Ah, alright. Take it easy. Snowing hard out there. We’re not getting out for a while.” A thud sounded throughout the cave and Ebi could tell it was from Carol sitting down as abruptly as was natural for her.
The heatstone was still active; Ebi only just realised she could still feel its warm light. At least they didn’t die from the cold. And yet Ebi still felt sore and frozen in her arms, legs, and face.
She slowly opened her eyes. The heatstone was bright as usual and Carol was indeed sitting down next to her, but also looking at her. An eyepatch covered one of her eyes, under which the ends of a scar escaped from the top and bottom, but Carol still looked friendly in her own way. She smiled and raised a hand in greeting.
Ebi couldn’t move her head but she did her best to smile back.
“The hell happened, by the way?” asked Carol. “How’d we end up here?”
“Carried…” Ebi panted. “Me… you…”
Carol’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you carried me? All the way through all that snow? To this cave?”
“Mhm…”
Carol leaned back, taking a breath. “Wow. Didn’t know you could hike.”
Neither did Ebi. She still didn’t think she could.
“Oh, and, uh… thanks. Appreciate it.”
Ebi didn’t hold the delay against her. She was sure Carol was thankful even if she didn’t express it at first.
“Your face is really messed up, by the way.”
“Huh…?”
“Yeah, like…” Carol leaned down towards Ebi to look closer at her. “The right side of your face looks like the back of a crab.”
What did that mean? Did she mean her face felt hard? Ebi couldn’t tell; she felt numb and frozen.
“Might be frostbite? You must’ve been out there a while.”
“Mhm…”
“Your toes look pretty bad as well. Like bad sausages.”
Ebi couldn’t see her toes from this angle but she’d take Carol’s word for it. She trusted her, much like she trusted how she couldn’t feel her toes.
“And you look pale all over…” Carol frowned. “Damn it, Eb, why didn’t you take my coat? Or even my boots? You walked all the way here.”
She knew Carol was concerned for her. She didn’t think much of herself but she at least knew Carol wasn’t angry with her. “Cold…” she muttered.
“Huh? Yeah, what about it?”
“You’d… be cold…”
Carol regarded her with a flat expression. “Yeah, it’s snowing. And you’re wearing a huge tissue. You needed warmth more than I did.”
“No…”
Carol raised the eyebrow of her one visible eye. “No? No what?”
Ebi looked away from Carol. “I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what? What’s going on?”
“I’m…” Ebi bit her lip. “I’m worthless…”
“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa.” Carol quickly yet firmly placed a hand on Ebi’s shoulder. It was a practiced gesture, not an instinctive one. “No you are not worthless. I know worthless people and you are not worthless. You need to stop telling yourself that.”
“But…” Even as her eyes trembled, she still looked back at Carol. “What am I good for? You’re so strong… You look after me… All I’m good for is getting saved and wasting food and time on… I can’t help you… I can’t help anyone…”
“Says the girl who walked through that much snow and got me into a warm cave.”
“So…? You weren’t supposed to be there anyway. You went there to get me out of trouble… It’s because I’m here you’re getting hurt…”
Carol sat back down again. After a moment, she grinned at Ebi. “I think it’s cute we have a lot in common but that’s one thing only I should think.”
Ebi blinked suddenly. “What…?”
Carol pointed a finger at her eyepatch. Without being touched, it flipped up. The good news was that there was still a whole eye under it. That said, the eye’s schlera was black and the iris was the yellow of a predator hiding in the bushes. You could call it whatever you liked but it was not a human eye.
“Remember this?” asked Carol. “This—and, well, the telekinesis I guess—should tell you what the hell I’m doing here. You’re not meant to help me; that’s my job. I’ve got the means and everything and I’m supposed to be looking after you. I’m supposed to save you and give you food and time.”
Ebi had to think about her answer. “But why? Who told you that?”
“I did.” Carol pointed a thumb at herself. “I thought, if I’m this good, I don’t need to rely on other people. You’re not this good and that’s why you do. I’m supposed to be looking after you. What good am I if I don’t?”
“But you’re not different from us.”
Carol scoffed, raising the eyebrow of her scarred eye. “You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Carol froze. “Really?”
“You’re so much more than your powers or what you look like.”
There was no answer for several silent moments. Then Carol looked down at Ebi sternly, just as Ebi thought that… “The same goes for you, then.”
Even after double the quiet that Carol was granted, Ebi had no answer for that.
Outside, the snow was still raging. How long had it been since they got inside this cavern? They had no way to keep time in here but it felt like it had been days.
“Alright, that does it,” said Carol, standing up with a grunt and flipping her eyepatch back down. “We can’t stay here any longer; you need a doctor. I’m carrying you.”
“What? But Carol—”
“And this time,” she began as she slid off her coat, revealing a frilly pink undershirt, “you’re wearing my coat.”
Carol took Ebi by her wrist and pulled her up into a sitting position but that was as rough as she was going to get with her. As she put the coat on, she was gentle and patient, even as she struggled to pull the coat’s wrists over Ebi’s metal cuffs.
It was a very warm coat. Thick and heavy, too. It was just Carol’s style and Ebi could see why she wore it all the time. Even then… “Carol, please, I shouldn’t wear—”
“Eb.” Carol picked up Eb and carried her on her back. “You’re right about one thing.”
“Huh…?”
Carol smirked at her. “I’m strong enough. We’re gonna march out of this.”
Without waiting for an answer, Carol strolled right out of the cave into the snow.
Writing this taught me that I have three goals:
1) Find out how to start sentences without pronouns.
2) Find out how to write short stories that aren’t just conversations where the characters are doing jack all.
3) Make my friends happy.
Happy birthday, Mae. I’m lucky to know you.
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Weighting
If you’ve grown weary of mid-life navel-gazing and revelations, you can skip this one; I promise not to take it personally. Caveats are us.
I’ll soon be 56 and in general have found my 5th decade to be kinda neat. I finally appreciate all the menopause jokes first-hand, I’ve gotten better at saying “no” to things I don’t want to do, I’ve stopped feeling guilty about not being able to fix everything and stopped feeling responsible for other peoples’ happiness. Like most females my age, I was raised to compromise and keep the peace, to be a good neighbour and host, to avoid rocking the boat, and so on. Some of those lessons have stuck, others not so much, but a few of the qualities of older woman I have admired through the years are starting to show signs of appearing in me. And that is a good thing. Sometimes. Mostly. I think.
At this age, my bullshit tolerance has gone way down. I have discovered I can get to the point more quickly and still manage to be polite. Whiter hair means I get taken a little more seriously and I am not above using that; its nice to be the recipient of a seat offered on the bus instead of the one offering. I still stand for my elders but if there are youngers around I am content to let them step up first. Youngers expect me to say either wisely profound or naively stupid things and I enjoy mixing them up deliberately. Sometimes something comes out of my mouth that I don’t expect and I find myself thinking; “Hmph..not bad.” knowing I may not remember it tomorrow. A dicey memory has it’s advantages; I can summon a wide-eyed innocent face and hold it for at least 4 seconds before it's obvious that I’m lying. You gotta be quick.
It takes me longer to do most things, the days go by much faster than they once did, and if something has to give it may as well be the BS. The problem is that having learned not to give room to anybody else’s nonsense means I have also been forced to face up to some of my own. Damn, there’s always a catch.
I’m pretty active. I use my body a lot in some of the jobs I do and I am the labour force around the house as well. I have never been much of a runner (don’t enjoy it) and have been an intermittent cyclist (unpredictable knees), but could traditionally walk for miles with or without a dog, swim till my muscles turn to jelly, and dance until the wee hours. I go to the gym 2-4 times per week to do both treadmill and strength training. I volunteer regularly, usually in physical ways. I do yoga on and off, especially in winter. But I am 5 feet 5 inches tall and 275 lbs. (Not even my heaviest) My heart is really strong as are my muscles. But I have gotten away with too much for too long and the BS I feed myself needs to be re-portioned for better digestion and distribution.
The following statements are true:
I am broad shouldered
I carry a lot of muscle
I come from a long line of larger people, female and male
I know exactly how to eat well and exercise effectively. I even taught it.
The next statements are also true:
I avoid mirrors because the chassis does not reflect the sassy; it shocks me every single time I see myself outside of my own head.
I use a CPAP machine because of apnea, my weight prevents me from restorative sleep if I don’t.
I take a medication for pre-diabetes, another for blood pressure and a third for GERD
I rarely dance in public any more because it looks like there’s a litter of puppies squirming around my middle, in my back pockets, and under my chin.
I stopped playing guitar and singing in public because I physically cannot reach the fret board comfortably or breath well enough to hit the notes fully.
I am slowly losing the ability to do some of the things I love most.
So, navel-gazing (and critical thinker that I try to be) has shown me a few home-truths. Some but not all of my behaviours are learned. Think about how we use food to celebrate or punish: “It’s Christmas, have some more boozy fruitcake!”. “If you don’t behave yourself, you’ll get no dessert!” “Its a buffet, better get your money’s worth.” “ Clean your plate, other people in this world are starving.” We all heard and sometimes have perpetuated those messages. We are surrounded by Super-Sized everything, packaged for convenience and crammed with stuff our bodies don’t actually need much of.
And some of my behaviours are totally self-imposed. Tim Hortons cheese tea biscuits and a coffee on the way to work at least 3 mornings a week. Choosing potato chips over a handful of grapes. Not eating enough protein or drinking enough water throughout the day. Slouched in a chair with the laptop, reading nonsense articles. Having one more slice of pizza because I can. Fries on the side of anything eating out. Buttery toast at 9pm. The common denominator is that those choices are easy and fast. No thought, no planning, just unconscious cruise-control laziness. Satisfying the subterranean sugar miners.
I’ve known for years about emotional eating. Mum fed us when we were upset and when we had done well. Lean years meant inexpensive carbs that filled the belly; bread was the go-to, as were potatoes. Mine was the first generation to experience pre-packed, processed foods that meant less time in the kitchen. We were the fast food generation, feeling all modern and chic and powerful in our freedom to have anything on the menu. Those menus created some false expectations and some serious side effect habits hard to break. I have contemporaries who are addicted to diet soft drinks and lite cigarettes, all of them intelligent and capable people.
Raised to be a people pleaser, I learned early to swallow my negative emotions, stuff them down and drown them in something momentarily satiating. I also learned to feed others, to make sure they had plentiful choices and second helpings. I still enjoy cooking, hosting picnics and brunches, and I still over-do. Which means leftovers. Which must not be wasted. Becoming waist-ed instead.
And, like any child, I don’t like to be denied or told what to do, even by myself.
I was reading recently that we carry our heart-aches in the form of extra pounds around our middles., that we quite literally pad our hearts against hurt by insulating them in extra fat. I got thinking about it and realized that that rings some truth for me. I did not too badly until I got married in order to breathe life into an already troubled relationship. We’d been together a decade and it made sense to take that next step as a way of cleaning the slate with a public declaration. Lots of people have done it, and it seldom works. I lived with a person who did not hesitate to express volatile and complicated emotions but could not hear mine. She would graffiti the room in complaints and blame and walk away feeling ever so much better, but leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. Pointing it out, asking for accountability, disagreeing, only made things worse. I had neither the patience nor the courage to stand my ground and insist on equal space. But I developed literal guts by eating the frustrations that the situation left me with. I enabled her behavior and I enabled my own. The fatter I got the more she pointed it out and we both behaved badly in our own ways in response. So, in time and out of desperation, I ended the marriage and ultimately it was the kindest thing I could have done for either of us. But even that I had to do alone. She needed someone to blame and I just needed out.
But here we are all these years later and its only now at this age that I can understand and articulate all of that. I am in a much healthier and much more balanced partnership with someone who loves me for who I am , yet I am still distracting myself from fears and failures with dis-comfort food. The yelling is all internal. I am finally safe enough and loved enough and wise enough to address the real issue, which has always been mine. Its about courage. That’s the key I have come to understand that I am looking for.
There’s the kind of courage which will spur you to rescue a drowning person, pull a child from in front of a car, or march on government in a protest on behalf of human rights. There’s a kind of courage upon which we float our hopes for the inherent good in people eventually winning out against the world’s evils. I think I understand those ones, and can probably call on them as needed.
But the courage I seek is totally an inside job; its that nugget of risk deep in my fears that grows into the courage to change both habits and perspective. It’s the courage to believe that scarcity is unlikely to ever be an issue and it’s okay to not be stuffed beyond the ability to feel and move freely. Its the courage to fail, more than once, in the quest to do better. Its the courage to let go of those nasty looping messages in my memory banks, fed to me by those loved ones and collaterals fighting battles of their own with tools as dull and pointless as mine. Its the courage that understands perfection is not a real goal, but self-awareness and self-forgiveness, and self-appreciation are attainable once the self-loathing and shame are shed like the tired, prickly moth-eaten cloaks they always were. It will take a bit of faith, a bit of discipline, and the determination to just keep trying, no matter what, that even giving up is allowed to be temporary as well as a stepping stone.
I recently began a project of helping others to tell their stories. The biggest and most awkward gift in that process is that I also need to tell my own. Honoring the truth of my history as well as my dreams, knowing that some things can change and will, with or without me. I’d rather be part of making choices on a more realistic and balanced menu than remain a victim of the one I have advertised to myself up to now. With a side of compassion. Hold the B.S. please, I’m adulting.
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Let’s Get Out of Here Part 4: Animal Kingdom
Summary: Bucky and Y/N spend the day discovering Animal Kingdom
Characters: Bucky Barnes, reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 2063
Check out previous parts here
Sunlight streamed through the open slot between the curtains and landed directly on Bucky’s face. He scrunched his nose at the sudden intrusion and turned over so his head was under the blanket. You sat up in your bed and yawned, stretching your arms above your head.
“Wake up Bucky!” you exclaimed. “We can’t be late for breakfast!” You scrambled out of the bed and grabbed some clothes.
“Five more minutes, Y/N,” he mumbled, sleep lacing his voice. You yanked the pillow out from under his head as you walked into the bathroom. Bucky grunted and sat up.
“You’re going to regret that!” he said to the closed door. “I’d like to see you try!” you called back. He rubbed his eyes then got out of bed. Walking over to the curtains, he pulled them back and stepped onto the balcony. Even though it was early, the air was warm. The lake glistened in the morning, and Bucky could see some people jogging through the resort. In the distance, Cinderella’s castle sat quietly. He still felt guilty about last night, but he was determined not to let it ruin his day.
“How are you feeling today?” you asked, coming out onto the balcony with him. He nodded and said, “Much better. I’m starving though.” You grinned and pushed him back inside. “Then get dressed and let’s go!”
You and Bucky finished getting ready and headed downstairs. Armed with your backpack, some snacks and a plan, you guided him to a restaurant called Chef Mickey’s and told him to check in with your name. Before he could protest, you dashed over to the lobby check-in desks.
“Um, I have a reservation under Y/N,” Bucky said to the hostess. She checked her book and nodded. “Yup, I have two for Y/N right here. Let me show you to your table.” She walked to the dining area and Bucky stared in awe at the rows of buffet tables. His mouth watered at the sight of eggs, pancakes, waffles, and more. He could hear bacon sizzling on the other side of the room. The hostess showed him his table and left.
You came into the restaurant, and Bucky waved his hand to catch you attention. You walked over and handed him something that looked like a bracelet. “Here, put this on,” she said. “It’s your MagicBand. It’s connected to our hotel room and it helps us get into the parks faster. I forgot to buy them last night.” Bucky slipped the smooth band over his wrist and examined the green Mickey head.
“Okay, let’s eat!” you said, clapping your hands together excitedly.
It was almost a competition to see who could pile their plate higher with food. Bucky grabbed about one of everything and decided to go back for dessert instead of adding more to his already stuffed plate. He dug in and was not disappointed. He sat back in his chair and sighed. The waffles were so fluffy and the syrup was a sticky sweet. The next bite of bacon nearly melted in his mouth. Yup, Bucky was pretty sure he had died and gone to food heaven.
“You know this is a vacation,” Bucky said, pointing to your healthier egg white omelette. “You are allowed to enjoy yourself.” You laughed. “Bucky, I am! I don’t need to clog my arteries with bacon grease to have a good time.”
As you ate, Bucky noticed some of the Disney characters walk into the room. Mickey, Minnie, and two dog-like characters walked in wearing chef coats and fancy hats. One of the dogs walked over to your table. Y/N jumped up in excitement. “Goofy!” you yelled. Your face nearly split in half as you grinned.
Goofy hugged you and pretended to give you a kiss. Bucky pulled out his cell phone. “Can he take a picture?” he asked you. Goofy nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist. Bucky took a picture and showed it to you for approval. You nodded and motioned for Bucky to stand up. “Your turn,” you said. Goofy nodded enthusiastically and clapped his hands. Bucky’s face flushed with embarrassment, but you were persistent.
He stood up next to Goofy and switched places with you. You took a picture and smiled. “Thank you so much!” you gushed. Goofy blew you and Bucky a kiss and left to find another table. He looked at the picture on his phone and smiled. He looked a little awkward, but it was a nice picture of him.
The two of you finished stuffing yourselves with food and left Chef Mickey’s after Bucky paid. He followed you down the lobby floor to the outside of the hotel. “We’re not taking the monorail?” he asked, curiously. You shook your head.
“Nope, we can only get to our next destination by bus,” you replied. Bucky waited for you to fill him in on this “next destination”, but you seemed content to keep that knowledge to yourself. Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer because you pulled him toward a bus that had just parked in front of the hotel.
“Animal Kingdom here we come!” you announced. You scurried on the bus and saved a seat for Bucky, who managed to get stuck behind two families. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his left arm and sat down next to you. “You don’t have to hide that, you know,” you said, tapping on his left arm. Bucky shrugged. “I don’t want the attention,” he said. “Fair enough,” you replied.
Thankfully, the bus drive was fairly short and had you parked in front of Animal Kingdom in no time. This time, Bucky kept up with you as you bounded off the bus and made your way to the park. After you scanned your MagicBands and stepped inside the park, it was like entering a whole different world.
Luscious greenery covered nearly every surface that wasn’t paved as a walking path. Bucky could hear monkeys chirping and lions roaring from speakers hidden in the bushes. It was like walking through a jungle, but with more kids and Disney characters.
“Where are we going?” Bucky asked as you led him through curving paths. You bypassed a tall mountain where a line had already started to form.
“We’re starting kinda small today,” you said. You walked under a large archway that said Dinoland USA. If Bucky thought Animal Kingdom was a change in scenery, this place was something else entirely. Huge models of different dinosaurs were scattered everywhere, and there were even a few skeletons. Bucky turned around in a circle and came face-to-face with a huge T-Rex skeleton. He jumped when a roar blasted through some speakers nearby. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures. Bucky couldn’t help but notice that whimsical color schemes seemed to be the common theme of Disney World.
“Come on Bucky!” you called. “It’s time for our first ride!” Bucky followed you over to a huge building with more dinosaur models outside. “This is called DINOSAUR, and it’s totally epic” you explained, getting in the Fast Pass line. You held up your MagicBand to the turnstile and Bucky did the same. A few short minutes later, you were inside, climbing inside a Jeep-like cart.
The ride was mostly dark with the exception of some strobe lights. More green foliage covered the floor and the Jeep traveled through the Jurassic period. Bucky was about to turn and tell you how boring he thought this ride was when everything went pitch dark. “This is the best part,” you whispered next to him. Suddenly, the cart jerked to a stop and the whole room turned red. A large T-Rex jumped out of nowhere and launched right for your Jeep. Bucky screamed and scooted back in his seat while you covered your head. The Jeep quickly accelerated past the T-Rex and drove to the end of the ride.
Bucky’s heart was still pounding in his chest as he climbed out of the cart. “That. Was. AWESOME!” he exclaimed, as you walked out. “Yay!” you laughed. You made him stop and look at the picture the ride had taken right as the T-Rex popped up. His face held an expression of pure terror while yours was caught in a mid-scream, mid-laugh. You insisted on buying it and placed the fresh print in your backpack.
You made your way through Dinoland, checking out all of the exhibits. You both held on for dear life as you rode the Primeval Whirl. Bucky proudly won you a small Goofy stuffed animal at the Fossil Fun Games, and you snapped a picture of him standing under the Tree of Life.
After a quick lunch break, you insisted that Bucky couldn’t leave Animal Kingdom without seeing the actual animals, so he let you drag him on a wildlife safari. Animals Bucky had only ever seen on TV jumped from tree to tree as you traveled through the jungle and savannah. He stared admirably at the large tigers roaming right near your safari car. Snapping lots of pictures, Bucky couldn’t wait to tell Steve about this when he got back home.
Bucky would never admit it, but he his favorite animal interaction was the butterflies. A cast member handed you and Bucky small cups of sugar water and beckoned you inside the butterfly exhibit. Butterflies with splashes of red, orange and black fluttered around him and landed on his arm to drink from the cup. Carefully pulling his phone out of his back pocket, you took some pictures. The look of awe on his face was amazing. Despite his tall, intimidating stature, Bucky was extremely cautious and gentle with the butterflies so he wouldn’t hurt them. He shot you a childlike grin as you took a particularly good picture of a butterfly that landed on his nose.
“While I like looking at all the animals, I’m kind of ready for something a little more...thrilling,” Bucky admitted as you walked back toward the center of the park. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the ride,” you replied, giving him a wolfish grin. You walked toward the huge mountain Bucky had seen when you first arrived at the park. A sign welcomed them to a ride called Expedition Everest.
Because of your Fast Passes, you and Bucky reached the front of the line in a relatively short amount of time. Bucky admired the various decorations and props to make it look like a real mountain expedition. You climbed into the roller coaster and Bucky got nervous again. This was nothing like the small thrill rides he used to go on at Coney Island with Steve when they were kids.
A loud clanking filled the tunnel and the coaster rode back into daylight. It wound through small valleys and peaks until it rolled in front of the massive mountain. As it the cart traveled up the mountain, Bucky could see the entire park from his vantage point. He couldn’t admire the view for too long because the cart stopped at mangled tracks. Bucky looked at you confused. “How can we keep go-” he started. Then, the answer became crystal clear as he felt the cart slowly roll backwards.
Everything passed Bucky is reverse. He expected to see the same sights as before, but instead, his world was plunged into darkness. You screamed as the coaster continued to pick up speed. Bucky gripped the seat bar tighter as his stomach flipped and flopped. All of a sudden, the cart stopped and a spot of light appeared. A huge monster-like created jumped into view and ripped the track it was standing on. It let out an ear-splitting roar.
Before Bucky could process what he was seeing, the coaster was moving forward again back into daylight. The cart rode faster and faster around turns and up and down hills until it was encased in another tunnel of darkness. Strobe lights flickered and a huge Yeti hung down from the ceiling. You and Bucky screamed in surprise and began laughing as the ride slowed down and went back to the loading zone.
“Again,” Bucky said breathlessly as he stumbled out of the cart. “I want to do that again.” You beamed at his excitement and grabbed his hand to lead him to the back of the line.
#bucky x reader#Bucky Barnes is a cinnamon roll#disney world#fluffy bucky#roadtrip bucky#road trip#fluff#james bucky barnes
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My 5 Husbands
Chapter Seven- Minho’s Date
10508 word count without space
I do not own SHINee but I claim the idea as well as Kasumi
_________________
When the van came to a stop, Kasumi sat up in the seat, and wiped at her tear streaked face. She looked at Minho and smiled softly. In that short time, things between them had changed. He was no longer looking at her like she was something filled with disease, but he now looked at her as if she were someone worth looking at.
His eyes held her gaze for a long time before the corner of his lips tugged up into a lopsided grin. “Is my makeup running?” She asked, feeling paranoid after having cried in his chest. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb under her left eye, his smile never leaving his face.
“You look perfect.”
Kasumi smiling shyly, feeling her stomach fill with butterflies. He was doing this to her. “I look like a mess.” The words caused his smile to drop, something she hadn’t noticed as she turned to stare into the rear view mirror, trying to wipe away the smudges of her eyeliner. Minho shook his head, reaching out to take her hand.
“You look perfect.” Putting emphasis into the word ‘perfect’, he turned her face to him and smiled. “Let’s go.” Reaching with the other hand, he opened the side door of the van and climbed out, holding her hand as she carefully climbed out behind her. Curls tumbling over her shoulder, she adjusted the hem of her skirt while he closed the van door. “Are you ready?” Taking her hand back in his, Minho lead her toward the entrance of the building, holding the door open for her to walk in before following.
They were seated at a beautifully decorated table with a red table cloth, a vase of red roses, and a bucket of ice chilling a bottle of champagne. Kasumi smiled, her eyes taking in the romantic setting. Mr. Dam had really outdone himself. “Compliments of the owner, Mr. Dam.” The waiter pulled Kasumi’s chair from the table, motioning her to sit before scooting her in. Minho sat across from her, his eyes never leaving her face as he continued to smile sweetly at her. Her eyes locked on the handsome face of her date, she paid no mind to the waiter pouring them each a glass of pink champagne. The table had a nice view of the chef’s bar, though her eyes had yet to leave Minho’s since they had sat down.
“Wanna go get some food?” He asked, motioning to where to buffet sat. Kasumi nodded, both of them moving from the table and walking over to the bar. Looking around, she saw all different kinds of beef. Minho looked around and called the chef over. “Do you make ramen here?” Kasumi smirked. Something they had in common were their love for spicy ramen. The chef apologized and said that they did not cook ramen, leaving the two disappointed.
“What do you say we leave this place and you can show me a good ramen restaurant?” Flashing him a flirty smile, Minho’s smile brightened immensely, leaving her breathless with her heart pounding rapidly. She was falling in love with that smile, and it frightened her.
“I know just the place. Stay here.” Walking away quickly, she watched him place money on the table before rushing back to her. He took her hand once more and lead her out of the fancy restaurant, taking another glance in her direction. He opened the van door, letting her slide in first, then climbed in beside her. The man driving them turned to the two and raised an eyebrow. “Hakatabunko.” The smile on the man’s face told her that Minho went to this place a lot.
Ten minutes later, Kasumi staring out the window as they drove, the van stopped. She looked around, wondering where they were before following Minho out of the van.
Adjusting her skirt, she spotted a small restaurant nestled between two buildings with the name Hakatabunko. She smiled. The place looked cute and homey as Minho lead her past the white curtains and inside a small cute building. There were only six different tables, and the two were lucky to find one last table available. He ushered her to a table where a woman took their order. “Two bowls of tonkotsu ramen, thank you.” Kasumi nodded that she agreed, happy to allow him to order for her. Besides, she enjoyed Kyushu-style ramen back home.
“You come here often, Oppa?” She asked, sitting her best so that no one could see up the skirt of her dress.
“Not as often as I’d like.” His smile was infectious as they sat contently in their small talk. “I usually have chungyang red peppers with me to add to my ramen, but I wasn’t expecting to be here tonight.” Kasumi giggles, imagining him bringing a small bottle of his own chungyang peppers to add to his food. “What’s so funny?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow her way as she tried not to laugh again.
“Just picturing you with a secret stash of peppers in your coat pocket when you go to ramen shops.” She admitted with a blush, noting the boyish grin that was plastered over his face. He was definitely handsome when he was smiling like that. Her chest tightened, her heart beating wildly with admiration.
“Don’t laugh. Not many places carry chungyang red peppers, ya know.” His response only made her giggle more, his smile widening as he listened to her musical laughter. “On second thought, please keep laughing. It’s very cute.” Her face turned scarlet as she became silent, blushing awkwardly as she shifted in her seat.
“You’re too cute, Oppa,” she confessed, smiling shyly at him.
Thirty minutes into him telling her about the time a fan tried to steal his peppers from the table he had been eating at, their waiter walked back over with two big bowls of steaming hot ramen. She sat the bowls down in front of them before bowing and leaving the two alone once more. Kasumi took a sniff of her ramen, her stomach rumbling softly at all the delicious scents of the beef broth. “This looks delicious.” She commented, picking up her chopsticks and moving around her noodles in the broth.
“It is.” He assured her, picking up some noodles with his chopstick. She smiled, following suit, and took a bite. Flavor burst inside her mouth, dancing on her taste buds as she used the spoon brought over with her bowl to help her get the rest of her noodles inside her mouth. A smile flashed over her lips as she was reminded of home. They ate in silence for the most part, their eyes saying it all. She was falling for him, and she was starting to believe the words Jonghyun had spoken hours ago. Maybe he did like her as much as they said?
“I think we should get home before the guys send the manger out to find us.” Kasumi smiles, glancing at the clock on the wall. They had been sitting at their table laughing and flirting for almost two hours now. She smiled.
“It doesn’t seem like we’ve been here that long.” She said, standing up from the table to leave. He nodded in agreement, placing money on the table before taking her hand in his. Kasumi smiled happily. He had never held her hand so willingly before, yet now, every time they walked anywhere, he took her hand in his. It was a happy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she never wanted to lose.
They walked out of the small shop, their fingers laced together like they were a couple, as he lead her to their parked van. Reaching for the door, the way he had been doing all night, he ushered her inside before following suit. The two sat quietly in the back, Kasumi cuddled into his side as he held her close. “Thank you for such a wonderful night, Minho Oppa. I had a lot of fun getting to know you better.” Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew that he was smiling with pride.
“Me too,” he whispered, resting his cheek on top of her head as he gently held her closer. Breathing in through his nose, her coconut shampoo filled his senses. It was a scent he would forever have etched into his memory.
.
.
When the van pulled to a stop some time later, Minho looked down to find Kasumi fast asleep. He smiled before frowning. Unlike Jonghyun, he didn’t think he could climb out of the van without waking her, so he gently kissed her head. “Kasumi-ah. Sweetie, we’re home.” He gently shook her, feeling bad for having to wake her, but finding it necessary.
A groggy moan filled the silence before she shifted off of him, rubbing her eyes in the manner that reminded him of a child. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.” She mumbled, turning to look at him through foggy eyes.
“Don’t be. I didn’t mind.” He smiled sweetly at her before opening the van door and climbing out. Minho turned around, holding his hand to help her down.
“Arigato, Minho-kin.” Sliding her hand into his, she allowed him to help her down.
“Your welcome.” Closing the door softly, the two walked toward the front door. She leaned into him, enjoying the way he held her as if she wanted no one to take her from him. As if she was his precious gift.
When they entered the house, they found everyone sprawled out in the living room, they eyes glued to the television, but glancing up when they walked in. Everyone smiled. “Welcome home. How was your evening?” Jinki asked, sitting on one end of the couch he shared with Kibum, who wore a pair of glasses as he held a book he was closing in his lap. Stretched out on the floor was Taemin, his chest resting on a fluffy blue pillow.
“It was very nice. Minho Oppa took me to his favorite ramen shop.” Minho closed the door as Kasumi slipped out of her shoes. Her feet touched the cool floor boards, soothing her aching soles. “How was your night?” She smiled happily at the three, looking around for her missing husband. “Where is Jonghyun Oppa?”
“Our night was good. Kibum cooked Dak Dori Tang (a spicy Korean chicken stew) tonight.” Moving her eyes from Jinki to Kibum, who smiled like it was nothing special, stood from the couch.
“Jonghyun Hyung is cleaning up.” Kasumi walked over and embraced him, her head on his chest as his arms encircled her body. “You must be tired after today.” He whispered, his hand smoothing over the back of her hair softly. Kasumi nodded against his chest. “Want me to tuck you in?” Looking up at him, her chin on his chest, she smiled. He was treating her like a princess and Kasumi was enjoying it.
“Yes please.” Smiling, she stepped out of his arms and looked at Jinki and Taemin. Walking to her oldest husband, he stood, towering over her like everyone else, and wrapped her in his arms. “Good night Jinki Oppa. I hope you sleep well.” Leaning on her tiptoes, Jinki leaned down and kissed her lips softly.
“Sleep well, na sarang.” He whispered against her lips, hugging her close. “Sleep well.” Squeezing her once more before allowing her to move on to Taemin.
The younger male stood, towering over her as well, and hugged her tight to him. “Sweet dreams, Noona.” He whispered, feeling her arms tighten around him.
“Good night sweet, Minnie.” She leaned up, passing her lips against his cheek, taking in his scent before they pulled away. She squeezed his hand affectionately before walking over to Minho. He smiled down at her, his admiration for her on display as he leaned down and embraced her to him. “Thank you for a wonderful night, Minho Oppa.”
“Thank you for spending such a nice night with me, Kasumi.” She smiled, kissing his cheek before embracing him lovingly. He had just admitted to enjoying her company, and that made her heart soar. “Sleep well.” Stepping back, she walked toward Kibum, who stood waiting patiently by the hallway, and picked up her heels before following him toward her bedroom.
The two walked into the cold, air conditioned room, Kibum flicking on the bedside lamp as Kasumi closed the door. She set her shoes down in her closet next to her dozens of others, before tugging up her dress and pulling it over her head. She laid it over the arm of her bedroom wicker chair, standing in a pair of matching black lace panties and bra.
Walking over to her dresser, she pulled open the top drawer and took out her black silk slip with the sheer lace hem. She laid it on her bed before picking up her robe and wrapping herself in it. “I’ll be back, Oppa.” Kibum nodded, seating himself on her bed as she left the room to clean her face and change.
The bathroom was misty and spelled like pine needles. Jonghyun must of just left. She closed the door and turned the sink in, picking up her face soap and setting work lathering her face. She washed away all the oils and dirt from the makeup she wore that day before taking her hair down and brushing the curls out. She looking in the mirror at her reflection and smiled.
Entering her room with a clean face, her hair pulled back in a loose French braid, and her bra left in the bathroom, she took off her robe and laid it too on the rim of her chair. In her bed was Kibum, dressed in grey sweatpants, no shirt and bare feet. Her eyes wandered from his feet to his abs, and up to his feet. Their eyes met, his lazily taking her in as she stood at the door. A knock sounded behind her, making her jump. “Expecting someone, Jangiya?” Kibum asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No..” Kasumi turned around and opened the door.
#Kinky-Kpop-Writer#my stories#my work#my words#kpop fanfiction#shinee fanfic#shinee fantiction#shinee#my fanfiction#my wirting#wattpad#SHINeeHouseWife#my story in tumblr
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