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ablogcalledrevenge · 4 years

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Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter Two

As much as Starkiller was a failure in your eyes, you wouldn’t deny that it made certain things easier. You didn’t have to worry about planting politicians in the Senate if said Senate had been blown up. Still, the vacuum that left in the galaxy needed to be filled. Smaller planets and peoples were left without leaders or guidance and they needed to be reached before the Resistance got there. That had been your mission for the past few months.

You and the General had been sending triple encoded messages back and forth, discussing which politicians to endorse and which to drop. There were plenty of First Order sympathizers even with the demise of Starkiller but they couldn’t be too headstrong. They had to be open to suggestions and molding. A true puppet government wouldn’t work right now, you’d have to build up to it. So with his ideas and some of your own in mind, you traveled under the banner of the First Order, going from planet to planet and spaceport to spaceport, sowing pride and loyalty for your cause. For your husband’s cause.

You had married in a beautiful but small ceremony, wanting to appeal to the grandeur of the old Empire while also acknowledging the salary of a General, even the most important one. Your father regarded the whole affair with bemusement, focusing on brown-nosing the guests and drinking expensive liquor. Your mother regarded the whole day with tired chagrin, knowing she couldn’t really complain without seeming sour and ungrateful. Perhaps it was petty, but after years of being ignored and put down, you relished in your joy. In the end, everyone got what they wanted. Your brother got the job, Hux got his money, and you got your foothold.

Then, as the night drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel flutters of something in your stomach. You wondered what kind of experience you had coming. There were rumors about General Hux’s predilections and you wondered which were true. You were not above using sex as a way to get what you wanted from him, and he was very handsome in his dress uniform. But when you left the party and went to your suite, General Hux had merely squeezed your hand, kissed it, and then retreated to a side room to work. The air turned cold after the door between you whooshed shut and unsure of the swirl of emotions inside you- anger, betrayal, sadness, relief, happiness, confusion, embarrassment- you went to bed. Two days later, you left for your mission and he for the Finalizer.

And now you’re coming home, or what would be your home for the foreseeable future. You had plans to settle planetside but that would be a few years off. The ship was a small one, only big enough for yourself, two pilots, and a small group of Stormtroopers for your protection. They were all good, hard working people and you ingratiated yourself to them easily. It was never too early to start getting allies. Despite coming from a noble family, you were an outsider to the First Order. The more people you had thinking of you fondly, the better off you’d be should disaster strike.

The Finalizer comes into view- massive and imposing, and your breath catches in your throat at the truly awesome amount of power it holds. The co-pilot, mistaking your gasp for romantic excitement, turns towards you with a fond smile.

“Eager to get home to the General, my Lady?” He asks, his aged face looking kind. You glance down as if embarrassed but then quickly look back at the viewport and sigh. You couldn’t truly miss your husband, you’d been in contact with him these whole four months. The encrypted messages, though pointed and factual, made you feel something akin to closeness. You spoke of ambition and treason and he never spoke down to you but instead took your ideas into consideration. It was honestly the perfect way to be married. You never had to see him, but he still did everything you told him too.

“Oh yes! These past few months have been difficult but the Order must always come first. I know my dear husband has been so hard at work and getting to see him in action will truly be a gift.” You say with all the breathless anticipation of a newlywed. The pilots chuckle and nod, perhaps remembering their own youth, and the ship is silent until you land in the loading dock. If you roll your eyes anymore they’ll pop out of your skull.

The Stormtroopers gather your bags and walk behind you as you exit the ship onto the Finalizer. The landing bay is a large and open area, bright floodlights hitting the silver walls and floors in a way that makes the whole place shine. It is also very cold and unfriendly. No one stops to greet you when you finally stop walking, barely anyone gives you a second glance. It’s honestly insulting. As a general’s wife, as the General’s wife, you deserve more respect. That’s not even including the fact that you are technically still a member of the ruling noble class from your home planet. At least your retinue of Stormtroopers remains behind you, loyal to a fault.

The sound of boots reach your ears and a young woman comes into view, the bands on her arm suggesting her rank of Lieutenant if you remembered correctly. Stopping in front of you, she bows slightly and you give an indulgent smile at the action.

“Good evening Lady Hux, I’m Lieutenant Stynnix. General Hux has asked me to take you to your quarters and help get you settled in.” She says, clearly impressed or at least interested in you and your dress. You bristle anyway, the insult of your own husband not coming to greet you being more important. Clearing your throat, you nod in her direction and follow her out of the landing bay and towards the officer’s quarters.

You don’t pay attention as she guides you through corridors and in lifts. You’ll make the General give you a tour later. This would be a way to speak to him and also annoy him, and you were always an expert at multitasking. Using a code you didn’t know, Lieutenant Stynnix opens the doors to General Hux’s quarters.

“The General has provided you with a datapad. All of the codes you’ll need are there, as well as a few forms you’ll need to fill out for your medical profile. You can set up your fingerprint analysis with this and send messages to anyone on the ship within your clearance level.” She explains, handing you a shiny black datapad, bigger than your hand but not unwieldy. You want to sound petty and ask exactly what clearance level your husband had so thoughtfully assigned you to, but you hold your tongue.

The quarters were large, certainly comfortable for two people. The doors opened to a sitting area, sparsely furnished. There was a low coffee table and one black leather chair. There was no artwork but there was a floor to ceiling wall of transparisteel, showing the beautiful stars as you traveled through space. Across from the coffee table and against the other wall was a light blue couch that looked uncomfortable. You admired the color, interested at it’s addition in such a utilitarian room. Next to the transparisteel wall was a simple desk, covered in flimsi and models. It was neat and organized and you wondered if moving something over an inch would set a klaxon off. There were doors leading to other rooms, probably the bedroom and refresher, maybe a kitchen?

You turn in a circle, the silver and pink cape of your traveling dress twirling around you. It wasn’t a perfect space, far from it, but it could work. It just needed a feminine touch and some warmth; you could provide that.

“Yes, this will do quite nicely I think. Thank you Lieutenant Stynnix. I appreciate you getting me settled in. You’ll have to forgive me though, I’m very tired. I would like to unpack, start filling out those forms, perhaps even eat something.” You say, putting your hands on your hips.

“Of course my Lady. If you’re hungry, you can call up for a droid. The control panel for the lighting and temperature in your quarters is next to the door. The General has tasked me with acclimating you to life aboard a starship so if you need anything please feel free to send me a message.” She says with a click of her heels and a salute. You’re about to apologize for the task of babysitting you but instead she seems proud of her assignment. You decide you like Lieutenant Stynnix and having her in your corner will be a benefit. Plus, it’s always nice to have other women to talk to.

You thank her again, kindly and sincerely, and she leaves. Your bags are sitting on the floor next to the door and you let your shoulders sag. Sinking down on the blue couch, you make a noise in surprise at it’s comfort. Like everything else in this room, it looks hard and more for show than actual use. A beeping sound starts and a mouse droid enters, zooming around the room before stopping at your feet.

“Yes?” You ask, amused at the little droid. It rolls back and forth for a moment before a transmission plays.

“This is a message from General Hux of the First Order. Welcome aboard the Finalizer. I will return to my quarters at the end of my shift. 1900 hours. Please prepare yourself to meet the troops. Fill out the forms.” The automated message repeats and you break out into laughter. What a romantic, your husband was. Still, it would be exciting to stand in front of the assembly of the First Order. Your first introduction as their Queen, even if they didn’t know it. You do have some time to change but you decide against it. It will seem more cost conscious and humble if you appear in your travel attire. Besides, it was extravagant enough to work for a simple address.

“Yes, I will. Thank you.” You respond, reaching down to pat the little mouse droid. It chirps as if used to such treatment and retreats back into it’s charging station. More pieces are added to the puzzle that is your husband. It was never a bad thing to be kind to droids and it suggested kindness in other areas that would hopefully be revealed to you soon enough.

There was a chronometer on the desk and you realize the General will be returning sooner than you thought. Now that was something you’d have to speak to him about. You knew he didn’t like his first name but you certainly couldn’t call him “the General” for the rest of your life. Perhaps he had a nickname or enjoyed endearments? You’d have to ask him at some point, lest you embarrass him. You barely liked the man but you needed to appear united, and him jumping in shock if you called him Snookums on the bridge would work against that.

Squaring your shoulders with resolve, you get up and explore the rest of the rooms. You’re right about the doors. One leads to a small galley kitchen filled with more mugs than usable cooking equipment. That works for you; used to being served meals. Your husband likes Tarine tea and apparently nothing else. It suits him, the thought of the bitter tea making your tongue go dry in your mouth. It was almost sad, how much of General Hux’s life lacked sweetness and comfort. Did the man do anything for the simple pleasure of it? When you made him Emperor would he even enjoy it?

Slamming a cabinet door and stalking out of the kitchen, you avoid the idea. Opening the door to the bedroom, something makes you pause before entering. You suddenly remember your wedding night, the shame and anger coiling inside of you. From the doorway you can see that it’s a simple room featuring a large bed with black sheets and two night tables. There is a dresser and an armoire and you wonder if your clothing will even fit there. Your clothing and various accessories are very important to you and you will not give them up. There is an open archway leading off to what you assume is the refresher but you close the door and return to the sitting area. The bedroom is not for you and you feel unwelcome trying to force your way in right now.

How horrible of your husband; to make you feel so unsettled in your own home! That’s your bedroom too and yet you avoid it like the bed will swallow you whole. You’re probably safer in there then out by his desk. He certainly wouldn’t touch you among the sheets if his past behavior was anything to go off of. You feel the urge to cry suddenly; the emotion strange and choking but you hold back. Now is not the time, especially at the start of your journey. You have no reason to cry, everything is going well. Just because your husband refused to greet you in person and has a dark, bleak home doesn’t mean you can break down. You don’t even know why you need to cry anyway; nothing is wrong, nothing bad has happened. You unpack and attempt to imagine your life here instead.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, a beep sounds and the door opens. You stand and face your husband as he enters, your hands resting at your sides to avoid fiddling with your dress or jewelry. His eyes scan your form briefly, more mechanical than appreciating, but you can’t help the way your heart skips when his bright eyes meet yours. The uniform is not a very attractive one and not even necessarily flattering but it fits him impeccably and you admire the striking figure he presents with his greatcoat. Were you other people, you’d run to his arms and kiss him madly. But you’re not other people, you don’t want his love, just his participation and obedience.

Still, you smile as he walks towards you, pleasant and welcoming. He removes his hat and tucks it under his arm. He is speechless and you’re not quite sure why. Has the sight of you after so many long months truly arrested him? You didn’t think he considered your beauty that amazing but you would take the silence for what it was.

“Welcome home, it’s so wonderful to see you again.” You breathe out with all the sweetness you can muster. There’s no reason for you to put on an act for him, he knows of your ambitions but seeing him in person has made you want to be affectionate. You have been alone for four months.

“I hope you had a safe and comfortable journey. You look well. I know the officers are eager to meet you after my speech. As for everything else, we can discuss it later. Do you need more time to get ready? This will be broadcast to the First Order systems.” He says, before breaking away from you and going over to his desk. He moves a sheet of flimsi over to the left and you smirk behind his back.

“No, I’m alright. Unless you don’t think this is appropriate? I’m used to galas and lunch gatherings, not addressing the entirety of the military and government. Perhaps I’ll add a circlet?” You ask, not caring about the answer at all. You want to get this over with, you want to discuss your progress and start the next phase of your plan.

“It’s fine, your dress is very becoming and fitting of your status.” He says brusquely before softening a little. He seems to consider his behavior and his shoulders drop causing you to freeze in shock.

“Forgive me, it’s been a very long day and I won’t deny that I’m tired. (Y/N), you look very beautiful and I’m glad you’re here. I’ve enjoyed talking with you these past few months and I look forward to doing it in person. I am proud to introduce you to my fellow officers and subordinates. Please, let’s go.” He says, the ice that surrounds him melting a little. You give a genuine smile and give him your hand. The leather of his gloves feels warm against your own gloves and while he doesn’t smile in return, his gaze is less severe. He looks so young this way, so approachable. Were he any other man, you could see yourself falling in love with him.

Heading towards the bridge is an interesting exercise. Everyone must have been alerted to your presence because Stormtroopers salute and bow as you both pass and officers move out of the way to let you ahead. This is the behavior you were expecting and you give them all elegant nods. Perhaps it’s not true respect, just marvel at your unstandard dress, but you’d take their approval in whatever way you could.

Entering the bridge causes a hush to fall over the room and you give a soft smile in response. Glancing at your husband, he leads down a walkway and towards the windows. The stars will be your backdrop as you’re introduced to your future subjects. You see Lieutenant Stynnix and give her a playful wink; she blushes.

They’re setting up the cameras when you finally come face to face with Kylo Ren. He is ominous, tall and dark with an unforgiving mask. Your hand twitches with the urge to touch it and feel the grooves. You’re not sure if his title is one of actual nobility but you curtsy anyway.

“Lord Ren, it’s nice to finally meet you. The General has mentioned you often and I’m eager to know if his assessment of you was correct. I have a feeling you will exceed any expectations I have and I look forward to getting acquainted.” You say, keeping your voice soft and mind blank. You were told that Kylo Ren could read minds and so you thought of simple things to make him skip over you. You thought of unpacking and cleaning your quarters, your nervousness at addressing the Order, your husband’s profile against the blackness of space.

Kylo Ren’s only response was to cock his head at you and then walk away towards a corner. You feign confusion and disappointment and turn back to General Hux. It seemed the Force user was a very different kind of beast. You wonder if your family would be watching the broadcast and the thought fills you with malicious glee.

The address actually had nothing to do with you but this would be your first appearance in front of the First Order. There would be a little placard under the footage of you, declaring your new name and place in the universe.

A throat clears and you face the camera as a red light turns on. General Hux squeezes your hand and steps forward towards the center of the bridge. There were a few cameras moving around and one was focused solely on you.

You were live in front of the galaxy, your galaxy, and the surge of pride that entered your being caused a sparkle in your eyes that people would talk about for decades to come.

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If asked about it, you wouldn’t be able to say what your husband talked about. During his speech, you focused on keeping your face pleasant but neutral while occasionally sending adoring looks his way. Let them think you vapid and simple, let them underestimate you. They would learn the truth in time.

After the broadcast ends, Hux in a surprisingly display of cleverness and foresight, returns to you and takes your hand. You don’t expect him to kiss you in happy exhilaration; it would be out of character for the staid man. But showing the crew small affectations of intimacy would endear you to them.

You’d done your research on the troop’s view of General Hux, especially after Starkiller. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they hated him, distrusted him, and ignored him. But instead, it seemed like the crew respected him more. They admired him for his calm under pressure and his acknowledgement of failure. They didn’t believe Starkiller was his fault and gave him more trust and loyalty. The First Order loved General Hux with a level of fanaticism that inspired you.

If they thought he loved you and respected you, they’d fall in line. All you had to do was keep up a good reputation and blush in front of your husband a few times and they’d support you in your endeavors. They would listen to your flesh and blood General before the flickering image of Snoke. While your path to power wouldn’t be easy or quick, it was nice to have built in supporters.

Several officers approach you, awe in their eyes. Lieutenant Mitaka stammers out a hello and bows far too deeply to you as did the other younger officers. The older colonels and captains address your husband first before grasping your hand with approval. The female officers compliment your dress and composure. Captain Phasma, resplendent in chrome approaches but does not bow or genuflect.

“Welcome aboard the Finalizer Lady Hux. Your work the past few months has not gone unnoticed and the Stromtroopers who you traveled with spoke very warmly of you.” Her modulated voice giving no indication of her emotion. You hate all these masks, they make you feel so uneasy.

“Thank you Captain. The same goes for you. Your Troopers are expertly trained and I felt well protected with them. I didn’t expect anything less from someone as revered and respected as you.” You say, looking up and up at her. General Hux’s hand touches briefly at your lower back before moving away and the gesture is unexpectedly sweet.

The parade of people you have to meet seems never ending but at last it does. As General Hux leads you back towards your quarters, you recognize your path. Learning this ship is easier than you thought, though you’re sure if left to your own devices you would get lost.

“I’ve ordered dinner for us. I imagine you must be hungry.” He says as the pneumatic doors close behind you. He removes his hat again and places it on a table before heading into the bedroom. At a loss for what to do, you follow him, breaching the threshold.

“Yes, thank you. I am hungry.” You assume you’ll eat at the small table in the kitchen. There’s no space for entertaining here and that makes you frown. You’re not expecting to throw dinner parties but as a wife and nothing more for the time being, your home will be your work space. Perhaps you could commandeer a meeting room for such an occasion and only focus on small groups for the sitting area.

He nods at your agreement and taps out a few things on his datapad before taking off his gloves and laying them gently on a night table. His side obviously; it’s already been chosen for you. The sight of his bare hands stuns you and you sink to the bed unknowingly. There is an elegance to his pale hands, a grace to the long fingers and short, manicured nails. You wonder if they’re as soft as they look and if they will be as cold as the rest of him. He doesn’t notice you staring as he disrobes, or if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

The greatcoat comes off next and he looks so much smaller without it. He looks less like the megalomaniac you know him to be and more like a regular person. Even without the breadth his coat affords him, you still enjoy the shape of his body. You like a man you can overpower. There is something effortlessly beautiful about your husband, a sharpness to his features that shifts into curves and keeps him from looking too old and severe. His nose and cheekbones lend an aristocratic air to him while his tapered waist spoke of good proportions and decent breeding. His hair would need some work, the vibrant color dulled by gel and plastered to his skull. You understood that there were certain rules about grooming but even just a little less would be nice. His hairline was strong, he luckily wouldn’t go bald too soon. Yes, you could enjoy seeing him age, that much you decide.

“Dinner should be here in a few minutes. You can put your clothes in here, although I fear we may have to get another one if all your dresses go out like that.” He says with good humor, gesturing to the armoire. You couldn’t decide if you were offended by the statement or in agreement. You did have dresses with fuller skirts and flamboyant sleeves- though you were no Padme Amidala- so another bureau or armoire would probably come in handy. You’d need at least two drawers for your jewelry and headpieces alone.

The door chimes and General Hux leaves the bedroom, you following quickly behind. A droid enters pushing a cart and he directs it to the kitchen. It smelled surprisingly delicious, and the relief you felt at not having to eat the officer’s rations was palpable. General Hux smirks knowingly before setting the covered platters down and thanking the droid. A surge of affection went through you at that, charmed by his behavior.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked but I knew you wouldn’t eat the normal meals officer’s get. Perhaps you could make a list of food you prefer and we’ll get that to the cooks for the future.” He says, taking off the covers to reveal a fragrant and juicy looking fowl with colorful vegetables and mashed tubers. His own meal was a protein pack and the strange sludge you knew the officers ate in the mess hall. It almost put you off your own dinner. How sad, that he was the leader of the First Order and he still ate the same things his lowest subordinates ate. His tastebuds must be shot.

Him having better tasting meals wasn’t necessary to your plan but it would make you feel better. His well-being mattered to you and it would be very uncouth for an Emperor to still be eating rations when everyone around him was eating penne all’arrabbiata. You would improve everything in his life, get him used to the luxury of his new life.

You eat in comfortable silence, commenting on the food occasionally. It seemed that outside of his grandiose speeches, your husband was not a talker. Better for you, you had plenty to talk about.

After dinner, he sets the trays back onto the cart and wheels it outside for a droid to return to the kitchen. An awkward air settles around you as you wait for him to do something, anything. He goes to his desk and turns on a projector, fingers tapping at his datapad. Apparently it is time for work.

Throwing your hands up with a groan, you go to the bedroom to change into sleep clothes. You might as well be comfortable. If your nightgown also happens to be very flattering and thin, then that was a coincidence. You return quietly to his desk, looking at the spinning holograms for a moment before turning his chair around to face you. His look of consternation makes you chuckle.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough work for today? You promised we would talk and I have a lot to say. There’s so much to figure out. All of this can wait.” You say, knowing that you could be wrong and he could rebuff you like your wedding night. But he doesn’t disagree or yell at you. Instead, he gets up and leads you towards the blue couch. Curling up on the cushion, legs tucked underneath you, he retreats to the bedroom. You’re about to start screaming about his cowardice at abandoning you once again when you realize he’s getting into his sleep clothes as well. Through the open door you watch him remove his boots with a jack and the sight of his socked feet strikes you as so vulnerable and innocent. You don’t see him remove any other clothing and you don’t know whether to be grateful or discontented with that.

He returns to the couch, and to you, in a simple black shirt and soft black pants. Does the First Order make no other clothing? Is everything black and red and white with the occasional grey? No wonder they all stared at your colorful gown.

He reclines next to you and settles a gentle hand on your knee. You can’t feel it through your gown and you keep yours in your lap. You are still conflicted in your desire to be close to him.

“Tell me about your trip, (Y/N). What do we control and what comes next?” He asks, your name coming from his lips making your skin buzz. Any anger or annoyance you experienced earlier dissipates and a smile appears on your face, wide and wicked.

“We control it all. Ando and Atollon are under the First Order banner, as are Iego and their moons. I went to Eriadu and spoke with many older Empire families and they are in full support of the First Order’s current conquests though they still seem bitter about losing Hosnian Prime. Despite the fact that the planet was the home of the New Republic, they miss the exports. We should look into replacements. It may seem silly but we need the support of the Empire. We need their money and their influence, especially on the Core Worlds.” You say, grabbing your data pad off the coffee table and showing him the current statistics. They weren’t one hundred percent accurate but they gave a good overview of the First Order’s reach across the galaxy. Your finger swiped across the screen, showing him the profiles of the people in charge and the current approval rating. All in all, it was very promising.

“Excellent. I’m glad the families on Eriadu didn’t cause you too much trouble. I find them exhausting and foolish but you’re not wrong. We do need them, as much as I loathe to admit it. Promise me that when we take control we’ll ship them off to a work camp or an ice planet and ignore them.” He asks, rubbing his eyes. The brief show of his exhaustion causes a flare of worry to rise in you.

You gently remove his hand and kiss his fingertips, correct in your assessment that they were cold. He doesn’t stop you, moving his hand to caress your cheek. It’s the most he has ever touched you. It’s a lot for him to do this, you can tell. It’s obvious that the General has never known soft and gentle touch. Unlike on the bridge when everyone was watching, his movements here are hesitant and slow. You reward him for his bravery by turning your head in his grip and kissing his palm. It warms under your lips and you think it’s a fitting metaphor.

His face is still and calm but his eyes have taken on a peculiar quality. It is intrigue but of a different kind than you’ve seen before. It thrills you and gives you hope that this could perhaps become a true marriage. You would’ve been happy with just a understanding partnership filled with contentment. But his reaction to you suggested more. Your kiss turns into a bite and he raises a red eyebrow in challenge.

“I promise.”

Chapter Three Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @girl-next-door-writes, @renaissance-mama, @peqchynero, @the-temple-pythoness, @cupofmoonlighttea, @sincerely-cronch, @brujademente, @potato-ren. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#my writing #general hux #general hux x reader #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #not beta'd #anyone who gets the eddie izzard reference gets 10 points!#to what i haven't decided yet #also i really hope you like it #potential

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tanoraqui · 4 years

Note

“I’m not sure how to split a throne evenly. We all have a sitting schedule?” OT3 :D

[memories suggest that this ask is literally at least 3 years old, possibly 4]

The Palace of Versailles had not been touched by war nor weather in 200 years. The Storm King fell to his erstwhile wife and her demonic relatives, the Golden Coalition shattered, and Simon Voltaire, then just barely done with his time as apprentice to the great Van Rijn, still fighting for Mastery of Paris, spent a frantic 38.5 hours building a shield generator great enough to shelter the whole palace. He succeeded, just in time for the jägermonsters to break upon it and flow around it into Paris itself. Decades and centuries later, he would regret this, would think of the lives he might have saved in the city he truly loved, rather than the symbols of a peace that was objectively broken. But at the time, it had seemed a great victory, and maybe that was worth it. Maybe the symbols mattered.

200 years later, the symbols still mattered, so the new Master of Paris held a great public ceremony as she let down her father’s shields and welcomed the public into the new Museum of Versailles, a tribute to a time lost and an ideal, perhaps, starting to be restored. The bloodstains were preserved along with the gilt, because such things should not be forgotten either. There were trumpets, there were banners, and there were royalty from four continents present.

First, though, several months earlier, she hacked in a small doorway for a few good friends, and described her plans while waving her hands as though gesture alone could summon monuments from the dusty furniture and trappings, could summon ghosts to reenact their stories of old.

“-gem-encrusted, so they were taken as people fled, but many reliable texts speak of the banners of each allied demesnes hanging in this hall, so I’ve already sent out letters asking if anyone still has theirs-”

Tarvek nodded. "I’m sure anyone who could would have kept them, with that sort of legacy. We have Valois, Austerhausitz and von Blitzengaard in the front hall in Sturmhalten. I’d be happy to donate them all.”

“No Wulfenbach anymore,” said Gil, almost believably lightly. “Crushed, or, you know, sold or something. I’m sure we can recreate something, though.”

Agatha linked her arm with his. “We’ll make something better.”

“I wanted to ask you, too, actually,” said Colette. “Can you check your Castle’s treasure hoards, for anything that might have been raided over the years?”

“Of course!” Agatha smiled brightly.

“Wonderful!” Colette grinned back, mischievous as she backed up against a pair of grand double doors, carved with a fleur-de-lis twice her height. “And now…”

She knocked one fist on each door and they swung open as though guided by those same silent ghosts.

The Storm King’s throne room was, perhaps, exactly as expected. There was only one light source, a skylight high in the domed ceiling, but chandeliers of mirrors and prisms caught it and cast it around the room, reflected back from mirrors stretched as ceiling-to-floor wall panels. Alternating with the walls mirrors were drapings of purple and red and gold, some patterned with fleur-de-lis and and others simply the colors of royalty, wine, and wealth. The floor was marble shot with gold in not-quite patterns that suggested lightning; the mural on the dome above echoed that of the secret room in the Library, a pastiche of the Muses hailing Andronicus in battle.

Relative to all the grandeur, the throne was almost simple. Gold, of course, and stylized with lightning bolts that looked like they could spark back to life at any moment. But, perhaps to the credit of Andronicus in life, it wasn’t on a dais of more than a foot, and it wasn’t any larger than a single man needed to sit in. It didn’t look comfortable, per se - the velvet cushion was dusty and moth-worn the lightning spikes on the arms looked uncomfortable to rest ones limbs on - but it looked like something meant for sitting and working in, rather than something for show.

Tarvek walked towards it as though in a trance, reaching out hesitantly even though he was still most of the way across the grand hall.

Behind him, Agatha and Gil exchanged glances, and saw the identical glint grow in each other’s eyes. Agatha started running a split second faster, but Gil had several inches in leg over her. Tarvek glanced back for a split second at the sound of their pounding footsteps - and then there was little that could move faster than a trained Smoke Knight, in the heart of everything they had once guarded.

“STOP, you idiots!”

The Storm King (arguably), the Baron Wulfenbach, and the Heterodyne all froze at Colette’s shout - Tarvek about to sit triumphantly, Gil on the verge of tackling him, Agatha several feet back and winding up to throw a dingbot.

The Master of Paris skidded to a stop before her friends. “It’s 200 years old,” she said, hands on her hips. “It nearly broke when Seffie sat on it, and she’s stones lighter than any of you, much less all of you at once.”

“You let Seffie sit on it?” Tarvek squawked, still frozen with his hands on the lightning-carved armrests. “When?!”

“Yesterday,” said Colette, with a tilt of her chin that dared comment.

Gil straightened as though he hadn’t been on the verge of launching himself bodily onto the dais a moment before. “Seems reasonable to me. It’s just an old chair, after all - and Seffie has good, um, interior decorating taste. I’m sure she’ll help you design a great museum.”

“It would be historically accurate, though.” Agatha’s voice was thoughtful as she tucked the dingbot back into one of many pockets, but the glint still shone in her eyes. “If a Heterodyne broke the Lightning Throne.”

She grinned at her boys. Gil snorted and Tarvek cracked a smile he couldn’t quite suppress.

Colette tossed her head back with a laugh. “Maybe you can all take turns, chéries - once I reinforce the seat.”

#girl genius #iztarshi #agatha heterodyne #gilgamesh wulfenbach #colette voltaire #tarvek sturmvoraus #fanfiction #my fic #agatha #gil #tarvek #colette #'the rest is pointless'#this was going to be slightly angstier and they were actually going to break the chair before i thought to include colette #only slightly - still silly and ot3 content #random anon asks #ask meme?

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unikornu · 4 years

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Page 7, Prearranged

(re-written)

The atmosphere in Nuka Town lost a bit of tension, at least around the operator’s territory, after Red Eye spread out the news after the first victory upon taking the park. Lucy woke up early, still slept in Porter’s room but keeping the promise this time, not searching and digging around his stuff, only stealing a few cigarettes. She dressed up and decided to head to Parlor alone without bothering if Gage is awake.

As the elevator arrived to the parter and the door slid open she bumped into raiders chest.

- Gage, you have been out whole night? She asked, surprised.

- Not the whole night...but ye, most of it. Nisha wanted to have a word after we came back. His face looked a bit more roughed up than usually, even for him.

- Is....everything okay? She shouldn’t care but words just flew out of her mouth as she tried to look closer at his face but he turned it away.

- Ye, just talking, business since we actually moved things onward. You? Where ya headed, Boss?

- To visit Lizzie, need her help with something. I think this might give us a little advantage, at least what i remember from the manual i stumbled upon some time ago. She tapped her pipboy.

- I will join you later, Boss if you still want company. He stepped into elevator and looked at her walking away.

- Sure, Gage. She turned her head and nodded at him before the door closed.

-----

The Parlor guard let her in, losing his usual grumpy expression this time, upon meeting. Lucy headed straight towards Lizzie lab, knocking as usual on the door frame to safely disrupt her from whatever dangerous occupation she was at.

- Mags already heard the news. If you would just see the smile on her face, to be the first one to get the park. Lizzie put her tools aside and turned to her.

-So...you need something more? She asked.

- Ye...look, i have that pipboy but i barely know how it functions actually but i saw it has some special cable to hack into things, maybe robots too? Would be useful if it actually works. Lucy unwrapped the pipboy and handed it to her.

- I only heard about them but never saw one with my eyes. Can i...? She looked at Lucy before even opening the back panel.

- Of course. I can see you know you way around...tech and weapons and God knows what. See if you can figure it out while i’m gone?

- Since you actually seem up for this job, why not, Boss. And you gave us park afterall, might help you further as an...exchange. Lizzie pulled her hair behind the ear and immediately sat at the table, gathering the tools around and smiling, focusing fully on the pipboy.

- Ok..i will leave you to it. As she left the lab she stumbled upon William on her way back out.

- Boss, a pleasure, especially after the yesterday’s venture. He ran a fingers through his hair and pulled his hand forward as he approached her.

- Uhm...just did what had to be done, right? She smiled awkwardly at him and reached for his hand back to shake it.

- I hope you will keep at it, Boss, we all do. Instead of shaking the hand, he took it softly and raised to kiss it, like a pre-war gentleman, looking down at her.

- Oh my...i mean, yes. As Gage walked to the room, geared up, she slipped the hand away. - I have to go, we will talk another time, William. She nodded at him and turned away, surprised by his manners, biting her lower lip.

- Feel free to visit, anytime, Boss. William said at her back, as she walked away.

Gage shook his head at him and left the Parlor after Lucy.

-----

- I need to tell and show something, follow me. Lucy whispered to him as she took lead and passed the town.

- Alright, Boss. Gage obligated and went after her.

They strolled all the way to the raiders famous tree, the one welcoming every new victim takin on the courage to put a step into the train to the Nuka World. Lucy stopped near it and faced Gage.

- How much do you know about Institute? She asked, looking up at him.

- Well, i heard the rumors from the Commonwealth, about synths, replacing people and shit, that they stir some experiments in secret. A lot of fucking shady stuff, Boss. Why? He looked her in the eye, a bit suspicious.

- Okay...listen. As we are through the first step of the job here and i’m actually still on my legs, standing i think its good to tell you this before we move onward. She turned around, scouring the hill beneath the tree, looking for some gap or crack.

- Don’t tell me you freaking work for em. Gage followed her and watched pulling the white crate with the institute sign on it.

- A little hand? She struggled to pull it out, with both her hands placed around the handle, pushing with her legs, as it got stuck on some roots.

- Ok, just move a bit. He leaned down and grabbed the other half of the handle.

As they pulled together, the root eventually cracked enough to finally release the package and send them on their backs as they put quite a bit of force to get it out. She turned her head towards him as they were lying down, noticing the raiders scars and bruises along with the green-hazel color of his eye. Everything looked much cleaner now that the distance shortened between them so much, in a broad daylight.

- So..Boss? He turned his head away as he noticed her staring at him and stood up.

- Ah ye, right, let me explain, now that we got it out and deal seems to be clear. She stood up as well, brushing the dust off her clothes and hands. - I was...well actually i still am, the agent for the Institute, just like Kellogg if you heard of him. But the terms changed a bit...as my position changed too.

- Should i be worried, Boss? I mean...which side to you play, theirs or our? He crossed his arms, uncertain what to think about it yet.

She paused for a moment at the second question but gathered the facts together and the last day, her arrival and point of it.

- I’m on your side, Gage. She looked him straight in the eye. - But this deal might be beneficial for us all and maybe the future, if we get that far. She crouched by the box and opened it. It was filled with ammunition and the newly constructed sniper rifle along with a some calmex dozes hidden beneath.

- So how it would work exactly, Boss? And how are we sure they won’t screw us up? I don’t mean to dislike it but...you know, trust get you only this far. He took the rifle in his hands as she handed it to him.

- They don’t care what we do, they just want data, some devices planted here and there, maybe samples of weird shit we might meet along the way. And in return we get...some stuff, better than what wasteland has to offer, maybe even better than what Gunners have. She nodded at the rifle. - It’s yours, you have a good eye.

- Shit...nice. He looked through a scope and then back at her. - Also, you mean it, Boss? Being by my side? I..don’t mean for it to sound weird, fuck, but you know what i mean.

- I know its been just one trip so far but...it might have been what i was looking for. She smiled and shrugged. - I don’t mean the whole Overboss thing, i ain’t the leader type, but that...lifestyle of yours, not giving a shit and simply, getting through life, grabbing what you want on the way, reminded me of some past. She turned back to grab the syringes from the box and stuff them in her bag.

- So..you up for the next trip, i guess? The wrinkles on his forehead softened as she looked away.

- Yes, i am. And i know where we can test this rifle. She grinned, looking towards the tall bridge in the distance.

----

As they strolled together towards the bridge, keeping themselves in a taller grass and the shadows, Gage suggested it would be better to wait till it gets darker.

- They won’t see us that well and if they are about to launch something serious at us we will also see it better, lighting up. Gage nodded towards the abandoned shack. - Won’t be long, Boss.

- Alright, you know them better and what they can be up to. She followed him inside the shack, filled with hay and...

- Cats? What the fuck? She didn’t hide her surprise as she jumped past them.

- Don’t ask me. Even Mason tried to take them to his zoo but they always stick to this place. No freaking clue why.

- And you didn’t kill them for food? She dropped down on a pile of hay and leaned her back against the wall.

- If we would starve then ye, otherwise...we ain’t that fucking big savages, Boss. At least i know where to look for em if needed. He pulled himself an old rusty chair and sat down as well. - You could a nap if ya want, Boss.

- No...i do not sleep in the open like that, but you should. You have been up almost whole night at Nisha’s. She stared at him, suggesting him to open up the topic.

- Nah, im fine Boss. We just talked about future plans. She wants to be sure i won’t piss her off again like it happened, with Colter. He sighted and eyeballed her.

- I don’t think she is the type to be ever....satisfied unless she is the one in charge of everything. She took a piece of hay and rolled it through her fingers. - I know you got some beating, i can recognize it. She stood up, brushing off the hay and looked back at him.

- It’s nothin new for me, Boss, at least from her. And ain’t much you or me can do bout it now. Gage looked at the window, waiting impatiently for the sun to go behind the horizon.

- Right now, no. But it doesn’t mean we cannot start...thinking about it and stir something on our own. She approached him, blocking the view he was staring at. - I didn’t need much time to feel she will gut us eventually no matter what i do, sooner or later Gage.

- And i thought you ain’t the leader type. He stood up slowly from the chair. -She is dangerous and experienced Boss, maybe most of them all and you just came here so...keep it easy for now, and just for us eh? He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it.

- I don’t need to be a leader to notice shit. It will have to be solved somehow, sooner or later but, ye..let’s focus on a task at hand. She took his hand off and sat back down, lighting a cigarette and awaiting for the darkness to hide them in its shadows.

----

The duo crouched lowly, into the tall bushes. Lucy pumped with fresh dose of calmex and Gage giving a look around through a scope onto the bridge and below.

- Ain’t looking good. I think we will just take down what we can and leave the power armored guy for later. Not like they can do anything else anyway other than duck there. Gage pulled the eye off the scope and noticed that Lucy moved on. - What the fuck are you doin, Boss? He whispered after her.

- Let me take down the ones below, its just three of em. They ain’t gonna hear shit. She whispered back and disappeared swiftly into the shadows.

- Goddamn woman. He pointed the rifle towards her direction, awaiting for her move. He noticed a spill of blood flying into the air from behind the wall and barely keeping up with her movements, slicing the flesh and swinging the knife with a butcher finesse. - Fuck, she’s fast. Gage looked towards the nearby tower and took down a gunner as he stood up, calling for his mates.

They didn’t move, crouching low, making sure no one heard them up on the bridge. Gage walked, keeping low to join Lucy near the shack. - Not bad, Boss but we wont take the guy up with just that, there ain’t much cover either up there.

- With regular ammunition we won’t stand chance but maybe this will do. She pulled a small box with a few bullets for the rifle, bigger this time, glowing with an orange shade shining from beneath the shell.

- Damn, what are these? Gage grabbed the bullets and roll around one of them in fingers.

- A prototype, explosive ammunition for this rifle. Came with that package as well. Might give us a chance actually.

- You ain’t the patient type are you, Boss? Wanting to finish every task right at hand, no matter what. She shrugged her shoulders at him.

- Its your choice. I ain’t going up if you are not up for it. She whispered and looked up, making sure they are still safe.

- You know what, fuck it. I sat enough on ass. If anything i will let them throw you out if this bridge first. He grinned at her and started reloding the rifle with the new ammunition.

- Real gentleman. She snarked and entered the shack with him, stepping into the elevator and sitting low as it raised them slowly up.

-----

Lucy jumped at the gunner as he turned abruptly, pushing him to the floor and stabbing through his throat, to not alert the others.

- Nice moves, Boss. They ran to the next cover, looking from behind the barrier of concrete and metal.

- Ain’t my first time. She shook the blade off the blood and scanned the terrain, looking for any covers and shadows towards the patrol, sitting in the metallic shack, light of the candle glowing in the small opening, their leader walking nearby, looking down the bridge, carrying a minigun.

- How many bullets he will need? She asked.

- I dunno, maybe three if the impact will be as strong i expect. Ya have any grenades?

- I always have a grenade. She chuckled and pulled one from under her chest piece. - Smoke type, to cover us, when needed. Gage found that amusing for some reason.

- If you take care of the guys inside i can focus on the big fucker. Will need few seconds to reload, it can take only one of these bullets at the time. Gage suggested but caught her by the hand as she was about to move.

- What? She crouched back and looked at him.

- Be careful, Boss. She nodded at him and approached the metallic shack, staying low and avoiding trash and junk on her way to not cause any noise. Gage was watching the leader from the scope, waiting for the right moment.

Lucy waved a hand towards him and pulled the pin, throwing a grenade inside and spreading a large thick smoke all around. She didn’t waste any second, dodging around them and slashing. Gage pulled a trigger meanwhile, a bullet flew, crashing on the power armor and releasing a strong orange glow before it turned into energetic explosion. Lucy got blinded by it, running from the shack and hiding behind the building.

- Shit, its strong. Gage noticed her and understood the strength of impact. She couldn’t be near but he couldn’t take a good aim as the gunner started showering him with bullets.

- Right...pistol. Lucy pulled the gun Gage gave her before, suggesting it might prove useful as well. - Hey, i ain’t finished here, come at me you son of a bitch! Lucy started shooting at him, regular bullets bumping from the metallic heavy structure only being an annoyance for the man but it was what she needed. A distraction, from a distance.

- Oh i will finish you soon bitch. Nothing that a bunch of swears and clinging of bullets in the head wouldn’t manage to switch the attention of a man.

- Fuck. He was faster than she thought and his gun probably also upgraded as its bullets cracked through the shack metallic structure, keeping her on her toes.

- Hold on, Boss, Here it comes! Gage managed to hit him with the second fire before he ran behind the building. Lucy covered her face this time and used the occasion, as the gunner was stunned, crouching on his knee. She ran up to him and force-pulled the gun off his hands, kicking it away as it fell.

- Got ya, bitch! He recovered fast, beside his armor reducing to almost a skeleton base but still having its basic functions going, enough to punch her in the stomach and throwing to the ground. He pulled off his cracked helmet aside, steaming from heat. Lucy landed, half stunned on the concrete but seeing him approach her, stomping heavly she crawled forward to expose him again for the Gage.

As she raised her eyes the shadowy steps appeared in front of her, stoping her and freezing in place.

“Wrong Feit! It ain’t what i taught you. Only whores go onto their kness like that” - a voice that haunted her occasionally appeared yet again and vanished right after as the gunner stood up beside her.

- Shit. Gage ran from his cover, putting the third bullet in the rifle and approaching forward till he saw her better, pulling herself on the ground and gunner foot pushing on her back.

- Oh i will kill you, but slowly..so u can feel every muscle and bone crash in your fucking body. He pushed, her chest piece cracking open and putting an unbearable pressure onto her.

- What the fuck you waiting for!? Just shoot for fuck sake! She could take a lot but that was an impact stronger than the usual man force. She knew she was too close to him but the pain slowly became unbearable and she would rather avoid hearing her bones crack.

Gage hesitated and risked a few more seconds, switching the bullet for the regular one. Despite her sudden scream he stayed focused, squinting his eye and holding his breath as he aimed for his head. - Pick up on someone your size fucker! He shouted only to turn his head enough towards him to shove that bullet into his head. The body fell ungracefully to the side, raising up the dust gathered around.

- Boss, shit? You okay? Gage ran up to her and crouched, turning her around.

- It actually fuckin hurts, i can’t move. What took you so long? She grabbed his hand he offered her and with a little help lifted herself to a sitting position as he pushed onto her back with other hand.

- If i would pack that special one, you would not only have your goddamn back cracked but probably get burned or worse. He looked over her for any other wounds. - Can you stand, Boss?

- Not without a little support for a while. I will be fine once i shove some med-x and other shit when we get back. She looked at him, not expecting such behavior and cautiousness from the raider.

- I would rather prefer you not needing too often this treatment in the future. He grabbed her around the waist, helping her to keep the balance.

- But hey, we solved another problem, together. She smiled at him and pat his back as they got lifted back down, leaning to his side. He rolled his eye down, to meet hers for a second and smiled back with one corner of his mouth.

- Hope ya can keep it going, because i have a good feeling about you, Boss.

They came back to the Fizztop but an invisible figure was following them along, rendered so well with the background it remained undetected, entering the Town after them.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #screenshot #thrax's action poses #dat shack with cats...still wish to find more in-game notes bout it

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vmheadquarters · 4 years

Text

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @beezlebobble. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.21 from @DRiver2u - tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER TWENTY by @beezlebobble a/k/a orionseyes

“Wallace!” Veronica exclaimed as she hobbled as quickly as possible, clutching Logan’s arm. Logan dropped her hand as he raced over to the staircase to bend down and check Wallace’s pulse. As Veronica finally neared, he helped her clumsily and painfully crouch down to check on any other injuries Wallace might have. The rest of the group huddled around a very still Wallace.

“He’s alive! But we’ll have to wait to find out if he’s broken anything. I don’t see signs of broken bones, but he must have hit his head and back pretty hard coming down that slide.”

“Looks like a wild ride. Wallace was Slip, Sliding, Away…Slip, Sliding, Away…” Dick crooned as Veronica reached out and smacked his nearest limb hard, which happened to be his leg.

And slide it was. What had been previously a normal, albeit ornately fussy, wood-paneled staircase, was now a long, slick, wooden slide. The steps had collapsed like a funhouse trick and Wallace had been taken completely by surprise.

“Dick, how can you?! Someone’s trying to kill us! And I might be next. They know I’m wearing my Louboutins and I can’t outrun them or walk in the snow! Anyway, they would get totally ruined. Oh God, I almost went upstairs to get something out of my bag, that could have been me! Walter’s unconscious, but I might have been killed!” Gia wailed as she turned and cast herself dramatically into a nearby Luke’s arms. He patted her back ineffectually while Susan and Carrie simultaneously rolled their eyes. They caught each other and started to giggle. Alexis sighed and clutched arms around her middle as she looked down on Wallace’s still form. Duncan and Cole hovered behind Susan and Carrie with concerned looks on their faces.

“For the last time you idiots, his name is Wallace! Veronica shouted. She glanced around the room and rubbed her chin, “This seemingly-luxurious mansion appears to have a ridiculous number of secret rooms and hidden mechanisms, like it was built for the stage or as a movie set. I think we need to figure out what exactly this house is, who owns it, and see if anyone can recall its history.” Veronica had that steely, intent investigator’s look in her eye that made Logan equal parts impressed and aroused. He reached out and pushed a wild lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear.

“Baby, this is why I love you. There isn’t a challenge you won’t face.” He stood up briskly and brushed his hands on his jeans. He then reached out a warm hand to help her rise to her shaky feet.

She gladly took it. It was a solid comfort and she realized that she looked forward to Logan actually being her partner in the future. “At some point, sweetheart, you’re going to have to find me something I can use as a cane. I’m not built for resting. Us Mars’ are hardy, peasant stock, not made for swanning on some low-slung couch like Gloria Swanson. Girls like me gotta give birth in the cornfields and get back to milking the cattle, you know.”

Logan grinned and bent down to sweep her off her feet. “Honey, you need to sit still for at least fifteen minutes while we gather our collective wits and sort this out. Let Daddy Logan make you nice and comfortable.” He carried her carefully back to the living area and deposited her on the plush, heavily upholstered sofa which had been moved aside for the mattresses.

“Hey Casey, you and Dick grab Wallace and move him out here. Lay him out on the mattress by the dining table and we’ll get to business,” Logan directed as he grabbed a blanket to lay over Veronica’s lap. “Wait here a second.” He got up and left the room. A minute later he returned hoisting a leather tufted ottoman that had been in the library.

“In case you want to move around and keep that foot elevated.” Veronica cupped his face and gave him a quick, tender kiss. She’d missed how much he was always taking care of her.

“OK, everyone, gather round! Mother Goose has some stories for you kiddies. First, let’s figure out this house situation. Has anyone heard of this house, been at this house, or known anyone else who has? You’re all Richie Riches, surely, some of you must have visited or heard something.”

“I have never heard of this place, and please don’t call me Shirley,” Dick piped up. Logan reached over and slapped him on the side of his head. “Ow, man, why did you smack me so hard?”

“Shut up and quit fooling around, Dick. There’s at least one dead man and multiple attempts on other people’s lives and you have to keep acting like a fucking donkey.”

Dick grumbled and plopped himself down on one of the mattresses. Everyone else had seated themselves around in a circle.

“My dad used to sail out this way sometimes, but I don’t think he landed on the island or knew the owners. I think I remember something about it being a hotel or inn?” Casey suggested.

“No, I don’t think it was a hotel. There are no exit signs, or a front desk, or a lobby. It doesn’t have that institutional, sterile feel. It feels like someone’s not-so-welcoming home,” Carrie stated. “I’m not sure if I could live here, but it looks like someone did. This island is not exactly inviting.”

“I think you’re right, but I guess it was long shot to think that any of us Southern Californians would have an idea about this place. If only we could boot up Mac’s computer or someone’s phone and try to find more info about this place.” Veronica mulled this over while she stroked the arm of the couch as she leaned back.

“If it helps, I was told that this place had been used for murder mysteries for a really long time. Like, maybe decades? That should help narrow down any search,” Mac offered.

“Did Jen know anything?” Veronica asked her.

“Maybe.” Mac shrugged. “She seemed like she had been doing this for a while, and that the house itself served that purpose for a lot of groups.”

“OK. First, we have to find Jen. For information and probably for her own safety. She might be in cahoots with the killer, or he might have already gotten to her. Regardless, she has info that we need. Second, we are partnering up if we need to leave this room, but otherwise staying put. I don’t think any of you are in cahoots with the killer, mainly because some of you are just not that clever. So that means, everyone keeps an eye on each other. We are all going to leave this island alive. Even Dick.” Dick glanced over and pointed both his pointer fingers at himself as if to say, who, me?

“We know that our suspect is a large male. He managed to drag Leo’s body in the snow to the stable. He tossed me off the balcony like a ragdoll. But it’s entirely possible that he’s just the muscle because the mastermind behind this must be our hostess!” Everyone in the circle nodded in agreement and Alexis shivered.

“The other thing we are going to do is figure out how many hidden rooms, cubbies, compartments are in this place. That means going room by room, tapping walls and pushing unusual looking panels, knots in the wood, carvings, knobs, handles, sconces, books in bookcases, and lifting statue-like things. You’ve all seen it in the movies, so use some of those as guides. I have a feeling our mastermind can’t resist watching us and is hiding somewhere in the recesses of this large, weird house.”

Logan leaned over and threw his arms around her. “My girlfriend is so smart and sexy. You all listen up. There’s no way we’re getting out without Veronica’s help.”

“Your girlfriend, huh?”

“Yup.” Logan popped his mouth to say. “The smartest, sexiest, peskiest girlfriend a lucky goofball like me could have.” He hugged her to him and kissed her firmly on her head.

“Unnnhhhh.” Everyone turned sharply around as Wallace moaned. He groaned again as he slowly sat up while clutching his head. “Oww, my head. Did the Hulk club me or something?”

Logan rushed over as Veronica looked gratefully at him. They truly were going to be a team and it made her heart almost burst to see him showing care for one of the most important people in her life.

“Now, Wallace, you need to be careful. I think you bumped your noggin pretty hard as you came sliding down.”

“Ugh, now I remember! I took the first step and the stairs just disappeared, and that was it.”

“OK, Wallace, you need to lay back down, you might have a concussion.” Logan tenderly helped Wallace lay prone as he gazed up at Logan with a bemused expression.

“Look at you, helping me. Veronica would be so proud.” He sighed and laid back as Logan covered him a soft, camel-colored throw.

“I am proud.” Veronica called out with a huge smile on her face, showing all the affection she felt for him. Logan turned towards her and grinned back. It felt so good to be in tune with each other. They were going to grow together and face whatever the fates would bring.

“I can’t stand it anymore!” Dick cried as he rushed past Casey and pushed him into Cole, who raced after him. He grabbed both handrails and yanked himself to the top of the landing. There was a cry from the next room.

“Yee-haw!” There were some squeaks and then a low rumble as Dick rolled from the base of the stairs into the living area and rose with a flourish. “Ta-da!” Casey took one look at him and took off for the stairs. The next few minutes were chock-full of sound of a flurry of idiots and donkeys racing up the slope that remained of the stairs and hurling themselves down.

“I’m hungry.” Gia whined. “I don’t want pop-tarts for dinner. I’ll just die if I don’t eat anything. My doctor says I’m anemic and should forage at least every two hours. I wonder if there’s anything paleo in this god-forsaken dump?”

“Right, we’re all hungry, but the food is being guarded by Madison's corpse. Do you really want to eat that?” Logan asked, looking around at the glum faces.

Dick chimed in. “I don’t care; if no one else does, we should go for it. Logan cooks a mean pasta. I mean, my doctor says I’m a growing boy and I gotta forage every hour.”

“But pasta is carbs!” Gia complained.

“Gia, god help me, just shut up for once. I think pasta is a safe bet and there’s probably enough down there to feed all of us.” Logan got up and pointed at Cole and Duncan. “You and you are coming with me. I’ll go into the pantry, grab supplies, and pass them to you. We all have to keep up our strength for what lies ahead.”

The three of them headed down to the basement as Veronica leaned back and sighed. This was not going to be easy. Her injury was going to make everything so much harder and really put her at a disadvantage against her two or possibly more hidden foes.

In her hideout, Della watched the screen closely and focused on Veronica. She did not trust that girl. She was always kind of skeevy. Look at the way she ordered Logan around. And he was literally waiting on her hand and foot. It really was disgusting. She would never make Logan do that. She would worship him, and cuddle him, and stroke his hair, and then make delicious pasta meals for him. Pasta, wait? That gave her an idea. She couldn’t do anything to what they were currently going to eat, but she could sneak down there after and prime some of their future meals. Hmm. This was going to be lots of fun. She had the perfect stuff to spike their food. She walked over to the small desk in the room and pulled on its only drawer. Inside was a bottle of just what the doctor ordered.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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180abroad · 5 years

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Seattle & PodCon 2 (Special Post)

For this post, I wanted to share a more recent adventure of mine. This past weekend, I flew up to Seattle to attend a podcast convention. I went with my friend Heidi (@electricabyss), who actually suggested it to me while I was in Europe with Jessica last year.

We landed at SeaTac early Friday afternoon. The flight was quick and easy, and we didn't have any trouble getting through security despite the ongoing government shutdown affecting the TSA. Getting from the airport into town proved simple--if not exactly speedy--by taking the super-affordable Link train from the airport to the main downtown train station, which dropped us off just a few blocks from the convention center and our Airbnb.

Heidi had never used Airbnb before, so I got to share a bit of my knowledge and experience from using it extensively in Europe. I'd managed to find us a very nice place right around the corner from the convention center and considerably cheaper than a double room at the convention center hotel.

After a slightly awkward check-in process, we set out to do some sightseeing. We wouldn't have much free time during the weekend, so we went straight for the place we most wanted to see: Chihuly Garden and Glass.

I was vaguely aware of Chihuly as an artist who created beautiful and extravagant glass installations, and Heidi, being an artist, was very aware of who he is. The museum is clustered together with many other interesting museums right next to the iconic Space Needle.

The museum, which was a pricey but tolerable $25, starts with a quick introduction to Dale Chihuly's career, starting with glass interpretations of Native American basket and blanket designs and moving on to his increasingly stylized and larger-than-life works.

After passing under the gorgeous Persian Ceiling, we saw the truly amazing Mille Fiori (Italian for "thousand flowers").

After some more stunning pieces, we came to Chihuli's Ikebana and Niijima floats, featuring boats loaded with floral and sphere motifs, respectively. We found the Niijima float especially tranquil and calming to look at.

On the wall opposite from the floats hangs a series of "Burned Drawings"--mixed media artworks created by Chihuly after he lost the use of one eye in a glass-blowing accident and had to relinquish much of the grunt work to his apprentices. He turned to drawing as a way to channel his visions into reality, using paints, metallic pigments, charcoal, and even an acetylene torch to create some truly unique mixed-media effects.

Yet another amazing display was the Macchia Forest--a series of scalloped bowls made using all 300 colors in Chihuly's workshop.

Moving outside, we wandered through the magnificent gardens, filled with colorful glass tendrils rising from the ground like a beautiful alien invasion.

At the center of the museum is the Glasshouse, which houses one of the largest and most complex suspended installations Chihuly has ever made. It looks like one continuous string of exploding flowers, but from the side we could see that it was actually composed of many smaller pieces cleverly hung together to give the impression of continuity.

And faintly visible through the ceiling, the iconic Space Needle towered directly over us.

Before we left, we got to see a live glassblowing demonstration by a team of three museum employees. They were using a mobile workshop converted from a vintage Airstream trailer.

It was fascinating to watch them work, and the darkening evening made the glow of the molten glass all the more spectacular. Even though they were only creating a simple cylindrical vase, we were enthralled to see them start with a small, egg-sized ball of molten glass and expand and shape it, adding bits of clear and colored glass along the way.

It was especially impressive to see the way the team worked together with practiced ease, each anticipating and preparing for the others' needs.

After the show, we took one last look into the gardens, then headed over to the Space Needle gift shop, where all of the artwork made by the glassblowing demonstrations is put up for sale.

We made our way to the Armory, a food court in the center of the museum plaza. Most of the restaurants were already closed despite it being early evening on a Friday, but we stuck around since we were meeting up with some of Heidi's old college friends. Afterward, we went home on the monorail, which exists solely to connect the museum plaza with the main train station downtown.

That night, as I tried to sleep on the pullout couch, I was reminded just how nice it is to sleep in a real bed.

The rest of the weekend was dominated by PodCon.

It was the second annual PodCon convention, featuring the Green and McElroy family podcasting empires, as well as a host of other great podcasters including--but far from limited limited to--Roman Mars of 99% Invisible, Helen Zaltzman of The Allusionist, Ross and Carrie of Oh No Ross & Carrie, the Hannahs Hart and Gelb of Hannahlyze This, and Cecil Baldwin, Jeffrey Cranor, Joseph Fink, Symphony Sanders, Dylan Marron, and Meg Bashwiner of Welcome to Nightvale.

Heidi and I were mainly fans of the various McElroy and McElroy-adjacent podcasts, but we were excited to discover new great podcasts and podcasters as well.

Saturday started with a fun opening ceremony. Highlights included listening to Hank Green and Travis McElroy talking about being dads of toddlers, Cecil Baldwin encouraging us all to take a break and appreciate floors, and Griffin McElroy passing on the crown of “cronching.”

Next, we saw a live performance of Oh No Ross & Carrie, which Heidi hadn't seen before. Ross talked about his experiment to see if their ban from Scientology had reached this far north, then they covered a Seattle ghost tour they'd taken the night before. There had been a bit of a mix-up with regard to the question of whether there would be a projector in the meeting room, but Carrie kindly kept us apprised of just how much we would have enjoyed the pictures they'd taken.

It was everything I'd hoped for.

We managed to get into a meet and greet with the Smirl sisters of Still Buffering, including Sydnee McElroy, who also hosts the medical history podcast Sawbones with her husband Justin McElroy, of My Brother, My Brother, and Me and The Adventure Zone. (Confused yet?)

I was able to get my copy of The Sawbones Book signed by Sydnee and Teylor, who did the book's fantastic artwork, and Heidi was able to have a very brief chat with Teylor about art school and continuing to do art even when you don't end up being able to make a full-time living off of it.

All three of them were incredibly sweet and wholesome.

After that, we saw a live performance of Buffering the Vampire Slayer, which neither of us had seen before. Hosted by the formerly married Kristin Russo and Jenny Owen Youngs, each episode recaps an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, reveling in its silly awesomeness while also appreciating its relevance to ongoing social, political, and LGBTQ issues. Even having never seen the episode they were recapping, it was very entertaining and accessible.

Last two shows of the night were Still Buffering and My Brother, My Brother, and Me, the two shows we had been most excited to see. They were both very fun, and the episodes have already been posted this week.

After day's events were over, we took an Uber over to Pair, a fine Franco-Mediterranean tapas restaurant in the university district where another of Heidi's old friends works. The food was absolutely delicious, and for dessert Heidi's friend prepared a special "raindrop cake."

It was… interesting.

The second day of the convention, we saw three panels: one on podcasting with family (featuring Teylor and Riliegh Smirl), one on dealing with anxiety and depression as a comedic entertainer (featuring Justin McElroy), and one on telling complex stories in a simple and accessible way (featuring Sydnee McElroy). The last panel also introduced us to the delightful Helen Zaltzman of The Allusionist, a non-prescriptivist podcast about the charms and foibles of the ever-evolving English language.

We also got to meet Clint McElroy, father of the McElroy brothers, co-host of The Adventure Zone, and author of the Adventure Zone graphic novels. He was a surprise guest on the family panel and was more than happy to lead his "disciples" out into the hallway afterward for book signings, photo ops, and fatherly hugs. Like everyone else we met, he was incredibly kind and respectful.

Taking a break, we walked down to the Pike Place Market for lunch. We got chicken katsu and a chocolate and strawberry crepe, both of which were among the tastiest either of us had ever had. We also checked out Golden Age Collectibles, which is apparently the world's oldest comic shop.

Last big show of the convention was Sawbones, where Justin and Sydnee talked about auriculotherapy--a pseudoscientific practice similar to reflexology that claims you can cure just about any ailment just by applying the right pressure, vibration, or radiation to specific pressure points in the ear.

The con ended with a wonderful closing performance. Highlights included an experiment to record an entire ten-episode podcast season in ten minutes (One Question, With Allegra Frank), Roman Mars and Justin McElroy conversing through prerecorded sound bites, and a hilarious and terrifying game where four podcasters had to compete to say catchphrases while wearing a dental mouthpiece. Carrie Poppy handily won, then proceeded to deliver an amazingly drawn-out and over-the-top victory speech--while still wearing the mouthpiece.

I’ve never been much of a convention person. I don’t like crowds, and I don't have a deep-seated desire to share my obscure obsessions with total strangers. Liking the same thing is good fuel for a friendship, but I don't see it as a basis for one. Still, getting to see the live performances and panels was a thrill, and it was truly touching to see people enjoy themselves and revel in their weirdness in a way that they probably don't feel free to in their regular lives.

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend and a much-needed break from the busy holiday work season. I have to say that, while our Airbnb experience was quite positive, in retrospect I probably would have stayed at the hotel instead. It was cheaper than a hotel, but not that much cheaper. Close to the convention center, but still a bit of a walk. And we didn't really have time to take advantage of the kitchen or any of the other amenities. Having a larger space and separate rooms was the main benefit, but the beds really weren't that great.

Anyway, we had a great time, and the trip home was as easy and uneventful as our flight over. In fact, the TSA agents were unnervingly friendly and cheerful--an experience I'd never encountered before in a US airport.

#180abroad #seattle #chihuly #podcon2 #travel #podcast #mbmbam #sawbones #still buffering

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wednesdaywrites · 3 years

Text

ryan and leon search rpd for clues to aid in their escape.

leon s. kennedy x oc

warning: canon typical violence

lowercase is an aesthetic choice

masterlist

before they went on their not-so-merry way, leon handed her a bulletproof vest and a fancy police officer belt thing.

“i grabbed these for you,” he said. “no sign of a gun, though.”

ryan took the pile he presented carefully. “it’s a police department, we'll find a gun. thanks.”

she gave him back the belt to hold while she pulled the vest over her head, then took it back and clumsily clipped it on.

“okay,” she said, “let’s go, pretty boy.”

“let’s check the west wing first,” he suggested. “those things are probably still crowding the door to the east wing.”

“after you.”

she followed him to the door that had almost caused her death, glaring at the now-opened thing. the pile of bodies was at least two layers thick.

leon hesitated underneath it.

“what’s up?” she asked, trying to mask her concern with a casual tone.

“this is not how i imagined my first day.”

she put her hand on his shoulder—awkwardly. comfort was not her strong suit.

“sometimes bad things happen to good people,” she said, removing her hand from his shoulder. “c’mon.”

they carefully stepped over the bodies, both afraid one would suddenly spring up and grab one of them.

“we gotta get rid of these,” leon said.

“yeah,” she agreed.

as they passed through the reception, she spotted some boards propped against a couch against the back wall. the window was walker-free.

anxiety? spiked.

she went and grabbed the boards, giving a sheepish grin when she found leon staring at her. “may come in handy. wish i had my backpack.”

she stuck close behind him, boards clutched in one arm and the other up with the knife in its hand, as he opened the door to the hallway.

did walkers learn how to close doors?

at the end of the hall, she diverted his attention from the disfigured corpse, only to be met with a body hanging from the ceiling.

“fuck!” she choked, feeling the familiar sense of dread in her chest.

cops never stand a chance, do they?

“i don't wanna know how he got up there. . .”

“me neither,” she said. “let’s keep going.”

they continued down the hall into another one, where she noticed an opened window.

“my time to shine!” she paused for a second. “also my time to find out if knives can be used as hammers.”

“or. . .” leon said, “we could find an actual hammer. . .”

“no time,” she responded dramatically, setting the boards down and picking up one of the planks. “how convenient: they already have nails in them.”

she went to it, clumsily using her knife to hammer the nails into the window frame. once she was satisfied they were sturdy, she turned back to leon. “ta-da!”

he shook his head, a small smile gracing his beautiful lips—stop it, ryan! “color me impressed.”

“just give me a marker.” good one.

they kept going, eventually coming to an uncomfortably intact window.

“don’t do it. . .” she mumbled as they got closer to the window. there came the body. “oh, fuck you!”

leon pulled her along, flashlight trained on the hallway before them. the window shattered behind them.

good going, leon.

“just keep moving,” he said. “they’re slow.”

thank you, captain obvious.

“let’s check in here.” he pushed open a pair of double doors, revealing a room that looked like a bomb went off inside it.

she closed the door behind them, just for good measure.

like she had seen it do any good.

“is ‘fall cleaning' a thing?” she quipped. “jee-sus.”

leon let himself chuckle. “please. you’re killing me.”

“good. final girl, bitch.”

“hey, look,” leon said, approaching the board on the back wall. “a map.”

she came up next to him. “that should come in handy.”

“that door is chained shut,” he pointed out, taking down the map. “looks like the only way is through that window.”

“ugh. climbing.”

the walker they had abandoned in the hall threw itself against the door.

“let’s get a move on.”

she nodded. “don't have to tell me twice!”

she climbed up on the pile of pallets pushed against the wall, hoisting herself through the window.

“watch your head.” she dropped as quietly as she could on the balls of her feet, wishing she had asked leon for the flashlight before climbing through.

the door busted open.

“leon?!”

he landed in front of her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

“give a girl some warning!” she hissed.

he gave an apologetic smile. “incoming.”

“a little late for that.” she froze at the sound of banging. “what’s that?”

leon shined the flashlight in the direction of the noise, revealing an overweight walker battling a vending machine.

“oh, that’s sad. . .” ryan commented.

leon looked at her. “you want this one?”

“sure. best to save your bullets.” she crept up behind in, grabbing its shoulder and jabbing the knife into the back of its head as hard as she could. the body crumpled against the vending machine and she yanked the knife free, wiping as much of the blood off on her vest as she could.

“what a pro,” leon said.

“hush,” she said, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“let’s look in here.” he went to a door with ‘west office’ painted on the window.

she hurried after him, closing the door behind them.

the room was a total shitstorm like the rest. at the desk closest to them, there was a body laying against the desktop.

“i don’t trust that. . .” ryan whispered.

“just avoid it,” leon told her.

“i wanna kick it.”

“don’t.”

“i’m gonna.”

she kicked the chair out from under the body and it slumped to the floor, stirring like a human man being woken from sleep.

“leon?”

“ryan?”

“i fucked up.”

the walker reached for her, and she pinned its arm down with her foot, crouching and stabbing it in the head.

“problem terminated,” she said.

“congratulations,” leon replied, making his way around the desks.

even in the dark, she could see streamers and a banner hanging from the ceiling. she went to the other side of the row of desks to get a better look.

welcome leon. how bittersweet.

she looked down at the closed desk in front of her. there was a folded note laying on the cover. she picked it up.

rookie's first assignment, the outside read.

she flipped it open.

leon s. kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment.

your mission is...to unlock your desk! the key to your success is in the initials of our first names. input the letters in order of our desks.

there are 2 locks- 1 on each side of your desk. make sure you get them both.

basically, your first task is to remember your fellow officers' names, but you figured that much out, right?

good luck, leon.

by the way, it might take a little work to get scott to give you a straight answer.

lieutenant branagh

in the corner, barely visible through the blood, were the words, be glad you’re not here, rookie.

“what’s that?” leon asked, coming up beside her.

she handed the note to him. “it's for you.”

the slight look of sadness that crossed his face as he read broke her heart.

longing for the reality of the note? maybe.

“leon. . .” she said gently, putting her hand on his arm.

he crumpled the note in his hand. “the names. . .”

“don’t waste your time,” she said. “n. e. d. click. m. r. g. click. ta-da!”

“how did you—”

“don't worry about it.” because i don't even know. she opened the desk. “oh. an extended mag. that’s almost disappointing.”

“i’ll take that.”

“maybe i wanted it for my gun,” she mock protested.

he rolled his eyes halfheartedly. “have at it, then.”

she snickered, flicking the mag in his direction. “let’s get out of here.”

he turned to the door behind them, going to it and trying the knob. it was locked.

“we need a key,” she said. “maybe one with a spade on it?”

“let’s keep an eye out.” leon started back the way they came.

they went across the hall to what she assumed was the safety deposit room, from vague memories in the back of her mind and seeing the map. she stepped up to the panel at the end of the rows of lockers.

“oh, no. missing buttons—my weakness.”

leon looked over her shoulder. “we should check out the lockers before we mess with this.”

“right. . .” she went to the left, peeking into each locker. some were empty, but one had some kind of pouch in it, and another had shotgun shells.

shotgun?

she looked up and there it was: a beautiful shotgun. she ran to the locker, whining when she found it locked and missing a keycard.

“nooo!” she wailed quietly. “i want you!”

“i worry about you,” leon said behind her.

she turned to face him. “i would throw you through the glass to get this shotgun.”

“after all we’ve been through?” he asked. “i’m hurt.”

“leon. . . we’ve known each other for like half an hour. . .”

“still,” he said, looking at her with those bright eyes of his. “in that half an hour, we’ve seen enough shit to bond for a lifetime.”

she smiled wistfully, putting her hand on his shoulder. “honey, i have a feeling the worst is yet to come.”

boy, is it. . .

“so, where to now?”

“um. . .” she paused to think. “we have to find some kind of medallion to open the secret passageway, right? i think i saw the lion statue in the main hall.”

he nodded. “let’s go then.”

“i think we need to find the key for that door first, though,” she said. “unless you wanna boost me back through the window we came through.”

“i’d rather we stick together,” he said. “let’s check down the hall.”

she nodded and they exited the safety deposit room slowly, turning down the hall to their left. she could see an uncovered window at the end of the hall and her heart instantly leapt up to her throat.

at the end of the hall, they stopped and looked around. stairs, a door. . .

“hey. . .” leon nudged her. “boards. . .”

“ah! my time to shine!”

she grabbed the boards and went to work hammering them into place with the knife. just as she finished, a walker slammed against the glass.

“ha!” she taunted. “fuck you!”

as if in punishment for her mocking, the walker jabbed its hands right through the glass; she screamed and stumbled backwards.

upstairs, the snarling of the dead echoed.

leon tapped her shoulder. “let’s check this room out.”

“’kay. . .”

she followed him through the door. the room was dark, but she could tell it was small, with another room in the back.

“hey, a light. . . button. . .” she went and pushed the button, and actual, real lights came on. “okay, those are my eyes.”

leon clicked off his flashlight. “i think i’ve gone blind.”

“ooh, a typewriter!” she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. “ryan wuz heer.”

“really?”

“leon wuz heer. . . ?”

“how old are you again?” leon asked with an “are you crazy" look.

“um.” shit. “what day is it?”

he thought for a second. “the twenty-ninth, i think. . .”

“of. . . ?”

“september. . . ?” he said wearily.

fuuuuuck.

“twenty-one,” she said. “i’ve been twenty-one for four days now. . . but if we're being technical, i'm six.”

he rolled his eyes at her shenanigans, but she saw the smile. “let’s head upstairs.”

“’kay.”

he cracked open the door, peeking to make sure her screaming hadn’t attracted any visitors in the time they were in there.

“coast is clear. . .”

they exited the room, gun and knife ready, and crept up the stairs. at the top, a body was slouched against the wall.

“please don’t disturb this one,” leon whispered.

“fine,” she mouthed, creeping slowly past the body.

we didn’t look in that back room.

oh well.

ryan went up the next set of stairs, following a feeling in her gut.

“where are you—” leon cut himself off, deciding to just follow her.

in some weird way, she seemed to know where she was going.

on the third floor, she followed the banister to the left, where there was a hole blown in the wall right in front of them. an eerie shadow of a mannequin on the wall almost frightened her, but what did it was the gargled snarling of a walker.

it swung out in front of her like a scene in a movie. she had just managed to get her knife up when it got its hands on her.

“ryan—”

she landed a good stab in the center of its forehead, killing it instantly. it crumpled to the floor, almost bringing her down with it. she stepped over the corpse, creeping through the hole in the wall. just a few feet in front of her was a desk with something glinting on it. she moved to get a closer look.

the spade key!

she picked it up and turned to leon. “bingo!”

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 2 remake fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy fanfic #you’ll be fine

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writevswrong · 7 years

Text

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART FOUR

SO! In an earlier post I said there would be about five to six parts of this story. Well after spending days traveling-there’s a lot more I’m adding haha. Don’t you leave me in a bus, train and/or plane and expect me to NOT write something. Hopefully that excites you because I’m thrilled as a damn peach. Enjoy! :)

In case you missed the previous parts!

https://writevswrong.tumblr.com/post/161177692923/fanfic-nessian-part-one

https://writevswrong.tumblr.com/post/161291772213/fanfic-nessian-part-two

https://writevswrong.tumblr.com/post/161402884998/fanfic-nessian-part-three

Nessian Part Four by L.J. LaFleur

I couldn’t sleep, the aftermath, the nightmare--it was overwhelming. Not to mention I almost burned the entire house down. My steps were soundless as I escaped to the roof. I’m not sure why I keep coming here...I still can’t look up. I shuffled my feet to the center point, letting the pondering stars cloak my fragile frame, cradling the heavy sorrow within. It could have been minutes or hours, that I stood, waiting until the beams of mischief peered over the horizon.

Right, practice--with Cassian. I released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and headed down the stairs, through the hall and to my holding cell. Hopefully I could find something else to wear besides this. Though I’m sure he would enjoy it. My hands smoothed out the sheer night gown, the panels of lace down my sides didn’t itch as much as before. A distant part of me missed these finer clothes, missed the details of lace and embroidery but things were different now. I’m different.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The emerald bedroom had been fixed and by that, I mean someone waved their hand--producing the room as it was, before all the damage I had done. Thankfully, I didn’t need to face who saw the wreckage. My stomach gurgled, a sudden urge to eat overwhelmed me. There was a velvet, sapphire robe laying on the edge of the bed. I gathered the robe, wrapping it around myself. It smelled familiar, but I couldn’t place the intoxicating scent.

I made my way towards the door, carefully cracking it open to look down the hall for the others. Hoping I wouldn’t bump into them, to awkwardly attempt at conversation that was pointless. The hall was clear except for a pair of cedar-colored boots that were placed on the floor, a note with my name in near-perfect cursive laid beside them.

Nes,

Defeat will hurt less with these.

Forever deliciously handsome,

Cassian

I clutched the note in my fist, that idiotic prick, I thought while swiftly closing the door behind me. At first, I didn’t want to try on the boots, I wanted to attend our lesson barefoot just to see his smirk fall when he looked at my feet. After several minutes of deliberating my best come back, I had to know what they felt like.

Shaking my head, I opened the door and stared at them. The boots were beautiful to say the least. It was the finest leather I had ever seen--touched; intricate flowers, leaves and thorns were embossed as a trim. My fingers trailed down to the tongue of the boot, tracing over the golden, cursive stamped “I”. Sturdy chestnut leather chords laced up to the top, falling just below my knee.

They were comfy too, perfectly forming to the arches of my feet. My tongue clicked against the top of my mouth as I stared down at the new boots, the prick has good taste after all. I unlaced them, realizing I needed pants to train. I had only worn pants once before, during the war but I remember how much I enjoyed them despite the surrounding chaos.

The intricately carved dresser contained several pairs, mostly ranging from cream to fawn--I chose the darkest brown available. I sniffed the robe one last time before undressing, letting my senses flood with satisfaction. I pulled on a slim fitting cream tunic that had golden stars on the collar, and finally, put on the gorgeous rose embossed boots.

“By the Cauldron, she’s alive!” Cassian sung, his wings raising around him in taunting welcome. He waited in the far corner of the roof, balancing on the railing. His tunic removed, revealing the swirling ink across his muscles; my fading heart beat sprung to action.

“Defeat? Really?” I sized him up, my hands crossed in front of me, covering a weak point. His raven hair was pulled back into a low bun, several loose strands framing the sides of his face.

Cassian’s features lit up as he stared at my feet, “like the boots? Specially made,” he stated while hopping down from the ledge.

“A thoughtful gift? From you? I thought your ego was far too large to fit a brain in the same body, let alone a heart.” I stated, lifting my chin towards him.

“You’re late.” He commented as he drew closer to me. Cassian’s coal-black leather boots, barely made a sound as he crossed the roof.

Inches away from him and I could feel my heart reach towards him, battling my bones and muscles just to touch him. “You’re early,” I replied, drawing my brows together, the corner of my lips edging upwards.

Cassian’s jaw-dropping grin lit up the sky, “let’s train-picking up where we left off. Unless you’ve forgotten already?” He winked as he tilted his head towards me, the blackened strands hung around him like thick vines.

“I believe that we left off with you on the ground, crying for mercy.” I recalled, hands shifting to my hips as I wandered to the farthest corner away from him, letting the wind clear my wandering thoughts.

“This is gonna be fun,” he quipped while stretching his arms overhead, flexing every muscle from his cut abs to his sculpted arms. “I’ve never wanted to hit a girl and then I met…”

“Woman,” I corrected him with a hardened gaze. My tawny hair picked up with the wind, blowing a lock of hair upwards, I didn’t dare to look.

“Witch?” He suggested with a raised brow, his hazel eyes flashed to the floating strand.

I raced towards him, flinging a right hook into his jaw. He pulled back instantly, causing me to miss. “Do you always do these lessons half naked?” I asked with a harsh glare, my eyes catching the glow of his bronze skin.

“Why? Is it distracting?” Cassian wiggled his brows, a crooked smile forming on his thin lips.

“No,” I charged him, slamming all my body weight against him till we hit the stone floor. I landed on top of him, feeling his chiseled body beneath me as I breathed in heavily. “You’ve grown weaker since our last practice.”

Cassian grunted, rolling me off of him to pin me down with one move. “Have I?” his hardened body laid against mine, his calloused hands wrapped around my wrists. Our breathing synced as he gazed at my lips and then towards my neck where he once caressed with his...

Without saying a word, I flipped him to his back, pinning his spread wings--his head smacked against the stone. My heart plummeted as I heard the sound. Images of Feyre’s head cracking open and spewing blood filled my mind. I gasped, lifting myself upwards to sit directly on his hips. My eyes shot to the scars on his spread wings, the sun highlighting the difference in colors.

“What did you see?” He asked in a hushed tone, his cosmic hands gently holding the sides of my thighs.

Our eyes connected, a surge of magic rolled through me, my nose crinkled. “Nothing. I saw nothing,” I repeated as I pushed myself off of him.

Cassian jumped up, his fists at the ready, “let’s go through this again. Defensive position.”

Our parring continued, sweat dripped down my temples and back. I had to stop several times as I was overwhelmed with memories, with nightmares, telling him it was his unsettling odor. A burning heat in my hands would start up and instantly fade as he yelled at me to concentrate.

“C’mon Nesta, you’re holding back. I can see it in your stance,” he adjusted my hips with his firm hands. “I didn’t think it would be this easy to kick your ass. You’re taking all the fun out of this,” he whispered in my ear. My elbow shot into his stomach, his breath escaping him. “You know, I think you take too much joy in attacking me,” he crouched down, at the ready.

“I suppose that means we won’t continue with training then,” I blocked his first attack, a bead of sweat stinging my left eye. His fist aligned with my jaw but I ducked just in time.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” his eyes darkened except for a small ring of hazel that ignited.

“Such a shame,” I muttered, his foot connecting with my wrist as I barely made the block. “damn,” I breathed, shaking out my hand.

“Focus,” Cassian snapped, his body glistening with sweat.

An overwhelming amount of agitation washed over me, “stop telling me to focus,” I retorted-jaw tightening as I raised my hands.

“I will, when you actually do it.” He spun into the air, his foot connecting with my forearm.

I slid several feet backwards, barely able to keep standing, “bastard,” I breathed.

“Princess,” he smirked, walking towards the wooden table in the nearest corner, a bucket of water was waiting. Cassian drained the bucket over him, washing away the sweat from his clean-shaven face. He turned in time to see me studying him, his muscles flexing, “like what you see?”

I scanned his wings then drew my eyes back to his, “small wingspan…”

Cassian chuckled, gliding towards me in wet glory. My breath loosened as he circled around me, the familiar scent I had smelled on the sapphire robe was his. Of course, it was.

“Tell me, now that we’re back home, have you observed many…wingspans?” He implied, beads of water dripped from his wavy hair as his eyes danced in anticipation.

“Satisfyingly much larger than yours.”

Cassian’s jaw slackened, his fighting stance returned, “saving the best for last, I guess.”

I slid a jab into his ribs, forgetting to block myself with my other arm. Cassian pushed me back as if I were a feather and his hands were the wind. My foot connected with his hand, another block. I switched into my defensive stance, grinding my teeth as I watched him circle me.

Circling me, Hybern. Images of Cassian staked to the sandstone cave walls flashed before me, blinding the jarring fist that smashed into my cheek.

“Nesta,” he cursed under his breath, “focus, damn it.” Whether he was angry at me for not paying attention or the fact that he punched me so hard my jaw pounded with thunderous pain, I wasn’t sure.

I held my mouth, rubbing the spot he hit. Another vision of invisible claws shredding his wings, my hands flew up to my ears as I heard his blood curdling scream.

Cassian wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me tighter to his chest than I had ever been. “Escape me--unless you want to be this close to me.” He mumbled against my ear.

I struggled against his grasp, trying to kick and punch but it was useless. All I could see were his wings leaking crimson, his face draining of life.

“I taught you this months ago--break free.” His voice felt far away, as if I was being dragged down into the sea and he was above water.

“I can’t,” I pulled against him, his muscles tightening as mine shrieked.

Cassian’s voice strained, “you’ve barely tried.”

“I can’t,” I repeated, trying to elbow him, but unable to get the correct angle. I closed my eyes, praying the images of his torn lifeless body would go away.

“How many times do I have to tell you to focus today?” His lips pressed against the cartilage of my ear as he held me close.

“Till your wings give out,” I said under my breath, hoping he didn’t hear me.

“Better them than my face,” he claimed, his wet hair entangling with mine, droplets falling onto my neck, mixing with my own sweat.

“Liar,” I nearly cried, twisting against him, trying to focus on the boots he gave me. On the roses dispersed between vines of thorns. The Illyrian “I” sparkled as a ray of sun kissed it.

He shook his head, a shower of water and sweat invaded my skin like poisoned arrows. “Since my unbelievably gorgeous looks are distracting you-let’s try something else,” his voice sounded rough, deadly.

“Release me,” my voice strengthened as I stopped fighting against his hold, Hybern’s words snaking through me, biting at my weak points.

“Demanding me to do something will get you know where,” his spreading lips stopped short, I could feel his temperature rise. We stood there, not moving, his thick arms still encasing me.

My chin raised, “that’s right, I’m no high lord or lady.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked quietly, a strand of his wavy raven hair curled against my shoulder.

“I want you to let go of me,” I spoke clearly, carefully--happy I wasn’t facing him.

“Is this making you uncomfortable? Just you wait…” He raised his head, standing straight but his arms tightened.

“Let go!” I shoved against him but he didn’t budge.

Cassian’s voice softened behind me, “you barely eat and when you do, it’s a struggle when you see anything red on your plate.”

“I don’t like meat,” I replied swiftly, my heart strings tugged.

“Bullshit,” he thundered, “You set your entire room on fire last night and if it wasn’t for Feyre’s water ability you could have died. We could have lost you.”

“It was nothing,” I said bitterly, “I’m fine.”

Cassian scoffed, “Bullshit, yet again, Nes.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Nes.” A sickening flame grew within my chest, circling itself around my soul.

“You can’t look up at the sky and you can barely…you can barely look at me without sadness touching your eyes.” He turned me around to face him, his head bowed until we were eye level, “so what is it? Who do you see?” his bruised hands gently laid on top of my shoulders. “What do you see?” Cassian’s fingers pressed into me, his hazel eyes frantically searching mine.

My body quaked within his hold, my heart raging against my ribs as memories struck me from every angle. Staring into his eyes became unbearable, I looked away before I would crack further.

“Hybern-do you see him? Is it your hands stained in blood as you ripped off his head? Is that what’s haunting you?” Cassian’s voice penetrated my ear drums, the fire within me building.

“Release me,” I whispered with trembling lips, my eyes glistening over.

Cassian straightened, lifting my chin, my eyes still refusing to look up at him. “Or is it your father? The sound of his neck snapping? Is that it?” he begged, “talk to me, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” I cried, hearing the sounds of my father’s neck snapping, echoing against my pointed ears.

“Is it your father? The man who gave up, who gave up on you only to turn up when it counted most. When you needed him most? Just to watch him be murdered in front of you.” His voice hollowed, the muscle in his jaw feathered as the vein in his neck stood out.

I pushed against him, unable to break free as I winced. My hand slapped against his chest, “stop, Cassian. Just stop it.”

“He’s dead, Nesta. You couldn’t have done anything differently to save him. Do you understand that? Is that what’s killing you inside?” He shook me, trying to make me look at him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at him without more memories drowning me.

I smacked his chest, the sensation sending relief through the bubbling rage within. I hit him again and again, the skin on my knuckles scraping, my nails cutting into my palms. Cassian wrapped his arms around me, forming a cage of skin and bone.

“What is it that you see? Speak to me, please. Is it Feyre? Do you see what you’ve done to her? Is it the guilt that’s eating you away? Is it the pain of not being there for her just like your father wasn’t there for you?” Cassian’s voice hardened, his hair nearly dry from the pestering sun.

“Shut up,” I punched him until my fists felt bruised, he only gripped me tighter.

Cassian shook his head, “no, what’s wrong, Nesta?” His body stiffened against mine as he pulled me in closer, barely giving me space to breathe.

“You,” I cried, tears leaking out of my eyes. Cassian lowered his head into my tangled hair as I buried my face into his chest, “I see you, your…” my voice finally broke, droplets of amber flames brushed against his pecs. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, more memories flooding in. “I see you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Because It’s you!”

I felt him wince as he pulled away, his entire demeanor changing as he lifted my chin towards him, his somber gaze glistening. “Me?” he croaked, his eyes widening as he took in my face, at the amber flames dripping down my cheeks, “your, your crying…fire?”

“Let. Me. Go.” I said as evenly as I could, staring at him broke me. My own skin unharmed by my tears; I looked at the three burn marks on his chest, the burns that I caused. More pain that I caused.

He finally released me, rubbing his eyes before looking back at me, “it is real. You’re crying fire. What is happening?”

“What I deserve.” I replied before walking towards the steps on the other end of the rooftop.

“Nesta, I…” his hand pulled at mine, I stood there a moment longer than I should have. Letting his penetrating heat dance with mine. Cassian’s calloused hand pulled me back towards him, turning me enough to face him.

Before he could speak, I remembered what he had said, his words that had crushed me. “You can’t love someone filled with as much spite and ice as me. Remember?” I sharply threw in his face, my eyes glowing red as I gazed up at him. The light within them growing brighter, I turned away. Afraid of what other ability I might have, that I might unleash upon him. My gifted boots clicked against the stone as I crossed the roof.

“Let me explain,” he reached for me again, missing my hand and pulling at the top of my pants.

I whipped around, feeling Tomas’ hands crawl along my skin. Fire grew from my fingertips, forming talons--ready to strike.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” recognition of what I felt, of what I saw crushed him. “Nesta…please let me explain,” he reached towards my cheek.

I closed my eyes, feeling the talons retract, my mouth parted as I breathed in deep, “I may be spiteful, I may be made of ice--but at least I’m not a liar.” I pulled away from his gentle touch, turning on my heel once again. My speed picked up while wiping my flaming tears away.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Mor’s silky voice turned to steel. Her scarlet ensemble flowed to her ankles as she leaned her back against the midnight blue wall of the hallway.

Her voice struck me like a poisoned dagger, sinking into my flesh with every syllable. My back stiffened, “If you want him, he’s all yours.” I looked over my shoulder towards her, “unless you want someone else as well?”

Mor’s hand slid to her hip, her painted red lips pursed.

“It’s less complicated and painful to have a lonely, cold heart such as mine.” I added enough bite to my words that pride shuffled back into my chest, puffing it out like it had many times before. “Is it Azriel? I can only assume since Rhysand is taken by your best friend-not to mention he’s your cousin. Leaving only Azriel and Cassian left.” I watched as Mor’s lip twitched, her chin jutting outward. “If you truly love them, then pick one. Stop making them pine over someone who wants to keep them for her own selfish agenda.”

Mor sneered, “You know nothing about us and the bonds that tie us together. Unlike you, we know what it’s like to take care of our family. You’ll get yours when the time comes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I snarled, the glowing red returned to my eyes. Mor’s brows knitted together as she watched my azure irises disappear entirely, forming into the same radiant light Cassian had just witnessed. Calmly, I walked towards my room, my back straight, my heart racing to its early death.

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zrtranscripts · 7 years

Text

Season 6, Mission 5: Your Woman

An uphill struggle

JODY MARSH: Okay, guys. The situation is, we can't access the transmitter at Worthington-on-Sea anymore because Raoul tried to sell you out the Sigrid. So I have a plan.

We need to build our own transmitter so we can keep in touch with the Laundry and coordinate to find those babies. I've got some plans from Janine's emergency rebuild of civilization notes. Just think how proud Janine will be when she comes back and sees we got a transmitter while she was away!

TOM DE LUCA: She'll be proud of you whatever you do, darling.

JODY MARSH: Maybe. But remember, you can't call me darling. I'm Janine today because the only people near us who deal in the power converters we need and aren't loyal to Sigrid are the Eight of Hearts. They're an underground paramilitary faction.

TOM DE LUCA: Security-conscious.

JODY MARSH: So security-conscious, they will only deal with Janine. But they've never met her in person. It's all been via comms. And so... [imitates JANINE DE LUCA] Mr. De Luca, Runner Five, let's see if I can't give them Janine.

TOM DE LUCA: Wow! That's spot on!

JODY MARSH: It needs to be! If they discover I'm not Janine... I mean, they've got a reputation for blinding their enemies and sending them wandering through zom territory, which I don't think I'd enjoy. So I suggest we pick up the pace. Tardiness would be a dead giveaway. Run!

SAM YAO: Jodes, how is life living La Vie De Luca?

JODY MARSH: Mr. Yao, interim mission report: status acceptable.

SAM YAO: [laughs] That's massively weird. But it's kind of nice to hear her voice. Also - [imitates fanfare] to help you out, I've taken the small liberty of compiling a Janine Encyclopedia. A Janine-opedia, if you will.

Ask me anything. Uh, Janine's favorite color? [hums, turns page] Gray. Uh, Janine's childhood nickname? Haha! Trick question. It was Janine. Uh, Janine's favorite brand of underwear? Close your ears, Tom. [turns page] Oh! It's M&S full briefs. I was hoping for a tantalizing surprise.

TOM DE LUCA: But didn't you compile this yourself?

SAM YAO: I'm trying to add thrilling tension.

JODY MARSH: [laughs] Sam, thank you for this, but no one's going to ask me Janine's favorite type of underwear, especially someone who already knows what it is.

SAM YAO: Well, something else then.

TOM DE LUCA: Okay... what type of hairpin does Janine favor?

JODY MARSH: There's a type? I pinned my hair up like hers. I used ASDA basics.

TOM DE LUCA: She's very brand loyal. And that brand is - [?] -

SAM YAO: [?] Essentials, extra long. Thought you would have got that one right, Tom, old boy.

TOM DE LUCA: [laughs] Mate, you didn't fall for that? She's given you misinformation on purpose.

SAM YAO: She'd give misinformation about hair grips?

JODY MARSH: She totally would. And mine are wrong, either way. Oh God! Oh, we're off schedule again! Come on, everyone, faster! Janine would never stand for this!

JODY MARSH: Ah, there's the Eight of Hearts crew waiting for us. Look at those uniforms. Very paramilitary.

TOM DE LUCA: Bloody sloppy! That one has their hair loose, and the one on the left has dog tags on the outside! Also, is their base, um -

JODY MARSH: Yeah. An old leisure center. They've even got one of those water chutes that goes all around the building.

SAM YAO: Ooh, I love those! Maybe we can come back later and have a go.

TOM DE LUCA: You'd have to be careful. There's a massive hole halfway up it.

JODY MARSH: [clears throat] Hello. Eight of Hearts, I'm, uh... Janine. De Luca. Colonel.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: An honor.

JODY MARSH: This is Runner Five, and my brother, Tom De Luca.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Delighted. When did we last speak?

JODY MARSH: 12th, September. I gave you advice about placement for solar panels.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Yes. And remind me again, the time before that?

JODY MARSH: [clears throat] Uh...

SAM YAO: No, I've got this. [turns page] 9th of Jan, code-breaking.

JODY MARSH: 9th, January. Code-breaking.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Indeed.

SAM YAO: See? And thanks, Janine, for your exhaustive – [laughs] one might even say anal – record keeping.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Now, a quick tour of the facility. Military pace. Come along. We have another trade deal arranged with Scorpion Fang, and you know what she's like about waiting around, so we do need to get on.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: This is the swimming pool. You see the water chute here? It contains a simple identity test. An obstacle course. We do need to be absolutely certain it's really you, Colonel De Luca.

You and your companions will climb up the chute, vanquish the trials, and we will meet you at the top with the parts you’ve required. There is nothing in there that would prove a problem for Colonel De Luca.

JODY MARSH: Right!

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Colonel...

JODY MARSH: Yeah. Fine. Five, Mr. De Luca, follow me. Single file. It's a scramble. Easier if you keep the pace up. Let's get this done. Move.

JODY MARSH: Hold the rear, Five. Oh no, what's this? Grab onto me, Five! What's going on?

TOM DE LUCA: They put soap on the floor.

JODY MARSH: All right. Everyone keep your eyes down. It's just in patches. Keep going.

JODY MARSH: This water slide must go around the building three times. Wait. Look out, incoming!

[debris clatters]

TOM DE LUCA: Eight of Hearts are throwing chunks of concrete and other debris down the chute.

JODY MARSH: Behind me. Hug the wall. I see what they're doing. This one's easy. Five, catch that board coming down. Nice job! Now use it to divert the rocks through that hole in the chute so they don't block the route back.

[debris clatters] Yes! That worked great. Let's move. We're almost at the top. [zombie groans] Ah! A zom coming down the chute, right on top of us!

TOM DE LUCA: It's on me! It's got me!

JODY MARSH: Hold me steady, Five. I'm going to take out this hostile at close quarters.

TOM DE LUCA: You don't have a weapon! Leave me!

JODY MARSH: Oh, I do! I think I've worked out why Janine always wears hairpins. [zombie growls] That pin in the eye got its attention. Now, if I apply my boot – dodge now, Five! [zombie falls] Sweetie, are you okay?

TOM DE LUCA: Yeah, I'm – that was - ! Are you sure Janine's not possessed you?

JODY MARSH: I don't even know anymore, Tom. Look, though. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Come on. We need to keep climbing.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Welcome back, Colonel De Luca, and well done. It can only be you. I confess it's a surprise. I never thought you'd walk right in here, De Luca, with that rich price on your head.

JODY MARSH: Price? On my head?

EIGHT OF HEARTS: Oh, yes. The Minister's offering quite the purse for the capture of Janine De Luca.

JODY MARSH: Uh... well, you won't be getting it, will you? Because in fact, I'm not Janine De Luca. I'm Jody Marsh.

EIGHT OF HEARTS: That ridiculous accent won't fool us now, Colonel. You've proved your identity very well.

JODY MARSH: I'm not her! I'm really not! I'm dating Janine's brother. Look! [grabs TOM DE LUCA]

TOM DE LUCA: Whoa!

JODY MARSH: [kisses TOM DE LUCA] See? Janine would hardly make out with her own brother.

JANINE DE LUCA: I do not believe there's any limit to what you would do, Colonel.

JODY MARSH: But I'm really not her! I wish I – I've tried to lead like her. Everyone wants me to be her. And I can't – I can't! I – [imitates JANINE DE LUCA] However, Mr. De Luca, Runner Five, I have a plan. Prepare yourselves.

[smoke grenade clatters, pours smoke, EIGHT OF HEARTS coughs]

TOM DE LUCA: Wow. That was a fast plan.

PETER LYNNE: Janine! I'm here to rescue you!

SAM YAO: Who's that? I can't see through the smoke from that grenade.

JODY MARSH: Who cares? I didn't have a plan anyway. I was bluffing for time. Come on, Five, Tom. We've walked up that slide. We can go down it now and escape. Run!

JODY MARSH: Mr. Yao, we're at the perimeter of the car park. Report!

SAM YAO: Oh my God, that was intense. Um, uh, right. Eight of Hearts seem not to be following you. Maybe your formidable reputation has scared them off. You did a very convincing Janine.

JODY MARSH: Yeah, but Janine would have completed the mission. We didn't even get the power converter.

TOM DE LUCA: Actually, we did. I took the liberty of snagging one when they were showing us around.

JODY MARSH: [laughs] Did you know they were going to double-cross us?

TOM DE LUCA: Never trust a soldier with their dog tags on the outside.

SAM YAO: All right, the coast is clear. Yeah, no, wait. There's a man approaching from your three o'clock. Watch out. Could be Eight of Hearts.

PETER LYNNE: Stop! Janine, stop! It's me, Peter.

JODY MARSH: Oh God.

PETER LYNNE: Jody? Where's Janine? I heard Eight of Hearts on the radio to Sigrid's people saying they'd captured her. I got here as fast as I could.

JODY MARSH: Peter, it was me. I was just pretending, to trade for some power converters.

TOM DE LUCA: She's not here, mate. Really.

JODY MARSH: Yeah. I'm sorry, Peter. It was just me. [imitates JANINE DE LUCA] But I'm grateful your help, Mr. Lynne.

PETER LYNNE: Oh God, that's creepy. [sighs] If I'd thought about it, I'd have known it was mad. Why would Janine allow herself to be captured? Why by Eight of Hearts? What was I thinking? I'm such an idiot.

JODY MARSH: You miss her. We all do.

SAM YAO: Where do you think she is? Like, in your wildest dreams, what's your Janine headcanon?

JODY MARSH: I reckon she's left the country. I think she's in like, Paraguay, fighting zombies in the jungle with knives made of really sharp leaves and learning ancient fighting skills from amazing warriors!

TOM DE LUCA: That's a good one. I think maybe she's working on some tech operation. She always was a dab hand with a soldering iron. I think she's literally underground, rigging up a weapon against Sigrid.

SAM YAO: [laughs] Yeah, I think she's, uh... no, wait, yours are better than the ones I've come up with. No, no, okay, just a sec. I think she's gone Ghost Protocol. She's like, still around, but in a bunch of different disguises, helping us, and giving us secret advice.

[sighs] I sort of feel she's kind of that already. Because with all the manuals she's left, and all the systems, nothing's fallen apart. Everything runs like clockwork, it's just that... she's not here. And I miss her.

PETER LYNNE: Yes. I don't have a headcanon. Well, just one. It's the one where she's waiting for us when we get back. I think about that one every day.

#zombies run #zrs6 #s6m5 #your woman #zr transcript #zrs6 spoilers

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mirannalegacy-blog · 5 years

Text

Avant Le Deluge: Chapter 2

3.21.4 ATC

Anndara

They had to leave today. Despite all of Dr. Lo’s protests, Overseer Jerome had made it clear that they were not welcome on his station any more. Anndara sat up in the medbed while the others sifted through the boxes Dr. Lo had put together for them. She had been allowed to change out of the hospital gown. With some assistance she had put on a baggy shirt and sweatpants, the legs rolled up so she could swap out the bandages in the evening. It made her feel better to be in something clean that she hadn’t almost died in.

Osanna came up to her, carrying a box that had been maked with Anndara’s name. It was odd, being the one who had been unconscious for most of the time they had been together. It seemed that they had all forged some type of connection, she could feel it. Something in the force snaking between all of them, even her. Osanna set the box down on the bed and Anndara took a good look at her.

She was about her height, on the short side for their age, and thin like her as well but she didn’t find that surprising. Osanna had been born into slavery and the Sith were not kind to their slaves. For the past three years Anndara had been...an experiment was one word for it she supposed. Her eyes were bloodshot and Anndara was certain that hers were not better. Her red skin was marked by the stripes of black that followed her lekku and matched the curve of her face, much different from the spots marking the green Regan.

“Dr. Lo and I put this together for you. We...we found a hover chair too,” Osanna said, pulling off the lid.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to, you know,” Anndara said.

“I wanted to,” Osanna replied quietly, “You saved my life and I feel responsible for…”

She trailed off and Anndara lowered her gaze to what remained of her legs. She still couldn’t totally wrap her head around the idea that she couldn’t walk or that her legs were actually gone. She kept thinking that they would just spring back into being or magically grow back. Something. It felt like...like she had lost a part of herself. There was a substantial part that was gone in a literal way, but some other sensation gnawed at the back of her mind. And then there was the phantom pains that were starting. Just little twinges. But they were there. Dr. Lo had said once the initial med shots wore off they might become more common. She hoped not. But she couldn't regret what she had done, especially since this really couldn't be reversed, no matter how much she hoped.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” She said. Her pulse quickened and her breath shortened as a pain shot through the leg that wasn't there. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes, “It’s not what Jedi do.”

“You’re not a Jedi."

It was a very straight forward statement and she knew that Osanna didn't really mean anything by it, but it still stung a little. Her eyes snapped open and she made a face, “well, it’s not what I do. You saved me, I saved you. We can call it even and say we’re friends.”

Osanna stared at her for a moment. Anndara wondered if what she had said was outlandish until Osanna held out her hand.

“Dr. Lo taught me this last night. You shake hands, right?” She said. Anndara smiled and clasped Osanna’s scarlet hand with her considerably less colorful one.

“Right. Friends.”

Osanna blinked and smiled a small smile, “friends.”

“So what did you pack me?” Anndara said smiling as well for what seemed like the first time in forever.

They shifted through the contents of the box, Osanna pointing out the fuzzy blanket and cryo pack a young family had donated, the box of mild painkillers a miner who had also lost his leg had given with a note of suggestions for adjusting. There was a data pad with a small box of datachips. Flipping through the chips she noted a few popular but rather outdated hologames, one from Dr. Lo marked treatment plan, and two from the Local Community Officer who had decided that they should have something to read and had issued them Imperial and Republic library cards (under fake names Anndara noted). It was an ordinary datapad, with a screen and holoprojector light, but it was set up to connect not only with the holonet but the library linkups. She felt a rush of excitement. Even if she was three years removed from her schooling she had always loved learning and reading. Aurelia had been much more inclined to learning and sparring. Anndara had usually been on the other end of those sparring matches. It never ended well for her.

“Did you get one of these?” Anndara asked, holding up library chips. Osanna set down the very patched jacket she had dug out from the bottom of the box.

“Yes, why?”

“Have you ever used a library?”

“No.”

“Do you like reading?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Can you read?”

“Not well?”

“I’ll help you. We can pick out some books once we get on our way to...wherever we’re going.” The sentence had started out excited and hopeful but ended in uncertainty. Osanna nodded, her eyes going unfocused for a moment.

“We should get out to the ship,” she said. Anndara agreed quietly.

“What’s this about a chair?” she asked.

“It’s right here,” Dr. Lo said, stepping into the room pushing the hover chair.

The chair itself was standard Republic Government issue, complete with standard adaptive tech logos on the side, no flashy colors. It was a contoured, padded seat with an adjustable back. Two handles protruded from the top of the back. The armrests extended from the back of the chair as well and had control panels set into the padding.

“So, It’s not great,” Dr. Lo mused, “but it will work. It’s got a standard repulsor lift and motor. But it wont go over a walking pace. That’s a regulation thing. Kinda stupid since you can’t get out of danger very quickly, we don’t typically let models like this on the job site because of that.”

“Why?” Anndara interjected, “What if I get into danger, as I seem to be really good at that?”

“You’ll have to have someone pushing you or mod the chair on your own, but for civie use, this is the best you’ll get without a permit,” he replied, drumming his fingers on the chair’s back, “Some law about abuse of technology. I don’t know why its like that, so that might be something you want to look into. As for the basics, always remember to sink it with a ship’s artificial grav otherwise the change in relative motion will throw you at a wall. Always charge it before going planetside and keep the extra battery pack in the base. Typically it will run for three days without charging, but if you get into a situation where you can’t charge it, you’ll be a sitting duck.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Sure, a three day charge was great, but the idea of stalling out somewhere did not appeal to her. It seemed incredibly undignified and the icey feeling of helplessness threatened to steel over her mind.

“Here’s the thousand credit question. How do I get into it?” She said, trying to focus on the present.

“Right, here we go,” Dr. Lo said and he pried out one of the control panels from the arm rest. “Most people like to keep one of the pads next to their beds or at their work stations. Just keep it where ever you need to move in and out of the chair most frequently,” He explained. He began to point out the different functions on the screen, “you have your basic elevation and speed controls. Try brining it over the bed.”

She gamely took the controller and began adjusting settings. She quickly learned that it was a fairly temperamental thing and that the controls were very sensitive as it collided with the ceiling. She had only attempted to add five inches to the hight. Great. Just off to a great start. She tried again, being more careful this time, and brought it as close to the bed as possible.

“This is the hard part. Scoot yourself onto the chair.” Dr. Lo said, patting the seat. Oh boy.

_________

Regan

They had hit the JACKPOT. HOLY BLASTERS AND ALL THAT WAS GOOD. Regan stared in disbelief at the locker she had just broken into. While the others had been packing up the donations and saying their farewells to the doctor, she had been making herself at home on The Horranth--Stars, they would have to change that name. She had been rooting around in the crew quarters when she found a false panel (always check for smuggling holes the minute you acquire a new vessel, that’s what Dad always said), and the small locker that had been wedged in the compartment had taken some time to get it out. And it was heavy. Then there was the lock. But it had all been worth it. The credits, all 150,000 of them, gleamed at her.

Everything--and she meant everything--up until this moment had seemed absolutely hopeless after last night. But now? They could fuel this thing for months. A YEAR maybe. Part of her--the part that she had only ever listened to on occasion--whispered in her ear that the others didn’t haveto know. She didn’t owe them anything. This little voice from the back of her head was soundly beaten down by a vision of hellfire and collapsing walls and then the push. It always came back to the push. She owed them. Not just Melyra, Melyra was her friend, of course she would share with her friend. But the push. She put her head in her hands. That was life debt material right there. She might not be a Wookie, but she could say she was in deep.

Aurelia

“That’s the ship we stole?”

Aurelia almost started laughing at the awe in her sister’s voice. Osanna and Melyra followed close behind them, bringing up the rear of their small column with some crates of dry rations on a hover cart. The Horranth stood before them, a hulking shape of grungy, gunky green against the neat background of the station. It was a deep bellied ship, its engines and thrusters housed at the rear of the vessel and the domed cockpit protruding slightly from its nose. Windows were slashed along the starboard and port sides of the vessels, where she knew the crew quarters were. There were no visible weapons systems, which in Aurelia’s mind was good. But she had already had an earful from Regan about the necessity of defending themselves, she was sure the twi’lek had other ideas for modifications.

“Yeah,” Aurelia said as her sister hummed along in the chair beside her, “What do you think?”

“Ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen and bigger than any standard transport. What is it?” she asked, eyes darting from cockpit to cargo bay where the boarding ramp was descending as Regan came out.

“That,” Melyra said as she adopted a rather pompous tone, “Is a modified Corellian W19 medium freighter with added bonuses such as a full working refresher.”

“So you were listening,” Regan called, Melyra blew a raspberry at her, “first time for everything I suppose. Get your butts on board and strap in. We’ve got a lot to do and I want to haul jets ASAP.”

Regan turned, waving them aboard. Aurelia shot Melyra a quizzical look over her shoulder.

“She always this eager to be gone?” She asked.

Melyra shrugged, “Depends. There’s bad blood here now. Jerome complicated things.”

Aurelia considered this for a moment. She decided to let her curiosity drop. She agreed that they needed to be gone. There was no telling if the Empire suspected that they were still alive. There would be a price on her head by now in the Republic as well. She tried not to think on that at the moment. She could ponder all she wanted in deep space. She trotted up the boarding ramp.

She followed Regan into the belly of the beast and took stock of her surroundings. It wasn’t that she hadn’t paid attention during their initial flight in The Horranth, but she had been a bit more concerned with keeping her sister alive. It was big. Not big like the military transports she had stowed away on to get to her sister, but big in a way that they could have a bolo-ball match in here if they wanted. The walls of the bay were curved, but the view of the complete internal silhouette of the ship was truncated by floor of the deck above. She knew that directly in front of them was the engine room as well as a comms room. Above them were the cockpit, common area, armory, and med bay. And Above that was the half level. The crew quarters.

“OK,” Regan said, cracking her knuckles and bringing Aurelia back to the present, “quick rundown before we take off. I’ve got the nav computer hookd up and ready to run hyperspace coordinates to Lah’mu. Its out of the way but not far from Dantooine, either. And if we want to find work I know a guy there. Not a lot of people on Lah’mu, fewer than Dantooine has left actually, so they’re always grateful for someone to run goods for them. It is a pretty long haul, it’ll take a while to get there. That is if we’re all sticking together. Otherwise, Mel and I will drop you off wherever you want to go.”

She looked at the Koras and Osanna expectantly and they in tern cast hurried and confused looks among themselves. Aurelia felt her sister shift uncomfortably.

“We don’t really have anywhere to go. Our family is gone. And I don’t want to think about what the Jedi would do to us if we went back to them now,” She supplied, placing a hand on Anndara’s shoulder, “We all came out of a pretty rough situation and we all seem to get along. So yeah, let’s do a job.”

Osanna nodded, “I don’t have any clue where I would go anyways. If it’s okay, I’ll stay here.”

Aurelia noticed that Regan almost looked relieved, like a weight was being taken off of her shoulders.

“Cool,” she said, a grin creeping over her face. She turned to Melyra, “Get the hatched secured and get ready for takeoff.”

The twi’lek skipped up the stairs, two at a time, pumping her fist as she chanted, “Let’s! Haul! Jets!”

Melyra rolled her eyes and turned to the panels next to the exit. She began flipping switches and adjusting displays as the gangplank retracted and the hatch sealed with a hiss.

“Sooo...” Aurelia said as the three of them were suddenly left with nothing to do, “Do we strap in?”

The floor began to shiver slightly and the hum of the engines filled the space. Melyra cleared her throat as she walked behind them and began up the stairs.

“Yes, particularly if you’ve never jumped to hyperspace in a craft this small before,” she said. As she disappeared onto the next deck she called, “and shut down that chair before the jump! I’m not cleaning you off the walls!”

The ship lurched upwards. The three hurriedly clambered up the steps, pausing occasionally to help Anndara. As they entered the cockpit they found Regan and Melyra in the pilot and co-pilot’s chairs. Regan half turned to them and flashed a smile.

“Pretty fucking spiffy, huh?” she turned back to the controls as the ship gained altitude and they left the docking bay, “The previous owners of this ship might have been slime balls and shit decorators, but damn did their pilot know how to customize.”

She settled herself back in the seat a little more and pulled on the control wheel. The ship pulled away from the station, the cockpit still facing it. It was like one of the zooming shots from the holofilms, Aurelia thought, as the station shrunk in size. It was like...looking down at a miniature, glittering against the dark backdrop. She plunked down in a chair and Osanna followed suit. They heard a dull thud as Anndara powered down her chair and magnetized it to the wall at the back of the cockpit.

As they continued their trajectory, the view from the window spinning dizzyingly as Regan brought the ship to the angle she wanted. Melyra was tapping at a screen and nodded at Regan once her hands had stilled. Anticipation well in Aurelia’s gut.

“You guys ever actually seen a jump before?” Regan asked, reaching out to the control panel to grasp a lever. Melyra did the same. When Aurelia and the others quietly said no, Regan’s smile broadened as she said, “It’s a fucking treat. Punch it.”

They pulled down on the levelers in sync. The sky seemed to stretch before them, stars blurring into streaks. It seemed to Aurelia that time and space stretched infinitely around them. And then, like a child firing a rubber band from their fingers, they launched forwards. The force hit her chest and pushed her into her seat. It wasn’t surprising, she had felt the jolt on many ships before, but the breath went out of her as they were pulled into the hyperspace lane and the cosmos swilled around her. Her eyes were wide and her jaw was slack. It was quiet in the cockpit. Regan leaned back in her chair and folded her arms behind her head.

“A real mcfucking beauty,” she said quietly.

#swtor fanfiction #swtor oc #fanfic #chapter 2 #swtor #the miranna legacy

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actualcannibalshialasquib · 6 years

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The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers on AMEPAC Furniture

Home Interior Decorating Ideas published on https://amepac.org/furniture/the-sleigh-bed-what-it-is-and-what-it-offers/

The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers

Most homes have regular, standard beds but every once in a while we come across a space that’s different. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that there are more types of beds that you’re probably aware of. Some varieties are not exactly popular or have some very specific design characteristics which don’t really allow them to be very versatile. For example, how often do you see a bedroom that has a sleigh bed? Actually, what is a sleigh bed anyway? Well it’s simple: as the name suggests, it’s a bed that looks similar to a sled or sleigh. Its most notable design features are the curved or scrolled foot and headboard.

Most often than not sleigh beds are made of wood and are quite heavy. This one is a very good example. this is a kid’s bedroom designed by Mc3DesignStudio and the sleigh bed has this lovely canopy which matches the drapes.

A sleigh bed also tends to have a delicate, feminine appearance in spite of its robust and heavy structure. That makes a good candidate for the master bedroom or for guest rooms. This is a space designed by Domiteaux Architecture which has a traditional-style decor. It’s not just the bed that has curves but also the vanity, the lamps, the armchairs and even the walls.

It’s possible for a sleigh bed to have an upholstered frame, as showcased in this elegant bedroom interior by J Visser Design. The fabric softens the curves of the frame and hightlights

The sleigh bed looks great in this rustic bedroom. Jaffa Group Design Build also gave the space a cozy fireplace with a stone surround and light brown floor carpeting which creates a warm and welcoming ambiance and a decor that’s a mixture of traditional, rustic and modern.

Curious how a sleigh bed would look like in a contemporary bedroom? Check out this beautiful example created by AMW Design Studio. It has a refined and breezy look but at the same time it’s furnished with heavy pieces, including the bed, the armchair and the nightstands.

Even though the sleigh bed is definitely robust and heavy, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, as this bedroom designed by Beth Webb Interiors shows us here. We love the monochromatic palette and the choice of a warm neutral and very subtle pastel accents.

There are all sorts of design variations when it comes to sleigh beds. Some have prominent curves while others are simpler in this sense. The master bedroom that Susan Klimala, CKD, CBD designed here definitely features the first option. The bed is the focal point of the room and not just because of its size but also because of its design, in particular the tufted headboard and footboard panels.

Let’s also check out a simplified version of the sleigh bed. This traditional bedroom interior is designed by T-Olives. Unlike a lot of other sleigh beds, this one actually looks quite lightweight and slender while still maintaining the defining characteristics of the design and highlighting them in an elegant manner.

Some designs seem to be a sort of hybrids, combinations of elements from two or more styles. For example this bedroom by Anderson Homes features a type of sleigh bed with this unusual canopy-like structure attached to its headboard.

This boldly-colored sleigh bed that Jigsaw Interior Architecture chose for this kids’ bedroom is quite interesting and it doesn’t all have to do with the color or the curved frame. One of the coolest things about it is the built-in storage system. There’s this big pull-out drawer which lets you store pillows, blankets and other stuff under the bed.

The post The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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adamn-ellis · 6 years

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The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers - AMEPAC Furniture

Home Furniture Ideas on https://amepac.org/furniture/the-sleigh-bed-what-it-is-and-what-it-offers/

The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers

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It’s possible for a sleigh bed to have an upholstered frame, as showcased in this elegant bedroom interior by J Visser Design. The fabric softens the curves of the frame and hightlights

The post The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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aclsblog · 6 years

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The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers - AMEPAC Furniture

The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers

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It’s possible for a sleigh bed to have an upholstered frame, as showcased in this elegant bedroom interior by J Visser Design. The fabric softens the curves of the frame and hightlights

The post The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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aburntship · 6 years

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New Post has been published on AMEPAC Furniture

New Post has been published on https://amepac.org/furniture/the-sleigh-bed-what-it-is-and-what-it-offers/

The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers

It’s possible for a sleigh bed to have an upholstered frame, as showcased in this elegant bedroom interior by J Visser Design. The fabric softens the curves of the frame and hightlights

The post The Sleigh Bed – What It Is And What It Offers appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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garagedoorshampshire · 7 years

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36 Inspirational Home Office Workspaces That Feature 2 Person Desks

Sharing an office isn’t always easy – but with the right workspace setup, coexistence is definitely possible. This post looks at a wide variety of offices designed for two occupants, with options ranging from face-to-face to side-by-side arrangements, from minimalist environments to beautifully artistic retreats. You’ll even find a few suggestions for two-person designer desks and stylish chairs to go with! Whether you’re looking to rearrange your home office or want to make your workplace more welcoming, we hope you’ll find a few fresh ideas right here.

Visualizer: IDunic DesignStudio This home office leaves plenty of space for two. Both workspaces are nicely separated, each with a convenient niche to ensure that neither person will distract the other with their screen.

Visualizer: IDunic DesignStudio Here’s another nicely separated workspace. The inset lights make it easy to find reference material and office supplies on the shelves up above.

Designer: Avenue Design Studio With just two sawhorses and a central pair of drawers (available from IKEA on Amazon), a simple piece of board can become a spacious co-working desk.

Photographer: Blupics Back-to-back workspaces are another option. This one features two desk-mounted Tolomeo style lamps that offer adjustability suited to any task at hand.

Visualizer: Pavel Vetrov & Aleksandr Zenzura Here’s another simple back-to-back desk. This arrangement is a great way to avoid getting distracted by what might be happening on the other screen. That’s right – one partner can take a break with a YouTube video without disrupting the others workflow.

Designer: Studio 13 These chairs are the Panton S Chair model. The miniature globe is a nice touch too, a fun way to add decoration that doesn’t feel out-of-place in the office.

Source: Dearkids Typography is another great decor theme for the office, especially on-theme for those who work with print or words. You can find the letter A figure here on Amazon.

Designer: Elayne Barre This office keeps things simple by keeping only the necessities and the simplest decorations on the shelves. Flowers in vases are a great way to add a little liveliness to the area.

Architect: MCK Architects Photographer: Douglas Frost Photography Visualizer: http://mckarchitects.com/ Wall-mounted desks offer several advantages – they’re easy to clean around, and there are no legs to get in the way of free movement. It’s a win-win.

Visualizer: Patricia Bagienski Even ordinary wall-mounted sideboards can make nice desks for certain types of work. Those who use only a small laptop or pen and paper don’t often require a large work surface.

Visualizer: RNDR Studio While this desk isn’t wall-mounted, it still leaves plenty of space beneath for the occupants to slide around and find a good working position.

Designer: DHD A book-lover’s dream! This stylish office includes a full library, complete with a rolling ladder to reach the higher volumes. This would definitely be a neat workspace for somebody who takes inspiration from literature or needs to have reference materials on hand at all times.

Visualizer: Alex Schiry Here’s another great home office that includes an expansive library. The arrangement of the workspaces is also pretty smart – one side is for writing and drafting, and the other for working with a computer.

Designer: Murs & Merveilles This library draws immediate attention with its vivid colors in contrast to the abundance of minimalist white storage that surrounds.

Designer: Marie Olsson Nylander Minimalist offices are great for those who find distraction in visual stimulation. But some actually work better surrounded by inspiring sights and objects they love. Some go beyond simple decoration, like the stylish yet useful vintage fan.

Designer: Lime Building Group Even the most professional environments can benefit from a little decor. When options are limited, indoor plants often remain a viable choice.

Visualizer: int2architecture Other times, the furniture itself can serve as the aesthetic boost that makes a home office appealing. This pair of Eames style Eiffel Base Wire Chairs are a classic choice.

Source: Risen Developments And this pair of desks uses the forever-current Eames style Shell Chair.

Designer: Tom Robbrecht This handsome office uses the Eames Style Aluminum Group Management Chair, a popular design that merges ergonomics and style. Honestly, it’s hard to go wrong with Eames.

Source: McDonald Jones Homes Interior architecture is another source of decoration that will never come across as clutter. This gorgeous wood-paneled accent wall makes the entire room feel warmer.

Designer: CCS Architecture Although it’s not a true two-person desk, this workspace still feels connected thanks to their attachment to a central wooden volume. The chairs are from the high-performance Aeron collection by Herman Miller.

Source: RH Baby & Child Are you looking for a style that feels vintage but still stays in line with modern trends? This industrial style double desk looks and feels current thanks to the popularity of industrial home decor.

Designer: Catalina Estrada Themed workspaces can help foster a certain mood. This enchanting forest of owls would definitely inspire a sense of whimsy. The desk and storage are both available on Amazon.

Visualizer: Viktoria Tsikhotska This desert-themed bedroom is subtle but dreamy. When tired of working at the desk, the residents could bring a laptop to the bed, sofa, or even the swinging hammock chair.

Source: IKEA Making space for an office inside of another room isn’t always easy. This one uses desks and storage from IKEA (available on Amazon) that accommodates the needs of both areas.

Designer: Nordico This office overlooks a living room but still feels separated thanks to the small containing wall that supports the desk. The chair the person is sitting in is the About A Chair model by Hee Welling.

Visualizer: Marta Yavna Schoolchildren need organized workspaces too! This adorable bedroom has plenty of room for the young occupant and a study partner. Drawers, shelves, and two adjustable lamps make it easy to focus on the task at hand.

Visualizer: Nido Interiors Here’s another kid’s room and office combination. The workspace features another version of Hee Welling’s popular About A Chair design, this time with the wooden leg option.

Visualizer: Julian Malik This very unique dormitory concept outlines the workspace with a border of blue that transitions to plywood walls. The sleeping area is supposed to be in the white portion of the room.

Visualizer: Boom Project Let’s talk about lighting! This desk occupies a rather dark niche with relaxing inset lighting in the shelves above.

Visualizer: Rully Here’s another office with relaxing lighting, this time just above the bulletin board behind the computers. The bulletin board is a cool accent wall idea for any office – consider opting for one in a nontraditional color to make your space even more unique.

Designer: DKOR Interiors Colorful accent walls are a great way to separate a workspace from the rest of the room. This one is bright orange, energizing and passionate.

Designer: Christophe Vendel This office takes a more eclectic approach to its accent wall with plenty of colorful artwork and rows of books beneath. Even the chairs are unpredictable – The Flow Arm Chair by Jean-Marie Massaud takes a simple approach while the Panton S Chair stands out in bright red.

Visualizer: Vitaliy Bozhenov Art is a great way to add some inspiration to an office backdrop. These city art prints are the work of Blanca Gomez.

Designer: Project Palermo Here’s another two-person office with artwork on the feature wall. The color theme is unified with muted tones so each resident can choose their own theme without the end result looking too eclectic.

Designer: Industrial Facility (For Herman Miller) Let’s close out the post with something a little different – convertible desks that accommodate either sitting or standing. The modern-looking chair is the Herman Miller Mirra 2.

Home Office Furniture by Hulsta

Creative Workspaces

40 Beautiful Bedrooms That We Are In Awe Of

Unique Home Office Desks

50 Modern Dining Chairs To Set Your Table With Style

2 Simple, Super Beautiful Studio Apartment Concepts For A Young Couple [Includes Floor Plans]

from Interior Design Ideas http://www.home-designing.com/twin-home-office-workspaces-with-2-person-desks-chairs

#Interior Design Ideas

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Hyperallergic: The Shimmering Glory of a Modern Indigenous New Zealand Chapel

John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)

WELLINGTON, New Zealand — Amid the well-groomed homes and quiet roads in the suburbs of Karori in Wellington rises an unexpected structure, with a steep, folded roof that pierces the sky. Designed by John Scott, a New Zealand architect of Irish, Scottish, and Māori descent, the Futuna Chapel has stood on its plot for nearly 60 years, regarded as “the most complete example of a modern ‘indigenous’ New Zealand design.”

Interior of John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington (photo by Gavin Woodward)

While originally created as a chapel in a retreat center for the Catholic Marist Brothers, it also integrates elements adopted from Māori communal spaces, making it a building that bridges cultures. Towering above the rows of standard pews and friezes showing the Stations of the Cross is a large post that branches to the ceiling — it recalls a poutokomanawa, a carved wooden central support of a traditional Māori meeting house, or wharenui.

Today, the Futuna Chapel is nondenominational, hosting occasional concerts and lectures by speakers including architects Alejandro Aravena and Niall McLaughlin. (In April, as part of its annual lecture series, the chapel will welcome a professor of new media art and cultural heritage.) On sunny Wellington days, rays stream through the colorful acrylic window panels designed by Auckland sculptor Jim Allen and fixed into the soaring ceiling. They transform the space into a shimmering jewel box with varying textures. The light casts gridded, rainbow patterns on the roughcast plaster walls and the floor made of pounamu, a beautiful serpentine marble that holds special value for Māori.

Interior of John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington

Although small, Futuna keeps your eyes wandering, like a sculpture that reveals its secrets as you slowly observe it in the round. Scott built it on a square plan, but its regular base is offset by the angular ceiling, which features striking rafters. As you move through the chapel, hidden niches fitted with more windows emerge above you, including one that allows sun to spotlight the altar, made of South African red granite. Its roughness contrasts sharply with the smooth side altars made of white Kairuru marble, above which protrude detailed mosaics showing Mary, Chanel, Jesus, and St. Joseph with the baby Jesus.

Interior of John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington

Photographs capturing Futuna in its full glory fill the pages of Futuna: Life of a Building, a book published last year by Victoria University Press that chronicles the building’s history in essays and archival material. In particular, the book’s editors, Gregory O’Brien and Nick Bevin, alongside other contributors, reveal that this architectural gem was once threatened. “Only a decade ago, Futuna Chapel was discarded by others as worn out, unfit for purpose, or simply too forceful an idea,” Futuna Trust member Simon McLellan writes. “Others before us have advocated for the destruction of the chapel. In their eyes, it becomes a challenge — something to repress or expunge.”

Futuna altar and crucifix (photo by Gavin Woodward)

From the beginning, Futuna was built for a very specific purpose: as a haven for the Marist community. It’s named for the 30-square-mile Futuna Island in the Pacific, where the Marist priest and martyr Peter Chanel was murdered in 1841 while on a mission. It was even built by Marist brothers, who, though unskilled (and unpaid), broke ground in 1959 and successfully realized Scott’s design with the aid of volunteers from nearby Catholic communities. As architect Chris Cochran recounts, Scott was actually not the order’s first pick; when the brother who was initially chosen did not produce an innovative enough design, he suggested Scott, who proposed a vision focused on the interplay of light and shadow.

The finished Futuna was, at first, widely appreciated: seven years after the chapel opened in 1961, it won the New Zealand Institute of Architects Gold Medal. In the 1990s, however, it was increasingly used for nonreligious seminars, and eight years later the Society of Mary announced it would close the chapel because of a decline in Marist devotions. What followed was a long battle between Scott’s children and the land’s new owner, a local builder, during which the chapel was damaged by water, had its pews demolished, and even had some internal parts stolen, including a carved figure of Christ on a crucifix. Only in 2003 was Friends of Futuna Trust formed, and only four years later did the group successfully purchase the building. It reopened in March 2008, after nearly two decades spent in glum slumber.

John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington

Futuna sits quietly amid a residential complex, open to the public on select days. I visited on a partly cloudy January afternoon, when its stucco-walled interior, though breathtaking, was dim and grotto-like. I actually had no plans to step inside, as I knew it was a closed day. But while I circled the building to observe its exterior, a trustee driving home to the complex pulled up and invited me and my boyfriend to enter. It was an extraordinary chance encounter that spoke to the trust’s efforts to keep the building as alive and accessible as possible, even if it means members have to take time out of their personal days for a stranger or two.

Futuna has been free of debt for about a year and is safe for now. It stands as a building finally at peace with its still-evolving surroundings, but its history is important to record and remember — not just as a cautionary tale, but also as inspiration for others to fight to preserve their built heritage.

Mosaic work in Futuna Chapel

Interior of John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington

John Scott’s Futuna Chapel in Wellington

Interior of Futuna (photo by Gavin Woodward)

Futuna: Life of a Building is published by Victoria University Press and available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

The post The Shimmering Glory of a Modern Indigenous New Zealand Chapel appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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