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akakeiiji · 3 years

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HI!~ (THIS IS MY FIRST TINE REQUESTING AND IM REALLY EXCITED) Can I request a scenario where their smol s/o (I'm like 155 or 5'1 for reference) gets easily lost? Like they just wonder off on their own cause they think that he's still with them and she tends to leave her phone with him so calling to find her is out of the question??? (Me honestly IM SORRY FRIENDS AND FAMILY) She likes a lot of things so sometimes its hard to find her cause they never know where she is? Ushi, Tsuki and Bokuto-🌼

-`,✎ Ushijima, Tsukishima and Bokuto losing their short S/O in a crowd

THIS REQUEST IS JUST TOO ADORABLE AND IT HITS SO CLOSE TO HOME!! We’re the same height nonnie 🤧🤧✋ Short gang, where ya’ll at?

Also I apparently don’t know how to read because I thought you requested for headcanons at first despite you clearly asking for scenarios so I decided to keep the hcs since I was already halfway done with them~ hope you don’t mind, nonnie!

The man is literally built like the empire state building, he just towers over everyone, it’s insane

And then there you are behind him, all tiny and stuff, it’s so friggin adorable

He doesn’t really notice your height difference at all

Whenever people point it out, he just cocks his head with his eyebrows furrowed and is like “Yeah, I’m tall?? And they’re short?? Why are you reacting like that?”

He’s genuinely confused and doesn’t see why it’s a big deal at all

When he looks at you he doesn’t really pick up on itty bitty details like your height and stature; he just sees you for the whole you and sees you simply as this perfect deity that he loves

But he does appreciate the perks that come with it such as the way you feel when he hugs you after a match or the way you look up at him so adorably when you’re trying to get a kiss

He also didn’t realize the cons that came with having a tiny s/o

There are many but we’re focusing on the fact that it’s so easy to lose you in a crowd

He’ll literally look away for 0.5 seconds and when he looks back at you, you’re suddenly gone

He probably won’t notice for a bit but after a while, he’ll wonder why you aren’t holding onto his sleeve or hand anymore

Whenever this happens he usually goes about it in two ways; he’d either stay still where he is and let you find him (which isn’t hard, he sticks out like a sore thumb) or if enough time passes, he’ll retrace his steps and look for you himself

He’ll have a tiny little frown on his face since he gets so worried about you, like you’re so tiny what if you get trampled??

When he does find you though, the wide smile on your face when you catch sight of him honestly makes the search worth it

can you tell that I miss ushi so friggin much

The streets in downtown Tokyo are always so packed at this time of day. There were hundreds of people rushing to and from work, tourists taking in the sights, and busy shoppers such as yourself and Ushijima; you two had just finished shopping together and were heading to your favorite restaurant in the area as you always do to end your date night.

Your hand remained tightly wrapped around the hem of your boyfriend’s coat as you two made your way down the busy streets, struggling to not get pulled away as people continued to mercilessly push past you. You would have much rather held Ushijima’s hand but he insisted on carrying all your shopping bags and was rather preoccupied with them at that moment.

He marched on, oblivious to your struggles behind him. It was during times like this when you hated how short your legs were, you were practically jogging to keep up with your boyfriend who, to him, was only going at a leisurely pace.

Before you knew it, your hand had loosened and you suddenly lost hold of his coat. You looked up, hoping to find him just a few feet away, but he had disappeared into the sea of people all around you.

Ushijima hadn’t noticed anything at first, he was too focused on where he was going to realize that the little tugs on the hem of his coat throughout the journey were suddenly gone. He looked down at both his hands and placed the shopping bags on one of them to the other so that he could use it to hold your own.

He held out his free hand behind him, calling out your name, and motioned for you to grab it. A few seconds went by of him gesturing like this only to be met with no response.

He looked back, eyebrows furrowed, only to find no sign of you.

Ushijima immediately stops in his tracks, eyes widening ever so slightly as he did a little 360 turn in his spot, raking over the crowds rushing past him in hopes he’d find your familiar head of hair bouncing about.

He stood motionless where he was, forcing people to walk around him—most wanted to tell him off for standing in the middle of the street but no one had the balls to.

A few minutes went by and he began walking down the direction he came from looking everywhere for you. Worry began to bubble in him when you were still nowhere to be found but suddenly he saw a figure waving at him from afar.

You were standing on top of those small cement blocks on the bottom street lights, waving your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around the lamp towards your boyfriend, grinning ear to ear when you met eyes with him.

Ushijima smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing as he made his way over to you. You met him halfway, immediately wrapping your arms around him in a hug, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m never letting go of your hand next time.” He said, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before interlocking your fingers together. You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely not.”

We all already know this: Kei is fucking ruthless

It doesn’t matter that you’re dating. It doesn’t matter that you’re literally his favorite person in the world tho he’ll never admit this to you you will not be free from his savageness

No one is more hyper-aware of your height difference than he is and no one teases you more than him

Tsukishima is literally the type to steal your things and hold them over your head or he’ll purposefully stand at full height whenever you want to kiss him just so that he can watch you struggle

“Oh, babe, I didn’t see you from down there.”

Is the type to purposefully put things you use all the time up on the top shelves in cupboards and cabinets

He says that he does this to annoy but really he does this so that you can call him to help you since he banned you from climbing the counters 🤧✋

He really loves your height though as much as he likes to tease you for it

He loves how easy it is to wrap his arms around you and how you burrow into his chest whenever you hug

His favorite thing about your height is probably the fact that it’s so comfortable being the big spoon with you since you fit so snuggly against him 🥺

again he’ll never tell you this, my man is tight-lipped

However he can get very protective over you, it’s like he developed this idea in this head that small = fragile

So whenever he loses track of you in a crowd (which happens a lot, it's honestly embarrassing) he immediately drops everything and searches for you

He’ll have this permanent pout on his face as he retraces his steps, going back to wherever you two were and keeping an eye out for either you or places that would catch your eye

Once he finally catches you, he’d sigh in relief and immediately put up his “i’m annoyed right now, give me attention” face and head over to you, knocking your head with his knuckles lightly

He’d lecture you a bit about staying close to him and he’d spend the rest of your time out with his eye on you and with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

The mall was always so crowded during the weekend especially now that Christmas was just around the corner. Tsukishima told you that you two should visit the mall later during the week but you were just so excited to see this new movie, he simply couldn’t say no; he cursed himself for being so tightly wrapped around your finger.

The building was already pretty full when you two entered the cinema but when you two emerged, it was as if the number of people there seemed to double in just a span of a few hours.

As you two made your way through the tight-knit crowds of people, the frown on Tsukishima’s face never left as people kept pushing and rushing past him. He called out your name behind him and said, “See, I told you we should have come after the weekend, it’s like half the city is here right now.”

He waited for your usual giggle or scoff, maybe a light smack on his arm as you tell him to brighten up but there wasn’t any of that.

“(Y/N)? Did you hear me? I—(Y/N?),” He turned around, worried that you may have been upset at him but instead was surprised to find that you weren’t trailing along behind him like he expected you to be.

He turned around fully, hands coming out of his pocket as he raked his eyes over the crowds of people around him. It would be nearly impossible to find you here, there were probably hundreds of people in the mall now.

Tsukishima groaned slightly as he ran a hand through his locks, his other hand going into his pant pocket to ring your phone only to realize that it was with him as well, right next to his. This elicited a second groan from the blonde.

Knowing you, you probably got distracted by something and wandered away from him.

He retraced his steps, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He had no idea when you wandered away from him so you could have been anywhere. He stood at full height, towering over the majority of the crowd, and scanned the entirety of the floor and the shops on it.

He entered a few stores he knew you’d most likely visit; the bookstore, the pet store, and a shop that was having a 50% sale but he found no traces of you.

Tsukishima was about to give up and head to the information desk and ask them to announce something on the loudspeaker to grab your attention—probably something along the lines of “To the small gremlin wandering around floor three right now, please meet Tsukishima Kei at the main exit.”—when he spotted a bright store on the other side of the floor.

You were there. He just knew it.

He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the anime store and low and behold, there you were, crouching as you stared at the shelves of anime merchandise, a wide ear to ear grin on your face.

Tsukishima sighed and lightly smacked you, tearing you away from your thoughts and making you look up at him in shock.

“You are such an idiot, (Y/N).” You only laughed in response and wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face onto his chest. “Aww, Kei! Were you worried about me?”

“Of course, I was. How do you expect me to feel?” He said with another roll of his eyes. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of your head. “I was worried someone thought you were a child and kidnapped you.”

You let out an indignant gasp and started to smack him but he only laughed and took your hand in his, dragging you out of the store behind him ignoring your protests.

Nobody in the whole entire world thinks you’re more adorable than Bokuto

He adores the fact that you’re so tiny, he likes you call you his pocket-sized s/o

He never really teases you, instead he always coos and coddles you

He especially loves lifting you up in his arms and twirling you around, he always does this after winning a game and it always leaves you feeling dizzy

But you never complain bc who would complain about being hugged by Kou like that 🤧✋

However, as much as Bokuto loves how smol you are, he always kinda forgets that you’re short??

It’s because he’s always surrounded by tall people; his friends, the volleyball team, etc.

So he always forgets to adjust when he’s with you

And you know how some people just naturally walk really really fast, like they can’t help it, it’s just how they walk normally??

Yeah, that’s Bokuto

And this paired with the fact that he is literally 6’1 means he practically travels at light speed

Your tiny legs can barely keep up with your excitable boyfriend and you’re always practically jogging to keep up with him so if you take your eyes off of him for even just a few seconds he’ll probably run off somewhere and disappear 😔✋

This occurs so often when you two are out that you’re never shocked whenever it happens

It takes a few minutes before Bokuto realizes that he’s suddenly alone in a crowd and that you aren’t beside him like he thought you would be

AND IM SORRY BUT THE FIRST THING HE’LL DO IS JUST YELL OUT YOUR NAME REPEATEDLY AT FULL VOLUME WITH NO SHAME WHATSOEVER

“(Y/N)!! WHERE ARE YOU??”

Everyone around him would give him looks but he wouldn’t care, he just needs to find you fast or he’ll start panicking tho he lowkey already is

Some people would think that he’s looking for his kid but nah, he’s just looking for his smol s/o who would show up beside him after a while with a disgruntled look on their face

It never takes long for you two to reunite when you get separated, you just have to wait for the distinctive voice of your boyfriend yelling for you somewhere

When you two find each other, the first thing he’ll do is pull you into a tight hug, usually lifting you up from the ground as he presses a few kisses on your cheeks in relief

He’ll remember to walk slowly for the rest of the time you’re out, usually with his arm over your shoulder or with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

It made absolutely no sense to you that Bokuto literally grew up in the city yet has never visited the amusement park in the area before. You’ve visited the park countless times before but for your boyfriend, it was a first.

Bokuto was practically bouncing with excitement ever since you proposed the idea of visiting the amusement park together and it only got more intense as the day of your visit grew closer and closer.

You somewhat regretted not pushing your date to a later day in the week so that it didn’t fall on the weekend since the park was so packed but that feeling quickly dissipated when you glanced at your beaming boyfriend beside you.

What you did regret however was the fact that you didn’t wear more comfortable shoes, ones that were more fitting for exercise rather than leisurely walks since you were practically running around the park just to keep up with Bokuto.

His hand remained tightly clasped on your own as he sprinted all around the park, looking at all the rides, food stands, and gift shops around the place. He wasn’t really running, he was simply walking at a quick pace but this coupled with his long legs made it so difficult to match his pace with your significantly shorter ones.

You two had just gotten off a rather intense roller coaster and you felt your head spin from how dizzy it made you, you halted in your steps as Bokuto was about to begin running towards another ride making Bokuto stop as well as he was pulled back by your hand which was still holding onto his.

“Koutarou, let me rest for a bit,” You said as you sat on a bench in the shade, Bokuto immediately nodded and took a seat beside you, he handed you a bottle of water from his bag. “Sure babe, here drink this.”

After a few minutes of talking and resting under the shade, you stood up, reinvigorated, and filled with more energy. “Okay, let’s go, I’m feeling much better now,”

Bokuto immediately jumped onto his feet and beamed at you, more than ready for another round of rollercoasters and thrilling rides. He held out his hand for you to take and you two headed farther into the park.

“Let’s go on the Viking ride next—wait, hold on, let me fix this.” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and began adjusting the overpriced headband on your head; Bokuto insisted on buying matching ones at the gift shop despite their ridiculous price (“Look, it’s just so adorable!”)

When you looked up, ready to grab ahold of his hand again, Bokuto was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

You whipped your head all around you but you couldn’t see the familiar head of hair of your boyfriend in the horde of people around you. You stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to get a better view but that didn’t do anything to help. You feel back on your feet and huffed; curse you and your short stature.

You walked down the direction you two were originally headed at, raking your eyes over the crowds of people you walked past when you suddenly heard a familiar voice yelling out your name from a distance. You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and began to jog towards it.

Bokuto was standing on his tiptoes, his hands cupping his mouth as he called out for you over and over again, oblivious to the looks of shock from the people around him.

As he was about to scream out your name for the dozenth time, you suddenly pushed your way through the people around him and grabbed ahold of his arm, an exasperated yet also relieved look on your face.

Bokuto’s face immediately lit up, the small frown on his lips turning into a large smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you into his chest and lifted you off the ground as he usually does when he hugs you.

You giggled and flailed around as he did this, when he placed you back safely on the ground, he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

“Sorry for leaving you behind,” Bokuto said as he laced his fingers onto your own, “It won’t happen again,”

You scoffed playfully and let yourself be dragged along by him, “That’s what you said last time, Kou.”

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writingwithacupoftea · 4 years

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Dusty Black Coat

Summary: Tommy Shelby is famous for his dusty black coat - it's part of his signature look. But, really, it's not just his anymore...it's his sister's as well.

Word Count: 2765

Trigger Warnings: References to sexual assault after the third set of asterisks (***).

A/N: Hey hey hey, how are we all doing? I’m so happy to finally share this fic with you, it’s one that I’ve worked really hard on and it was one of the first ideas I had for a Peaky Blinders fic. As usual, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it!!

Tommy and Y/N Shelby had a relationship that no one could quite make sense of. Some people argued that the siblings were too similar for their own good, and that was the reason behind their seemingly constant arguing.

But in between all of that, there were moments of tenderness. These often occurred in complete silence, as they simply enjoyed the other's company. Amidst the hustle and bustle of a Friday night in the Garrison, Y/N could often be found with her head rested on her older brother's shoulder, sipping a gin as they watched Arthur and John's drunken antics with soft smiles on their faces. Or, if you happened to glimpse through the window of the Shelby residence on Watery Lane, you wouldn't be surprised to see the pair curled up in front of the fire, reading late at night.

Yes, it was a complicated relationship to say the least.

Then Tommy went to France, and the residents of Small Heath realised just how much Y/N loved her big brother. Of course, she missed all of her brothers while they were away, yet it was the one that the 18-year-old spend the most time yelling at that she clearly missed the most. It wasn't tears or words that communicated it, however. It was the fact that Y/N Shelby was nearly always walking the streets wearing Tommy's long, black coat.

The seven-year gap in age between the siblings meant that it was very oversized on her body to begin with. But as the years passed and the war continued raging on, the coat grew to suit Y/N quite nicely as she moved into her twenties.

When Tommy returned home, no one knew that him and his brothers were coming back, so the family didn't have chance to prepare. In fact, the first time that he saw Y/N, after four years away fighting, she was fast asleep. Upon closer inspection, Tommy had noticed that she was clutching his coat close to her chest and frowned at Polly, who had followed him, in confusion.

"She's barely let go of it since you left," and with those words Tommy found himself mimicking the gentle smile that graced Polly's face.

Since that day, a newfound understanding was created between Tommy and Y/N. Yes, they still argued (a lot, as any member of the Shelby clan would testify), but there was also now an unbreakable bond between the siblings. No one, not even the two themselves, knew what was so different about it, as nothing really changed in their relationship. But there was something there.

Oh, and it was also as clear as day that Tommy's sweeping black coat was definitely now Y/N’s as well...

***

Y/N loved the glamour of race days, no matter what business was occurring alongside them. Getting dressed up, having a few drinks, catching up with friends that she hadn't seen in a while; yes, she adored going to the races.

Everyone usually stumbles straight into the Garrison upon the return to Small Heath, and continues the party there. Tonight, however, not everyone chose to go to the cosy pub.

Y/N knew that her work could wait until the morning, but the meeting today was crucial for the expansion process of the Shelby Company Limited, and she wanted to get it done now.

No one had been into her office for hours, and when she had left earlier that day Y/N had neglected to close the window properly, so the cold October air had seeped into every nook and cranny of the room. She tried to concentrate on the papers in front of her, but her thin (but beautiful) dress did nothing to keep the cold at bay and she couldn't write properly with her fur shawl on. Sighing, Y/N put her pen down and made her way to Tommy's office to see if it was any warmer in there. She hated working in an office that wasn't her own, it was too distracting, but she had to decide which was the lesser evil: distraction through cold, or distraction through location. As she looked around Tommy's grand office, however, she found the perfect solution to her issue: Tommy's coat was hanging on a stand next to the door. With a triumphant smile on her face, Y/N marched back to her office with the heavy material sitting nicely on her body.

An hour later, she was still going with her paperwork, still wearing Tommy's coat, and completely oblivious to the time and anything else going on around her. So, naturally, Y/N didn't notice her brother appearing in the doorway to her office, having noticed the light glowing within the room.

"It's not like you to miss a night at the Garrison."

Y/N jumped what felt like a mile in the air, dropping her pen in the process, and placed her hand on her heart. "Jesus Christ, Tommy! I bloody hate it when you sneak up on me like that!"

A small chuckle fell from Tommy's lips as he sat down on the chair on the other side of her desk. "We had a good day today, Y/N," Tommy stated before lighting a cigarette, "We're moving up in the world." He paused, examining his younger sister thoughtfully. "And that, Y/N/N, means that you can afford to buy your own coat." Tommy's serious tone was, in Y/N's opinion, completely undermined but the glimmer of a smile that graced his face for a matter of seconds.

Y/N huffed dramatically, "It's called being resourceful, Thomas. My office was like an ice box, and your coat was just hanging there. Really, if you're that possessive over it you shouldn't leave it lying around." She raised her eyebrows and smirked at her big brother as she put her papers back into the drawer and locked it. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I actually came here to get that so, come on, give it here"

"You can't be serious"

"I'm always serious, sweetheart."

Reluctantly, Y/N stood up, removed the warm coat and handed it over. Tommy put it on himself, before leaning over and turning out the light on her desk. "Fine, leave me to freeze to death, then you'll regret it."

"Wear something sensible next time then."

Y/N simply responded by sticking her middle finger up as she walked past him, and onto the streets of Birmingham.

(Barely two minutes into their journey, however, Tommy gave in. Hand in his pocket, he opened his arm up and Y/N cuddled into his side, his arm and half of his coat wrapped tightly around her. Suffice to say the pair felt the warmest that they had been since the war began.)

***

The damp early morning mist hung low over the grounds of Arrow House, and the sun was slowly beginning to rise in the distance. Y/N had barely slept, tossing and turning over and over again in her bed, her mind constantly replaying her argument with Tommy the night before. A rival gang had made threats towards the Shelby clan over a week ago, and Tommy had elected not to mention it to anyone. She didn't know why she was surprised, or shocked. But still, yet another row had ensued with her older brother.

As the clock on her bedside table ticked over to hit 5am, Y/N felt a desperate need to walk and think and breathe. And so, still wearing her nightgown, she made her way over to the stables, only stopping briefly to collect Tommy's heavy coat to keep her warm, not really thinking about her actions.

Y/N didn't know how long she had been in the stables. She had run a hand over all of the horses, speaking to them in hushed tones as she did so. Memories of her childhood came flooding back to her, and she was hit with a wave of sadness as she realised that the simplicity of their old life was long gone. Instead, she only had these lone moments to cherish, away from the chaos that Tommy's ambition had brought with it. Anger towards her brother hit Y/N once again, and yet she found herself hugging his coat closer to her, seeking comfort in it that everything would be okay in the end.

Thomas Shelby, she thought, humourlessly, the king of providing people with conflicting emotions; sounds about right.

She was removed from her thoughts, however, as Y/N heard her name being called out from afar. Speaking of the devil, she mused; but she decided not to alert him to her whereabouts. As Tommy's voice got nearer, she realised that she had heard him use that tone of voice once before, panic-stricken and desperate: when Charlie was taken. Guilt coursed through Y/N's body, and yet part of her felt a small amount of satisfaction. He needed to be reminded of the importance of family, something that had escaped him in the months following Grace's death, and to experience some raw emotion for once.

Moments later, Tommy crashed through the stable doors, wild eyes searching the place frantically. When they landed on his sister's figure perched on a bale of hay, he let out a breath that he didn't even know that he had been holding. Upon finding Y/N's bed empty when he woke up, and seeing the front door slightly ajar, complete, unadulterated fear had consumed his entire being. The only thought that ran through his brain was they've taken her...they've taken her...they've taken her...

And so seeing her, safe, unharmed and swathed in his coat (as she so frequently was), broke down any remaining barriers that were still left standing.

Tommy quickly gathered her into his arms, hugging her closer than ever before. Y/N was stunned – she and Tommy never hugged properly; it just wasn't their way. But, despite her anger, she melted into it, not wanting to let this moment slip away.

As Tommy pulled away, holding Y/N at arm's length to examine her for any sign of harm and finding nothing, he suddenly found himself able to speak again, though his voice hoarse from shouting: "Even when you're mad at me, you can't leave without my fucking coat, can you?" Y/N, unable to hide a small smile, slapped his arm and started to make her way up to the house, Tommy following closely behind, not wanting her to wander off alone again.

***

It was no secret that Y/N Shelby was a fiercely independent young woman (this often clashed rather badly with Tommy's desire to control, and the combination sparked many an argument between the pair). She hated people mollycoddling her, and so when she was still having nightmares a month after being sexually assaulted in a London club, Y/N didn't mention it to anyone. All she did was try to continue her work and life as normally as she could, constantly pushing her exhaustion to one side.

Of course, what she didn't bank on was the fact that Thomas fucking Shelby could read her like a fucking book. And a children's one at that.

He'd been there the night it happened: whilst Tommy had met with the club's owner, Y/N was dancing with a friend. She'd slipped off to get another drink from the bar (on the house, obviously) when one man thought he'd try his luck. Reeking of alcohol and speech slurred, he'd been incredibly...persistent...and because they were at the end of the bar on a crowded Saturday night, no one had noticed as the drunk pulled her into a back room, tearing at her dress as she tried to fight him off.

Well, let's just say that he wasn't very lucky that night – Tommy had noticed his sister's absence and somehow managed to find her before anything went any further. To this day, Y/N still didn't know how her big brother had done it, all she knew was that she'd never been so relieved to see him. She didn't really remember the journey to Ada's house, where Tommy had taken her to be looked after while he went and hunted down the man who had dared to do this to his little sister: he had only managed to get in a few punches before turning his attention to Y/N, and it wasn't enough. The only thing that Y/N could clearly recollect was cuddling into her brother's chest as she sobbed, knowing that she was now safe. He'd buttoned his coat around her trembling figure, and to Y/N it was like he was still hugging her as he drove, the one thing keeping her grounded.

She felt the man's hands on her body every time she began to drift off to sleep. But she wouldn't tell anyone. Carrying on like everything was normal was just her way of coping with things, and she didn't want anyone to take that away from her.

It was eight o'clock at night when Y/N returned to the offices of Shelby Company Limited. She had been at the gin factory all day, checking on the progress being made there, and she was now more than ready for Tommy to take them back to Arrow House so that she could put her feet up. But, to her dismay, Tommy was still working away at his desk.

"Please don't tell me you're gonna be long, Tom?"

The man in question looked up at his sister, taking in her slumped posture and the darkness underneath her eyes. Instead of replying, he simply poured two whiskeys, grabbed his papers and sat down on the sofa in his office, gesturing for Y/N to do the same. Sighing, she removed her coat and hat and collapsed onto the space beside him, taking a large swig of the whiskey once she was comfortable.

"I'll be as quick as I can."

And with that, Tommy continued to read. Lulled by the warmth, whiskey and peace, Y/N's eyelids began to droop and (despite numerous attempts to stifle it) finally let out a long yawn. Not taking his eyes off the document in front of him, Tommy moved the remaining papers from his knee and placed them on the arm of the sofa.

"Go on," he said, in what was (for Tommy, at least) a lighter tone of voice.

Letting out a dry chuckle, Y/N looked over at her elder brother and replied: "I'm not 4 years-old anymore, Tommy, I will not -"

But before she could finish her sentence, she let out another yawn, causing Tommy to finally look away from his work to raise his eyebrows at her with a smirk.

"Fine," Y/N grumbled, "But if we're here much longer I'll just annoy you until we leave."

She slowly started to lay down onto the sofa, resting her head on Tommy's lap, and he subconsciously found himself stroking her hair with his free hand. When Y/N was much younger, this set-up wasn't unusual in the slightest, and the young woman now found herself feeling far more relaxed than she had been in months. So much so that she kept finding herself nodding off, but would shake herself awake every time, not wanting the nightmares to begin playing again.

He didn't show it, but Tommy was disheartened that his sister still wasn't going to sleep. He had hoped that the familiar position alone might be enough to send her off, as Tommy knew that he had quite a bit of reading left to do and wanted Y/N to get some rest. Tommy was more than aware that his sister hadn't been the same since that night in London, but didn't want to mention anything to her for fear that she'd bite his head off.

The great Thomas Shelby was scared of his younger sister, who'd have believed it?

After a few moments of silent thought, he realised that the solution was simple. He reached around to grab his coat, which he had thrown over the back of the sofa, and placed it over Y/N's body like a blanket. When she looked up at him, silently posing a question, Tommy spoke to her softly.

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I won't leave you."

Tears welled up in the younger Shelby's eyes as she nodded slightly, grateful (for once) that Tommy knows her better than she knows herself. Y/N curled her knees up slightly and snuggled in to the warm, dark material. Feeling her brother's hand securely on her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb backwards and forwards over it, and inhaling the scent of whiskey, cigarettes and just Tommy, Y/N knew that nothing could get to her...and so she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders sister #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic

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thosequeenboys · 4 years

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Super Trouper (John Deacon x Reader)

Summary: You and John Deacon became good friends during college. When John joins a band, you both thought it was a fun hobby - until it became more. Over the years, you each followed your own career paths and shared your love of music, staying in touch mainly through letters, as friends -- until he invites you to Queen’s show at Madison Square Garden in 1980.

A/N: This piece was written for @imcompletelylost for the Possessed by Love Event. I was so excited to be your creator, as we have some musical interests in common that I incorporated into the story. I hope you enjoy them. The story is based on my favorite ABBA song. Thank you @yourlocalmusicalprostitute for coordinating this event. Thank you, @warriorteam1924 for great beta reading, ideas & support. Also thanks to @mirkwoodshewolf and @iwilltrytobereasonable for brainstorming and your terrific ideas.

Warnings: 2-parts fluff to 1-part angst. Band and song dates may not perfectly align with the story time frames. I hope music historians will be forgiving, and any lapses will not detract from the story.

It’s 1971, and you and your best friend, John Deacon, were in the cafeteria line pushing your trays along the railing. Each of you grabbed a plate of sodden fish and chips from under the orange warming lights. After four years, you still missed a good old American burger and fries, but aside from the food, attending college in London had been a great experience.

“They asked me to audition. Seem like a good gaggle of guys.” John laughed at his alliteration.

“They call themselves Queen? Like, Your Majesty?” you queried.

“Indeed,” John affirmed. “The lead singer, Freddie, is an art student. He’s drawing a crest. And there’s Brian and Roger. They’re science students.”

“Lovely!” you enthused.

“A good distraction from studies.” John concurred. “Though they do seem quite ambitious.”

“Can’t hurt to give it a go,” you shrugged. “Though good thing you all will have those polished degrees to fall back on,” you said, only half joking.

“I am pleased to confer your degrees upon you. Congratulations to the class of 1972,” the Dean asserted with a tight grin. The audience broke out into polite applause. You looked around a bit bewildered. You missed the American tradition of giddy graduates tossing their mortarboards in the air with abandon. After a quick embrace, you and John made your way to the local pub to meet up with his band mates, now considered your friends.

“So, Y/N,” Brian said, placing a beer down before you, “You’re heading back to America next year? So willing to leave our lush gardens, cultural sophistication -- and our dear friend, John?

“Not to mention, the next band destined for greatness,” Freddie declared with a broad smile as he tucked his chin slightly, his long hair falling into his face.

“Yes, well,” you took a deep breath feeling four sets of eyes upon you. “The advertising agency I worked for during school offered me a position in their New York office. Always wanted to live in New York. I will miss London’s beauty and culture,” your voice lilted with the faint British accent you had picked up.

“And…” Roger prompted you to respond to the end of Brian’s statement.

“And, yes, the people I’ve met,” you spat out. You shot a glance at John, and you melted as you felt his eyes meeting yours. “And the memorable times I’ve had. With them.” you added, trying to sound light, but you felt tears collecting on the rim of your eyes and you blinked to dissipate them. You knew their presence resulted from the thought of leaving the most important person to you-the lithe, long-haired brunette, whose grey eyes you were now lost in-your best friend, John. Only a friend, the last four years had established. You grabbed a napkin and subtly dabbed at your eyes.

John blinked, and his lips fell into a grin that made his eyes crinkle. “You can’t be talking about our first day as chemistry lab partners when your signature hand movements to Dancing in the Street knocked the beaker clear off the table, smashing it to a million pieces.” John smirked.

“No,” you laughed, moving past your embarrassment to counter, “I’m actually thinking about the time we stayed up all night to write our English papers and finished each other’s sentences, taking sips of beer after each successful line.”

“Some of the best writing the University has ever seen,” John deadpanned, as he looked up wistfully. “And one of the highest English scores I ever earned, legless or sober.” He added, rubbing his chin.

“There it is then,” Roger interjected.

You both looked at him mystified.

“You’ll stay in touch by writing letters. Though you’ll each have to finish your own sentences, I suppose.” Roger concluded, unleashing his playful smile.

*****

Your tight bell bottoms skimmed the floor and the loose open-neck cotton blouse with colorful embroidery flowed around your curves. You glanced at your bags piled by the door, moving over to check one to distract yourself from the impending onslaught of emotions. A soft knock interrupted your nervous efforts. You rezipped the bag as John entered and halted, taking you in. His swallowed, and his mind revisited the thoughts he repeated to himself over the last few weeks. If only. If only this conversation could be different. If only I said something sooner. If only we wouldn’t be risking our friendship. If only you wanted this to be more. ‘If I only had the words to tell you, If you only had the time to understand. Though I know it wouldn't change your feelings, And I know you'll carry on the best you can.’ (1) You’d probably go anyway, he had concluded.

“Thanks for seeing me off,” You said, avoiding his gaze.

“I…I brought you something,” John blurted out, as his long fingers dug into the front pocket of his faded bell bottoms. He thrust a rectangular box toward you.

You forced a smile through your tense face and lifted the lid. You pulled out a delicate sterling silver chain that held a mounted luminescent grey oval stone with angular cuts that refracted blue hues. “John, it’s…beautiful,” you said, as you reached behind your neck to fasten it.

“Here, let me,” he moved behind you, his strong fingers overlaying yours to ease the clasp, as he thought of the day he purchased the gift. Brian had accompanied John to the jewelry shop, and as they peered into the display case, Brian suddenly gasped. “Oh, a moonstone. So beautiful how it catches the light and changes colors. This is really exquisite, John. And, it will be a reminder that even apart, you’ll still share the same moon.”

Back to the present, John stepped in front of you and admired the gift resting splendidly between your collarbones, perfectly framed by your open blouse. “I’m not into all that crystal nonsense,” John said, “but it’s said to be a calming gemstone. And a wise man said, it will remind us that though we’re apart, we’ll be sharing the same moon.” John figured Brian wouldn’t mind him lifting his line.

“Oh John, that’s lovely,” you leaned in to hug him, and as he returned the embrace, your denim jeans pressed together and your arms pulled each other close. How could you be leaving this, him? You had to accept that nothing more was meant to be.

“Wait! I have something for you!” You pulled away suddenly, knowing time was of the essence, and reached into your bag, retrieving a long black box. You held it out to John, who opened it quickly. He held up the beautiful pen engraved with JRD.

“Now that we’ll be writing to each other….” You indicated.

“It’s perfect.” John said his eyes shifting between you and the gift. Before you could embrace again, a horn blared. “Cab’s here. Let me grab some bags,” John looked down, hefted two bags and headed out the door. You looked around your flat, grabbed your last suitcase and purse. As you entered the hallway and slowly shut the door, you knew this special chapter in your life had ended. And you hoped Roger was right: that your friendship with John would continue from afar.

*****

Sirens blared outside as you dragged yourself up the four flights of stairs. You felt a corner of the record digging into your side through your thin fabric bag. Once inside your apartment, you pulled the record out of the beautiful jacket, and read the song list on the label. You propped open the heavy lid of your record player and blew on the vinyl disk before placing it gingerly on the turntable. You flipped the on switch, and the album turned rhythmically. You carefully lifted the needle, hovering it over the fourth groove as the record turned, waiting to release it at just the right place to start the song, at just the right indentation to avoid a scratch. You steadied your fingers and eased the needle down carefully. After a beat, success! ‘Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?’ (2) You took a deep breath as the beautiful, familiar melody consumed you, taking you on an emotional journey, flooding your small flat. You kicked off your heels, curled up on the couch and grabbed your writing kit from the side table.

Dear John,

I’m listening to Bohemian Rhapsody-on my own record player! What a work of art! I loved your last letter describing your creative adventures with the boys at Ridge Farm. The song sums up how I’ve been feeling recently: my fantasy of working at a big ad agency has been replaced by the reality that starting out, it’s more grunt work than glamour. Accepting that helps me stick with it. And, it calls into question, what really matters in life? And what is Scaramouche, anyway? Ha-ha. Give the boys my love and let them know I am so proud of them and so pleased you’re all getting deserved recognition. Too bad those hard-earned degrees are going to waste! Cheers, Y/N

Dearest Y/N,

Yes, the reception for A Night at the Opera has been a whirlwind and exceeded our wildest dreams. Speaking of which, I had a dream we were back at Uni playing the finishing sentences game in your flat. I handed you my notebook and instead of words, there were musical notes. Probably because I’ve been writing some songs. In fact, I wrote You’re my Best Friend for you. True story. Yours, John

*****

Dearest Y/N,

I know we were both disappointed that we missed each other during our recent US tour. I hope your business trip was all it was supposed to be. Well, we’re back in London now, having had to cut the tour short in Boston, as Brian was very ill-and is still recovering from Hepatitis. Suffice it to say, it was very scary. But, you know him, as ill as he was, he was still writing. He was afraid we’d kick him out of the band, which we would never do. We are brothers, family. I thought the band was just a hobby, and now I can’t imagine my life without being part of Queen. Love to you always, John

Dear John,

My goodness, I hope Brian has recovered, and you have as well from a stressful trip. Speaking of trips, mine was…very good. I met someone special… Eric. We just clicked-about life. He’s in Boston. And get this! He was supposed to see the show you had to cancel because of Brian’s illness. He was so impressed that I knew you all ‘way back when.’ Can’t wait to see him next weekend. Not picking out the wedding gown yet….But, I did pick up Billy Joel’s early album Street Life Serenade. The Entertainer reminds me of you and the boys: ‘I am the entertainer. And I know just where I stand. Another serenader. And another long-haired band. Today I am your champion. I may have won your hearts. But I know the game, you'll forget my name. And I won't be here in another year, if I don't stay on the charts.’. Well, you don’t have to worry about the last line. You guys will be on the charts for the foreseeable future-and beyond. I also thought it was funny that he wrote, ‘if you’re gonna have a hit, you gotta make it fit, so they cut it down to 3:05.’ (3) Tell Freddie he proved that wrong with Bohemian Rhapsody! Take care and hugs to Brian. Cheers, Y/N

****

Dearest Y/N:

That’s a great song! Joel’s descriptions are certainly accurate, but they don’t capture everything. It’s been a tough time. Tensions permeate the group, and there are lots of arguments. I do think in a weird way they help to fuel creativity, but it can feel exhausting. Even though you and I are not together, I feel you with me, soothing me, steadying me. Truthfully, that helps calm me-and helps me to soothe the boys and try to keep us all focused. I hope you are happy. You’re my Best Friend. Love, John

Dear John,

I’m sure you are a great calming influence for the band. You are a stalwart trouper during tough times indeed!

Speaking of calming, your beautiful necklace has been soothing me as I try to move on from the failed love affair with my Bostonian. The line from Summer, Highland Falls sums it up: ‘How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies. Perhaps we don’t fulfill each other’s fantasies. We are always what our situations hand us-it’s either sadness or euphoria.’ (4) It was a roller coaster of grand fun and tense irreconcilable disagreements. He was very inflexible, wanting everything on his terms. I realize everything was easy with you and me; there was a give and take. Knowing you’re there for me – and that we share the same moon – helps. Cheers and love, Y/N

*****

The boys were nursing warm drinks in a Munich bar, as John pulled the letter out of his jacket and scanned it again. The boys eyed him, sensing relief that John found hard to cover.

“It’s OK to gloat, John. Glad she dumped that selfish bloke,” Roger said. “You’ve been a trouper all these years, being a great friend to Y/N. It must be hard though. I mean, you’ve always wanted more…”

Freddie put his beer down loudly on the table and took a commanding tone. “Enough with this letter-writing rubbish. Now is your time, John! Invite her to our upcoming Madison Square Garden show! YES!!! We’ll have your dressing room decorated with lights and big bouquets of fragrant flowers brought in from the nearby Flower District! And Moet of course!” Fred’s words spilled out of him, as the images came into focus.

Roger jumped in. “We’ll arrange a limo to bring her to the show. She’ll be escorted to her front row seat-and then backstage after the show to meet you privately. Finally! You’ll tell her how you feel; ask her to move to London and….”

“Guys, wait, wait!” Brian said in a measured tone. “This is John’s decision. It’s a big step for him, and he…”

“Really, Dear,” Fred interrupted, trying to hold back an eye roll and a disdainful tone, “Must you be such a Dolly Downer?”

John looked at his band mates warmly, touched that they clearly wanted what was best for him. “Well, I do appreciate the premiere matchmaking services of Mercury-Taylor. And May is right, it’s a big step.” John hesitated. He felt he was on a precipice looking out into a sea mixed with excitement and anxiety, like waves gathering, crashing gently toward each other before rushing out at low tide. He added haltingly, “It…it may be too late.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try. It would be nice for you to share the same moon on the same continent,” Brian said with a wink to John.

John smiled as a lyric came to his mind, ‘You can't be everything you want to be before your time. Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight.’ (5) “Maybe it’s my time. Our time,” he said, casting a smile at his friends.

“Wonderful! I’ll tell Miami the arrangements to be made!” Freddie said decisively.

******

Your office meeting stretched into the night, not an unusual occurrence, though the head of the firm addressing a small team of top-performing staff was unprecedented. “We have acquired a number of significant clients in London, and we will be expanding our office there. If any of you are interested in a position, please let me know in the next two weeks.” As the meeting ended, your colleague turned to you, “How about we let off some steam at the Palladium?” Sounded good to you. After the bouncer removed the velvet rope, you were welcomed to the club by pulsating music and lights thrown off a large disco ball hanging from the ceiling. You entered the dance floor and started to move to the blaring beat, ‘Gimme gimme, gimme a man after midnight.’ (6) You realized it wasn’t any man you wanted. It was John. Maybe you should take a position in London. Maybe you and he….But you were getting ahead of yourself. Tomorrow you’d have a front row seat at Queen’s Madison Square Garden concert and a private reunion with John afterwards. For now, as usual, you let the music envelop you and move through you, expressing your feelings.

*****

You were ready to go in a black leather miniskirt, white sleeveless tank top and your white go-go boots. Your nerves were making a cameo; as you clasped John’s necklace your fingers shook. You entered the waiting limousine and stretched out in the back, enjoying the rare city view from a car. It sure beat riding the subway. Upon arrival at the VIP entrance, you were escorted to your seat. Your stomach felt hollow, and you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe. As you settled in, taking in the huge stage, thoughts coursed through you: Here you were: sitting front row at Madison Square Garden, seeing Queen-a band you knew and truly admired, reuniting with John -- and hopefully clarifying your future. You tried to push it all aside as the hot spotlights lit the stage, signaling the start of the show.

In the wing backstage, John shifted from foot to foot as he peered out onto the stage lit only by four glaring spotlights that cascaded over the smoke. He could already feel the heat from those lights, but he knew there was more to the warmth creeping through him: you were out there, and the two of you would be reunited soon. A smile bloomed across his face as he took in the roar of the crowd. ‘Suddenly I feel all right, and it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tonight. Tonight, the super trouper lights are gonna find me shining like the sun, smiling, having fun, feeling like a number one, Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue like I always do. 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.’(7)

Ratty gave the queue, and Freddie led the boys in a bounding stage entrance. John took his place behind Freddie’s piano. The powerful beams prevented him from seeing the fans, but he wasn’t blinded. He saw more clearly now than he ever had.

The show was magnificent, and after the encore, the boys met again in the stage wing, as the roadies handed them towels.

“Your dressing room is ready!” Freddie reassured. “We snuck in a few candles, though we are violating New York City Fire Code,” he added with a wink, and glance at Roger, who tried unsuccessfully to conceal a laugh.

Brian rolled his eyes and raised his hands dramatically in front of himself. “News Headline: Queen burns up Madison Square Garden. Literally.”

“For a good cause, though!” Roger defended.

“Thanks, Guys,” John said softly, nodding to his best friends. “Wish me luck.”

John’s heart beat faster with each step down the long corridor. As he opened the door he spotted you seated on a couch, and he gasped. You stood, and he reached out his hand, which you took, as you swayed your hips slightly to release some nervous energy.

“Y/N, I’d hug you but…I’m a sweaty mess,” John said, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You look gorgeous-you always did,” you said. “The show was fantastic! And I love what you’ve done to the place,” you said coyly, gesturing around the romantically lit room, dotted with lush bouquets and a champagne bucket. “Who knew The Garden had such impeccable decorating taste?”

“It was Fred and Roger’s doing, actually,” He chuckled. “Sit, sit.” He bent into the couch and still holding your hand, he eased you down with him.

You both started to speak at the same time: “Y/N, I wanted to tell you that I….” “John, my company has positions in the UK and I’m thinking of taking one….”

“Is that what you want? To return to London?” John asked, trying and failing to temper his excitement.

You stared at each other. “If,” you said, gathering courage and then shaking your head to change the point. “It isn’t just work I want to return for…It’s…well, I know you probably have girls lining up, but I…”

“No.” John cut you off. There’s never been anyone serious. There couldn’t be. There’s only been you. All these years.” He swallowed before continuing. “Tonight…the reason for all this, I was planning to tell you that I love you, always have, always will, and ask if you’d consider coming back to the UK. Back home, to me….”

“Yes! A definite yes!” You embraced with some distance between you, and John broke apart sporting a broad grin. “Oh, Y/N! I…. I need to shower and then we can continue our plans. I’m so happy! And I need to tell the boys that their matchmaking efforts worked-and that as Brian said, we’ll be enjoying the moon together-from the same place.”

‘Whenever we’re together, that’s my home,’ (8) you said, letting your happy tears flow.

Song Notes

1. If I Only Had the Words, Billy Joel

2. Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen

3. The Entertainer, Billy Joel

4. Summer, Highland Falls, Billy Joel

5. Vienna, Billy Joel

6. Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man after Midnight), ABBA

7. Super Trouper, ABBA

8. You’re My Home, Billy Joel

75 notes · View notes

sonicringbond · 3 years

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Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 37

Time for a little action to spice things up a bit. Maybe it’s because last scene had a gentle let down. Maybe it’s because of the last Survey having so many ties. Whatever the reasoning, enjoy a little action to start...

~I had expected my next meeting with Ix to be troublesome, but I figured with Sonic with me that things would have gone smoother than this. Or at least that he would talk. Ooh~ why does he have to be such a bad person!~

“I had considered our next encounter would have occurred much sooner medium, alas, I have grown far stronger than you could have imagined.”

Ix’s mocking of Rosy came from high above where she was held under Sonic’s arm like a duffle bag while he ran far more successfully across the desert sand than she could. Rosy’s cheeks were puffed up with frustration, but there was little she could do. Though Sonic teasing her didn’t help matters any.

“Some trouble you’ve found, rascal,” Sonic commenting as he risked a glance back at what he fled from.

It was not the first worm like golem Sonic had encountered, but the size of this one was like a small mountain had taken to the sands.

“Ooh~! Ix didn’t make anything this large when I met him! I don’t know what happened!”

“Well, whatever did, let’s just hope Draw can get the help we need.”

Growing more serious, Sonic tried to pick up the pace as even he had traction problems on the sand dunes he skipped across. And fortune did not favor him or Rosy however as a particularly high dune with a view of the ruins of skyscrapers rising from the sand brought them well above the giant stone worm golem.

“This doesn’t look good,” Sonic remarked as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.

“At least it looks like fun,” Rosy laughed as a bead of sweat also streaked down her cheek.

A moment later the two of them were tossed high into the air as the golem plowed straight through the sand dune. Sonic couldn’t keep his grip on Rosy, but luck was on their side to a degree as she landed on top of him as he crashed into the side of the golem.

“Tee-hee~♥ Miss me Sonic?”

“Well, you kept me from bouncing off of this thing, but it’s still kind of looking like we’re in a bit of trouble.”

As Rosy sat in Sonic’s lap, she managed to allow him to slide along the wall of sand that rolled off the golem while effectively sitting. He would likely be sore later, but there was little he could do without any real traction. Ix planned on remedying that and had the golem change course under the midday sun.

“WAHH~!” Sonic and Rosy cried out together as the worm turned sharply and coiled around the two hedgehogs. Neither of them saw what happened after that as thew were caught in a massive vortex of sand and promptly buried.

As she was yanked out of the sand by her ankle, Rosy hoped it was Sonic to her rescue, however…

“Ix!” Rosy gasped before coughing on inhaled sand.

“So helpless you seem now, medium,” Ix spoke in a condescending tone. “Is this perhaps the consequence of you being in the company of your lover? No matter, I shall take from you your connection to the gods and return to my search.”

Defenseless as she continued to choke and cough, Rosy could barely squint open her left eye as Ix struck the sand with his staff. Rising between where Rosy dangled and Ix stood, a single Ring formed a window between them, and they locked eyes through it. Ix’s glowing blue eyes, and the broken Red Star Ring held together by an internal gear that Rosy’s left iris became.

“What! Impossible,” exclaimed Ix as Rosy started coughing harder and squeezed her eye shut again. Her coughs after a brief and dizzying moment could not escape her body at all however as Ix’s stone fist closed around her throat.

“Kh…!” Rosy whimpered weakly as her lungs burned and her chest heaved violently. Forcing open her eyes as she grabbed feebly at Ix’s arm, she again graced him with the sight of the unusual sight in her left eye.

“How!” Ix demanded as he tightened his grip and Rosy kicked her legs feebly. “How did you come into possession of a Yoluku Device! Answer–!”

A sudden blow sent the golem flying and Rosy fell into Sonic’s arms as he uncurled from his Spin Dash. “The lady can’t say a word if you’re about to break her neck!

“You alright kid?” Sonic asked as he looked down at Rosy who was clutching at her throat. Not wanting to worry Sonic, she offered him a wordless smile and nodded her head, several tears falling from her eyes. The sight did not please Sonic at all and she could feel the tension that rose from him.

Gently placing Rosy on the ground, Sonic stood up and faced down Ix across the sand. A moment later and he surely would have reduced the golem to a pile of rubble, but that fate was left for the golem that trapped him and Rosy.

~Draw can be pretty imaginative sometimes. I would have never thought of it, but he did. He really is a cute little golem hunter. At least when he isn’t teasing me!

~Anyway, out in the desert we were running along in when Ix suddenly attacked us was more than just a bunch of old skyscrapers sticking up out of the dunes. Though seeing them covered in vines and moss made for a striking sight against the golden sand. But they were nothing compared to the bizarre sight of the castle that plowed through the giant worm golem Ix had used. It was like a thing from a fairytale all covered in buttresses and spires. The white stonework and blue tiled tower roofs were a sight to behold glistening in the afternoon sun. But the really amazing thing was the steam works underneath the town sized castle that propelled it across the surface of the sand.

~I mean Sonic and I couldn’t see them when we tried to run up alongside the castle as we chased it out of Ix’s trap. There was too much sand. But after Sonic picked me up again – honestly, I could have at least tried – we followed flares that Draw shot from within the steam works into the sandstorm the traveling castle stirred up. Once we actually could see them, there were so many pipes and gears it made me dizzy trying to follow them all.

~Soon enough we were whisked through the steam works by people wearing uniforms and a badge with a symbol of a wrench laid across a gear. I think that might be the symbol of the Engineers, but I can’t say for sure. Still, the castle was every bit as beautiful from within as it was from afar.

~I could have wandered the halls covered in the polished floors so reflective it was like I was walking on the soles of my own feet for hours. Whole wings of the massive castle were like towns within themselves, with farms built into some of the larger towers. I’m sure if Tails were here, he’d have spent forever in the bowels of the castle’s machinery, but it was almost a paradise within fit for a city of princesses. And the people were so nice too, without a sign of any of those mean priests in most towns around at all. But our wandering around was not without purpose and Sonic had been doing a lot of talking.

~What Ix had said about my eye had been bothering Sonic. I couldn’t blame him. It looked like a Red Star Ring that was simply crumbling at two of the points revealing a gear that was hidden in it, but Ix called it a device. If it was a machine… Ugh! It’s creepy thinking there’s a machine in my eye. But as this city seemed to belong to the Engineers, there was no one better to ask about it.

~There was just one tiny problem.~

“Not even a hint of red left,” Sonic stated flatly as he looked into Rosy’s eye. She was fidgeting and trying her best just to look ahead so Sonic could get a good look, however…

“Ee~k!” Rosy squealed and covered her face. “I’m sorry Sonic, but having you look so intently into my eyes…! AAH~! ~♥”

Falling over and kicking at the air as she loosely curled up, Rosy earned an eye roll from Sonic and a sigh from Draw. “There really is something wrong with you, you weirdo girl.”

“Rosy!” the pink hedgehog corrected her koala friend while peeking through her fingers. Again, both of her eyes were normal and there was no sign of the unique Red Star Ring within.

“So now what? Draw asked turning to look at Sonic who took to resting his crossed arms on a nearby railing. His ear twitched in response to Draw’s question, but he offered no answer. “What I’d do to get the silent treatment this time! Didn’t I find the town those salvagers out in the desert told us about!”

“It’s okay Draw, “Rosy comforted the young golem hunter by embracing him from behind. Her action frightened free Mote, the fairy companion of Draw’s, who Rosy tilted her head at and smiled. “Maybe you have an idea, Mote!”

Good cheer and enthusiasm were far from enough to convince the fairy that claimed to not be allowed to communicate with a medium to stay and talk. Only Draw could speak with the fairy as it was due to a Ring Bond it had made with it, but he still did not speak up in time to prevent Rosy from vocalizing her disappointment. “Aww~!”

“Give it up weirdo girl,” Draw advised her as he slipped out of her comforting hug. “Besides, Mote says it noticed something here while we’ve been wandering around aimlessly.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Draw invited Sonic reluctantly, and not without making his dislike of that made clear, “though I wouldn’t care if you didn’t.”

“Whatever you say, tyke,” Sonic waved a dismissive hand, but still pulled away from the railing.

With his hands on the back of his head, Sonic followed Draw and Rosy, who in turn followed Mote deep into the heart of the castle.

~The castle kept surprising me with how amazing it was, but some surprises are really too much. I’m sure I covered my mouth when we reached that inner plaza under a big glass dome. The plaza itself was amazing, even if it was just another room inside the castle that served as one. But really, what else could it do. Right in the middle of it was a giant crystal rose the size of a mansion that was encased within a swirling clockwork device. It was just like the one the being in my dream from before my eye started getting weird had. Except the one in my dream actually moved. This one… well once in a while it moved slightly, like a minute hand on a clock, but that was all. Even the rose barely turned where it floated in the air.

~As amazing as it is though, it seemed a normal sight to the people who called the tower home. In a way, travelers like us were the weird ones.~

“Now isn’t this a sight,” a high pitched but friendly voice spoke up behind Rosy and the others. “Don’t see travelers here too often who don’t know about the Rose."

Scene 37 · CLEARED Castle Rose, to be continued

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New character time! By the time this posts they would have already been designed and introduced during the regular writing streams, but I hope everyone enjoys them. there won’t be too much of them yet, but if your familiar with Sierokarte from GranBlue Fantasy you might have an idea of what to expect next week. I hope you enjoy it!

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Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – The Path of Duty – Yasunori Nishiki – GRANBLUE FANTASY: Versus ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK

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#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #pir'oth ix #sonic oc #patch #draw the koala #mote the fairy

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wisdomrays · 3 years

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TAFAKKUR: Part 355

DIARY OF A HONEYBEE: Part 2

The honey I make is composed of water, sucrose and glucose and is very rich in vitamins. It contains enzymes to digest carbo-hydrates. It is very delicious and healthful. Some part of the honey I make may come to your table one day. I will have died by the time you are eating it. You have no obligation at all to remember me, but do not forget the One Who provides you with it through me and thank Him.

Day 32 - Thousands of bees die in our comb every day and other thousands are born. This happens in so orderly a way that no confusion is seen.

There is one among us without whom it is impossible for things to be in order in our comb-the queen. She is a bit larger than us and was programmed to do things different from what we do. She cannot collect nectar nor make honey, nor feed the larvae. She cannot feed herself either. We, her daughters, feed her with the royal jelly we offer to the young larvae.

The queen bee lays eggs. She must lay around 2000 eggs every day, for our lifespan is very short. While we are feeding her, she lets us taste from a substance she produces. We go round the comb and so cause all female bees to taste that substance by which a kind of birthcontrol is secured in the comb. On the day we do not taste it, we all begin to lay eggs. Since those eggs are not fertilized, only male bees come from them. Male bees have no task other than inseminating the queen bee. Their number is quite limited. If they were to be too many, the order in our comb would collapse.

Day 35 - A new factory has started to work in my body today. This factory installed in the back, lower part of my abdomen produces wax. I collect that wax with the sticks on my middle legs and chew it to mould it into the cells of the comb.

The cells we make are hexagonal in shape, because, compared with the amount of the wax used to build them, as much honey as possible can be stored in them. Also, a hexagonal form is most resistant to external forces. We make 35 thousand cells from half a kilo of wax and store 10 kilos of honey in them. We need three and a half kilos of honey to make half a kilo of wax.

We make cells in different forms according to need. While making them, we take gravitation into account. For example, the cells where the female worker bees lie horizontally form a vertical layer, while the cells where future queen bees lie vertically are parallel to the earth surface. The cells where male bees grow are bigger than those of the females. As you certainly understand, it is impossible for us and for any other things in nature, including what some of you call natural forces, to know and arrange all these things. There must be One Who does it. One Who knows us together with our relation with our environment and employs us in many important tasks.

Day 37 - (your June 11)- So far, I have left my comb on many occasions but only to throw out the waste matter and had opportunities to see the outer world from afar. Today I left my comb but not to discard waste but to fly around the comb, to obtain knowledge of the outer world.

Flying is very tiring for us. Unlike birds, we do not flap wings. When we start to fly, our wings move automatically in a way to make 250 complete turns in a second. While flying, our front and back wings are bound to each other.

When we start to fly, our wings curve along certain lines in a way to adjust our body to the air current. They draw a figure-of-8 shape in the air. In proportion to the size of our wings, our bodies are heavy (unlike birds which fly). They grow heavier when we collect nectar from flowers. Despite this, we can fly 15 kilometres an hour.

Like our flying, our landing is also miraculous. Unlike birds and your planes, we do not need to decrease our speed before we land. Thanks to the tips of our legs, while flying in the air, we can immediate- my alight wherever we want.

Since our wings move at extremely high speed, our need for fuel is high. Our muscles have a metabolic rate ten times faster than the heart of a man. We consume sugar as fuel. Before we start a journey, we take enough ‘fuel’. However, if the amount of sugar in our blood reduces to 1 per cent, we obtain new food wherever we are.

Day 38 - My new task is keeping guard at the entrance of the comb. No one, not even other bees, are allowed to tenter our comb. We know one another by our smell. The smell of each community of honeybees is different. Our antennae distinguish between the smells very well. The entrance of our comb is also marked with the smell particular to our community. Any other creature which does not carry our semll is prevented from entering.

Day 39 - There have been some changes in the comb. The cells of about a dozen larvae have been made bigger and turned vertical. The larvae in them will be fed with royal jelly until they become pupae.

The queen bee has accelerated laying eggs. She lays about 2000 eggs a day.

Day 41 - Now I am a fully mature honeybee. I will no longer do the housework because the factories in my body producing royal jelly and wax have stopped. From now, I will spend my days collecting nectar from flowers.

Today it was my first flight outside. When I flew far away from the comb, I found myself surrounded by a design of colours. The scents coming from all around nearly caused me to faint. Flowers attract us by their colours and smells. They have structures arranged as if to serve as platforms for our landing. When we land on them, we pass our tongues into the source of nectar in their centres. Meanwhile pollen from the flowers clings to the hairs on our bodies giving them the look of prickly sticks. We leave some of this pollen on other flowers we visit and thereby assist i the pollination of flowers. But for this service we perform, you would not enjoy the benefit from fruit-bearing trees such as peach, apple, pear, almond and plum.

We do not visit flowers at random. Whatever kind of flowers we visit first, we continue to visit the same kind in the same environment. If we did otherwise we would be carrying pollen of other kinds of flowers and therefore waste the pollen, uselessly.

We are mostly attracted by blue. However, we also visit flowers of other colours except red. Red flowers do business with butterflies.

We do not see flowers in the same colour as you see them. Only the nectar containing central parts of the flowers you see as yellow appear to us as yellow to attract us to you see as white appear to us as coloured. In short, when we go on a journey to collect nectar, we do not look for them. Flowers themselves smile to us and attract us.

Day 42 - I have spent today also among flowers. If you had followed, you would have seen that I visited around twenty flowers in a minute and as many as 20,000 by evening. I stored the nectar in my stomach and the pollen in the sacs on my back legs.

Since our return is difficult because of our load, we follow a direct way called the line of bees. Even if we pass through places unknown to us, we always follow that direct way. It is extremely easy for us to establish it. The place and position of the sun gives us our direction, Of course, the sun has changed position while we are visiting flowers. That is no matter at all. You cannot compete with us when it comes to calculating the exact place and position of the sun at any time of the day. If you kept me in a dark place and then released me hours later, it would not take me more than a few moments to find my direction. We use the atmospheric polarization and find the place of the sun by means of any little light coming from any corner of the sky. We have been doing this calculation for millions of years but you have come to know it only in the last forty years.

We cannot make our way only on completely dark days and therefore we do not go out on those days. We stay in and are busy with the work in the comb.

Day 44 - We are a big anonymous company with its tens of thousands of partners and personnel, agents, boards of directors, awesone storage and processing establishments and a well-developed communications network. We pursue big markets to do business.

We do big business. Many other insects, flies and butterflies visit the flowers with which we do business. However, when we find a profitable source, we rush toward it as an army of 10 or 20 or 30 thousand bees.

Five per cent of our population are responsible for finding a market. They constantly search big markets and we evaluate the markets they have found. If, for example, one of our friends finds a market of one million flowers in the morning, you will see their nectar and pollen transferred into our depots in a few hours.

Our communication system works perfectly. Let me describe this to you with an example.

It was nearly noon. One of the elder bees entered the hive in great excitement. Other grown-up bees crowded around it.

From the smell of the pollen on its body we could understand what kind of a source it had found. We tasted the nectar it threw up onto the comb from its mouth. It was a bit more watery than it should be. However, we had to take into account the heat outside and the fact that that sample had been collected in early morning. The amount of sugar in nectar in morning hours is less than at other times. In short, the kind and quality of the nectar seemed OK. But we did not yet know the location of the source and whether it was a rich site, nor how far away it was.

Our friend immediately began to dance. A few bees near it and I held on to it to follow its movements. While dancing, it uttered some sounds which meant that the source was rich, and drew a figure 8 over the comb, completing a turn in 15 seconds, which meant that the source was 10 kilometres away. Our friend was dancing according to gravitation. While drawing the line in the middle of 8, it made an angle of 28 to the right. Since we always take the sun to be at an angle of 90, the source our friend described was 62 to the right of the sun.

The information our friend gave to us was for a still, windless day. However, it was windy when we left the hive and therefore, taking into account the direction and strength of the wind, we corrected the angle given to us.

Day 47 - Our population has recently increased. We are about 60.000 bees. Our hive is not enough to accommodate all of us. Preparations made over the preceding few weeks mean that some of us will move to another place.

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prankprincess123 · 4 years

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Star Wars is, always has been, and always will be my main fandom, but I still haven't been able to bring myself to watch any of the Rise of Skywalker trailers, for the same reason that I've only been able to watch Last Jedi the one time I saw it in theaters.

The sequel Trilogy just doesn't feel like Star Wars to me, not the way that even Rogue One and Solo do. Star Wars is supposed to be a fairytale where you can see the end from the beginning, it's just the twists in the middle that are the mystery. It's supposed to be a story about knights and royalty and lovable rogues, where you know they'll all become a family and live happily ever after, even if it takes a while to get there. It's not supposed to be a story where the heroes loose everything again as soon as they found their happy ending.

Even in Rogue One where everyone dies, they still die as the heroes and as a family, not split up, fighting against eachother and compromising their beliefs as the original trio do. And the PT fits this mold too, because these tragedies are only the middle of the story, and we knew that. The only death of our main heroes in the PT was Padme, who died a hero holding fast to her values and being killed as she brought two more heroes into the galaxy, Obi-wan and Anakin both continue on their journeys through Rebels and the OT, and all other material in that time and die as heroes as well in the end.

The ST just doesn't have that feel of continuity that binds the rest of Star Wars together both in story and tone. It doesn't have that spark of magic and hope that everything else has. It doesn't have the same 'I can do that and be a hero too!' mood, because can our original trio even be considered true heroes anymore in these new movies? And if their success and family can both fall apart so easily by the time less than 20y have passed what hope is there for those of us who aren't as strong as they are?

Even at the darkest points of the EU, the twins and Han always had eachother, their values and they always had the undeniable faith that everything would end happily. When Han and Leia's children were constantly being kidnapped and several of Luke's apprentices were falling to the darkside, they had eachother and they had hope no matter how bleak the situation. Even when Leia felt her 16yo youngest son die, she still had hope because she could sense the rest of her family still alive, and knew he had died a hero and that his death wouldn't be in vain. Even when Jacen Solo became Darth Cadeus, killed his aunt Mara Jade Skywalker and drew Tahiri Veila to the darkside with him, there was still hope because the rest of the family still had eachother and the knowledge that the dark side is not permanent. In the post-OT EU alone the Skywalker family goes through a million times more crap than they do in the post-OT Disney canon, and yet they never allow it to break their family or their hope.

Through the disasters that are the Clone Wars and the Emipre we see all these found families that are sticking together no matter what happens. We see a Clone Trooper meeting a sassy little Padawan and deciding that he's her big brother now, and following her to the ends of the galaxy to protect her even as the rest of their family is forced to hunt them, because they have to hope that the darkness will fade and the light return. We see a broken former padawan and a rebellious young pilot coming together and creating a hodgepodge family of anyone and everyone who needs them, sticking together and never giving up hope that those who are lost can be found. We see strangers thrown together by life or death circumstances becoming a family in less than a week and dying together, with hope still in their hearts because their cause will still survive. We see a man who has lost everyone he loves protecting a little boy from afar because he still holds out hope that this child and his sister can fix the wrongs of previous generations. We see a rebel princess, a farmboy knight, and a scoundrel pilot who don't just hope for the best, they don't simply hope they're a family that loves eachother, they don't simply hope they'll all survive, they don't simply hope that evil will be defeated, they KNOW.

We see a fairytale where everything will work out because the characters hold on to light and hope so desperately that no force can pry it from them. We see something that gives us inspiration to never give those things up ourselves. But the ST took that hope away from our heroes, it took away that family, and gave us a new type of story for the new generation, where the heroes fail despite everything they do, and where families fall apart despite the bonds that brought them together. They lost this hope and family in an effort to connect with a generation of broken families who constantly question their morals, and gave us new heroes in the same place as our world is now instead of the light that makes it Star Wars.

In all truth I have no big problems with the Sequel Trilogy other than that it lost the magic. Visually its stunning, the storlines are compelling, the bonds ring true, and the heroes are phenomenal and real (though 'Darth Tantrum' is absolutely pathetic, and I can't manage to see how anyone can consider a 30yo emo manchild anything other than such) Objectively The Force Awakens, and The Last Jedi, and in all likelihood Rise Of Skywalker are amazing movies by almost all accounts. But in trying too hard to be relevant to our time they lost the reason that Star Wars has been relevant since it's beginning. They lost the magic, the hope and the light. Because of this, I stand by my beliefs that the cursed Christmas Special and things like the Ewok Aventures shorts are more Star Wars than the Sequel Trilogy, simply because despite all their flaws they still had the magic of family and hope and light that makes Star Wars Star Wars.

#long rant #long ramble #long reads #movie analysis #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #star wars rebels #star wars rogue one #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars eu #star wars ewoks #star wars christmas

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theveryworstthing · 5 years

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hello everyone, here are some very rough sketches of hare Messenger/caravan friends. i wanna draw more of these because i’ve finally settled on a general design and now i’m ready to get wacky with them.

but first.

it is time for lore.

this isn’t everything i want to say about hares and caravans and their relationship with rabbits and the above ground world but i figure it’s a start. so welcome to Hare Caravans: a short history intertwined with landscaping and postal work.

The beginnings of a journey: staying above ground where all the things that want to kill you are is good actually.

The first hare leveret was born at about the same time as the first rabbit kit. Some say that the two litters were only a nest apart, or that they were even reared together. No one is quite sure of the exact times and distances though because the only people there were the Mothers, who are all gone now, and a few couple minute old gods, who while gods, were just dumb babies who had no idea that any of this would ever matter in the future.

The main thing of importance is that in the beginning there were rabbits and hares in the same general area dealing with the same general existence bullshit and for some reason instead of wising up and going underground like the rabbits, the hares decided (in what had to be a blinding species-wide wave of spite and wanderlust because let’s be real they are EVEN TWITCHIER than rabbits) to stay above ground,learn to do sick stunts, and make the world Deal With Them.

Both rabbits and hares are naturally very quick on their feet but hares are faster and ridiculously acrobatic. They were able to live above ground on the island for so long because even though they still got got every now and then, they were able to juke their way to survival most of the time. But this made hares very solitary. They’re a little more resistant to fear death but it’s still a thing that happens and stress took less hares than you’d think but more hares than you’d hope. They didn’t have the guaranteed safety of the rabbits’ warrens to relax in and it’s hard to build a stable community when a group = a delicious easy target for predators. That’s where the Messengers came in.

The Messengers At first they were merely a small guild of traveling hares that worked as sort of builders/landscapers/proto-postalworkers. Everything about them was kept pretty hush hush and their founder, a tall albino hare who even then everyone suspected had been doing this job way before this job had a name, wasn’t much into discussing the business to those they didn’t deem prospective hires. This made them one of, if not the first, secret society on the island.

The Messengers would collect and deliver letters, small items, and general news from different parts of the island, packing their cargo on quick beetle steads and leading them through the night to distant territories. When they got to a new area they set up cryptic signs and elaborately camouflaged tents that served as pop-up meeting places for whoever was passing through. They were hardworking, crafty, sleep deprived, respectful of their clients’ privacy, and their slogan: ‘I might only be stopped by death and then I only might be’ has persisted as an empowering and slightly threatening mantra for the hares, rabbits, and now vultures who continue in their stead. Truly strong roots for modern island derived postal work.

The Outposts Now when I said those first Messenger-built tents were camouflaged I mean that they were functionally, borderline rage inducingly, invisible. Messengers would arrange entire false landscapes around their tents and the tents themselves were made of thick woven mats covered in layers of cultivated moss, fungus, and various bits of predator-offensive local vegetation for an optimal ‘this is totally a normal danger bush please piss off’ vibe. Some of their later outposts(where modern ‘postal’ work gets its name)included hidden doorways on seemingly regular boulders, clusters of reeds hiding entrances to submerged airtight rooms, and that one open grove near the Center that looked like nothing until you inevitably walked smack into an expertly painted wall like a dang cartoon character. That was the Head Messenger’s favorite outpost (and the most entertaining to watch from afar).

Most of these places got wrecked by time but some people say that the grove outpost still exists, much to the irritation of local postal workers. This is just an urban legend. Their official stance is that the place was destroyed in a storm shortly after the hares all left the island, and a search of the grove certainly supports their exasperated claims that nothing is there anymore. But there are also no ruins of any sort in the grove and to this day the rare rabbit or vulture will come back from their travels with stories about face planting into air and discovering a weird old building that contained nothing but a single black envelope. Again, the island postal service says these are all just urban legends and nothing more.

But also, maybe just keep away from the area and if you see any black envelopes please contact your nearest postal worker asap.

The Signs Since the outposts were so hidden, if you weren’t lucky enough to stumble into one or you didn’t notice the appearance of a New Bush, then you had to look for the signs. A stack of flat stones or a single hare antler tipped with black were signals that a Messenger was visiting. These items would always be at the base of a tree or some other large immovable object where the Messenger would use paint made with Medic’s Eye fungi spores to draw directional symbols that would light up momentarily when the surface was tapped. Before they left the Messenger would always recollect and scrub away their sign materials. Just leaving up signs was irresponsible, as future Messengers might set up in a different spot and conflicting signs would be confusing. Also, bandits might use abandoned signs to lure victims into ambushes. Very few bandits ever had the chance to do this since Messengers were diligent about erasing their signs and very few of them escaped the Messengers if they found out which hooligans had betrayed the people’s trust in mail, but still.

The birth of caravans and getting creative At the outposts, hares would collect their mail, talk amongst themselves, and generally spend leisure time with their brethren without the threat of danger. The outposts were (purposefully) hard to find, only stayed open for a day or two at most, and the messengers had a serious lack of chill due to their busy schedules, but people really loved them. As interest in these meeting spots grew trade increased, people grew closer(within reason, hares were still real solitary at that point), and eventually caravans were created to make setting up these pop-up marketplaces/communities easier.

Of course by this point the safest spots had small permanent outposts with a rotating staff of guard hares (and a few adventurous rabbits). But hares were too twitchy to leave whole towns just…there. Out in the open. Permanently. A house can’t run. Or at least most houses can’t run. Who in their right mind would want long term shelter you can’t pick up and take with you? But a vehicle? Strap a streamlined wagon to a strong beetle, or better yet get a walking worm that can really sprint, and now you’re in business(some of the most beloved hare fables are about a witch who lived in a walking worm that ran around on pillyki legs). And so these hidden outposts became the center of constantly fluctuating camouflaged towns made of caravans.

The wagons and worms that inhabited these towns were really…a sight. Of course they were all the equivalent of speedwalking shrubbery, but the variation! The ingenuity! The application of literally whatever they found while rambling around! Closer looks revealed dead branch coverings held up by years of interlocking shed antlers and tied together with cast off scraps of green fabric that were coated with wax and artfully styled into very convincing leaves. Plants with woven roots for floors and branches for roofs were kept on shallow platforms of soil and molded into tiny but ever growing shacks. Walking worms resembling rotted logs filled fine garden lounges and stages and libraries and laundry rooms tiled with smooth bits of broken pottery. In a small tent that from the outside looks like three sticks and an unfortunate amount of wolf poop, a midwife helps deliver three healthy leverets. A wonderland made of pure natural beauty, art, and a little teeny tiny bit of collected travel garbage. Magnificent.

It really is too bad that most of the more fragile ones didn’t survive the trip to the mainland. Being successfully converted into boats was just not in the cards for them. Silver lining? They got to re-design them all over again with mainland materials. So even though true Island Vehicles are rare now they’re all just as funky.

The Connections Caravan communities really changed hare society. They had always had culture and stories and art, but it was hard to enjoy any of that with frickin’ wolves and owls on their heels 24/7. While families with younger children or disabled members traveled together, it was just so much safer to stay in small distant groups if you stayed in a group at all. This meant very little non trade or procreation mingling. The relative safety of the caravan towns gave birth to a wave of new art and culture exploration since people now had time, space, and input from so many new friends with similar interests in the same place. It’s amazing what you can do when you aren’t constantly running on survival mode and even though they had had access to friendly rabbit spaces before, it just wasn’t the same. Soon entire droves of hares started moving together in very loose communities. Wagons or worms never really right next to each other but all heading in the same direction on their own paths and coming back together at the end of their journeys. Close enough to run to a neighbor if need be but never clumped up. As these droves solidified, they each developed distinct new customs and skills, and the connections between members became as strong as any warren.

These connections are especially apparent in an old practice called Path Merging. Originally only done to seal peace treaties after the rare violent cross-caravan spat but now a common practice, if a single leveret is born (a rarity) they are paired with a single leveret of a similar age from a neighboring ally caravan and raised together. The pair travels back and forth all of their young lives, first with their mothers and then alone, living in their home caravans for different parts of the year. A few of these pairs stay together forever and some only part ways when they start their own families but ideally they at least make it to twenty years before calling for a separating ritual for the whole deal to be Solid. Similar to a diplomatic betrothal but based more on creating lifelong partners of any relationship type over setting up a marriage, this fostering of an intense bond from being the only true constants in each other’s lives is a show of good will and connection between their people. In a way they come to embody the essence of their community and as single litters are seen as a sign of pure hare independence and the old ways of their lost island home, these children are very powerful symbols.

It also means surefire preferential trading and aid from what are pretty much blood-contract bound allies.

These leverets are supposed to be raised like any other, but may receive a little special treatment in times of hardship to prove one caravans’ dependability to the other. A pair being returned in bad condition or with tales of abuse can start or further irritate conflicts. A falling out between the bonded pair can also be disastrous but it happens. You usually have no idea if babies will just super hate each other once they learn what hate is! Or what life in general will throw at you! If everything else is fine but they’re just not compatible people then after a while the caravan elders from both sides will come together and amicably agree to separate them. Although if one deeply wrongs or injures the other there can be some…dire consequences for the offending party that can splash back on their community depending on the situation. Hares almost always avoid war, but they’re real big on justice.

Despite this intense ritual, hares are still hares. They travel together now but they’re still kind of solitary creatures. Caravans are still pretty spaced out affairs, relying on radios and slime mold compasses to keep in touch when someone needs to wander away from the group for a bit. Outside of the usual life threatening issues, they’re not really worried about wandering the untamed mainland alone.

It’s not really a big deal when you have somewhere to come back to.

#rabbits of downtrodden #long post #hares #walking worm #bugs

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returningtothecave · 4 years

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On the Meaning of Existence

If we take the idea of a Creator Archetype (be it God, Gods, or a “potential energy”) out of the equation as these are unproveable and therefore should not have practical consideration, then the question of “What is the meaning of life?” becomes “What is the meaning of *our* existence?”

You, me, your family, Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Marilyn Monroe, everyone you have known, interacted with, will ever know, and all the billions upon billions of people both past, present, and those existing is some as yet unknown future, exist at a fixed, temporary point in time. All are like the mayfly: destined to live ever so briefly in comparison to the span of history and the age of the Universe itself.

All that we do is ultimately for nothing: Nothing truly matters, and yet it does at the same time.All is not for nothing in relation to our interaction with others and our place in the span of history. From nothing we come, to nothing we return, all that we do in the span of our lives is, for the merest second compared to the advance or retreat of a glacier, something. Existence itself is a statement, a footnote.

The architect designs a house, church, mosque, factory, school. The foreman, the stonemasons, the bricklayers, electricians, plumbers, planners, all lay hands upon the building designed by the architect and mould it out of primordial clay to serve a purpose which will affect the lives of countless others in ways both planned and spontaneous.

The city planner designs the surroundings for millions of people who fill the streets, corridors, and buildings, with their own unique presence. Future generations come and fill the streets and live in the houses built for dead people.

Parents beget children. Children interact with parents. Parents may become grandparents, children may become parents themselves. They all have friends. They sow memories like grain during springtime, to be reaped when harvest time comes around, feeding those around them for many years after. Even in death memories abound. One day someone may pick up a faded photograph at some open air market and wonder who they were. If memory of them persists somewhere, the answers may be sought out.

The writer, the film-maker, the playwright, and the artist create windows through which we may peer into the past or find a piece of the Human puzzle which can be viewed from afar and ruminated upon. We find a reflection of ourselves within them.

The dictator and the psychopath destroy and pervert yet through their deeds we discover that which unites us. Even those who wish only death upon us may hold the key to our ultimate redemption. We find a meeting place amongst the ruins of empires. From the ashes of their hubris new cities of the mind and of common purpose can sprout.

These myriad people have a place within the Human experience. Each of these things they have built, created, each life created and destroyed by their actions, even a word in the ear of those that wish to listen and learn, have shaped our world today and will continue to do so in the future.

Therefore, the meaning of our existence is the continual addition of lessons each person can teach the ones after them. It is adding something to the world which enables the continuation of the world. A building, a book, a law, a philosophical school, a scientific discovery, a child, or even just a memory which sticks in someone’s mind and comes unbidden to them in the middle of a Tuesday evening in some year down the line. We all have our place in this web of life. We may know it, or we may not.

In conclusion: Life is inherently meaningless. There is no God. The meaning is created by us.

Personal Addendum

I admit this is not the most original of theories but I feel that it sets a nice basis for a lot of the thoughts which I will be going into on here. I believe in the inherent goodness of our species once we learn to work together, and believe that co-operation is the basis of progress. Only by lifting those who are the most disadvantaged can we hope to all be equal. I dispute all systems of hierarchy and challenge all systems of governance which cannot prove their worth to the benefit of all.

I am still learning (and oh boy, has this crazy old year of 2020 given me time to pause and reflect) and would like to invite you on this journey with me.

~ R.J Davey 19th June 2020.

#philosophy #meaning of life #thoughts #spilled thoughts #writing #social theory #new blog

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its-freakinbats · 5 years

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Across the Multiverse 1/?

#quentin beck #quentin beck x oc #mysterio x oc #mysterio #spiderman: ffh #spiderman fanfiction #Quentin Beck x reader

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aizawasbedtimestories · 5 years

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Love the idea! It was a little much to put it all into one scenario so I decided to just do the encounter for now because that was the most inspiring for me.

The carriage rattled peacefully, in fact, it chimed due to the excessive decoration and crystals on it, as you made your way into the unknown kingdom. Your crystal crown felt heavy on your head as you looked longingly into the field of flowers. More flowers than people that was the reputation of the flower kingdom and as you watched the colors pass by, it seemed true to you.

You could only hope that you would get used to the flat earth, only pierced through by flowers. It was so different from your homeland, like day and night. No rocks, no mountains. Nothing to climb and nothing as beautiful as jewels to gain from the flower kingdom. It was all just colorful and sorted, color to color, type to type. Boring, how you thought.

And yet, it was to become your new home. Even if this was only a visit, you could barely wait to return back to your wild, endless rocks and crystals, sprouting from the ground and each other. Every touch of you would create new ones and they’d sing along to your songs, the echo hitting off on them.

Though you didn’t admit it, you were scared. There had never been a good word about the flower king, never even praise. People sure liked to praise the flowers and the dedication that went into them, but the king was a grumpy man they said. Someone only there to uphold the crown, always tired, looking like a mess. And that person was supposed to become your husband? You feared for your marriage to be a loveless one if you were to be married to him.

But even you couldn’t resist the words of your elders and when the carriage finally came to a halt, it was time to face your reality. The door opened before you could take one last deep breath, your compatriot helping you out. There were some gasps as you erected your head, the way you were shining and shimmering beautifully in the sun with your clothes more beautiful than what the flower people had ever seen.

All of them looked rough. Warm faces, but calloused hands and dirty shoes. It was like you expected, they weren’t as clean as your country was. Even though they were smiling behind all the wrinkles of their age and hard work, you knew this place would never be as beautiful as your homeland. You might have just been the prettiest flower in the garden, even with all the hard and unforgiving edges your clothes had due to the crystals sprouting from them.

No matter how much you looked around you however, all you saw were servants. You had expected that if the king was anything like the people said he would not be very welcoming, but you had believed you were important enough to be greeted at the front step of the big, ivy-hung castle. “Where’s the king?” you asked around, your voice sharp like silver, sweet like the wind chimes.

“Oh, Princess. Please this way, into the gardens, Your Majesty is expecting you there.”

You couldn’t help but look a little helplessly from side to side before slowly walking after the old maid who took it to herself to lead you into the garden. She was old and her back buckled and yet she walked like a deer through the garden paths. And again, it showed how awful this place was.

For once you felt bad, your huge gown waltzing over the flowers at the side of the path, bending and breaking them in the progress. You felt ashamed and angry that they’d parade you like this, like the clumsy princess of the neighboring country. You were sure they were talking behind your back, even though you could not hear anything.

The glass slippers sunk into the dirt path, leaving you in a pitiful condition. All the effort you had put into looking decent had turned out to be meaningless as everything grew wet and discolored by the flowers stuck in between. You felt humiliated as if this was your punishment for thinking too high about yourself before. All you wanted was to turn back and run away.

The whole time you didn’t look around yourself, your face beet red and you were close to tears when the little old woman finally stopped, calling out a name you didn’t recognize. Finally, you looked up, half sunken into your dress that you had worn so proudly before.

In between a field of red flowers was a black dot. So black, it looked unnatural. The only thing you could make out were flowers sticking out from its top, flowers more beautiful than you had ever seen. A row of different kinds, sparkling in the sunshine as if they were of gold and jewels, and yet it was obvious that these were, in fact, real flowers.

The dot moved, standing up slowly, gracefully even. Turning around, skin color appeared in between the black, two dark eyes falling onto you and the little woman who waved excitedly. You could see the eyes looking you up and down before they fixated on the bouquet in his hands. You didn’t know the person, and yet, you knew who he was.

There were bags under his eyes as deep as some of your canyons, his hair was held in a crown braid, and yet, fell wildly and unkempt over his shoulders. His face didn’t show many emotions, though you knew he had been judging you with the simple look and so were you from his appearance. For a king of such a colorful kingdom, he looked so dull in his black garment. If not for the crown you might not have been able to make him out as what he was and yet...

He was so calm. Though his expression was unreadable and serious, he looked like he had everything under control. His posture was crooked, but his head was held high. Even from afar you could see he was taller than you and even though his skin seemed far too pale, he seemed to shine in his own way. You hadn’t even noticed how much you had been starring until he was right in front of you.

“I hope you had a pleasant journey, Princess,” he mumbled with a voice like honey. Now finally able to look into his black eyes, you could see strings of gold swim through the black, like a kiss from the sun. And from the red flowers in his arm there seemed to be a reflection of red dancing and twirling around too. He held out the bouquet into your direction, while you were still startled by his appearance, unsure how to sort your expectations with the reality now.

It took a lot of self-discipline to take your attention away from him for a moment, taking the bouquet from him and mustering the flowers. They were even prettier up close than from your carriage window, some of them still having the sheen of dew on them, while all of them were in full bloom. Hadn’t the flowers in the fields still closed heads, you wondered, finding it strange that yours seemed to be fully opened already.

“Y-Yes, it was pleasant,” you mustered to say, avoiding eye contact with him. Suddenly you remembered the way to the king and how you had broken most of the flowers along the path and the embarrassment returned to you. “I may have taken some flowers with me on the way...” you admitted, shyly glancing up to him. “I am very sorry about that.”

The king let out a melodic, thoughtful hum and looked away from you with his brilliant eyes, to inspect the damage. “I am not worried about them, they seem fine to me.” Blinking a few times in confusion, you turned around, back the way you came from, noticing how the path seemed perfectly fine, not one broken flower on the way.

“What? But how...” you stumbled, speechless that it seemed like nothing had happened even though you were sure that you had waltzed them down to the ground. “Those are your flowers now too, Princess. They’ll arrange themselves for you,” King Shouta explained and for a second when you looked back at him, you thought to see the smallest hint of a smile play around his lips.

“Come now. There is much more I wish to show you,” he continued, turning and walking back into the red flower fields. You looked down to the ground, dreading the amount of flowers you were going to push out of the way and probably kill with your dress again. Sending a helpless glance to the old woman she gave you an encouraging smile, nudging you into the king's direction who had come to a halt.

“Trust me?” he asked, holding out a hand to you which you hesitantly reached for. With another encouraging nod from the lady, you made a step forward, feeling the flowers crinkle under your feet as the king lead you through the field. You didn’t know how long you let yourself be led like this but when you finally took a scared look back, you saw no trace of your walking, instead, you saw a million flowers opening their heads and leaning into your direction with every step you made.

And you weren’t sure anymore if you had ever seen anything so beautiful like the greeting of the flowers all around you, and the king blissfully watching everything that was going on, his dark-self highlighted by the sun with a crown that sparkled brighter than it had ever before and his hand that held yours so gently in his own.

#bnha scenarios #Aizawa Shouta #bnha #bnha imagines #Aizawa #bnha headcanons #boku no hero academia #shouta aizawa #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing blog #mha #my hero academia

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defleurtradingco · 5 years

Text

Epoch- Growl

(Next: Carnivore)

"Ya weren't kiddin' mister, that there's the surliest lookin' ghoul I ever laid my eyes on!"

"Yeah, go figure huh? All things considered."

The ghoul in question growled viciously and skulked around the back of the cage, eyeing its captor and the undead ranch hand with a fair amount of rage.

Monte rolled his only eye and shook his head. "Well, that's that."

"It's a good thing ya came, I thought it was one'a them stories bout that uh...bout that uh goat-sucker whachamacallit. Always thought it was aliens or somethin'!" The other dead man exclaimed as he glanced back to the cage. “They’re always talkin’ abouts it an’ such- or- well th’ kids are. Dem young’uns like th’ oddest things nowadays-”

“Billy you’ve been herding goats since 1897 and still live in the same pile of sticks ya always have, and ya think THEY’RE weird?”

“Well ain’t nothin’ wrong with goats is alls I’m sayin’-”

The ghoul suddenly crashed against the bars, sticking its arms out and flailing its claws around as the hair on its back stood up, giving it the appearance of quills.

"See, that's where th' confusion is. Ain' no chupacabras or none'a that nonsense. They're ghouls. Toss 'em almost anywhere in any kinda weather an' they change ta fit in! Look!" Monte approached the cage and rattled the bars a little.

The ghoul swiped at him repeatedly to no avail and hissed angrily as its face suddenly split apart at the mouth, revealing several long tendrils that whirled around chaotically.

"Holy Jesus, well wouldja look at that!! That’s th’ plum scariest thing I e’er laid my eyes on! An’ I still got my eyes!!”

"Blood sucker for a reason ya know. Anywho...I laid stuff around th’ perimeter of yer property. They shouldn’ be botherin’ ya none fer a good while. Just don’t try ta do anything that invites ‘em over. You’ll probably get swarmed. Er, well, the goats will at least.”

One of the goats nearby’s bell clanked loudly as it looked up at Monte from afar, making a spitting noise afterwards.

"Course mister, I won’t! It'll be great not havin' ta find poor ol' goats all drained dry n' left out there'n the sun. Poor lil' fellers… Ya know- I’ll tell ya what they did ta poor ol’ Rosey an’ Abraham Lincoln-"

“Ergh- another time. I gotta go.”

“Oh! Well alright! Anywho, thanks again mister! Always a pleasure!!”

As the other dead man walked away, Monte sighed aloud, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone.He moved around to the front of his truck and opened the door, sitting in the driver's seat as he text.

Done with my last job sugarsnap, headin’ home. Might be a couple days.

Ok, cya when you get back. Drive safe!!!

It had been a long drive from New York City to New Mexico, with a starting point of Kentucky before either of those two. It wasn't hard for someone who never had to sleep. Not at all. It was only the length of the journey he found boring.

If anything, he was glad that cars existed. They were much faster than horses.

The radio sputtered to life as he started the truck and pulled back out onto the dirt road. The small farm he'd visited had been far away from the city, where old Billy kept his goats for the last century and twenty-something years. Nothing but a long stretch of dirt and some highway for miles. No one ever came out this far. One could live in peace out in the middle of a desert rather easily (as for how animals like small livestock tolerated it, that was another story…)

For what it was worth, the landscape looked awfully pretty during sundown.

As he drove along, he spotted movement in the brush on the side of the road. Something person sized.

The truck rolled to a stop and he got out, looking around with his hands in his pockets. Scratches in the dirt were strewn all over the place, as well as bits of coarse hair and animal bones (he hoped.)

The ghoul in the back began to act up and make loud noises of distress.

"Now I jus' come back from a job an' got one'a yer little buddies.” Monte announced, “Don't let me end up havin' ta nab you too! Don't think ya'd like relocation much!!"

The ghoul in the cage in the truck bed rattled the bars and roared, only to be responded to by another ghoul in the brush. The one Monte had just seen.

He grunted, annoyed. "Now go on, git!!"

The free ghoul grew bold and emerged from a prickly patch of cactus and other sharp plant matter to hiss at him, only to back away when he came closer.

They played chicken for a few seconds with one another before the ghoul grumbled and retreated back down the side of the road and into the dust.

Monte smirked triumphantly. A small victory.

Something caught his attention however, and his smile faded.

On the ground had been a shoe. Beat up and chewed on. Someone must had lost it out there long ago. But who would come out that far? Maybe one of the ghouls carried it with them. It wasn't that unusual for them to carry keepsakes with them.

He came over to it, stooped down and picked it up, turning it over a few times and looking out towards the desert again.

Nothing. No one.

Strange.

Shaking his head, he tossed it before turning to go back to the car. As he did so, the ghoul that had run off made a high pitched noise out in the distance, wherever it was.

Monte looked over his shoulder again, seeing the ghoul running in circles some fifty yards away, maybe less. It stopped to look at him a few times before hopping around and making the same noise again.

Scavengers circled overhead, high in the cloudless and dimming purple sky.

"...Huh," Monte scratched at his head in confusion.

The ghoul continued to wait and beckon him over.

"...What's a lil' peek gonna hurt I guess," He muttered as he made his way over.

As he came closer, the ghoul maintained a certain amount of distance between them at all times, but it stuck around.

There was a small dip in the ground there that had made a sort of sand pit that he couldn't see from the level of the road. As soon as he stood at the top of it, he caught sight of red down below in the crater.

"Holy hell-" Without any hesitation the cowboy slid down to the middle. It wasn't very deep, a person sized slide at best. "Hey!! Shit, hey!!"

There was a man lying on the sand, face down with a mop of extremely red hair tied in a tail and ripped, dirtied clothes that looked more suited to a bargain bin. He looked chewed up, and not by the ghouls. The black and blue bruises looked fresh.

Monte glanced around again as he knelt down to feel for a pulse. There weren't any footprints or signs that indicated anyone else had been there. There wasn’t anything in his pockets or in his jacket, no wallet, no form of ID.

The man was alone, and beat up.

"I see ya breathin' buddy, good enough." And he wasn't dead, for what it was worth.

Monte sucked in a breath and pulled him up, throwing him haphazardly over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes as he climbed back out of the sand pit.

The wild ghoul followed them back to the truck, only stopping when it reached the edge of the road.

The one in the cage continued to jump around and screaming, trying to break free.

"Listen I know yer goin’ apeshit back there but yer gonna need ta pipe down. Can’t have ya screamin’ like that th’ entire damn way!" Monte waved a dismissive hand at the caged ghoul once he had secured the mystery man on the passenger's side.

He slammed the driver's door shut once he was in, and drove. Fast.

There was no way he could bring him to town with a crazy screaming ghoul in tow. He’d have to drop it off first somewhere, and then see about helping him.

"Bit of a bumpy road, mind yer head." Monte gave a short laugh as the truck jerked and rocked as they went along.

#epoch #and so the next tale begins

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hollandandi · 6 years

Text

“I love you but I don’t like you right now.”

——-

type - angst and fluff

tom or peter

word count - 2.1k

warnings - a bit of swearing!

w/n; I hope you enjoy and feel free to send in requests!

———————

As you sat in the muted red, fake leather booth in the small Italian restaurant around four blocks from your studio apartment, swirling your ice-cold drink with a paper straw, you began to lose the hope from your heart. The waiter was watching from afar while drying glasses with a clean, pink rag - he stopped asking if you were ready to order after three attempts, as the last time, you looked up at him with a unconvincing smile and told him, “Oh, um, honestly he should be here any minute, so I’ll wait a little longer.” You almost immediately glanced back down to your glass, as he nodded, with a sympathetic look you didn’t manage to see, before walking to another table of visitors.

Letting out a small, slow exhale - which was ultimately a long awaited sigh, you looked to your watch. It had been fifty-five minutes since your agreed meet-up time, and there had been eight text messages from you asking if he forgotten, or if he was busy, or sick - none had replies. You looked back up, taking in your surroundings, but mostly the other customers. Smiles, laughs and in-depth conversations spread around the room; the atmosphere was warm, hearty and loving, which is why you and Peter chose it as your one year anniversary spot. You then looked down at your outfit - nothing too fancy, just a casual summery dress with a lace patterned white cardigan, which you had shuffled off your shoulders onto the chair when you first arrived. You had no idea where he was; which happened from time to time, but you didn’t mind the past times. All of the other times were during mindless occasions, like when you had finished your take-out together and were already about to head back to your apartment anyway, or after-school, where you had homework to finish, so you would kiss him goodbye and tell him to stay safe.

“How was class? Mine was actually really interesting, I love what topic we are studying at the moment.” You expressed happily, while your fingers were intertwined with Peter’s and your hands were swinging slightly.

“Mine was okay - it’s not as good as Biology. People irritate me in this one,” he grimaced, glancing up to your face where you were previously waiting for his response.

“That’s just because I’m not in your Biology class.” You winked, squeezing his hand softly as you came up to the bus stop that was usually imprinted into your after-school routine.

He laughed, but not defensively - he knew you were right. You lit up his classes, even if you weren’t assigned to a close seat to him. Just knowing he could glance across the room and see you scribbling frantically with eyebrows confused, or laughing hysterically with a friend, or confidently expressing an answer to the professor, made him feel like home. Dwelling in the memory, he almost didn’t feel his hairs stick up like wildfire on his arm and neck. He swiftly looked around, before his eyes widened a little.

“Shit babe, sorry! I have to go, like, like right now.” He said, gently unlocking your fingers before looking down at you. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about something - I’ll talk to you tonight, I love you!” He exclaimed, as he tightened his backpack straps and began jogging the opposite direction to your bus route. You laughed a little, shaking your head.

“I love you, but I don’t like you right now! Stay safe!” You yelled jokingly, making sure he heard your comment before you climbed onto the familiar bus, sitting down in the seat and wondering where he was off to in such a hurry.

He always felt really lucky that you reacted like that - that you were so understanding, and calm around the situation - that you picked your battles wisely. However, this time, you couldn’t help but to be upset; this night was special, and it brought back all of the other times he had done something similar and changed their memories into something negative. Your mind was cloudy, but you finally sighed for the last time, and pulled on your soft, cosy cardigan before standing up straight. The waiter noticed, coming carefully and slightly hesitantly towards you before smiling softly, thanking you for coming. You nodded towards the floor, thanking him for being kind, before making your way out of the restaurant that had felt like home so many times before.

Hoping to hear your phone buzz, just once, you slowly made your way through the streets of the city light, illuminated neighbourhood. You didn’t hear anything, at all, from your phone, and at times, you checked to see whether the typical city sounds had muted the notification - and yet still, nothing. Glancing around, again taking in your surroundings, you noticed a large window with food signs, and a girl standing behind it, taking orders for a quick fix of sugar or salt. You were still hungry - you hadn’t eaten, thinking Peter would have arrived at any moment, except he hadn’t - so you made your way over, slotting yourself into the back of the queue.

You ordered a huge soft pretzel, I mean, it was probably bigger than your head, before handing over a cash note and thanking the girl behind the counter with a smile. It wasn’t as convincing as you had hoped, however, as she tapped your arm to make you glance back at her again. “Whoever he is, I hope he calls you soon.” She expressed, smiling sympathetically at you - very similarly to how the waiter looked at you back in the restaurant when you got up to leave. You let out a quiet laugh, and although a positive sound emerged from your lips, your eyes were tired, and sad, and well, hopeless. “Me too. Thanks again,” you replied, nodding towards the food before beginning your journey back to your apartment.

When you reached it, you had finished around half of the salty snack, before putting the other half back in the bag carefully and resting it on your kitchen counter once you had managed to walk inside. Your apartment smelled like cinnamon still - Peter had bought you a candle a few weeks ago to celebrate you acing your final exam, (well, you didn’t know if you had, but he said he believed in you even without official results) and you had lit it for a few hours while you got ready for dinner. The smell was still trapped in most of the rooms - you could smell it strongly in your bedroom as you opened your wardrobe and pulled out a pair of pyjamas. Some ankle length, Marvel leggings and a black t-shirt was your quick choice - and once you had pulled them on, you sat at the kitchen table with your laptop and a cup of hot tea. You placed your phone next to the laptop carefully; face up, so you could see any messages as well as hear them, and then logged onto your shared Netflix account. Clicking your icon, you put on your favourite independent show, as mad as you were, you were not going to betray Peter by watching an episode of a shared show without him.

It was around thirteen minutes into the episode when you began to hear a tapping sound against your window. There were initially around four taps, and then a short pause, before another few occurred. At first, you thought it was part of background sound effects from your show, but you then paused the episode, and still heard the faint sounds. You slowly got up, making your way to the window - a little nervous of what you could see next, but all you saw was a brunette figure with a grey backpack on his back, throwing pebbles against your living room window. You quickly pulled it up, sticking your head out and looking down. “You’re gonna scratch it, idiot! What are you doing? We’re not in some rom-com movie!” You exclaimed - he was only around fifteen metres from you.

“Shit, Y/N, there you are! I went to the restaurant but there was no-one th-.”

“You were more than an hour late, Peter, of course I wasn’t there anymore.” You scoffed - your eyes had turned more frustrated now, there weren’t angry, but you were surprised at how naive he was acting to the situation.

“I know, I’m so sorry - something came up with Tony and I just couldn’t say no! And then when it was finished, I realised the time, and saw all of your texts and knew I’d messed up. Come on, I love you, Y/N, please let me in!” He expressed, running a hand through his brunette, curly locks, that looked like they had been messed up big time - probably during his frantic run to the restaurant, and then to the apartment.

“I may love you, but I don’t like you right now.” You huffed, looking down at him with softer, but still tired eyes. “But fine, come in.” You said, pressing the buzzer next to your fridge, as he grinned and quickly pulled the downstairs door wide open. Little did he know, his backpack was unzipped, as things became loose inside, but yet he quickly jogged up the stairs before turning your door handle, and stepping inside.

“Y/N!” He smiled, coming over towards the chair, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and kissing your cheek. “Listen, I know I messed up, big time. It’s our one year and yet I still managed to pick the worst night ever to run out on you. It’s my fault, completely, and I’m sorry you didn’t manage to have a good dinner. I know how much you love the pasta at Antonio’s, and I really love the calzone, but it was just like, a matter of life or death, honestly!” He rambled continuously, still holding you in his arms while he splattered an explanation to you about his whereabouts.

However, you had completely zoned out. As soon as you noticed the red and black ensemble hanging out of the back of his backpack, your undivided attention completely shifted. You placed your hand inside, and slowly began to pull out the mystery suit, before your eyes widened and your mouth parted with surprise. Shit, it all made a little bit more sense now. “Peter,” you interrupted him, before slowly pulling out of the hug and holding the suit beside you. “What the fuck is this?” You expressed, but it was in a kind voice. You weren’t mad, just surprised, so completely surprised, as you began to laugh in disbelief. “I mean, no wonder you are running off on me all the time - you’re Spider-Man! Holy crap.” You said, holding the suit up to his body before clutching back in your hands, holding the fabric carefully.

“Shit, Y/N, you, you weren’t meant to see that!” His eyes widened to the same size as yours as he bit his lip, before his eyebrows furrowed and his face softened. He expected you to be mad - angry even, furious that he had kept this from you all the time - but some how, you understood. Even better, you were actually laughing about the situation; smiling even. “Wait - so, you’re not mad at me? Like, everything is okay again?” He asked carefully, hoping for a positive response to flutter from your lips.

You looked up at him, a smile still playing on your lips as you bit your bottom one gently. “I love you, Peter Parker, but I don’t like you right now. Spider-Man on the other hand,” you winked and joked, holding the suit up again and laughing, before placing it on the table gently and moving your hands around his neck - a nervous look still on his face. “You could’ve told me, but it’s okay, I understand.”

He let out a loud breath of relief, looking up at you with grateful, joyful, and most importantly, hopeful eyes. “But, you owe me a bowl of ravioli and a proper anniversary dinner. I’m talking to boyfriend Parker, not Spider- well I mean, technically I’m also dating Spider-Man, shit that’s so cool, anyway, you get what I mean.” You grinned widely, looking at him, your eyes full of hope, rather than sadness.

“Deal.” He grinned, before placing a soft kiss onto your lips - thank God he didn’t have to hide this from you anymore.

“Can I see you in the suit now?” Okay, maybe he takes that last thought back a little bit.

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okimargarvez · 5 years

Text

THINK POSITIVE

Original title: Pensa positivo.

Prompt: Luke is worried for Roxy.

Warning: none.

Genre: angst, comedy, romantic, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 27 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🐶.

Song mentioned: Giugno ’84, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

I written this story a year ago (at least), one day that I tried to do the same Luke does in this story, think positive. I’m not that kind of person, I’m not negative, just “realist”, as Rossellini said: “I am not a pessimist; to perceive evil where it exists is, in my opinion, a form of optimism”.

THINK POSITIVE

It is no secret to anyone that Luke has never been a particularly positive person. Not that he was one of those who always walk around with his head down, eyes perpetually on his shoes or on the floor, in fact. He was skilled enough to disguise his emotions, with anyone, except with his best friend.

Able to mask unhappiness, always undercover, my love

It is a simple matter of attitude, and of character.

There are those who are his opposite, like Penelope. Always smiling, able at every opportunity to find the positive side, impossible to break down... despite the life hadn’t been particularly generous towards her; and he would have understood it immediately, and then he would deepen from day to day. Since when, unwittingly, he had made a joke about her surname, which didn’t match at all to that diaphanous skin and silky blonde hair, in which he would have so much desired to stick his fingers. And so, he had discovered that Penelope had been adopted when her parents were dead. At the time he got off calling her chica, jokingly, yet with a certain amount of flirting not too hidden; but he had thought about it for a long time, on many lonely nights, with Roxy, on the couch, the television turned off. He had imagined a young girl, still too small, the blond hair that covered her face, masking the tears, because in a second, she had become a woman.

And then, ten years ago, someone had shot her. He had inquired, he had done research, preferring not to ask anyone about the team. There was a file on the case, very detailed and complete with photographs, like any other. For five minutes he had remained with a steady hand, the mouse arrow to select the folder containing the images. Then he decided to do it. By now he had arrived up to that point, it would have been useless to stop. He had looked at them. The first was "the crime scene": the stairs that led to Garcia palace. A huge patch of blood smeared every step, a quantity of red liquid that frightened him, it had been a miracle that she had managed to survive. It was still fresh, you could see from the color. The scene was taken by various angles. Then he moved on to another section; he knew there would be these too, but perhaps he had wanted to forget it. It was the complete medical report, with also the radiography. He had almost laughed as he looked at them: it was the first time he could see Penelope's chest. The bullet was there, so close to the heart... He had closed his eyes. He had gone on. There was also a complete file on him, the bastard. Jason Clarke Battle, aka James Colby Baylor. Sheriff with the killer hero syndrome. He scrutinized every detail of his face. Ok, he was forced to admit it, it was not bad at all. He imagined him at dinner with Garcia, talking to her, flirting with her, the cheeks of his colleague blushing like in a beautiful nineteenth-century novel. And then he read and looked at all that was about the death of Battle, also the deposition of JJ. The only thing he didn’t even try to find was the psychiatric report that testified that Penelope was still able to do her job.

In the end, after that journey into the abyss of mankind, he didn’t know much more.

Yet, despite what had happened to her, Garcia could be such a happy and lively person. So much so as to continually tear out smiles and giggles. How to avoid it? Not just for all the elaborate jokes and puns she gave them every morning, before starting to talk about the case, and then on the jet. Not only for the colorful, flashy, low-cut clothes that had put him in trouble more than once. The nuances of her voice were enough. It was enough to see her face for a second, even when she didn’t smile.

However, today is not a day like many others. And what he would need, it would be just to be able to see her for a while, enjoy her sight, just this.

As the alarm rings, he throws the blankets away from his body. It takes very little time to get dressed. He laces up the shoes and keeps on sighing. But he made a decision. For once, only one, perhaps the first in his life... will do the opposite of what he has always done in these situations. He will try to think positive. Yes, everything will be fine. He will find out that it was nothing of that. Also because, how would he could go on, otherwise?

No, he can’t afford such conjecture. Think positive, only positive.

First he will find all the green traffic lights, so he will arrive very soon at work. No car that will go too slowly, exasperating him. And he will manage to park soon. Yes, it will go exactly like this.

He sighs one last time and greets Roxy with a hug a little too intense. Even the dog has understood that something is wrong. She licks his face. No tears. Not now, at least. Better not worry about the mule or... No, stop.

He closes the door. He sits in the car and starts the engine. Normally he would think something will not work. Not this time. And here, it works. No one in sight. And then, suddenly, a van loaded far beyond the allowed. But no, he will succeed think positive until he sees Penelope. It is his promise. If he succeeds in this feat, perhaps destiny will be generous and...

The traffic light is red, he sees it from afar. It takes a pinch. But just thanks to the van, when he arrives near the intersection, here, the light it's green. He remains amazed, surprised. Does it really work? He tries not to challenge his luck too much and doesn’t ask too much. Just keep driving. The head is focused on the road, but a small part evaluates which kind of dress will wear Garcia today. The color, first of all. Purple is the first that comes to his mind. Yes, purple with some shades on the blue. Naturally matched shoes. Hair? Smooth, maybe curly only on the tips. The blue glasses.

He can almost see it in front of him. He doesn’t even notice the passing time, he has already arrived at the parking lot. Usually the guardian is grumpy and finds every good excuse to complain. Luke was good at pretending it was nothing, but he was also tired of having to constantly pretend, to be quiet. He is already prepared and lowering the window. And he is again amazed.

-Good morning sir.- he shows the card to the bald man who is smiling gently. -I wish you a good day.- he takes a second too long to answer.

-Also to you.- maybe it really works. There is not the usual crabby employee. Just today. It must be a coincidence. He doesn’t believe in these things. But today he must try. He parks and heads towards the elevators. Here, a real sign would be if she were already on board, only her, though. It's been a long time since something like this has happened, that they can’t sit alone for a few minutes. And he misses it, why try to deny it?

The elevator arrives and the doors open. He gets on board. It's empty, there's nobody. Nothing strange, it's very early. But, anyway, he feels betrayed. He strives to continue to think positive. The elevator stops on the second floor. Without knowing why, he closes his eyes. Steps. High heels noise.

-Hey.- instantly recognizes that voice. -Are you ok?- if she says his name, then he will tell her the truth. Otherwise he will continue to keep everything inside. -Luke?- a hint of concern in her tone. He lifts his eyelids and looks at her for a moment.

-No, in fact, no.- he admits sadly. If he could afford to believe in dreams, if he could seriously think positive, in an ideal world... what is the use of thinking that now someone else will come in, or that Garcia will prove disinterested, that she will continue to behave in a detached way or will teasing him... so much is worth dreaming. -It's Roxy.- he knows it's an unfair move. He knows how much Penelope loves that dog. Almost as much as him. In fact, the woman's eyes widen and she opens her mouth.

-Roxy? What happens? Oh, don’t make me worry, tell me.- in the emphasis perhaps not even realizing, she grabs his wrist with her hand full of jewelry. Luke's gaze ends right there, so Penelope lets him go, not too embarrassed. He got exactly what he wanted, her complete attention. Of course, he wouldn’t have wanted such a bad excuse. Now, however, to say everything concretely seems extremely difficult. -Look, we're both early. No case has arrived, fortunately. Let's go out for a moment to have a coffee, or tea because the caffeine doesn’t make me sleep well...- she loses herself for a moment. -Ok?- Luke only nods. She turns to press the button that will bring them back to the ground floor. Again, she holds his arm. She understood. Garcia had understood that he was in trouble, that the situation was serious. After all, she is the BAU oracle.

-Penelope...- he dares to say, when they are out. When one has to do one thing, he has to do it well. In for a penny, in for a pound. In short, why not try to call her by name? She doesn’t seem bothered.

-I am perhaps not the person you would like to talk about this or anything else...- how wrong she is. -Because, let's face it, I've been a real bitch with you from the first day on and I'm aware of it. But, and I don’t say it because it's Roxy, I never wanted you to suffer. You don’t deserve it, Luke and... I think I never told you, but I love you.- Luke swallows, feeling the fucking tears in the corners of his eyes. He had promised himself that he would not cry until he received the result. He doesn’t want her to see him so fragile. A part of him doesn’t want it, the one that knows she think him as a macho, the military one that doesn’t allow him to express anything. But the other, the one that is only human, it dares to hope that by showing himself vulnerable he would get all the understanding he has never experienced in his life.

-Penelope...- again, he doesn’t seem able to say anything else. He sighs and shakes his head. She pulls him in a hug. He puts his head on her shoulder, enjoys the feeling of those hands that run through his back in gentle caresses, blond hair that tickles his neck. And then, that voice, dedicated only to him.

-Hey, Luke, everything will be fine, whatever it is. You're not alone, honey.- he should have found a way to do it first. If only he had known what it means to be hugging by Penelope Garcia. Being called honey from her. When they separate she immediately takes his hands in hers. There is nothing sexy or romantic in her gestures. It is simply what she does with anyone, but usually, he was excluded from this privilege.

-Roxy has... has a... there's a weird mass on her back. I took her to the vet, they said that we must wait for the outcome of the biopsy, to understand. But I...- he sighs. And then he says it, without asking himself whether to do it or not. -I'm scared, Penelope. I'm terrified. I can’t imagine my life without her, I know that one day it will happen, but I'm not ready yet. Well, I'll never be.- Garcia increases the grip on his hands.

-How long do you know?- there is no reproach in her voice. The low and calm tone. But also decided.

-From... from Thursday.- are five days. She also seems to have done the same mental calculation.

-And you kept all this inside for almost a week?- the woman's eyes are sad. He understands perfectly why. Because she imagines him taking care of the cases while inside he was dying, crying without tears. -Did not you talk about it with anyone?- but it's a rhetorical question, she already knows the truth.

-I know the BAU is like a family, I love being part of this group, but...- Garcia shakes her head and puts a finger on his lips, making him nod to keep quiet.

-I already know what you're going to say. You don’t want to be a burden to others. You don’t want to disturb them.- she gives him a slight smile, like saying welcome to the club. -Phil doesn't even know that?- Luke closes his eyes and shakes his head. -And...- since they came out she's got the situation in hand, but this is the first time she falters. -Lisa?- he want almost laugh. -You talked about it with her?- so naive, so sweet, so good, so understanding, so beautiful outside, but inside more.

-No... with Lisa... it didn’t work.- he shrugs. He is not particularly sorry. Of course, having a girl would have helped, but basically... if it's not the right person, with whom to share such a situation, what is the use of staying together?

-Oh.- she doesn’t say that she is sorry. -When... when will they tell you the outcome?- this time is Luke quickly to catch and find the woman's hand. He intertwines their fingers. It's something he needs to stand up. And Penelope today seems willing to allow him many things.

-It could be here tonight or tomorrow.- he swallows. She gets off her hand to put both of them on his face.

-Listen, here's what we'll do. I'll talk to Prentiss, even if there's a case, you don’t move from here today. Until we are sure that everything is ok, I will seize you as my assistant. I am sure that you will be able to make a valid contribution from here too and Roxy needs you more than them.- he loves her authoritative, decisive tone. He loves the fact that she took the reins of the situation and also that she can put a bit of pepper and irony to lighten the atmosphere. But more than anything else, the fact that she said “we” and not “you”. -When that phone rings, we'll stop to do everything we're doing and we'll take care only of that wonderful creature. I can find information even far from my office, and at most I will recruit Kevin... actually, I'm writing to him now.- while speaking, she quickly types a text on the phone that she has just extracted from the pink bag that carries over the shoulder. He remains as always fascinated by her every gesture. -And about the puppy... is she at home now, alone?- Luke nods. -Oh, let's go pick up her.- he is about to protest. -It's too long since you don’t bring her here and there's room for all my loves in the bat-cave.- this last sentence contains a confession, but Luke can’t catch it. -In this moment she shouldn’t be alone, she needs warmth, affection, positive thoughts...- he gives up.

She drags him to his car. She holds his hand, over his, all the time. -Penelope, I... Thanks. I don’t know what else to say but... thank you.- they are at the light; she smiles at him.

-Well, don’t get any ideas, I don’t do it for you, but for Roxy.- she's joking, but feels the need to reassure him. -Luke...- he shakes her hand on the steering wheel.

-I know.-

It all happens in a moment. The phone rings and wakes them both up. They are at his house. She insisted on sleeping on the couch. With Roxy at her feet. He couldn’t stand alone in his bed, so he ended up falling asleep in the chair, staring at the two "women" he loves most. Penelope, of course, also decided that she would stay close to him (to Roxy) until they would called. He hadn’t even tried to protest. It seemed to live in a dream and sometimes in a nightmare. He felt he couldn’t be happy for something that could prove terrible.

But he had decided to keep think positive.

Then, the call comes for real. While he talks, she gets dressed and when he hangs up, she's ready. Luke notices that she doesn't wear makeup. In five minutes, he is also dressed. She takes him by the hand, picking up Roxy on the seats behind them. They might seem like an ordinary family. They are this, in a not easy way.

-Penelope, thank you for being here. I know you don’t want me to say it, but I have to do it. You're... you're the best person I've ever known.- the squeeze increases until it hurts. She digs her nails in his flesh.

-Damn, Alvez, are you trying to make me cry? Because you're succeeding.- she sniffs and blows her nose with a tissue. He would like to tell her that without makeup she is even more beautiful. But this is not the right time. -Anyway, anyone else on the team would have done it. We are a family and families don’t leave... they shouldn’t leave their members alone.- that pause certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

-Yes, we are a family. But it is not true that everyone would have done it.- there is nothing else to add. They remain silent until they park. Penelope hugs Roxy, and thinking not to be seen, let some tears bathe her fur. Luke looks at her, shaking his head. Because Penelope is like that. Externally solid like a diamond, but inside friable like a crystal. Despite what she told him, she is not going to show him that she is worried, because this time it's up to her to act as the strong one. He loves her with every inch of his skin, and who cares if it's not the right time. It will never be. She reaches him with the dog on a leash and almost no trace of what she did on her face. Before he can do it, she takes his hand.

-Roxy is your child, but I feel like I've become her mother a bit, so, don’t ever forget it: we're together in this thing. Whatever happens.- she waits for him to nod and then adds, less seriously: -But don’t get any ideas, as soon as this story is over, or soon because Roxina here is fit as a fiddle, I'll go back to treat you like the Newbie you are.- Luke chuckles.

-Whatever, I’m happy just being in your thoughts.- he is playing the game, but she feels the hand in her becoming sweaty. Now that they are in front of the door of the surgery, they have to turn in adult people. They enter. He holds the door open for his ladies.

A young blonde woman immediately goes out from one of the many doors. -Oh, Mr. Alvez, good morning. Dr. Ramirez is finishing a visit right now, but it will be right away from you. Take a seat, meanwhile.- Luke nods, realizing he is terrified. The moment is approaching. He joked, dreamed, thought positive. He has also shamefully taken advantage of the situation. He put into practice Garcia's mantra: getting the best out of anything. But everything will seem like a joke to him, if now the doctor will tell him that Roxy...

Penelope keeps holding his hand and now she laying it on her leg. This woman is trying to kill him. He doesn’t have time to have that kind of thoughts, because the door opens again and this time it's his vet. They stand up in sync.

-Luke, good morning.- he bends to caress Roxy. -Hey, hello beautiful.- then he glances at the blonde woman next to the dog. -Let's go to my office.- Penelope hears the huge sigh that Luke makes. She still holds his hand. -I don’t want to lose time. Roxy will need surgery. The results of the examination were clear. She has a tumor...- everything collapses around him. He would like to get up and shout that he knew, that it was useless to hope for good, because these things always end up like this. But the made to have Garcia next to him brakes him. Fortunately, because Ramirez hasn’t finished speaking. -…benign tumor. So, I think we should make an appointment to remove it. But there is no hurry. What do you think about next Saturday?- Luke can’t speak because he feels all the emotions he has kept inside about to explode.

-Yes, that's fine.- Penelope answers his place.

They come out. They have the whole day free, so they decide to go to the park. Luke doesn’t know what's holding him back yet. They are holding hands as if they were engaged. And a sentence continues to light up in his head. Think positive works. It really works.

-So, Luke, did you see that I was right? Oh, hell, I did a mistake. I had to call you Newbie.- they both laugh and with those hair that flutter everywhere, framing that look irreverent, he can’t really make it anymore. He takes her face in his hands and brings it close to his own, kissing her gently. She opens her eyes but closes them immediately.

It is he who breaks away first, blushing instantly as he becomes aware of his gesture. -I'm sorry, I... I just got caught up in the moment...- Penelope shakes her head, annoyed.

-Don’t apologize. Be sorry only if it's something you wouldn’t have done regardless of what Roxy could have.- her eyes shine as she speaks. Their foreheads are still close, and their breaths intertwine.

-All right. So... I don’t apologize at all. I should have done it two years ago when we introduced ourselves. Because you were already in my destiny.- she still laughs. But she knows that if he said it, it's because he really thinks it. He is not one of those who lives exclusively to be seen by others, quite the opposite. But it's all so big that she should lighten it a little.

-Oh, Luke, but how melodramatic you are!- she leans her left hand on his chest, enjoying the fact of being able to touch those muscles on which before she could only fantasize. -Let's say we behaved like children and prickled each other constantly, what do you think?- he moves her hand in the direction of the heart.

-It's you, the one who likes to do this commedia, you have also admitted! I joined the game, because I couldn’t do anything else. But I would have fallen for you even if you hadn’t harassed me, perhaps more calmly, but it wasn’t avoidable.- Luke continues to insist and she knows that he is right.

-Ok, ok. I give up. But I liked to torment you and I will miss it.- when he thinks she has run out of cartridges she extracts the rabbit from the magic hat.

-No one said you can’t keep doing it, chica.- he lifts her chin with his thumb, bringing their lips to a close distance. He is aware of the charm he puts in place, not because he feels beautiful, but because of the way she is looking at him. -But now, what will happen about "us"? I remind you that we also have a child to take care of.- Roxy barks, feeling herself put in the middle.

-I would say to proceed calmly, step by step, live what awaits us, do what we feel at the moment. No pressure.- he agrees, but at the same time it doesn’t seem enough.

-But... Are we together? I want you to be my girlfriend. Officially.- a little laugh runs out from her mouth, for Luke's extremely serious tone. It's almost scary, but it's so sexy when he's authoritarian.

-Yes, Luke, we're together. I have not the habit of kissing random guys, even if the are intoxicating like you.- his life is a kind of paradise since he met her. It makes him feel so important, as he has never felt with anyone.

-Intoxicating? Do you think I'm intoxicating?- he repeats with a mischievous look, his mouth already pointing to her neck. But you are in a public place, demeanor! Penelope catches the uncertainty and doubts behind the fake macho irony.

-Yes.- she replies simply, as if it were an obvious fact. -And about make it really official... come here, take a picture with Roxy.- they pose sitting on a bench, the dog lying on their legs. It is probably the first selfie Luke has made since this mania was launched. -Well, now I put it on my profile. More official than that...- ripping yet another laugh. -Enjoy the quiet, because I know that in five minutes maximum our phones will start to sound like church bells on Christmas Day.- Luke caresses her cheek and then curls a lock of hair around his index finger.

-Mhm, I think it's better to take advantage of it, then.- fully agree, Penelope throws herself on the man's lips. But they don’t break off even when her predictions come true. Only Roxy, placing herself directly between the two, succeeds in the enterprise.

-Hun, you're really a bad girl. Mammy and daddy were having so much fun...- probably the days will come when they will quarrel and they will almost hate each other, they will say horrible things, but for now, this seems impossible to Luke. All that comes to his mind is that think positive really works and that he should have started doing it first.

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#garvez #criminal minds #penelope garcia #luke alvez #roxy #cm #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia

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vicepoems-blog · 6 years

Text

A collection of poems by a space alien named Abby

A twig lies in a sea of leaves Surrounded by the others Some cling the whole year round, to trees O’er fallen twigs, they hover Fallen down, ground leaves dye brown- no wind to carry lovers. Breeze blew by and knocked her off the branch, now sits here, smothered By mud, dust, sticks, rain drops, soft licks- as beaks pull back the covers. Digging through dead to search for life, to keep the wings a-flutter Twigs lack a comfort nest to rest when nature brings on thunder. ——————— Spinning downward Whirlpool drowning Bitter breezes Trees are frowning

Clocks tick faster Pressures mounting Pale as plaster Heart beats, bouncing

Flashing forward Day dreams bounding Where thoughts are bright With more profound things No present, past Sustain resounding Wood turns to ash Mind stuck in lounging Feeble attempts to accept surroundings Sweet struggles shift soul into higher grounding.

———————

Feather blowing in the wind Drifted close, a breeze-blown friend Felt you as my fingers bent Softness surrounding a slightly snapped stem I wake up cold, dreams of a gem Made up a mold, filled in split ends Carefree energy holds sweet things, as friends Strive to brush off, with clashing intent. Aiming to find, though passing of time Strength to overcome this misalignment Try to find reason, but can’t compile this Classic diversion of defiant Values envisioned, blind-state of content Drown in feelings sparked through wine and Sell them off as cheap consignment Try not to let drive fall behind, then Wake up to find how far the time’s bent Words allow to redefine, vent Sorting through jumbled letters, intertwining when Stacking rows and columns of rhymes, hence Attempts to make sense through unproved science From afar, I’ll hold you in the highest A cloud above the desert’s dryness.

———————

(When I don’t feel like writing, sometimes I make puzzles. The following poem is a mashup of several that seemed to fit together.) Cycles continue, much like the seasons Reflecting through fall, letting go when the leaves bend Unlike springtime sun, spreading soil to plant seeds in Trying not to give in- to feelings short of reason. Leaves trickle to the ground from the treetop, so tall Hanging from a limb, fearing the fall Exhales turn to mist as I gaze all the stars Perched high and pretty but they’re still so far. Not much of a singer- Though rhymes form through fingers No matter how loud, soft notes often linger Drawn out, sustained; though the spark's released like lightening As water retreats, tsunami wave's heightening. That which lifts you up Can also bring you down But which feelings should you trust When the sun comes back around?

——————— Flower moon envy as May nears its end Full- Glowing green grass, feelings break, begin to bend Filling up the night sky- hypnotizing sphere Glares down with a cross-eye, though it’s up I peer

Wind breaks the silence- an unknown car creeps by Try to be compliant, try to let go, though with night Comes unwanted feedback from the corners of the mind Ideas from tiny seed sacks grew too big- no longer mine

Sky so bright with moonlight- Cannot hide it from the blind Perhaps I hold on too tight- With no reason to the rhyme This will dissolve one day- As the moon, it wanes Hoping to forget the times love was confused for pain

Cycles continue- much like the seasons Reflecting through fall, letting go when the leaves bend Warm springtime sunlight, spreading soil to plant seeds in Trying not to give in- to feelings short of reason.

———————

Rays shine onto your skin Comforting bliss Feeling lingers through the evening Hovering mist The next day wake Sensations replaced By a stinging cold chill Warm in the face That which lifts you up Can also bring you down Which feelings can be trusted When the sun comes back around? ——————— Time goes by so slowly, that time can do so much Light travels so quickly, stars fades within my clutch Pleasure blocked by pain Words dumbed down to bluffs Ever hiding ‘neath the surface Run out of feelings I can trust.

———————

Lingering in space comprehending the flying of time The stars within night’s blackness gleam like silver on a dime Lying under covers, confined- Am I the one committing the crime? Why hide trapped in space, when I could break free flying? Later perched on the rooftop alone, nothing to prove, only nature’s soft tone Sentimental space cadet searching for home- hair dancing through soft winds blown Sitting lonely in silence, patience, compliance- mind journeys through skies like a dove Searching for guidance amidst the horizons, hoping fear will not keep her from love.

——————— Problem, solution, climax, revolution Confusion, illusion, psychosis, delusion Impairment, improvement, resolution As seasons spin round like a lazy susan.

———————

Of the lovely letters that make up the words Like feathers make up the wings of a bird A good man told me these beautiful things The flow of the sentences made my heart ring “It was no pleasant accident Going over the facts again In my head, writing like I have a sack of pens No happy coincidence, more like synchronism Collective consciousness shines; light beams from a prism Our lives defined by choices executed Relationships of love or others ill suited The prism reflected through eternity & fate Life holds surprises like flowers to a vase. One of these days you’ll be something great But first you must open the eyes on your face.”

———————

Some fade away Into the dark, they go Toward their own light Surrender to their own flow Not all paths coincide But I’m happy to have seen The light in your eyes Hope you know how much it means. Wishing you well on your journeys And accept this here divide We’ll meet somewhere in the middle When the tide isn’t so high. Perhaps during a full moon Within glee our gloom Reconnect once we’ve slept it off Once we’re back in tune.

———————

A seed not meant to be planted in the ocean But sprouted anyway, leaking toxic notions Molecules multiplied, infesting as erosion Rippled- butterfly effecting- cold water encrosion. Never meant to happen Though thought maybe it’d make sense To drop the seed into what gives it life Not knowing the expense Too much, too little, split-end bow to a fiddle In attempt to build one up, one succeeds to belittle.

———————

The earth spirals Through one universe, of many Just a drop into the ocean To a millionaire, a penny Two strange combinations Of stardust combine Weaving webs of fate together All threads intertwined Shifting the energy Surrounding the subconscious Thus aligning fates awaiting No need to be so cautious.

———————

I fell through a haze Of polluted vapor Landed in a daze Of cursive on paper Slid down a rainbow, as prisms bent light, Led by a breeze, concealed from plain sight. Leaves trickle to the ground from the treetop, so tall Hanging from a limb, fearing the fall Exhales turn to mist as I gaze all the stars Perched high and pretty, but they’re still so far.

———————

Nights spent in silence Staring through glass A fish-eye lens view; Distorted mask All things unmoving Not living, just still Monotonous existence In attempt to refill. A knock on my door Creating vibrations; Stir up a breeze In my imagination. Numbness ceased; Then turned back- Hesitation As I started to see ‘Tis mere infatuation.

———————

Although I feel a failure Only hope to succeed All the times pushed over I got up off my knees Yearning to feel enlightened But must water the seed To grow from a mere speck in soil Into a Redwood tree. Although I’ve been mistaken I try to try my best ‘Cause after blind risks taken I accept past regrets; Stepping stones to evolve Tree limbs grown to climb As the world quickly revolves ‘Round its axis like a vine. Although I’m still a lonesome Girl within a home A recluse with my piano Used to being alone No room for late night phone calls Or knockings on my door Refuse slip or fall Into traps- No more. And although sometimes I cry, Listen to music til I hear- Laugh away my tears And let the sorrow die. Although I still look back On what could have been I know I am still young And wise deep down within. Although life’s in the process And I fear what’s coming next, All around I look for kindness That’s when I feel my best.

——————— Can’t shake it off Try to walk a straight line Taking utmost care The burrs still bind Needle of a pine Let our true colors shine But all that you saw Was a thorn left behind Thought the perfect combination Of stardust combined The universe had Shown its signs But stars realign as You discard your kindness Search for your new Highness And push me aside.

———————

Dandelion fluff floats in the wind Bouncing off obstacles thick and thin Sticking around in puddles, on bark Then the sun evaporates or erosion sparks

Pushing the fluff on with the rhythm Of life, the torus, ohms, prisms It’s all a part of something intertwined Like a ware to the silver; needle to the pine.

The cycle flows on, the fluff comes to a halt Intentional, like the laws of Gestalt? Is it at a standstill for all time, or will life Come out of this fluff like the stars in the night?

The seed is attached to the wings of this thing That carry it far as if on pogo springs It drops onto the grass Sits for a little And sighs when the time passes without a dribble

Of water to push it into the soil Now at a standstill, seed yearns to uncoil Sprout the roots deep into the earth Serve the purpose for which its mother had birthed

———————

Flower in a vase Sits by the window Sunshine to gaze Lounging in limbo

Soft, colorful- to the eyes, appealing Delicate, thoughtful, petals gently peeling Down the stem- day by day- wilting and jaded Drying up- life source evaporated

No soil to expand roots into the earth Rock ceiling, glass bottom, what is it worth? Forgotten, downtrodden, trapped- caught in- can’t blossom Temporary eye candy- since the store it was bought in

Displayed the beauty, marked it cheap, providing extra bonus seeds Flower in a vase, nothing more to see But a dry stem and some fallen leaves.

———————

Mind tells me I’m tired Due to my lack of sleep My chest has been on fire Since I got up to eat As breakfast settles in I merge onto the highway Just half an hour late Lounged in bed to make the dreams stay I step into the class To take notes with my mind Making note of face expressions Others often turn a blind Cheek- Like they aren’t there For it’s common occurrence To focus on the teachings Rather than the ones a'learnin’ I gather up my bags And I head straight for the door Thinking for a second, that the class was just a bore Although I know its purpose, and what teachings are for I suddenly remember, to this day, there’s so much more. I stroll out to the side walk As I wave a friend so-long Until next time, do yours, I mine, And find where we belong. Now speeding down the road With some music and caffeine I suddenly remember That I had the strangest dream. What it was, I don’t recall But it made no sense at all If only I’d remember Before I walked out of the hall The path we take to re-awake To glide out of the realms Which guide from subconscious Peaceful to overwhelmed. Walking up the driveway I miss a couple beats My skirt just blows up with the wind While cars pass on the street. Taking note I shouldn’t mind For nothing could’ve changed The instant that had just flown by One moment, no exchange. I laugh it off, take off my socks, and sit down for a minute I think of you, energy blue, your head, what thoughts are in it? Distract my mind, step into time, this time within the present Realize I’m no longer tired; the moon is waxing crescent. The day has been repetitive, yet everyday is new Each and every day on earth creates a better you Negative and positive effect our everyday But the way in which with cope with both speaks all there is to say.

———————

Memories Consequences Hopping through Barbed wire fences All alone, forever will I long for someone here to fill The gap within this lonesome space Have reason to fill an empty vase Never going to settle For a broken loop pedal Or unspoken words Evaporating from a kettle Repeating back all that was left in the past- The roads that led to this place on the map Grateful for this life beyond what I conceive I dream of the day one will share it with me.

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Water rushes, violent currents Collects stems, leaves, chaos divergent Dreaming of times, amidst the verdant Open fields- Divine permanence. Focus, though undeniably nervous Forgetting all reasons to serve the purpose Crashing like current waves seen on the surface No more room to misinterpret. As so above, ever so below Underneath is where roots start to grow The surface crumbles- Aligned dominos Spiraling up- Arpeggios Sadness lingers, rhymes form through fingers Pianissimo- Soft notes often linger The fight inside strikes out like lightening Retreats on the surface; tsunami wave heightening. Eyes leak- Letting them flow, ‘cause I can Tears rolling down- catching them in my hand Feeling them land, running down from my fingers Too wet to play keys, I let the sustain linger I knock one time, two, but no knob on the door Sometimes it feels nice to lie on the floor No sense in sitting in soft, cushioned seats Discomfort distracts as the flashbacks retreat.

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A door opens from behind I hear it, but must keep Walking my feet forward Afraid to miss a beat. Should I turn around? Ignore the sound? Drown it out- unclaimed lost and found? It calls me back, yet on I walk Foot scrapes by an unseen rock I trip, I fall, then turn on back ‘Though the unknown lies beyond black Shadows creeping through the creak Instinct overrides fear- yet cannot speak. Will the black shadowed mystery lead to a light? In our own universe, we’ll take off in flight. You could be my string, but I am the kite Striving to soar- Though scared of the height Above clouds is where sun shines the brightest Where the moon hypnotizes The stars shine, ignited Turned me on like a light switch Heart’s being guided Intuition ignited Why must I fight it? ——————— Flowers in the spring Hang from trees where birds sing Their whistling songs ring Like a guitar with twelve strings. The petals white and soft Wind blows, stems sneeze them off They cover the driveway In a perfect world, the trees could hold on To their leaves; all that’s gone But cold air breaks the bond The leaves must move along. Much can be learned from the nature of the petals Letting go of the bass only allows treble To sing with ambience- glockenspiel metals Melodies must reach their peak long before they settle. The flowers turn to soil and the water turns to rain To pour down on the garden, rebirth’s infinite change No allotted range, no bird feeders hang- Tossing seeds onto the ground; no limits or restraint. ———————

Life blossoms Along with the trees As summer approaches Sweet humming of bees So much to let go So much to take in So much to remember Memories set in Surrounded by love And new found joy Spiraling up Like a hula hoop toy Sipping tea from a cup As we sit in the grass Sweet emotions erupt Like a volcanic mass ——————— You know what it feels like to Be an option lacking chance? But I’m not being lied to ‘Cause we both know where I stand I hopped onto the back burner You fiddled with you pants Perhaps I’m a slow learner Never fit your puzzled plans Improvised, laid out by the thought process of your dick Melting me a little bit; it also makes me sick Running ‘round through sacred squares- still I’m here, yet you lack Respect to ever turn around and see who’s looking back Burner holding heat- You lie, asleep Furthest from fresh meat, though when bored, you make that leap Regardless of your mind games and seldom-proclaimed conceit We both know I’m that shiny thing you never wished to keep.

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Erasing drawn lines, I step back in time, imaginary lenses

In attempt to commence contrasting life paths, land beyond the fences Throughout time, the reasons and rhymes thought up to numb our senses Fall through the mind while seasons and time fly like the light, while prisms bend it It’s sad as can be how the earth and the seeds live on, yet so pretentious Going about the day like we’ll get another, yet you’ll never know just when it Will all go black, like wings of a bat- never cherish a moment to mend it. Feeding the fire that taints our spirit Search for an answer as though we’re near it Feeling the chaos before we can hear it Take in reflections- staring into mirror bits Spread on the ground as vibrations, sounds Travel on through; collectively resound Down they crash, reform to the sea Waves of music caress the weak As the strong let go and minds wander free United by projected energies.

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#original poetry #poetry #poet #rhymes #writing #original writing

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labgrownsteaks · 3 years

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Chapter 11

The sun shone onto Erin's eyes. It was beaming through the corner of a green tapestry which was crudely nailed above the window. She had an old beat up table from the local thrift store next to her bed, and behind her was a kitchenette. It was a ridiculously small apartment but it did the job. Atop the table were some printed out sheets, detailing the process of rebuilding a carburetor that had been covered with grime and dirt. Next to the sheets, the table was covered in various carburetor parts. Rings, springs, and tiny little screws. Erin had always been good at taking apart stuff and putting it back together. In the 5th grade she made a robot out of a remote controlled car, a vacuum cleaner, and some kitchen knives she called "Sucky". She entered it in the local robot war competition, and the upperclass suburban kids destroyed her, but the crowd loved the charm of her goofy robot. Everybody was laughing at it, and when the shiny metallic spikes from some rich kid and his "tutor's" robot finally impaled Sucky the crowd actually booed. One little girl even cried upon seeing Sucky all mangled and lying upside down like a dead beetle.

She had entered the competition just for fun, but among the attendants there was a man from Chisuwick Prep School, which encouraged her to apply for a scholarship, which she got. Her father was killed during a training mission, and shortly after her uncle Aaron moved to town to look after her. Her mother died in a car accident before she was even two. Erin had had a really tough life, but somehow, she didn't slip through the cracks, and the community actually propped her up. Upon graduating from Chisuwick Prep with distinction she was pushed to enroll in college. But she simply never did. She found out about this 1 bedroom apartment located in the middle of an alleyway for 200 bucks a month, and just took it. She had a considerable inheritance from her life insurance payouts, but still hadn't really touched it. Instead she worked a couple days a week at a Car Wash to make ends meet.

She had only kissed one person, Alli, when she was 16 and at a party of this rich kid whose dad owned a Cadillac dealership. The party was terrible, a bunch of bros smashing card tables, and yelling at one another. Her and Alli had been best friends for years. They snuck away from the giant Fuck Off house located right on the banks of the river and found a fallen tree in a cattail patch. It was unbelievably muddy but they giggled and finally sat down on the branch and listened to the party from afar. They hugged, and took comfort in one another's arms, and to be away from the chaos. Alli definitely knew that she liked girls, she wasn't sure if Alli felt the same. They dated for a few years, all on the sly of course, as Chisuwick wasn't the most welcoming atmosphere. Then when graduation came Alli ended up being swayed by some cult leader who was trolling for new adherents down at a local strip mall. That was Alli's ticket out, and she took it. Everyone thought Erin was stuck, but she wasn't. She just needed some time to breathe, and relax, and look at the river flow through her dumb little town.

She didn't have a food printer, or most modern modern day appliances. She preferred buttons, and gears, and things that moved. Every day she wore her father's watch, an old Timex that she had to wind every day. She didn't mind. Winding it was a way of thinking of her parents every day for a moment before she took on the day.

She threw on her hoodie and blue jeans and slapped her watch onto her wrist. Taking a second to move the tapestry to the side of the window to let the sun in. She gazed out onto the street, and looked at the 711 and crappy hotel down the way. It was sizing up to be a really beautiful day. Bright blue sky on a crispy fall day. Her phone buzzed, and it was Vitaman writing her. The message simply said "TODAY!" and she responded "YES!". Today was the day they were all going down by the river to trip. She put her water bottle and some packets of EmergenCee powder packets into her backpack. As well as her sketchbook, some markers, and a copy of "The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead" by Timothy Leary. It was written as a guide navigating the process of death and rebirth into another form. The text is a metaphor for the experience of ego death common to psychedelic journeys. She saw psychedelics as a therapeutic, and fun thing to do. It wasn't like she had to take psychedelics because she had a specific ailment necessarily. She just enjoyed them, and saw them as a recreational outlet that had also resulted in helping her get through a lot of difficult shit relating to the death of both her parents at a young age.

She kicked over her motorcycle, an 80 something Yamaha Enduro and made her way into the blazing sun. On the way to my place she stopped in the crappy hotel parking lot and got a breakfast buritto from "The Lady" . She didn't speak much English and Erin mistakenly thought her name was Abuelita since that's what all the other Spanish speakers called her. She later learned that simply meant Grandma. "Gracias!" she yelled over the sound of her motorcycle.

I had been up for a few hours already. I was meticulous with my planning for days like these. I wanted everything to be as good as it could be. I had my own backpack of delights, complete with glowsticks, a compass, my sketchbook, and a pair of walky talkies that also had built in radios. I was going to just bring one, for some tunes if we wanted, but decided why not bring both. I could hear the tell tale sound of Erin's machine a block away, and looked out the window waiting for her to pull up. The crow was on the branch opposite my front door. Just sitting there, looking. "Wassup buddy" I said, and the crow kind of looked back at me for a second before Erin came up the driveway and scared it off. I was wearing a black button up shirt, and black jeans, with black converse. I hadn't been aware of this when I was putting my clothes on, but she immediately noticed. "You doing to a funeral?" she said as she jumped off her bike. "Yep, David Hasselhoff died." I said sarcastically. "What! Who will hold everyone together without Mitch Buchannon around!" She walked straight in and immediately made herself at home at the table. "Anything else from Siri?" she asked as she unwrapped her breakfast burrito. "Nope, she's actually been pretty quiet lately" I said then continued "Siri, any tips for the day?" The little blue lights on the egg chased each other and then Siri simply responded "Stay hydrated, and don't venture too far out into the open water" Erin piped up "Siri we don't have a boat! We're hanging out on the banks today. Don't worry!" There was a bit of comfort and annoyance in Siri giving advice, as she never had a mother to tell her not to do stuff, the sound of an older woman seemingly "worried" about them caused her a bit of pain.

Guy came bounding in with a long walking stick. "What's up goobers" he said as he walked straight up to my food printer. "Hey Siri, can you print me some fries?" and the food printer sprung into action.

"So, y'all ready to go beaver hunting?" he stated as plopped down on the couch.

"Sure, you bring your bow and arrow along with your walking stick?" I said.

Guy made a motion like he was shooting an arrow from his stick and then grabbed his fries out of the printer. We all told each other the contents of our bags, and what we had planned, but we all knew that once we took that hit on our tongues, we'd be in for a trip no matter how much we planned. We decided it would be a good idea to have a lot of fruit on hand for some reason, and there was talk about a rope swing, but the water was far too cold to go into. I got some aluminum foil out of the cabinet and broke off three little tabs and placed one hit in each. Guy looked at me dubiously.

"Why are you putting them in aluminum foil? Lets eat them here. The river is just a 15 minute drive. I was a bit anxious, no matter how many times I had tripped before I still got a bit anxious each time. Acid had this strange way of actually relaxing me as soon as the actually auditory and visual hallucinations began I could go with it more. But beforehand I was always just excited, and anxious. Which are actually pretty much the same feeling.

Erin then stated "Ya, lets eat em here. I don't want to be driving around with a hit of acid in my pocket. Lets eat em go. It was 9:45, and we agreed to all take them at 10. we all wet our fingers and touched it to the little piece of paper before placing it on our tongues. At the moment we did this, there was this deep bubble sound which came through my speakers. Like a giant whale fart or something. Blooop. It said. And we all laughed about it, as we walked into the sun, and got into Guy's Chevette.

#lgs

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