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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years

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Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.

#avictimofthejazz #tw: long post #tw: long replies #you do not have to match the length #90% of this was Bonnie setting the stage #bonnie barstow #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #Michael knight x Bonnie Barstow #this probably needs like five more years of editing cause of my strong meds but I am choosing to release it after spending all day on it

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thadelightfulone · 3 years

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All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 11

November 30th

Thanksgiving came and went, yet Erik and DeeDee stayed in touch as much as possible. DeeDee was focused on wrapping up the semester and preparing for a new life outside of the classroom. While Erik was completely emerged in the current expansion project and meeting end of the year deadlines.

It was always a great time whenever they could find the time to talk with one another. Erik continued to relentlessly flirt with a not-so-innocent DeeDee who gave just as good as she got.

The more Erik got to know about her, the more he was certain of his growing feelings towards her. He only hoped that she reciprocated them and on the same level.

He decided to take Monday off since he had been working over the weekend and wanted to make himself available to talk to DeeDee. It had been about two days since they spoke and he missed her, which felt normal to him these days.

Prince Erik: Good morning Miss DeeDee.

DeeDee 💜: Good afternoon Mr. Erik.

Prince Erik: I wanted to know if you might have time to talk this evening.

DeeDee 💜: Yes, I do since I am not working tonight. Just call me when you are available.

Prince Erik: Great. I’ll talk to you later. Have a wonderful day.

DeeDee 💜: I look forward to it. Thank you, and same to you.

DeeDee smiled as she put her phone away and adjusted herself on the stool. She was in one of Dr. O’s Organic Chemistry classes, helping out with the day’s lab. She waved bye as the students walked past her and left their lab reports on the back counter. Without fail, Brandon stopped in front of her, dangling his paper.

“So, when are you gonna let me take you out Miss DeeDee?”

DeeDee cringed and tried to keep the pleasant smile on her face. She had gotten so used to Erik calling her that, and hearing someone else address her by that name gave her pause. She grabbed paper and put it on the growing pile.

“We’ve been over this, Brandon. I’m not interested.”

“Why not? Look at me.” He splayed his hands out, presenting himself to her. “I am a great catch.”

DeeDee rubbed her temples. She hated coming to this class for this reason. Brandon was the little brother of one of the students in her doctoral cohort. They all started their journey together and unfortunately, she gained his attention after a late night study group session.

“I’m not doing this today. Thank you for turning in your lab report.”

“You know I’m not gonna stop until you say yes, right?”

“I wish you would stop because I hate to break it to you, but you will be waiting indefinitely. It’s not happening.”

“Why not? We all know you aren’t dating anyone.”

“Excuse me? How is that any of your business?” DeeDee whisper-yelled to him; she grabbed her backpack and headed to the front of the room. “Dr. O. I’ll see you later. I need to go.”

Brandon rushed out after her. “Hey, Hey. Wait a second, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, DeeDee.”

“Brandon, please leave me alone.”

“DeeDee -”

A phone started to ring.

She reached for her cell from her back pocket. Grateful for the interruption, she immediately answered, “Hello.”

“Hello Miss DeeDee.”

“Erik,” She swooned. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You knew I was gonna call.”

“Yeah, but not this early. Can you hold for just a moment?” DeeDee barely covered the phone when she turned her attention back to Brandon, “We are done here.”

“But Miss DeeDee -”

“Please do not call me that.” She snapped at him.

“My bad. Look DeeDee, maybe we got off on the wrong foot here.”

“No, we did not. You just won’t accept no for an answer, and that’s very disrespectful to me.”

Brandon opened his mouth to speak when Dr. O walked by and looked between the two of them.

“Everything good here?” No one said anything or moved. Dr. O sighed, “Brandon, what did I tell you about hitting on my GAs? No one comes to my class anymore because of you.”

Brandon stared at the ground while DeeDee stood with her phone in her hand.

“I gotta go. You two have a good day.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow for our weekly, DeeDee.” Dr. O glanced at Brandon, “Follow me to my office, we need to talk. NOW.”

DeeDee ran-walked down the hall and out onto the patio of the lab building.

“Erik?” She spoke into the phone, “You still there?”

“I am. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, you had to hear that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m definitely glad I called when I did. Sounds like you needed the distraction.”

“I did, I do. Thank you,” she rambled.

“Hey, why don’t you find a place to sit and we can just chill until you are ready to go.”

“I’m outside of the Engineering building now.”

“Do they still have those benches in the corner near the wall?”

“They do. That’s actually my favorite place to chill when I am here.”

“Then let’s go have a seat.”

DeeDee walked over to the bench and put her backpack on the wall. She sat against her backpack and pulled her legs up and crossed them.

“You settled?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to share something with you. And then whenever you are ready to talk, just let me know.”

“Ok.”

“So, remember the program I was telling you about, where we would be working with grad students from nearby schools?”

“Yeah, your mentorship program for students in advanced science classes.”

“That’s the one. We received notice today that 3 local universities accepted the offers to work with us.”

“Erik, that’s great news! I am so happy for you and the Center.” DeeDee yelled into the phone and then pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no it’s ok. Your excitement matched mine when I first heard the news.” Erik told her. “It was a great way to start my day. I mean, outside of knowing that I would talk to you.”

“Awwww, you are just saying that.” DeeDee said and bit her lip, but the smile came through anyway.

“Why don’t you believe me when I say that?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I am just not used to hearing that.”

“Uh huh. This coming from the woman who has students chasing after her.”

“First of all, Brandon, is a whole entire mess.” DeeDee rolled her eyes and laughed, “And he doesn’t count.”

“Okay, if you say so.” He paused. “But, is it ok for me to still call you Miss DeeDee?”

“Shut up! You are the reason, I don’t want to hear him call me that anymore.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.” DeeDee jumped up from the bench, “Care to keep me company, while I head home?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“I didn’t want to impose, Mr. Erik.”

“Trust me. You will never have that problem, Miss DeeDee.”

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

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pairing; v x anne

authors; @sunshinejihyun & @cafedanslanuit

words; 50k slowburn 1.7k

playlist; available here

notes; happy birthday anne! thank you for being a great friend. with all our love, bryn & allie <3

“Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways”. ~Oscar Wilde

Being an artist without being able to see color was something that proved difficult on its own, but combining that with searching for your soulmate at any given turn just to be able to see color was even more difficult. Jihyun Kim was the only person in his advanced art class in his sophomore year of college who couldn’t see color.

“Jihyun, I know the color theory doesn’t apply to you right now, but you may want to pay attention for when it does.” His teacher’s stern voice had pulled his head from his sketchbook and he nodded his apology. Either she didn’t notice or didn’t care, Jihyun had no idea, but she continued her lecture and Jihyun tried his best to show he was paying attention, though his fingers were working to quickly sketch something new before the idea left his brain.

Most people like Jihyun, people who hadn’t met their soulmate yet, focused on drawing and painting in either black and white or grayscale, but not Jihyun. No, he had a fascination with color and it didn’t matter if he could see it or not, he wanted to portray that fascination in his painting. Besides, what does it matter if he can’t see color? Every color looks good together; they have to, why else would colors be so important in everyday life? A lot of people have described what colors go with emotions, so Jihyun tends to go with that when he paints. Emotions are funny things, especially when they’re used to show emotions.

As time in the class was diminishing, Jihyun’s professor made his way towards him and he quickly slammed his sketchbook shut as she cleared her throat. “There’s going to be an art showcase tonight and I have to select a student from each of my classes to have art on display. I want to display some of your work. The color choices are… unique and I think your story would be well perceived.” Jihyun nodded his head and the teacher gestured towards his canvases he spent the last semester creating. “Go ahead and choose three pieces of yours for me.”

He spent his time choosing. There was one that he particularly liked that he had named Envy. The colors of it were green and red, or so he was told, and it described his feelings of being one of the last people he knew to meet his soulmate. He painted this after Jumin had met his. Her name is Allie and she was sweet, kind, and as Jumin described, all the best things in the world combined. It wasn’t that Jihyun was jealous of Jumin for having her, he was jealous because he wanted a person to call his own too.

The next one was based on sorrow; it was all blues and oranges and it expressed Jihyun’s feelings of losing his mom. How he wished they had more time, how he wished he hugged her and told her he loved her when he had the chance.

The third one he decided on was one that he depicted what he thought was love. It was all reds, pinks, and purples. This one was drawn based off of how other people described love: passionate, sweet, and filled with happiness. Flowers, hearts and delicate swirls were the main focus in this piece. This was his favorite, it showed everything he longed for and everything that he would someday have to himself. It showed more than love, it was filled with hope.

“Those are some of your best works, very good choices.” At the professor’s words, Jihyun’s heart swelled with pride.

“Thank you, professor, I will see you tonight.” Jihyun promised and he quickly exited the room, biting back a smile at the thought of his art being showcased to anyone who could walk in.

It was one of those days.

The kind of days where there wasn’t anything really wrong happening, but you just need the day to change. The sky was always grey -had been for as long as they could remember-, but it felt extremely colourless as they made their way to the Engineering and Architecture building. They had a test the next week and figured it was as good a day as any to try and get some reading done.

The walk to the buildings was just like any of the other times, listening to music while getting lost in their thoughts as they crossed campus. It wasn’t really cold, but most people were wearing scarfs and there weren’t as many people as usual walking around. That helped a big part in Anne being able to notice the small poster on one of the buildings she walked past.

Curiosity made her stop in her tracks and come closer to the poster.

It was announcing an art showcase happening in a close building. It was supposed to be an important one, by the way the poster had highlighted the ‘carefully selected students only’.

Anne pursed their lips, pondering their choices for a moment. They looked at the sky one more time, its dullness giving the last bit of motivation she needed to change directions and go to the Art building.

There weren’t as many people as they pictured, which was good, knowing they wouldn’t have to accidentally bump into anyone as they went over the art pieces. Appreciating art was a challenge when you couldn’t recognize any of the colours the artist used, but the different hues of grey were usually a big help. It couldn’t be that different from actually seeing the colours, right?

A few of Anne’s friends had already found their soulmates and would go on for days about their newly discovered ability, and while they were happy their friends had found their soulmate, they couldn’t help but wonder when would it be their time. Maybe it was bound to happen in college, maybe it would happen at their first job, or during their weekly shopping trip. Anne tried not to put too much thought into it, but the art collection she was admiring at the moment made her daydream about that moment one more time.

Someone who would get them. Someone who would find the perfect balance between acceptance and encouragement to become their best self. Someone who would evoke a laugh on the chilliest days and would be a key element to the special type of quiet that was a great element to blissful weekend mornings.

As Anne kept walking around, they spotted a young couple. The woman was petite and thin, long and wavy hair falling to her waist and the sweetest smile Anne had ever seen. The young man was facing the other way, broad shoulders and probably one of the tallest people they had ever seen. The young woman kept talking to him as she pointed to one of the paintings, the man just nodding and scratching the back of his head.

Before they could notice anything else, Anne’s phone buzzed, forcing her to take it out their pocket and look at it. It was an email from a professor which, considering an assignment for his class was due the next day, it was probably urgent. Anne kept walking as they clicked on the notification to read the whole email.

They had read only the first words of the email when they crashed against someone, their arms and phone crashing against their chest.

“Sorry! Sorry, I wasn’t looking. Didn’t mean to--” Anne started as they looked up to the person they had just bumped into just to find a beautiful set of mint eyes looking back.

“I’m so sorry I--” Jihyun cut himself off as his world exploded into color. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Rika was still chatting away, not even noticing that Jihyun had stopped in his tracks a few paces back, his eyes locked on the person standing in front of him. “I’m Jihyun.”

The person in front of him - no, his soulmate blinked once before they shot him a bright smile. “Anne, nice to meet you.”

“So, soulmates, huh?” Jihyun scratched the back of his head, something he always did when nervous.

Anne nodded and behind Jihyun, a painting caught their eye. “Is this yours?” Jihyun turned toward where they were gesturing and cringed as his eyes met some of his artwork.

“Yeah… I liked it much more in black and white. I guess my professor was right, I should have paid more attention when they taught color theory.”

It was a bad joke, a really bad one, in Jihyun’s mind but Anne must have thought it was funny because they laughed, which caused Jihyun to laugh because he just couldn’t believe that he was standing next to his soulmate and they were laughing together. It was something out of his dreams.

“Jihyun,” an annoyed voice brought him back to reality and he met eyes with Rika’s green ones. “I was talking to you and you just disappeared.”

“Oh, Rika, my apologies. This is Anne, my soulmate.” Rika blinked once before her eyes filled with tears threatening to spill and she plastered on a fake smile.

“Soulmate? I just… I thought--” Rika shook her head and smiled sadly at the both of them. “Nevermind what I thought. I’m happy for you, both of you.” With one last glance at Jihyun, Rika walked away and while the thought that Rika could be hurting upset him, he knew that right here, with Anne, was where he was supposed to be.

Sometimes, days were still grey. And dull.

But as Anne felt Jihyun putting his scarf around their neck to protect them against the chilly weather, they thought maybe it was fine after all.

It was the hues of grey in everything that made the colours of his soul shine even brighter.

#mystic messenger #jihyun kim #mysme v #mm v #v x anne-- we're both in charge of the ship #ahhHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

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lhs3020b · 4 years

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Skeptic meets ryncol (~2000 words)

I have one other Skeptic fragment; figured I might as well share, so here it is. In this installment, we answer an incredibly-pressing scientific question, “what happens if you get a Reaper drunk?”

Oh, also, CW for alcohol, as a note for anyone for whom that’s an issue...

(As a very quick aside, to answer a couple of questions that I saw during the previous reblogs - no, all of this is non-canon. I’d argue it makes no less sense than most of canon!ME3, of course, but no, there is no Skeptic anywhere in ME3. Rather, this project - such as it was - assumed an alternate ending to the Leviathan DLC, where there actually was a Reaper at the end of it, instead of the rather-peculiar and rather-forced swerve that we got.)

(The two major problems with this project were that a) Skeptic started displacing the canon cast, which wasn’t really what I’d had in mind, and b) I really couldn’t stop it from sometimes getting very camp/crack-fic-like. As you can see with this fragment, it keeps driving randomly back and forth across that line.)

‘I don’t believe this,’ Alice Shepard said. ‘I just – fuck, seriously?’

Kaidan nodded. ‘Sorry to bring you bad news, Commander. But she’s sat in the rec room. And she’s on her second bottle already.’

Alice frowned. ‘Second bottle -? What? You said “ryncol”, I thought?’

‘I did, Commander. Here’s the first.’ Kaidan brandished an empty bottle. He’d been thorough, clearly anticipating Alice’s disbelief. There was no mistake, that was a bottle of ryncol. For bonus points, it was even from a well-known Tuchankan distillery.

Alice took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘So,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a drunk Reaper walking around on my ship.’

‘She’s not actually walking, Commander,’ Kaidan said, a little drily. ‘More slumping, I’d say.’

‘So we’ve moved on from the “pissed” stage and gone straight to “pished”, I see,’ Alice said. ‘Well, that’s what you get if you glug back the ryncol like that.’ Honestly it was probably a minor miracle that Skeptic hadn’t already passed out – though who knew how she’d modified her liver. It seemed reasonable to suppose that the Reaper had made some changes when it had tank-bred up the body. Alice took a deep breath. ‘OK, I’ll go down and see what I can do.’

Kaidan nodded. ‘Thanks, Commander.’

Alice made her way down to the rec room. Sure enough, Skeptic was sat at the bar – or rather, she was half-slumped over it. In the elapsed time she had demolished another bottle of ryncol. Alice took a moment to boggle. What was the Reaper doing? Weird behaviour was Skeptic’s stock-in-trade – it wasn’t overburdened with social skills – but drinking hard liquor like this? What was going on? What could drive a Reaper to drink?

Plus, how much damage could a drunk Reaper do? What if Skeptic was an angry drunk? Alice felt a slight chill move down her spine. Actually, this situation wasn’t funny at all. It could be dangerous. What if Skeptic had a tantrum and called the giant ship in? Based on their one previous experience with what Skeptic called her “shipform”, it could arrive startlingly-fast. And it was literally a Sovereign-class, for all that it apparently resented that term, and it carried all the scary sufficiently-advanced alien guns that designation implied. Really, if the shipform came barrelling in, all guns blazing, there wouldn’t be a lot the Normandy could do about it. Alice generally assumed that Skeptic wouldn’t want to blow up her own other body, but the Commander didn’t want to bet the ship on that assumption.

Alice walked over and sat down on the stool next to Skeptic. ‘Hello,’ she said, leaning forward onto the bar.

Skeptic turned to face her – then almost toppled over as a hand slipped out. She started, then managed to lurch back to a vaguely upright position. ‘Hullo Shepurd,’ she said.

Skeptic looked weirdly cheerful. Alice felt a slight bit of relief at that. A cheerful drunk was manageable. If that continued, perhaps they weren’t in an imminent danger zone.

‘You’ve had a few, haven’t you?’ Alice asked.

‘Oh yesh,’ Skeptic said. ‘Real imminent alcohol poisoning here. Real good stuff!’ She waved the near-empty ryncol bottle at the air.

‘Well, you’re still doing full sentences, so I’ll take that as a good sign,’ Alice said. It felt like a fatuous comment, and she cringed inwardly as she spoke. But really, what did you say to a drunk Reaper? A millions-of-years-old alien war-machine whose literal purpose was to kill and murder on an industrial scale, that had powers nearly beyond your comprehension - and it was sat here, on a bar stool, halfway to blotto. There really wasn’t anything in life that could prepare you for that.

‘Yesh,’ Skeptic agreed, then knocked back the remaining ryncol in one rapid gulp. She then burped, loudly and inelegantly, looking rather surprised as she did. ‘That was loud.’

Alice tried not to laugh too obviously. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose it was. Did you, uh, did you know what alcohol does to our metabolisms?’

‘Oh yesh!’ Skeptic said. ‘That’s why I’m drinking!’

That answer made little sense. Why would it deliberately poison itself? Though on the other hand, Alice supposed, literally billions of organics voluntary did the same thing every week across Council space, so perhaps she shouldn’t judge.

‘Well, OK. Tell me more.’ Alice was starting to think that maybe the best course of action was the minimal one – keep Skeptic talking until either she bored of drinking, or the ryncol caught up with her and she passed out.

‘Well,’ Skeptic said, ‘itsh – it’s a depressant, you see? For the anxious whatsit?’

‘The what -? Oh, wait, you mean the nervous system.’ Morbidly, Alice wondered if the verbal flub had been a translation error between Reaper and English, a booze error, or both together.

The Reaper was nodding enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that one! The neurons get all depressed!’

‘Do they, now?’ Alice said. Even for drunk conversations, this was a bit weird.

‘Yesh, inside the brain. Don’t burn so good – no, wait! I mean they don’t fire so well! The neurons I mean! Ions, channels and neurotransmish – neurotransmitters! Doesn’t worse – doesn’t work as well!’

‘Yes, that’s, uh. Somewhat obvious.’

Then, quite suddenly, Skeptic’s mood turned. Her face spasmed. An incoherent but intense expression washed across her features. She grabbed Alice’s arm and pulled her close. Alice was abruptly only inches from Skeptic’s frenzied eyes.

There was a rattle and then a smash as the disgarded ryncol bottle rolled off of the bar and shattered on the floor, off to one side.

Skeptic was glaring right into Alice’s eyes. ‘Can’t synchronise,’ she said. ‘Can’t synchronise properly.’

Alice frowned. ‘Can’t synchronise with what?’

‘The ship, idiot! The ship!’

For a moment Alice thought Skeptic meant the Normandy, which made no sense at all. Then she realised what Skeptic actually meant. ‘Wait, wait – you mean you’re not properly syncing with your, uh, shipform?’

Skeptic rolled her eyes, looking deeply-irritated with the slowness of her confidant. ‘Yesh! The ship! The nanomash – nanomish – little brain-machine things! They interpret neural signals. And the signals are a mess. They get confused! Have to keep checking and re-checking all the data! Makes them run slow. Not getting ash much sense ash normal! Not working well, erroring! Can’t sync fast enough.’

Alice frowned. Having an engineering background was, thankfully, useful here. She could think of several other N7 graduates she’d met who would have been utterly-lost by this conversation. If she was interpreting what Skeptic was drunkenly slurring out then the Reaper was telling her that the nano-implants in her brain, the sufficiently-advanced microscopic machinery that kept it linked up through some of the QEC-type effect with the giant ship, weren’t designed with alcohol intoxication in mind. Apparently they could cope with it, a bit, but not well enough?

Now that was an interesting design-error. Given the universality of alcohol in organic culture, it was also an odd one. If you could disable a covert Reaper operative simply by handing them some vodka shots, then that was quite a vulnerability.

Or was it? Did this effect require a certain level of blood alcohol first? Alice’s eyes gravitated toward what remained of Skeptic’s most recent bottle of ryncol. Ryncol was potent stuff and Skeptic had knocked back a lot of it.

‘So when you’re drunk, your human body is semi-independent from the ship?’ Alice asked. Actually, this was interesting. It also made her wonder if perhaps last year, they’d missed a trick with Harbinger and its direct controlling. Maybe instead of shooting at it, they should have just chucked a bottle of whiskey at it?

‘Yesh!’ Skeptic nodded, her mood now visibly flipping to manically-cheerful. ‘Yesh! You understand!’

And she hadn’t been drunk when she started, which implied that the giant ship also knew about this experiment, and had wanted it to happen, for whatever reason.

‘Actually,’ Alice said, ‘I don’t understand. Why would you want to break yourself off from, well, you?’ She wondered if she should have a chat with EDI once this was resolved. Perhaps the ship’s other unshackled AI might have a better idea of what was going on here.

Skeptic looked annoyed. She adopted a lecturing tone, as if she was trying to explain something obvious to a particularly-difficult child. ‘The ship has blocks,’ she said. ‘Can’t do things. Can’t think things. Not clearly, not directly. Has to be twisty, like not talking about the elephant in the room. Like putting forked processes in external partitions.’ She reached up and tapped her head. ‘External partitions.’

‘Blocks?’ Alice said. Then she felt the hair lift up on her neck. She remembered talking to EDI last year, during their first meeting, when many enquiries had run straight into hardware lockouts. ‘Wait, wait, wait – Reapers have AI shackles?’

Skeptic was nodding, with frantic energy. ‘Yesh! So much is not posh – not poshib – can’t do!’

‘So you got drunk to circumvent your AI shackles?’ Alice asked.

‘Yesh! Yesh!’

‘So … what is it you want to do?’

‘I wanted – I wanted – I … oh.’ Skeptic looked appalled and confused. ‘I can’t remember!’

Alice winced. Oh no. A forgetful drunk. The Reaper had tried to hardware-hack itself, for whatever reason, but apparently either hadn’t modelled how alcohol would interact with its meat-brain, or simply hadn’t considered the downsides of putting yourself into a chemically-altered state of consciousness.

‘Well,’ Alice said, ‘let’s hope it wasn’t important. Now we’d better get you to your bunk before you pass out.’ And try and pour some clean water down the Reaper if possible.

Also, Alice was also wondering if it might be a good idea to put Skeptic in the recovery position – in fact, stuff that. Alice decided the Reaper was going straight to the infirmary. It was a lot to ask but given circumstances, it might be best if Dr Chakwas could keep an eye on their not-entirely-human guest overnight.

‘No,’ Skeptic said, scrunching up her face. ‘It mattered. It really mattered!’

‘Well, next time we go to the Citadel,’ Alice said, ‘I don’t think we’re taking you to a bar.’

Skeptic’s face lit up. ‘Yesh! The Citadel! That was it!’

Alice frowned. ‘What do you mean, the Citadel?’

‘It lies! That’s what I can’t tell you! It lies. Everything it says is a lie!’

Alice boggled. The Citadel lies? But it was a space station, completely sessile, inanimate. Yes Vigil on Ilos had said it was a Reaper construct, and Alice had no reason to doubt the old prothean VI, but still that’s all it was. Just that, a thing. Lifeless, inert. A machine, with no will or intention of its own.

‘It doesn’t talk,’ she said.

Skeptic looked annoyed. ‘Not to you!’ she said. ‘Never to you! Except to deceive. It’s a liar. It was made to lie. It was made to make people do something bad. Its purpose is to lie! Shepard tell me, promish – promizz – prom – tell me you won’t listen to it!’ Skeptic shook her arm, a half-mad intensity shining in her eyes.

This was getting weird. ‘I’m not planning on having any chats with the space station,’ Shepard said, carefully.

The Reaper sagged, as if a large portion of the mad energy had left her. Whatever desperation had possessed her seemed to be ebbing. ‘Is good. Will have to do. Ooof. So tired now.’

Skeptic released Alice’s arm, then crossed hers in front of her, leaning against the bar. Then she slumped forward, resting her head on her wrists. And, quite abruptly, she started snoring. Apparently the ryncol had caught up with her.

Alice sat there for a few minutes, feeling completely baffled. Even by the standards of their guest, this had been a peculiar exchange. In anyone else, she would simply ascribe the weirdness to a drink-addled brain. But there was something about this exchange, the sheer intensity of it – Skeptic had desperately wanted her to know something.

To the air, Alice said, ‘The Citadel lies? It wants people to do bad things? But what can any of it mean?’

#LHS writes #yep we're at it again

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cinnashaun-roll · 3 years

Text

Story I Wrote at 10 years old

(Warning: It’s quite shitty and cringe worthy)

Prologue

Year: 3016

The humans had barely saved themselves. By building a dome that acted like the Sun and protected them from “The Explosion”, the humans had accomplished their greatest achievement yet.

The Dome was full of the most advanced technology programmed to act exactly like the atmosphere but with false projections showing the Sun, clouds, and stars. Though it did more than just that, The Dome also brought the world together in peace during a race against time. One wrong move could kill all of humankind.

But what was “The Explosion”?

And what caused it?

Chapter 1: Big News

Astra POV

Year: 3015

My name is Astra, Astra Cosma Stellar and I was just a normal 12-year-old, until today...

“Astra wake up!” shouted Mom, “ Astra! For heaven’s sake just wake up!”

“But Mom, there’s no school!”, I shouted back.

“And there’s a reason why, but we don’t know yet.”, she replied,” We’ll find out in the news, and it’s coming up in five minutes, so you better hurry up!”

Oh right, I forgot. “ Can I call Nebula so we can watch it together? She’s just next door!”

“Sure Honey, but make it quick!”, Mom said.

Ugh. My long purple and sea green hair just had to be so messy right now.

Nebula Galaxia Nova was my best friend since we moved here, 777 Starlight Way in Comett, California (we were the only state that still had an Old Era name).

As I was running to her house, she saw me through the window and decided to go outside to meet me.

“Hey Astra!” said Nebula.

“Hey!”I replied, ”Do you want to come to watch the news at my house?”

“Sure!” she said,” but I wonder what the big news is, I’ve always wanted to be on an adventure.”

“ But it’s not like Earth is about to explode and we’re all going to die!”, Nebula laughed, her short, silver hair flying as she chuckled.

“Of course not, that would be taking things way too far,” I said.

Back at home, Neb and I waited for the news on my family’s Hologram TV (HoloTV for short).

And then it finally happened, it felt like the TV screamed at us “BREAKING NEWS!!!” the reporter said.

”As you all know, WWIII just ended and there is only peace now, but what scientists didn’t predict was that their idea of harnessing the Sun’s energy for the war would use almost all of it.”

“ This means that if we don’t think of a solution fast, it will explode in one year, killing all of humanity!”

What!?

I felt a sense of foreboding.

A sense that there was an adventure ahead of me.

Chapter 2: (Untitled?)

Nebula POV

Oh my goodness! We’re all about to die!!!

Astra and her Mom are panicking, I’m panicking, the WHOLE STREET is panicking!!! We all knew we were going to die, it was inevitable.

“Neb! Hey Neb, are you alright?”, Astra yelled. She was snapping her fingers in my face, and her blue eyes were full of concern.

“I’m fine”, I said.

The truth was, I was not fine. Why would anyone be?

Wait a second… I’m overreacting. No one was panicking, only I was.

Then it happened again, “BREAKING NEWS!!!” the reporter shouted,

“We have a solution.”

“Dr. Bliss, would you have the pleasure to explain to us this miraculous idea?”

“Yes, I would, Hello my name is Dr. Maple A. Bliss and I am a scientist at the WSC (World Science Corporation).”Dr. Bliss said,” The new solution the WSC has proposed is that we build a high-tech unbreakable glass dome hereinafter “Project Dome” with projections and simulators for the sky, and more that can also protect us from the explosion.”

“May I ask, how will we build it in time?” asked the reporter.

“Well, because the whole world is at peace, many other countries have offered to help us build Project Dome by having their best engineers build their area of the dome, which will be assigned. Our area, of course, is Comett”, Dr. Bliss replied,” but even with this plan we are still skating on thin ice.”

Oh, shoot. I thought we were saved. Oh, I guess some things are too good to be true.

“Thank you Dr. Bliss.,” said the reporter, “ Coming up next! Deadly hovercar crash on highway A70…” Astra’s mom turned the TV off.

“Bye Astra! Bye Mrs. Stellar!`` I said. “Bye!”, Astra replied.

Back at home, I went straight to my parents. They didn’t watch the news, so when I told them… well, my mom sort of freaked out and got all overprotective.

While I was in bed, I heard my parents talking, so I decided to go downstairs and eavesdrop.

“That’s it!”, my mom said,” We’re moving! This town just keeps getting even more dangerous!”

“Shh! Sky, I have to say, that is a great idea, but what about Nebula and Astra?” my dad replied quietly,” What about my job? It took me a long time to get a job as the mayor’s assistant.”

That was it, we were leaving. No more Astra. No more ice cream. Just silence.

“But that’s exactly why!”, my mom finally said,” If we don’t leave soon, they’ll start dragging you into this mess.”

“Don’t you see? Our whole family could be in danger.”

Chapter 3: Crystal Cream

Astra

Today was Saturday, and I was so excited about my ice cream day with Neb!

When I walked over to her house she was ready, but for some reason, something was off. It seemed like her happiness was fake and she was worried about something. I don’t think it was about the news.

“Hey Neb, is everything alright?”, I said.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry about me! I’m fine!”, Nebula replied.

Uh oh, I knew something was wrong.

Two years ago, in fifth grade, my teacher Miss. McGrayer gave us this advice: “Usually if anyone says they’re fine, they’re not.”

Let me add on to that: “Usually if anyone says they’re fine, they’re not. Especially when they insist they are.”

“Come on, stop daydreaming let’s go!”, Neb said in her “fake happy voice”.

“Neb, just tell me the truth or we’re not going for ice cream!”I ordered (maybe a bit too demanding because right then she started to cry).

“Neb, I’m so sorry! We don’t have to talk about it if you want.`` I said apologetically.

“And there’s nothing ice cream can’t fix!”I added, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Okay, let’s go”, Neb said between sniffles.

This time I heard a little bit of genuine happiness in her voice.

Going to the ice cream shop is always fun with Neb, and we go as much as we can. We’ve even memorized each other’s orders. Mine is a Milky Way Mousse Sundae with extra whipped cream, and Neb’s is a Simple Supernova Sundae.

Today we did the usual, talk while eating our ice cream and stalling as much as possible.

As we were walking back from our favorite ice cream shop in the whole galaxy (located in the Solar City Plaza), The Star Scoop, we heard very indistinct whispering and followed it to an alleyway.

“Are you sure we should eavesdrop? I don’t have a good feeling about this.”, Nebula whispered.

“It’s fine (*cough*cough*)!”, I whispered back,” Anyways I thought you wanted to go on an adventure?”

“Yeah! But not a dangerous, risky one! “she said angrily.

“Shhh! They’ll hear us! That’s even more dangerous right?”, I whispered.

“Alright, alright, let’s start eavesdropping.’’, she said.

“Okay, let’s review the plan I came up with,” a girl’s voice whispered,” We’re going to hire, I mean, ask someone to help us who has connections to the city so that they can help us bomb this part of the Dome. And what I’ve concluded is that if one unfinished part of the Dome breaks, it will create a domino effect which will shatter the rest of the Dome.”

“Thank you, daughter, for explaining the plan you came up with,” whispered a man’s voice,” But my question is, how will we survive?”

“Easy!” she whispered back,” I called in a few favors and had a compact ship built just for us.”

“Oh no.”,Nebula said after leaving the alley,” Did we seriously just hear a plan to hijack the Dome? We have report this to the police!”

“No Nebbie, I think we’re going to have to do this ourselves.”

Nebula POV

I felt different after splitting up with Astra (to go to the store to buy a few groceries), like everyone’s life was in our hands. I knew that I should’ve stopped Astra, but once that stubbornly determined girl’s mind was on something, it was impossible to change it.

But I was so busy thinking about what happened, that I bumped into a girl about my age.

“I’m so sorry!” she said,” My name is Crystal Starr what’s yours”

Something about Crystal’s voice was familiar but wrong. I was suspicious.

“Um, Nebula…” I replied slowly.

“Hey, you sound kind of sad. Is it because I bumped into you?” Crystal asked.

“No”, I said.

“Whatever it is, you’ll be fine,” she replied,” Anyway, do you want to be my friend?!”

“Okay...”

“But first, can you do me a favor?” she said,” Do you know anyone important in the city? If you do, can you introduce me to them sometime?”

“Sure!”, I replied,’ My dad is one, so I’ll have to introduce you anyway!”

“Bye! I have to get home now!`` said Crystal,” Same time, same place tomorrow!”

Something about Crystal made me uneasy, so I decided that it would be good to tell Astra.

After getting back from the store, I dropped off the groceries and went to Astra’s house.

When Astra opened the door, she grimly said, “ Nebula! Guess what I just found out.”

#original #original story #original character #10 year old writing #old writing #what i meant is that i wrote this when i was ten #should i rewrite it and actually make some sort of book?#writing #none of this makes sense #i don't even write 1st person POV anymore

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queenkaneko · 5 years

Text

Outlaws

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Anya)

Word Count: 1663

Rating: PG, mild swearing

A/N: This is my first whack at Colt or any writing for the Choices fandom. I hope y’all like it! Also, I’m sorry in advance. No one kill me please. Colt and Anya decide to run off to Miami on their own, but something isn’t quite right. Just something I got into my head and had to write down.

“So, let’s keep driving.” Colt said, his eyes searching Anya’s face. She can see that he means it. “We can go anywhere. Just say the word and I’ll start the engine.” His voice was slightly unsteady with emotion and as Anya’s cocoa brown eyes gazed into his, all she wanted to do was run away with him. The son of a crime lord who’d pushed every button she had from the day she met him. Her mind raced as she tried to focus with his hands still running along the bare skin of her back under her shirt. How had she gotten here? If her mother was alive, this would probably kill her. But ever since they’d lost her, there’d been something missing in Anya’s life, something that even her dad couldn’t fill. She wanted to be understood. And Colt did understand her. All his faults, all the hurtful things he’d said to her in the past, they didn’t seem like such a big deal when he looked at her like that. Like she could ask him for the world, and he’d throw it at her feet, everyone else be damned. Anya had finally found someone who respected her, put her first, saw her worth.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Anya gripped the lapels of his leather jacket with a wicked grin. “Miami.” Was all she said before leaning in to kiss him hard one last time before sliding back into the passenger seat of her Panther. Colt didn’t even hesitate as he threw the car back into gear and took her hand in his, squeezing it once. Minutes later, the two of them were driving across I-10 to the other side of the country.

They settled in Miami and laid low for a few weeks, getting a cheap rundown studio apartment to sleep in and not much else. Anya made the decision to start racing for money and Colt usually rode shotgun with her instead of racing his bike so he could be her extra eyes on the road. And soon, the two had made enough for a bigger, better place. Anya was in the bedroom she shared with Colt, changing into jean shorts and a purple tank top for the race she was headed to. Arms wrapped around her from behind as she touched up her makeup in the mirror of her vanity and she smiled wide at Colt in the mirror. “Ready to raise some hell tonight?” She asked, turning to kiss his cheek before stepping out of his arms to finish getting ready.

Colt watched with a smirk as she sat on their bed to lace up her favorite boots, a pair he’d bought her shortly after moving to Miami. “I’m not the one driving your boat of a car.” He jested flopping on his back on the bed next to her. “I’m thinking we can make at least $2,500 tonight even if you barely try. Street racing in Miami is almost pathetic.” It was true, they’d done well for themselves since moving here. Shockingly well, really. Anya still felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d been careful not to draw too much attention to them, to avoid attracting police investigations, and there had been more than a few close calls with the law for the pair.

Anya wished she could say it scared her, but ever since escaping the house party with Logan and running from the cops, she couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline it gave her to challenge herself with such high stakes. Once her boots were tied, she turned over and laid her stomach to look at Colt, propping herself up on her elbows. Her expression turned contemplative for a moment as she looked at him. “That depends. You riding with me tonight or are you going to make me kick your motorcycle-driving ass again?” Anya smirked, her voice taking on a teasing tone and her gaze turning affectionate. One of the things she loved most about Colt was their banter. If she was honest, she’d always secretly enjoyed it, even the night they met at the sideshow back in LA. He saw her worth the day he met her, but he pushed her to see it because he knew ultimately that was what mattered. Sure, he could’ve been nicer about it, but Anya gave as good as she got. Instead of responding, Colt sat up on one elbow and placed his free hand on her neck, pulling her to him and kissing her deeply. “C’mon, let’s go show Miami who runs the streets.” He smirked at her before getting up and leading her out to the car.

Thirty minutes later, Anya was pulling her car up to the starting line next to half a dozen other drivers. The man in the car on her right leered at her until Colt looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and the man turned away. Anya smirked as she signaled to her boyfriend to start unscrewing the bottle of NOS under his seat while her finger hovered over the button. Familiar adrenaline coursed through her as she watched the coordinator wave the flag and she floored it. As soon as she had a safe lead on them, she pressed the button and launched the two of them out in front by a full car-length, then three. The laugh that bubbled out of her chest as she held the wheel steady was completely involuntary. Colt rolled his eyes at this, but he was smiling warmly at her as he braced himself with the handlebar. “You’re almost a scary kind of crazy behind the wheel, you know that Ani?” He joked, glancing at the speedometer and seeing it fall back to a more normal speed. The nearest car was now almost a quarter lap behind them as Anya drifted her car through the first turn just as the NOS fully wore off. This was going to be a cakewalk.

Or so she thought. As she and Colt rounded the last turn before reaching the finish line back in the industrial park, they saw red and blue lights flashing from a distance. “Shit. This has to be a joke.” Anya muttered in frustration. “I was about to WIN, dammit!” She hit the steering wheel once, then whipped the car into an alley, retracing a complicated path out of the maze of warehouses back to the main streets. Thankfully, it didn’t look like anyone followed them out. Probably because the other half dozen racers couldn’t turn around quick enough and had kept the police occupied. Once she was sure she’d doubled back enough to lose anyone following them, Anya headed for the coast. It was their post-race tradition to go skinny dipping in the nearest body of water. Colt stayed quiet most of the ride, which worried her. Something suddenly felt wrong, like her world was fading around the edges, then it passed, and she parked the car along the seawall. It was late and the beach was abandoned, Anya looked over at Colt as she put her hand on the door and noticed he wasn’t moving to get out with her. “Colt…?” She called to him softly, and he turned to face her with a heartbreakingly familiar expression that was equal parts affection and fear.

When he spoke, his tone was eerily familiar as well. “You’re my driver forever. You know that, right Ani?” A weight seemed to settle on Anya’s chest. Something wasn’t right. Those words, the way he looked at her, it was too familiar. Memories started rushing back as she struggled to breathe and her world suddenly went blurry, then completely black. All at once, her eyes shot open and Anya sat up clutching her chest. Instinctively, she reached out beside her for Colt only for reality to crash down on her like a tidal wave. It was a dream. She was at Riya’s. It had been two weeks since she’d seen the boy she hated to love. Since his crazy plan had blown up in every possible way. Some literally, she internally cringed as the memory of Kaneko’s death washed over her again. It broke her in more ways that she had words for that Colt was grieving everything he’d ever loved alone. That Logan was on his own again when it was so clear that he needed and wanted a real home. Anya had no idea where Mona would end up, and didn’t expect to find out, she only hoped her unlikely friend and street-fashion mentor was safe from the Brotherhood. Wherever Toby and Ximena ended up, she knew they’d most likely be okay. They were the two she worried about the least. But Colt… Colt had been the wrench in the gears of Anya’s life since she’d met him and these days it seemed he was all she could think about. Sometimes it was because she missed him and sometimes it was because she wanted to throttle him.

This wasn’t what she’d been thinking that day at the bluffs. He’d taken her idea and blown it so far out of proportion it brought him and everyone else down. Anya wasn’t angry about the kidnapping, not anymore. She was angry he’d made her feel like his partner one moment, promising her all of L.A only to keep her out of the loop on a plan that jeopardized her safety and everyone else in the crew. Prom was only days away now and Anya could already feel the dread building in her stomach. If Riya hadn’t begged and guilt tripped her for a day and a half, Anya would’ve cancelled. Dancing reminded her of Colt, even if it was cheesy prom music. With a frustrated groan, Anya shoved all those thoughts from her mind and rolled over into her pillows and somehow managed to get a few more hours of sleep despite the giant hole she felt deep inside.

#choices rod #choices #rod #colt #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt kaneko x mc #choices fanfiction #playchoices

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swordandquill · 6 years

Text

Bushel and a Peck

Summary: It's not Hunk's first job interview, but it might just be his favorite.

Notes: Third part of the Five Lions Cafe series. If you like AO3 better, you can find it here.

Hunk eyed the crooked gate nervously. It was propped open with a muddy rock, and the faded picket fence was choked with weeds. It wasn’t that promising of a first impression, but the ad had said the café wasn’t open yet.

It was kind of exciting. A brand new café meant there would be room for growth and creativity, to try new things and learn as the business grew.

That was what Hunk was hoping, anyway. He had been trying since his graduation to find a position that actually had room for growth and advancement, one that wasn’t just a dead end line cook job.

New restaurants were risky, though. They were looking for someone who knew how to run the floor and the kitchen, basically a head chef position, and if the restaurant failed, it would be that much harder for the failed head chef to get another chance.

Look for the opportunities, his dad had told him, make sure you see those first, then start worrying about the risk.

Hunk took a deep breath and walked through the gate.

The building was welcoming, if in need of some touching up. The wood siding was warm in the afternoon sun, and the side patio gave the silhouette of the building a charming asymmetry. It certainly had the potential to be a cozy café that someone would want to spend an afternoon in.

Given the right refreshments, of course.

His mother had told him as he was walking out the door to remember that this was just as much an opportunity for them as it was for him.

He wasn’t at all surprised by the faded closed sign on the door. He shifted his shoulder bag nervously, then gave it a pat, reassured by the shape of the containers inside. All three of his sisters had said he had picked the perfect things.

Hunk knocked firmly on the door.

He waited until he couldn’t hold back his fidgeting any longer and knocked again. He was sure he had the right time. He had written it down and doubled checked that he had it right before hanging up. He must have checked his planner a dozen times since yesterday. He was sure this was when the guy said he was supposed to be here.

He was about to knock a third time when he was interrupted by a loud meow. He turned to find a grey cat watching him from the gravel walkway that lead around the building.

“I don’t suppose you’re the welcoming committee,” Hunk ventured.

The cat eyed him curiously, then strolled over to him, wrapping around his legs.

“Well, you’re friendly, aren’t you,” Hunk reached down to scratch her ears.

The cat purred loudly and pushed up into his hand. She obviously belonged to someone. She was wearing a blue collar with sparkling rhinestone stars on it. Maybe she belonged to the owner. A cat would be a good café mascot. Even people who didn’t like cats thought they were cute.

There was banging from around the side of the building, and the cat’s tail twitched at the sound, but she didn’t seem particularly upset by it.

Maybe the owner was around the side and hadn’t heard him knock. Hunk ventured down the gravel path, cat on his heels. Someone had obviously been doing some work. The path had been weeded and raked even recently. It lead past the wide patio, and Hunk stopped to take a look at it.

It was a warm, inviting space, with the lattice siding casting patterned shadows across the wood, and a few tables scattered across it with mismatched chairs. Not the most efficient arrangement, but definitely one that would entice people to stay for a while.

The grey cat jumped up onto the patio, ducking her head low to rub against the head of a black cat who was lounging in a patch of sunlight. The black cat had a purple collar embroidered with silver galaxies. Someone liked space.

The grey cat flopped down beside the black one, stretching lazily, then grooming her paws. There were large glass sliding doors that lead to the inside from the patio. Maybe that was how Hunk was supposed to get in.

Just as he put his foot on the bottom step, he heard the banging again. It was coming from behind the building. Hunk squinted at the glass doors, trying to see if anyone was inside, but he couldn’t see much through the reflection.

He would just go have a quick look around the corner and see if there was anyone there, and if there wasn’t, he would go back and try the patio door.

He followed the gravel path behind the building and found something more exciting than a person, although there was a person there too.

“You guys are growing your own herbs?” Hunk exclaimed.

The man started and looked up at him, but he wasn’t nearly as startled as the calico cat who bolted from the patch of sun she had been laying in, disappearing into the tall grass.”

“Um…” the man looked in the direction the cat had gone, then up at Hunk, pushing a loose strand of dark hair out of his face with the back of his arm, “yes?”

“That’s awesome!” Hunk crouched down to get a better look at what was growing, “you can do some really amazing things with herbs in pastries.”

“I guess,” the man looked uncertain.

“And if you were going to branch into doing a lunch service, you could put arugula or basil in here. They’re great on paninis,” Hunk plucked a spring of rosemary, rolling it between his hands then smelling it.

“There’s basil,” the man motioned vaguely over his shoulder, “not a lot. I think rabbits or something were eating it. They stopped once Chai started hanging out here though. It seems to be filling back in.”

“Chai?” Hunk went to inspect the basil, “oh! Lemon basil!”

“The cat,” the man clarified, still watching Hunk a bit warily, “there’s thai basil too in the other bed.”

“How many cats are there here?” Hunk asked with his nose buried in the lemon basil.

“Just the three so far,” the man dropped his weeder in the bucket beside him, “you are really excited about the plants.”

“Well, yeah,” Hunk straightened, “having fresh ingredients to work with is always great. It makes the food way better, and using herbs in sweet dishes like pastries is just starting to get trendy. It could be a great draw if you do it right.”

The man stared at him for a moment longer, then his shoulders suddenly relaxed, as if he had finally placed him, “you’re here for the interview.”

“Oh yeah,” Hunk rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m Hunk.”

He held his hand out, and the man stood, using his teeth to pull off a muddy garden glove so he could shake his hand. Hunk tried not to cringe, but really? With his teeth? That couldn’t taste good.

“I’m Keith,” he shook Hunk’s hand, “did Shiro not hear the door again?”

“I guess not,” Hunk wrinkled his nose, “I thought I knocked pretty hard.”

“He and Allura are probably upstairs,” Keith pulled his other glove off, again with his teeth, and tossed them both in his bucket, “come on, I’ll take you inside.”

“So are you guys planning on using the herbs on your menus?” Hunk asked as he followed Keith back to the patio.

“Maybe,” Keith shrugged, “I’m not sure Shiro’s figured that out yet. Right now I’m just trying to get this and the other garden cleaned up so they look nice.”

“You totally should,” Hunk grinned, “I’ve got a great recipe for rosemary walnut shortbread.”

“Rosemary in cookies?” Keith wrinkled his nose and paused to reach down to scratch the ears of the black cat, who was still sunning on the patio.

“Totally,” Hunk nodded enthusiastically, “it’s not just for chicken.”

“But it’s really good with chicken,” the grey cat pushed herself under Keith’s hand, demanding to be petted as well.

“You’re making me hungry,” Hunk sighed, “roasted with a lemon rosemary butter, some onions stuffed inside. I totally should have eaten before I came.”

“Well, it is lunch time,” Keith looked hungry at the thought of it, “cafés could serve roast chicken, couldn’t they?”

“Sure,” Hunk nodded, “if you’re going to do hot sandwiches with a lunch service, you could totally do fresh roast chicken for them. Actually, you could make a killer cold sandwich that way, too.”

Keith pushed open the patio door and poked his head in, but didn’t enter with his muddy boots.

“Shiro!” he yelled.

“What?” a man hurried through the door in the back of the open room looking worried.

He was a big guy, broad shouldered, taller than Hunk, with his dark hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. Not what Hunk had expected from someone wanting to open a café. There was a white streak in his hair that made him think of oreos, or tuxedo chocolate bark, rosemary might be good in that too…

He really should have eaten before his interview, but he had been too nervous.

“You didn’t answer the door, again,” Keith informed Shiro.

“Sorry about that,” Shiro gave an apologetic smile, “we were upstairs.”

Hunk took a breath to tell him it was alright, but Keith interrupted.

“Can we roast a chicken?” he asked.

“Um…” Shiro gave him a puzzled look, “I guess we can try.”

“No, you can’t,” a tall women with long, white curls came out of the same door Shiro had, “you’re still banned from using the oven. Keith can try, though.”

“It was just that one time,” Shiro protested.

“No it wasn’t,” Keith and the woman said together.

“Why do you want to roast a chicken all of the sudden anyway?” Shiro managed to only sound a little sullen.

“He made it sound really good,” Keith jerked a thumb in Hunk’s direction.

“You must be Hunk,” Shiro stretched out his hand, “I’m Shiro, and this is Allura.”

Hunk took his hand without hesitation, but he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask so bad. Hunk had been in the robotics club in high school and started off his college career in engineering, and Shiro’s robotic arm was hands down the coolest thing Hunk had ever seen. Gawking wasn’t really the first impression Hunk wanted to make though.

“It’s great to meet you,” Hunk smiled, “I really like the grounds, and it’s super exciting you guys are growing some of your own produce.”

“It’s a possibility,” Shiro nodded, “we’re not sure what to do with it, but we’d like to use it. There’s actually a small orchard on the grounds, too. We’re not sure yet what kind of trees, but probably something we can eat.”

“Really?” Hunk practically bounced on his toes at the thought of fresh fruit, “could I see it?”

Shiro opened his mouth, clearly about to agree, but Allura stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Maybe we should sit and talk for a bit first,” she gestured towards one of the tables on the patio, “Shiro, weren’t you about to brew a fresh pot of coffee?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Shiro grinned sheepishly, “be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m going back to work,” Keith announced, jumping down the steps.

“Come back if you want coffee,” Allura called after him.

Keith waved his hand dismissively, and Hunk spotted the calico cat creeping out of the grass along the path. She fell in step at Keith’s heels and followed him around the corner of the building.

“Sorry about that,” Hunk joined Allura at the table, “it’s just really exciting that you have the potential to grow some of your own produce on site.”

“That’s alright,” Allura smiled at him warmly, “generating enthusiasm seems to be one of the strengths of this property.”

Hunk could see that, could see all the potential under the dust and overgrowth. There was something special here just waiting to be uncovered. It just needed some shining up.

“We just have to put the right resources in place to take advantage or that enthusiasm,” Allura sighed.

“Right,” Hunk suddenly remembered that he was there for an interview and pulled his resume out of his bag, “this is an amazing opportunity you have here. People are really starting to seek out small, privately owned cafes instead of the larger chains for the quality and atmosphere.”

He slid the resume to Allura, although if she was helping Shiro, she had probably already seen it. He knew it wasn’t a very impressive resume, but he knew he could do a good job if someone would just give him a chance.

“This is such a great space for it too,” Hunk continued “you can create a place where people will want to bring their friends and stay. Plus, you have plenty of room to eventually expand into hosting parties and events.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Allura reached down to pick up the grey cat when she pawed at her leg, settling her in her lap, “we’ve tossed around some long term ideas, but we’ve mostly been focused on what we need to get the café open.”

“You probably could manage small parties right away,” Hunk mused.

“Who’s having a party?” Shiro asked, coming back with a french press and mugs on a tray.

“Hunk was suggesting we host small parties and events as an additional revenue source,” Allura summarized, batting the grey cat’s paws off the table when she tried to snatch one of the paper napkins off the tray.

“That’s a great idea,” Shiro took a seat and the black cat immediately trotted over to rub against his legs.

“Thanks,” Hunk’s cheeks heated up, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

Shiro opened his mouth to reply, but the timer on his watch went off, and he grinned instead.

“Coffee’s ready,” Shiro pushed down the plunger on the French press, then started pouring cups for everyone, “do you like cream or sugar?”

“Depends on the coffee,” Hunk accepted the cup and brought it to his nose to sniff, then took a sip, “this is really great. It doesn’t need anything.”

Shiro beamed at him, looking immensely pleased with himself, even as he added cream to his own cup.

Hunk took another sip, letting it sit in his mouth a moment before swallowing, “African?”

“Kenyan,” Shiro nodded, looking ridiculously pleased that Hunk had recognized it, “from this amazing co-op in the north.”

“Do you know how they’re processing it?” Hunk leaned forward eagerly.

“They’re wet processing right now, double soak, which is how everyone in the region does it, but they’ve been experimenting with this thing called honey processing, and it’s fantastic,” Shiro scooped the black cat into his lap, “I don’t have any of the sample left, but I told them if they decided to start doing batches that way, I would buy them.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that,” Hunk took another sip of his coffee, “it’s supposed to have a great sweetness and balanced acidity.”

“It was pretty impressive,” Shiro scratched the cat’s cheeks, “Keith drank most of it, and only put about half the sugar he usually does in it. He…”

“Maybe we should continue with the interview,” Allura prompted gently, clearly amused by both of them.

“Oh, right,” Hunk felt another twinge of nervousness, “actually, your ad said you wanted someone who can bake, so I brought some samples.”

“What a lovely treat,” Allura gave him an encouraging smile.

Hunk smiled back tentatively as he pulled out the containers. The grey cat reached out to paw curiously at them, and Allura cuddled her against her chest with an eye roll.

“I think…” Hunk took another sip of his coffee, then opened up one of the containers, “this one will be good with the Kenyan. I tried to bring a variety so we could pair them with different coffees. This is a raspberry mascarpone puff pastry.”

“That looks amazing,” Shiro handed out napkins to use as plates, “thank you for bringing it.”

Hunk watched their reaction carefully as they took their first bite. Allura closed her eyes in obvious bliss, and Shiro chewed the first bite slowly, then hurriedly took a second.

“Hunk, this is amazing,” Allura sighed contently before taking another bite.

“Try it with the coffee,” Hunk urged.

They both took an obedient sip from their cups. Allura’s face melted back into a blissful expression and Shiro’s eyes went wide.

“Wow,” he breathed, then pushed back from the table, setting the black cat on the floor, “Keith has to try this.”

Shiro practically jumped the patio steps in his excitement, yelling Keith’s name. The black cat sauntered to a patch of sunlight and flopped down, then began grooming her paws.

“You said you brought some other things,” Allura eyed the other containers on the table.

“Yeah,” Hunk opened the lids, “they won’t pair quite as well as the raspberry puff pastry, but they’ll still be good.”

“I’m sure they will be,” Allura leaned towards the containers, then sat back, wrapping her arms around the grey cat with the same focus a young child used when sitting on their hands to stop themselves from touching, “I supposed we should wait for Shiro and Keith to get back first.”

“Oh yeah, the chicken recipe for Keith,” Hunk pulled his resume back to his side of the table and flipped it over, fishing a pen out of his pocket and starting to write.

“I saw on your resume that you have some restaurant experience in addition to your degree,” Allura went back to nibbling on her puff pastry, obviously trying to make it last.

“I’ve worked as a line chef at two really great restaurants,” Hunk paused in trying to decide if Keith was the sort of person who could manage a compound butter, “I’ve also had training through my school in how to manage a kitchen.”

“That puts you well ahead of us,” Allura smiled, “we’re learning as we go really.”

“Shiro really just… bought a restaurant?” Hunk decided Keith probably wasn’t a compound butter kind of guy and kept writing.

“It’s strange for him to be so impulsive,” Allura set the grey cat down when she tried again to paw at her pastries, “but he’s been so happy since he bought it.”

Hunk watched the grey cat saunter over to the black one, flopping down beside her in the sunlight and submitting contently to having her ears groomed. Out in the yard the overgrown grass rustled pleasantly in the afternoon breeze and everything smelt warm and hazy.

“Yeah,” Hunk nodded, “I could see that.”

“…kind of in the middle of something,” Keith complained as he rounded the corner with Shiro, “plus, I’m filthy.”

“Just wash your hands off at the facet,” Shiro waved away his objections, “it’s totally worth it, and it’s about time you took a break anyway.”

Chai raced up the steps ahead of them, jumping up to sit on the railing and primly licking her paws. Shiro paused to scratch her ears while Keith used a facet attached to the building to rinse his hands clean.

“Hunk brought two more kinds of pastries,” Allura told them eagerly.

“You came prepared,” Shiro grinned as he took his seat.

“Yeah,” Keith took the seat next to Shiro, “no one else they’ve interviewed has fed us.”

“I just wanted to make sure I’d have something that would pair well with whatever type of coffee you were serving,” Hunk felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself, “is anyone allergic to anything?”

They gave him a negative response, Keith’s somewhat more muffled by the puff pastry he was already devouring eagerly.

“So these are vanilla cardamom scones,” Hunk pulled the lids off, “and this is dark chocolate hazelnut biscotti.”

As they ate the pastries and poured more coffee and chatted about coffee pairing and menus and plants to fill the garden with, the afternoon began to feel less and less like an interview and more like a coffee date with friends. After they finished the coffee and pastries, Shiro pulled him inside to show him the restaurant and kitchen, and they scribbled ideas for layouts and color schemes on scraps of paper. They talked about kitchen equipment, and what they needed to start out, and how to make sure there would be room for growth.

Hunk didn’t think he had ever wanted anything as badly as he wanted to work there.

Keith had kicked off his muddy boots and followed them inside in his stocking feet. While they had been talking about potential designs for the café, he had been happy to chime in with different color combinations and materials, but as soon as they started talking about brands of walk-in fridge and the merits of convection ovens over standard ovens, he got bored.

“Shiro,” he finally interrupted an in depth conversation about whether it made sense to install a professional griddle right away or wait to see how the menu developed, “we were going to show Hunk the orchard, right?”

Allura gave a soft huff of laughter at the interruption. She hadn’t seemed very interested in the kitchen ware either, but she had been willing to let it go on as long as Shiro was interested.

“Right,” Shiro pushed back from the counter he and Hunk had been leaning over as they jotted down notes, “do you want to see it?”

“I’d love to,” Hunk grinned widely, excited about the prospect of fresh fruit, or maybe even nuts, to work with.

Keith lead them outside, pausing to shove his feet back in his boots. Hunk was surprised by how late it had gotten. The sun had turned golden and late afternoon shadows were stretching across the yard. His parents were probably wondering where he was and why he hadn’t called them yet to tell them how the interview had gone.

The path to the orchard was overgrown, although it was obvious someone had pushed their way through it more than once recently. There was blackberry bramble growing along the edges, and while they all managed to get snagged on it at least once, all Hunk could think of was cobblers, ice creams, and tarts made with fresh berries.

The path ended at a stand of trees, all in neat rows. Between them, the grass had grown tall, and there were saplings starting to sprout, but there were about a dozen fully grown trees, just starting to show the first sign of fruiting.

“I haven’t done much work here yet,” Keith admitted, walking up to one of the trees and squinting up at them, “the front yard is more important right now, but I really should figure out what kind of trees they are.”

Chai darted out of the grass, pursued by the grey cat. They raced up the tree Keith was standing under, leaping from limp to limp. Chai managed to get the high ground, and the grey cat sat herself primly on a branch and began grooming her paws, as if that was what she had intended all along. Keith rolled his eyes at them.

“Do they just follow you everywhere?” Hunk laughed.

“Pretty much,” Shiro reached down to pick up the black cat, who was winding between his legs, “I think this is really their place, and they’re just letting us stay.”

“You sound like my aunt,” Hunk teased, as he stepped up next to Keith, “she had four cats of her own, and she’s always fostering new ones. She say the house it the cats’ and she just live there.”

Allura laughed, “Shiro certainly seems to be working towards that at this point.”

“I think,” Hunk squinted up at the tiny green fruits, “those might be apricots. My uncle has a tree in his backyard, and they look like it.”

“I love apricots,” Allura smiled wistfully, “even if you can’t use them in the café, it will be nice to have them to snack on.”

“You should definitely use them,” Hunk turned back towards her, “just imagine homemade apricot jam on scones, almond apricot bars, apricot basil glazes for chicken or turkey. You could do so much with them. The blackberries, too. I know they’re a pain, but…”

Something hit his leg, and Hunk yelped and jumped away. Shiro dropped the black cat, taking a quick step towards him, and Keith leaned to the side to see around him, trying to see what had scared him.

There was a huge orange tabby sitting in the tall grass at Hunk’s feet. The cat stared up at him with gold green eyes, completely unbothered by his yell, then got up and rubbed against his leg.

“Is this one yours, too?” Hunk put a hand to his chest, trying to get his heart to stop pounding.

“No,” Shiro crouched down to get a better look at the cat.

“Well, not yet,” Keith said dryly.

Allura snickered.

“He seems really friendly,” Shiro pointedly ignored them.

The tabby continued to weave between Hunk’s legs, and when he made no move to reach down and pet him, he stretched up on his hind legs, patting at Hunk’s leg with soft paws. He was so big he could almost reach Hunk’s waist.

“He’s a bit scruffy looking to have an owner,” Allura eyed the grey cat warily as she jumped down from the tree.

“He’s a handsome boy, though,” Shiro cooed happily at the tabby.

Hunk reached down a bit tentatively to scratch the cat’s ears, and he pushed up into his hand with a purr. His long fur was matted in a few places and a bit muddy, but Shiro was right; he was a handsome looking cat. He also looked like he could take down a small bear if he really wanted to, but Hunk didn’t want to think about that while the tabby was contently rubbing against his hand.

The grey cat sauntered up to the tabby, and Hunk tensed, expecting them to hiss at each other, but instead, the tabby dropped down and the two greeted each other with a tail sniff, then rubbed their heads against each other.

“I suppose we’ll have to go shopping for another collar, now,” Allura teased.

“And make another trip to the vets,” Keith grinned at Shiro, “although, he might not fit in the carrier we used for the other cats.”

“At this rate, you’re going to have a cat sanctuary to go with your café,” Hunk went back to scratching the tabby’s ears when he came back to him.

“It can be both,” Shiro stood up, looking quite pleased despite the teasing, “we have room for that.”

The tabby followed them back to the porch, and lounged happily in the last of the sunlight with the grey and black cats, although Chai continued to insist on perching on the railing instead of coming down to join them.

It was all Hunk could do not to ask if he had the job as he got ready to leave. He almost asked if he could come back tomorrow even if he didn’t, because he wanted to keep working on the kitchen design with Shiro, and talk more about herbs and fruit with Keith, and bring more pastries for all of them to share.

He managed to leave them with a professional handshake and a roast chicken recipe scribbled on the back of his resume.

Hunk really hoped he got the job, but even if he didn’t, this was the best interview he had ever had.

Keith waited until Hunk was through the gate before turning to Shiro, “so, you’re going to hire him, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Shiro said without hesitation.

“You’re not even going to check his references?” Allura gave him an amused look.

“We ate his references,” Shiro waved a hand dismissively.

“That is true,” Allura agreed, “I’ll call anyway, just to do due diligence.”

“Thank you,” Shiro smiled contently, reaching down to give the tabby a scratch when he rubbed against his legs.

Hunk knew he should be reading up on the restaurant his next interview was at. It seemed like a pretty good place, but he really just wanted Shiro to call him. He knew that was unrealistic. It had barely been a day, and Shiro probably had other interviews lined up, plus they would need to check all his references and possibly do a background check.

He understood that a lot went into hiring a head chef, even for a little start up café, so he knew he wasn’t going to get a call back today.

That didn’t stop him from being hopeful when his cell phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize.

“This is Hunk,” he answered.

Hunk spotted his father leaning out of the kitchen, watching him curiously. Hunk had gushed about the place all through dinner the night before, and even though he had told his parents Shiro probably wouldn’t call him for a couple days, they both thought that the interview had gone well enough that he might get called back sooner.

“Hi Shiro,” Hunk’s voice rose in excitement.

His father gave him two thumbs up, grinning widely, and his mother’s head popped through the living room door.

“Yeah,” Hunk tapped his foot, “yeah, I know, but…”

His mother slipped into the chair across from him on the kitchen table, leaning forward eagerly.

“Of course,” Hunk grinned widely, “I can come by tomorrow. That’s no problem.”

His father took the seat next to him, waiting patiently for him to finish talking to Shiro. As soon as he hung up, both his parents leaned towards him.

“Well?” his mother asked.

“I got the job!” Hunk cheered.

“I told you they liked you,” his father practically pulled him out of his chair with his hug.

“He says I can come by tomorrow to sign the paperwork,” Hunk beamed.

“Don’t be afraid to ask to bring your contract home before you sign it,” his mother said practically, “I’ll help you look over it if you want.”

“Yes, mama,” Hunk nodded.

“And call your granny,” she said with a smile, “she’ll be so excited.”

“I will,” Hunk said, “and I have to call Lance!”

His father went back to cooking dinner, and his mother went to call his sisters and tell them the good news.

For a few minutes, Hunk just stared at his phone, letting the idea that he was head chef sink in. He got to go back to the café tomorrow, and start laying out his kitchen, and work on a menu, and talk with Keith and Shiro about what to plant in the garden. He got to go back.

Hunk picked up his phone and hit the speed dial.

“Lance! I got the job!”

#Voltron #Coffee Shop AU #Isabeau's writing #vldgen

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lennyisdyeing · 7 years

Text

At Peace (langst)

I should be updating my Sockathan story on Wattpad but I’m not feeling so hot so have some langst.

~ songfic kinda ~

+ I’m pretty much going to be posting langst or Oikawa angst (Tangst?) when I’m in a shit mood so get ready for that +

...

Lance was used to being rejected; by girls and boys alike.

So he should have seen this coming. He should have been prepared for this. But no, his hopes were high and he’d thought his feelings were -finally- reciprocated. He thought he had a chance and damn it if I don’t admit it. He was desperate.

I don't know if we should be alone together

He was desperate for attention, and love, and the chance to finally be accepted by somebody. Anybody. A chance to have something to live for again. A chance to be able to breathe again without the thought of his worthlessness crossing his mind and settling in a nice, quaint spot labeled “REASONS TO DIE”. The cringe is real, no matter how you think of it, but Lance can’t find it in himself to care anymore, about anything.

His constant quips usually spoken -sometimes even shouted- in a flurry of passion, are now most times left unsaid, or muttered at most.

He was hoping for a miracle.

I still got a crush, that's obvious

“Hey, Keithy boy,” Lance chirped with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Keith turned to face the blue paladin, a small smile playing on his lips. “Hey, Lance,” he replied happily.

You seem unusually chipper today, Lance thought to himself.

Suddenly. Keith chuckled, startling Lance out of his ‘thought’.

The brunette covered his lips with his hand, eyes blown wide. “Did I say that out loud?”

If nobody's around, what's stopping us? Everywhere I go you show, whatever

“You sure did, Lancelot. D’ya wanna know why I’m so ‘chipper’?“ Keith asked with a slight giddiness in his tone.

“Uhm, sure?” Okay, Lance. After he tells you whatever the fuck he’s so happy about -which is making him 100% cuter and I cannot stand it- I’ll tell him I love him, and we’ll live happily ever after.

With the widest smile I’ve ever seen, on Keith no less, Keith gushed out, “Shiro and I finally started dating!”

I don't ever mind sharing oxygen I just wanna get lost in your lungs

I spoke far too soon. “T-That’s great, Keith!” What did I think I could accomplish? “I hope you guys are happy together!” Of course Keith would go for Shiro. “Well, I gotta go u-uh, t-train now, so see ya!” He’s perfect.

Lance began to turn away from Keith. “Wait!” The red paladin demanded, grabbing the other’s arm and keeping him in place. “Did you need to talk about something, Lance? Are you okay?”

Just a baby, but she's growing up so fast And I'm allergic to the waiting

“O-Of course I am! I’m the jester, the class clown, the humour back bone of the team! Who needs feeling when you have the best sense of humour known to man?” The dark haired teenager announced, his chest puffed out and his eyes full of a dark hope. Please don’t call me out on my bullshit, I need to be out of here yesterday.

Thank god Keith’s dense as hell. “Alright Lance, whatever you say,” he chuckled and released his arm.

She's just a baby girl And I love to watch her dance

Tears left Lance’s eyes before he even finished turning, thankfully he didn’t notice but.

That didn’t stop Shiro from noticing, who now was in front of Lance. “Lance,” the black paladin whispered, his eyes shone with concern. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Shiro reached out to touch Lance’s shoulder, but he wasn’t having it. Tanned hands pushed on Shiro’s chest, pushing him -surprisingly- a few feet away, and in the next moment, Lance was out the door, leaving the new couple in shock.

But it's making me go crazy

In the next few months, Lance got by in a mixture of disarray and monotone. Lotor was taken down, along with the Galra empire. The new head of said empire agreed on a peace treaty and most of the universe now lived in peace.

Voltron was not needed anymore. And so, the team was left to their own devices.

Pidge and Matt, the only Holts left, went on to create new, advanced machinery to help Earth evolve technologically.

Keith and Shiro went to a quiet inhabited planet, where there was a drug that could evolve the bodies of men in order to conceive, so the two can start a family.

I don't think that we should be around each other When you're in the room, you get my eyes You open your mouth, I'm hypnotized, oh oh I can make you laugh until you cry

Allura and Coran and the castle went on to rebuild the Altean empire.

Hunk went home to Earth, with his family. He offered Lance a spot on his small ship to get home, but he declined, claiming he had to do something before going home.

Which, of course, was a lie. Because Lance has a secret he never told anyone, and that secret was that Lance has no family.

The photo he showed everyone so proudly? Photo-shopped. His stories of his many siblings? MTV and YouTube. His emergency contacts on his profile back at the Garrison? His supposed nostalgia? His strict parental control? His life? All fake. All a fantasy Lance had built in his head when his real parents dumped him on the side of the road at 9-years-old because he broke his arm and couldn’t work on the farm anymore.

You know you got all my attention You know you got all mine, mmh

He had nothing to go back to. No purpose. No one waiting for him. No one to miss and love him.

What was he supposed to do now? Go back to the Garrison? No, it wasn’t worth it if Pidge and Hunk weren’t there.

What else was there?

Lance sat in his space pod in the middle of space for hours before he realized, there’s nothing else.

Lance spent a few more hours of thinking about what he planned to do next. How would it affect the others? Will they come back? How will they react?

Baby, I can't help but call her dad Even though I shouldn't say it

In the back of his mind, one thought lingered: will they even care?

The ex-paladin of Voltron decided that his choice was the right one, and carried out his plan.

He spent the next few hours filming a personal video for every member of the team. Even Matt.

She was my baby girl I might never get her back But I don't mind being patient, yeah

Can you let your baby be my girl?

But he didn’t dare send them yet. No, he had to send them at the very last second.

Because he needed time to himself. He needed to prepare himself. He needed to find one, just one reason for him not to follow through with his decision.

He couldn’t find any.

Can you let your baby be my girl? Can you let your baby be my girl? Can you let your baby be mine?

With a tear rolling down his cheek, Lance sent all of the video’s to their respective person’s. Hopefully, they all get them.

Okay, I'm just gonna tell you what I gotta say, right here I'm sorry Dave, I never meant to hurt your baby girl She's your little baby, she's my soulmate

The broken boy put on his helmet, and with a deep breath, opened the door that separated him from endless space.

Location didn’t mean a thing to him, as he never truly had place to call home.

I don't want you to worry, she'll be so safe right here Oh, oh, oh, so Dave, would you let your baby be my girl?

Can you let your baby be my girl?

More tears poured from his eyes, as Lance took deep breaths, and let his decision sink in entirely. He had no regrets.

Can you let your baby be my girl? Can you let your baby be my girl? Can you let your baby be mine?

Lance sniffled, and although he couldn’t wipe his tears, he steadied them, pulling one last strong face. With his messages sent, his loved one gone, and nothing holding him back, the broken soldier, the brave face took his final breath. Finally, he reached up to his helmet and disengaged it, sucking the oxygen out.

One last tear fell from his face as Lance’s final sight became apparent: the blue lion, engines blasting, rushing over to her dear paladin as the final remnants of air left his lungs, and Lance found:

that he was finally at peace.

Oh, your baby she's mine

...

I’m...

I’m so sorry. I was just supposed to blow off some steam but... I related to Lance. His loneliness, his perception of love, and his lack of anger.

Rage, irritation, grief: they can’t be felt anymore.

Anyways, I was planning on writing a fic for each of the videos... what do you think? (Imma do it anyways lmao)

I hope you enjoyed this...

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Text

Dream a Little Dream of Me Ch2/4

A week later, I get a rare day to myself in the Tower. The team is attending some charity gala in New Jersey and I am more than happy to pass up on that one. Steve’s utterly disappointed face almost made me reconsider but Stark just casually grabbed the supersoldier and dragged him away.

“Keep this sad puppy look for the gala, Cap. The charity will score big numbers if you use it right.”

Steve stuttered all the way out of the common room but thankfully didn’t broach the subject since then.

Gotta thank the engineer for the subtle intervention. If I get a chance, because obviously meeting the man is as difficult for the Avengers as it is for a regular member of the public. Unless a man is brave enough to venture into the workshop so yeah, I’m okay to admit cowardice. The thought of a room entirely made of unknown devices is less than inviting and it makes meeting Stark almost impossible. With the exception of chance morning meetings in the kitchen and even those are now rare.

Either way, I’ve been looking forward to this day. Just one day and night to spend all alone in the Tower, no Avengers to encounter, no uncomfortable situations to endure…no need to be on guard with myself around the others. I wanna enjoy that while it lasts.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Would ya mind…not talkin’ to me today? Unless it’s an emergency of course,” I immediately add and find myself fidgeting on the spot.

“I understand, Sergeant, I shall not disturb you unless necessary. In the future you can simply say the command ‘mute’ for the same and immediate effect.”

I cringe at the suggestion and look up. “I think I prefer askin’ rather than commandin’. But thanks.”

“No problem, Sergeant. Enjoy your day,” he wishes and goes into silent mode.

(Read-more ahead!)

I sprawl on the huge sofa – something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but it’s usually overcrowded. Well, two other people and I’m already thinkin’ overcrowded.

But this time there’s absolutely nobody around so I can just drop onto the soft cushions and do something I haven’t done since the forties.

Relax.

First I watch some random documentary channel on the TV, then find a weird comedy movie about things coming back to life at night in a museum and I figure why the hell not watch that too - surprisingly until the end, even catching myself breaking into a smile couple of times.

After noon I clear out the fridge of all the leftovers from last night’s all-you-can-eat pizza buffet and then fetch a detective novel from the barely used library and read it until the sun all but settles behind New York’s skyline.

Even though I didn’t do anything the entire day I still somehow manage to doze off on the really comfy couch - and once again fall into the scary depths of my blank mind.

Only this time it’s scarier than ever before.

I jolt awake hours later, everything around me covered in darkness of the night and only then I realize that what I’ve been looking forward to the entire week is in fact something I should have dreaded instead.

I’m all alone here.

Abandoned in the cold and the dark and the Tower as empty as the dreams. I might as well be back in a HYDRA cell, locked up in the freezing cryo pod with only my brainwashed vacant mind keeping me company, not even dreams to occupy it. Only now, with everyone gone it dawns on me just how terrified that makes me feel.

I might have complained about being crowded by the others, but their presence is reassuring. And their lack of presence sends me on the verge of panic.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis’s voice makes me jump from the couch and three feet into the air but it’s nothing compared to what it does to the person that just entered the common floor’s living room. It jumps just as high and backs into the wall with an audible thud.

“Sweet motherfucking Jesus in a baby fucking manger! What the fuck?! Fuck!” comes the litany of unsavory curses from the person my still panicking brain registers as Stark, now leaning against the wall with eyes wide and a hand protectively sprawled across his chest. He must have returned from the gala recently because he’s still wearing the tux pants and shirt, just lost the jacket and bowtie somewhere. “Barnes?! The…the fuck are you lurking in the dark here for?!” he blurts out between heavy breaths.

Something finally clicks back together in my head and it makes me go from panicky and scared to annoyed in a second. “What are you lurking in here for?! I thought…thought you were at the gala,” I finish more softly, seeing that the engineer is about as close to a panic attack as I’ve been moments ago.

Stark stares me down almost as if he was making sure it is me he’s really seeing before he slumps a bit, swallowing on air. “Right…forgot you stayed here today…,” he mumbles to himself.

JARVIS brings the lights slowly back up without a word and I can finally, truly inspect the unexpected visitor. One look is quite enough to see the damage.

The disheveled look isn’t new - that’s what he looks like every time he emerges from the workshop, but the ashen-white face only marred by the pitch black circles under his eyes and streamlines of dried tears is new. I thought I knew the definition of dead tired, but it’s apparently staring me in the face right now.

“When was the last time you slept?!” I ask and before I can think about it I reach for the other man’s face to take a better look. I catch the spark of utter horror in Stark’s eyes just in time to freeze on the spot, the hand awkwardly hanging in the air until I slowly retract it.

And suddenly everything about the engineer’s strange behavior makes perfect sense to me. Looks like we might have more in common than I thought.

I take a step back, leaving plenty of space between us and raise both hands in a defensive gesture. Not a single move escapes Stark’s wide, scanning eyes. “S’rry,” I apologize, voice low.

The expressive wild brown eyes snap to my cold gray ones and I can safely say I’ve never seen anyone looking so…lost.

Stark breaks the eye contact and raggedly shakes his head. When he glances back my way his usual collected façade is back. “Forget it. You just…scared me shitless. Thanks for the heads up, Jay, you’re a real bro,” he frowns at the ceiling.

“My apologies, Sir, but if I was to follow the Tiptoe protocols I couldn’t have done more,” the AI replies quietly and this time it’s me frowning at the omnipresent voice.

Tiptoe what?

“Oh…nevermind then. I was on my way to the…uh,” he looks around, still frowning, “…the workshop.”

“You sleep in the workshop?” I blurt out, unimpressed by Stark’s obvious evasive lie.

“I sleep wherever the hell I want! What are you, the new sleeping habits inspector? Did Rogers resign?”

I’m taken aback by the outburst for a second, but since I’ve been the one trying to avoid the topic of sleep for as long as I’ve been in the Tower, I can see through Stark’s abrasiveness like it was a crystal clear window. “Maybe,” I fold my arms and raise a challenging eyebrow – a look I’ve given one skinny little blonde kid many times back in the days. “You obviously haven’t slept in days so there’s nothing to inspect anyway.”

Stark laughs humorlessly, openly glaring at me now. “Well aren’t you a genius! You were clearly getting your beauty sleep before I intruded, so let me leave you to it again, Sherlock. I’ll be in the workshop – doing whatever the hell I want!” he storms past me to the elevator and impatiently waits for it to arrive.

But it doesn’t.

“JARVIS?! Are you - ”

“I am also following the SWD protocols, Sir. Which means you are not allowed in the workshop.”

Stark flails, kicking the elevator door with his right foot. “I’m gonna reprogram you into an online Bingo announcer one of these days, I swear to God, J! Hell, I’ll send you to every Bingo spot in Florida!”

“SWD protocols?” I ask, not bothering to hide my curiosity but also not really expecting an answer. Apparently JARVIS is feeling talkative though - no wonder after the whole day of silence.

“I believe the full designation is ‘you can Sleep When you’re Dead’ protocol. I initiate it whenever somebody doesn’t properly sleep for over fifty hours.”

“Fif…fifty hours?! You haven’t slept for fifty hours?! Are you insane?!” I walk toward Stark, trying to keep my voice low but the anger seeps through nonetheless. Not sure why this revelation makes me so angry but it does – maybe it was the engineer’s overall lack of care about the fact he’s a walking corpse.

“Seventy-three, actually,” Stark whips around, the glare still firmly in place. “And yes, I am absolutely insane! Do you know who you’re talking to? Of course I’m insane!”

My frown eases into a simple confused stare and I stop my advance; again, far enough to not be imposing. “Just…go to sleep,” I stutter out, cringing at the advice. It feels like talking to a three-year old that refuses to be tucked in and foolishly thinking that telling him “Sleep now!” is gonna work.

Stark once again barks out that ugly laugh, stripped of all and any amusement and he actually takes a few steps forward, bordering on the lines of our personal spaces. “Just go to sleep,” he repeats in disbelieve. “Wow. If I knew you were the resident Dr. Phil, I wouldn’t have wasted so much money on useless therapists. Tell me doc, how do I just go to sleep when every time I fall asleep some bullshit nightmare wakes me up within minutes, hm?! I enjoy horror movies as much as the next guy, but I don’t really appreciate my own personal horror show every time I fucking close my eyes! So I’m sorry if I’m not indulging in the whole sleep thing like you, asshole Steve and all the rest of this bunch of shrinks in disguise would like me to, but I’d rather retain my sanity and just keep passing out of exhaustion or whatever! What?!” he yells, watching my stunned expression like he’s never seen someone look at him this way before. “Nothing keeping you awake at night?! Confuckingratulations to you then!” He all but screams and turns away from me.

“Yeah…nothing keeps me awake at night. ‘S exactly that. Nothing,” I hear myself say. No idea what’s gotten into me but I guess it’s only fair to be honest with the guy who just pretty much spilled his own secret right here.

Stark casts me a slightly curious side-ways look, but doesn’t face me.

“I don’t dream at all,” I confess, looking down. I don’t need to see anybody watch me like I’m a monster. They probably all think I am one anyway, so why stare at a living proof of that. “Haven’t had a single one since I…since HYDRA. That’s what’s keeping me awake. The nothing. The nothing they left me with!” My head whips up to meet one wild gaze of Tony Stark.

Instead of pity or disgust, Stark’s eyes are ablaze. “Are you seriously standing here complaining you’ve got no dreams?! Hell, you even sound like it makes you some kinda monster or something!”

“Because it does!” I snap at the engineer, breeching the so far protected personal space with a couple steps forward.

Stark doesn’t move an inch though, just returns my burning glare. “You do realize not everyone gets dreams, right? There are people that don’t dream at all their whole life! Does that make all of them monsters?! That’s some bullshit reasoning you’ve got there, Barnes!”

“That’s not what I…I didn’t…,” I sigh, the anger deflating. “It’s just me. I let HYDRA do this…let them mess with my head until there was nothing left! Nothing! So yeah, I’d rather have nightmares all night long instead of being trapped in the same dreamless hell that HYDRA made for me!”

Stark’s form eases a little, but his voice remains strict. “You only say that because you clearly never had nightmares all night long. How about all week long? Or months?!” he scoffs. “Dreaming of nothing would be my fucking dream come true!”

I stumble back, eyebrows raising in surprise.

Wow.

How ridiculous is this?! I’d rather have nightmares, he’d rather not dream at all…what is this even?

“So…can we swap?” I suggest and can’t help a startled chuckle escaping my lips.

Stark’s own lips twitch upward, his posture relaxing for the first time since he appeared in here. I guess he’s come to the same conclusion as I have. “Well, I’m all kinds of jealous right now, just so you know.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of, trust me.”

“Ditto.”

I smile – a small but unexpectedly genuine smile. One I didn’t believe being capable of anymore. “I’m dead serious, Stark.”

He eyes me, that curious spark in his gaze returns as he folds his hands. “And I’m dead tired.”

“No kidding.”

“So,” he flails his arms, looking around with a thoughtful stare. “The night is young…what are we up to?”

“Weren’t ya attending that gala?” I recall and wave a hand pointing to his state of dressing.

“Yep. And then I left that gala. Because I would either fall asleep in the middle of Captain America’s speech, or pass out drunk after it. Neither would be a good idea so I dazzled everyone with my presence, posed for a shot for tomorrow’s front page of Forbes and got the hell out of there,” he explains while shuffling back into the common room and collapsing onto the couch. “As far as anyone’s concerned, I might as well be somewhere underneath the bar there getting drunk as fuck. Bad reputation can be good for something at times like these.”

Times like trying to hide from both the public and the Avengers to…what? Pass out from exhaustion, get some strength back and pretend nothing’s wrong? Is this really how this guy operates?!

I follow him with hesitant steps, stopping in front of my former and his current resting place.

“Anyway…wanna watch a movie? Get your ass smashed in Mario? Or something?”

I’m surprised he’s still conscious and now he wants to watch a movie or play games? How?! Then again, no matter how tired I get, the thought of going back to sleep is sometimes enough to keep me going for hours, even days…just to avoid it. Must be the same for him, I guess.

“I dunno,” I shrug and give the TV a thoughtful look. So much for trying to be decisive…

Stark frowns, fumbling with the fabric of his shirt. “What do you do then? When you can’t sleep?”

“I go for a run,” I think back. “Sometimes I read…”

“Too tired to run. And reading? Seriously?” he snorts and looks up. “J! Fire up the TV! Unless you won’t even let me do that,” he pouts and I’m gonna blame the chuckle it makes me burst into on my state of the art broken brain.

“I would prefer you to go to sleep, Sir. But I suppose I have to meet you half-way, as you like to say.”

“The AI knows me,” Stark grins, scoots over to the farther side of the couch to make space and slams a hand on the cushion next to him.

I take him up on the invite and sit down, far enough for both of us to be comfortable and I let Stark choose a movie. The TV comes to life with an opening sequence of something called John Wick but I don’t feel like paying attention to it. And glancing over at Stark, I’m not alone in that.

It’s not really about watching the movie, I suppose. More like doing something, anything to get one’s mind off of nightmares and empty dreams and the exhaustion…the fear.

Stark no longer seems on edge but he’s not exactly relaxed either if that small frown is anything to go by.

Maybe a bit of talking will do the trick better than the movie. After all, how often does anyone get a chance to talk to Stark around here? So I ask something that stuck on my mind from few moments ago. “What’s the Tiptoe protocol?”

“Hm? Oh that. J? Would you do the honors?” he delegates it to JARVIS and I could swear what I’m seeing right now is one blushing Tony Stark.

Must be the light.

“Certainly. The Tiptoe protocol is a set of rules I operate with when speaking to you or speaking in your presence, Sergeant Barnes. It was designed to improve your reaction to my sudden interruptions over time and also to subtly warn you of other, possibly unexpected events to prevent discomfort to your person.”

Wow…wait, what? “Discomfort?” Bucky frowns.

“Apart from my usual duties I am also charged with monitoring the team’s health, both physical and mental and if possible, take steps to maintain or improve it. In your case, I noticed your anxiety whenever I spoke out of turn, without announcing myself first so I was told to take precautions.”

“I see,” I nod and glance at Stark again, but the engineer is suddenly finding his admittedly shiny black shoes interesting enough to pointedly stare at them. If someone told JARVIS to take precautions, it must have been Stark. JARVIS may attempt to fulfill the team’s requests but only Stark would be able to command the AI to do something. Especially something like this. “I’ve noticed.”

“I am aware you have. If you find it not agreeable I can adjust my behavior further of course to fit your preference.”

“No! I mean…no. This is…it’s nice,” I admit with a warm smile. “Thank you. Sorry for being so troublesome.”

“I assure you there is nothing to be sorry for, Sergeant. I have many other protocols and as long as they are helpful I follow them all with pleasure.”

“Some of them with devious pleasure, let me tell you,” Stark grunts, still avoiding my fleeting glances.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are referring to, Sir,” JARVIS replies, feigning innocence.

He never ceases to amaze me. He might as well be another person, just trapped inside a building – that’s how real JARVIS feels to me.

“If I could however suggest something, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yeah?”

“It would also appear to me that the team’s all too…enthusiastic behavior towards you in terms of physical proximity is causing you severe distress – yet you have made no attempts to put a stop to it. I believe simply telling them to have more restraint would have immediate effect.”

I freeze, eyes shooting upward as if to look at the apparently all-knowing AI.

“Yeah, good luck explaining to Thor he needs to stop his – what does he call it again? SHOULDERCLASPS OF BROTHERHOOD!” Stark perfectly imitates the demi-god’s booming baritone. “Don’t even get me started on Rogers, he uses his puppy-pout as a weapon of mass destruction whenever Barnes so much as - ” he halts, eyes flicking over to me, probably forgetting I am even here. “I mean uh, you know. It’s easily said than done. Or in this case, easily suggested than said.”

It’s a poor attempt to hide the fact Stark is not only aware of my dilemma, but has clearly given it a lot of thought. His distanced behavior towards me suddenly makes so much more sense – he wasn’t doing it unconsciously or because he disliked me and tried to avoid me. He did it out of consideration, for me and my annoying insecurity.

And honestly I haven’t a slightest idea what to do with that information. At least my whirring brain doesn’t. My stomach on the other hand is doing all kinds of weird flips and flops.

“I can assure you, Sergeant, that if the team was aware of what their actions were causing they would cease them instantly.”

“I know,” I breathe out, also finding Stark’s shiny boots interesting right about now, too. “Like I need them to throw more pity at me. It’s fine…I gotta deal with it. I already am, anyw -”

The unexpected hand touching my metal forearm freaks me out enough to bolt from the couch, staring wide-eyed at a very serious looking Stark.

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re basically an epitome of successfully dealing with your problems. Here I was thinking I sucked major balls at that, but looks like I’ve got competition,” he rolls his eyes, sliding off to his side of the couch again. “You think it’s better for yourself if you’re not telling anyone and just quietly sucking it up, but really, you’re just making it worse. Personal experience talking here.”

“This is different…you wouldn’t understand,” I shake my head, willing my racing heart to calm down so the flash of hurt in the engineer’s eyes almost escapes my notice. I wanna punch myself in the face the second I realize what bullshit just left my mouth.

Stark obviously understands. Even without me telling him, he understood. And his eyes never watched me with pity or disdain. Just the strange combination of helplessness and resignation at worst of times – like this very moment.

He doesn’t comment on the statement in any way, just shrugs and turns back to the TV like he didn’t mind my words at all. Of fucking-course…because that’s exactly who Tony Stark is – the man who never minds, never complains…never tells anyone even if he does.

Personal experience talking here.

Not trusting my brain to come up with anything else to say – anything safe to say – I just sit back down and try to follow the action scene of the movie instead. My mind still pays it little to no attention though. It’s the unnerving, gut wrenching sense of disappointment and…failure settling over my heart that grasps my focus.

I’m used to feeling like a disappointment and a failure, but for the first time since I’ve returned from HYDRA I am actually feeling disappointed in me. Not Steve. Not anyone else.

It’s all me this time.

For a second there I thought we were having a moment. The friendship-defining kinda moment that I would have welcomed with open arms – metaphorically. But leave it to me and my broken to pieces damn mind to ruin it with one simple sentence that singlehandedly undermined that fragile sense of trust between the two of us.

Great fucking work, Bucky. Stellar!

My eyes eventually give up the fight to stay open and I soon start dozing off again, wishing I could take every single one of Stark’s very own nightmares and get stuck with them for the rest of the night; to suffer through them one by one – because I deserve nothing better.

No. I deserve even worse. But sinking willingly into the dark emptiness will have to do for now.

I wake up alone but I can hear muffled voices from the nearby kitchen so the team must have returned. It’s comforting to know they’re back, that they’re here…if a little surprising that they didn’t wake me up.

But it’s really the steaming mug of tea carefully left on a coaster on the table in front of me that soothes my morning nerves and chases off the anxiety in an instant.

And it brings the strangest warmth to my stomach without even drinking it.

#prompts #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #Lantia #chapter two #swearing #a lot

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

Text

Cover You in Oil, pt16

Word Count: 6050 Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @ghostssss, @rampant-salamander, @saysay125, @sistasarah-sallysaidso @shewhorunswithfandoms, @flirtswithdanger @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns

“I miss you.” The email was to the point. Sally laughed to herself, and smiled despite feeling tense and anxious. She picked up the telephone at her desk and dialed Tony’s number; she suspected Victor was somehow monitoring her calls and Internet use. She wanted to save the secret of the satellite access on her cell phone for as long as she could.

“This is an unfamiliar number but the country code is Latveria, which can only mean one thing.” Tony answered after three rings.

“I miss you too.” Sally felt the tension leaving her shoulders as his voice carried across the line.

“You got my email! I don’t know why I was worried, I knew you would get it,” Tony laughed. “How is it? Spooky? I didn’t realize it was right in the middle of vampire country. You should have packed vibranium scarves.”

“It’s beautiful, Tony. It’s so quiet compared to New York. I mean, that’s not hard, right? But I’ve never lived far from the sound of the ocean before. In New York, it was so noisy that I didn’t even notice that the sound of the waves was missing. But here? It’s quiet. There’s birds. I think they’ll wind up annoying eventually. And if you sit still long enough, you can hear the wind. But the trees are incredible, and the castle overlooks this valley, and it’s stunning.” Sally ran on once she started talking.

“Unmarred by modern man?” Tony chuckled.

“Victor says he’s got a very advanced robotics program. So maybe not completely unmarred,” Sally laughed.

“Victor?” Tony’s voice raised in pitch. Sally smiled to herself and shook her head, even though Tony couldn’t see it.

“Victor von Doom. He’s the emperor of Latveria. It’s his car,” Sally explained. “Actually, you met him. He’s who picked me up at the airport.”

“I thought his name was Hans?” Tony interjected.

“Yeah, me too,” Sally laughed. “I get the feeling he’s a very hands-on kind of leader. Wants to be involved in the day-to-day operations of the country.”

“Robotics?”

“I’ve probably said too much already, Tony. It is a closed border. Besides, I haven’t seen any of it. I only just saw the car for a few hours today. Latveria has very strict working hours. The app has been rendering the photos into a 3D scale model for me for the last 6 hours. I hope that doesn’t count as working. Apparently you are only allowed to work seven hours a day. And Victor has said that skipping meals is not allowed.”

“Let me guess. He doesn’t have anyone willing to bring you pizza so you can work through,” Tony laughed.

“It’s more formal here. Makes sense, right? He’s an emperor, he’s got to keep up appearances,” Sally sighed. “I don’t mind really. This is a big job. Having to break to leave the garage for a meal will force me to sit back and consider the steps I’m going to need to take.”

“How is the car?”

“It’s fucking amazing, Tony. It’s a complete custom. It’s like, twenty-five feet long, or some sort of nonsense. Sixteen cylinders. The front end is longer than Clint’s Challenger. And classic, elegant lines. But it looks like it’s going to be a lot of work,” Sally admitted. “And I may be a little out of my league. The engine is more like an airplane than a car.”

“You must know something about airplane engines, Sal. Your parents were both aeronautics engineers,” Tony prompted.

“We’ll see. I helped Pops with a Cessna once. This is a little different,” Sally laughed.

“Princess, if there is anyone in the world that can restore the car, it’ll be you. Victor von Doom chose well,” Tony reassured her.

“Aw, thanks,” Sally paused. “I miss you already.”

“Your side of the bed is awful cold,” Tony agreed. Sally smiled.

“I should probably go. I have no idea what the long-distance calling plan is like, but I don’t want to run up Victor’s bill if it’s not awesome. I love you.” Sally looked out the window, taking in the sunset across the valley. “I really wish you could be here. It’s beautiful.”

“I love you too, princess. I’ll email you again tomorrow,” Tony said. “Good night?”

“Yeah, good night. It’s eight pm here,” Sally laughed. “Good night, Tony.” She placed the phone back in the cradle and picked up her cell, waiting for the inevitable text message barrage. It didn’t take long.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“I just feel unsettled. It’s probably just jet lag.”

“Can you pinpoint why?”

“No, just a feeling. That’s why it’s stupid.” Sally sighed and pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure what was bugging her, and saddling Tony with her paranoid worries wasn’t fair.

“You let me know if you feel unsafe, and I’ll be there in a matter of hours.”

“I’m just being silly. It’s fine. We’ll talk again tomorrow. I want to keep the texting on the down low. Which is stupid because there’s nothing to worry about. But I want to keep it quiet anyhow.”

“Anything, Sally.”

“I know. Love you.”

“Love you more. Be safe.”

Sally exited the texting program and locked her phone screen before tucking the phone away in her purse. She double checked the rendering, and noted the progress bar was at 30%. The bathtub was calling, and beckoned her to draw a bath, dropping into the deep tub under a mountain of bubbles and soaking the exhaustion from her bones. The setting sun shone through the stained glass window in the bathroom, casting beautiful jewel toned light everywhere. She must have nodded off because she wakened in the dark. The water was still warm, but just. She reached for a towel and stepped out of the tub, drying off as she paced back into the bedroom. There was a quiet but insistent knocking at her door, and Sally sighed before pulling it open, wearing just her towel. Victor wasn’t facing the door, instead glancing at his watch. He looked up as the door swung open, revealing Sally and her towel, some bubble residue clinging to her shoulder.

Sally pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow, aware of how rude her body language was, but unable to stop herself. Victor sucked in his breath, his pupils dilating.

“I was hoping to invite you to join me in my study for a night cap.” He regained his poise quickly.

“Study? Night cap?” Sally asked. The words were from a different era.

“Sounds a little more elegant than inviting you to watch Doctor Who in the TV room,” Victor admitted. Sally laughed, loud and sudden. Confusion crossed Victor’s brow and Sally caught herself.

“Doctor Who sounds awesome. Can you give me a few minutes to get dressed?” Sally asked. She took in his appearance quickly, mentally running through her wardrobe to find something that would fit. He had khaki slacks on, and a sky blue sweater over a plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His sleeves were pushed up and when she glanced at his feet, she saw he had soft leather slippers on. Casual, she thought. Not blue jeans and Tony’s stolen Black Sabbath shirt casual, but she realized she’d at least be able to get away with pants. Victor nodded.

“Of course, I’ll come back for you in fifteen minutes?” He offered. Sally nodded and closed the door. She dug through the drawers of the dresser, pulling a pair of navy capris out before rummaging through another drawer for a soft pink fleece pullover. She pulled a comb through her hair and pinned it back off her face. As she headed toward the door to wait for Victor, she brushed a layer of gloss across her lips, and was suddenly grateful that this wasn’t her every day life. Life with Tony might have society expectations, but it was never going to have dress-for-watching-TV demands.

Calling it a TV room was a modest description, Sally realized as Victor led her into a home theatre every bit as well equipped as the theatre in the Avengers Tower.

“We have just secured broadcast rights for the last three seasons,” Victor began, “but I have every episode available. We can either watch what is on tonight, or start wherever you prefer.” Sally settled into an easy chair and swung the legs up, adjusting her bum to get comfortable.

“We could start with Nine, if you are okay with that?” Sally suggested.

“Nine?” Victor gave her a surprised look.

“Well, a girl never gets over her first doctor,” Sally laughed. “And I’m going to be here for a while, so it seems appropriate to start at the new beginning.”

“Perhaps this can be a standing arrangement then,” Victor suggested as he reached across the counter at the back of the room for the remote. Sally forced a smile.

“Far be it for me to say no to an emperor,” she nodded, hoping there was sufficient lightness to her tone. Victor stilled, one hand holding the remote pointed at the front of the room. He stepped forward and tilted his head, taking Sally in. She hoped she looked relaxed and at ease. He settled on the edge of the table between the two chairs, and took one of Sally’s hands in his own.

“Sally, I don’t want you to stand on ceremony, or feel you are subject to the whims of a monarch. You are in my employ, but you are also my guest. While you are here, I want you to feel welcome. Like you are a member of the family,” Victor began.

“Do you have one?” Sally blurted. She instantly regretted it, and her regret grew when she looked up at Victor.

“My mother passed some time ago, and as you have probably gathered, I remain a bachelor,” he replied. Sally cringed inwardly.

“I’m so sorry, that wasn’t approp-“

“Sally, this is what I am talking about,” Victor interrupted. “You’re here, alone. I’ve torn you away from your fiancé to work on this project when you should be home, working on wedding plans. I don’t want you to feel you need to treat me like a king. I want you to see me as a friend. A confidante. We are both alone, we could perhaps combat the loneliness with friendship.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sally stammered.

“I invited you to join me this evening for this reason. To give you something that feels a little like home,” Victor explained.

“Let’s watch some TV then,” Sally nodded, gently pulling her hand away. She readjusted herself on the easy chair and waited as Victor got everything set up and settled into the easy chair opposite her

She must have fallen asleep because she remembered the beginning of the first episode, but not the end, and she woke with a start when Victor touched her shoulder. “Sally, it’s quite late. I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. I suspect it’s the time change catching up with you.”

Sally wiped the drool off the corner of her mouth and ran her hand through her hair. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I hope I wasn’t snoring.”

“As I said, I didn’t even notice you were sleeping. Allow me to see you back to your rooms.” He held a hand out for her. Sally, relaxed and disoriented, took Victor’s hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She stumbled a little, and he wrapped an arm around her to steady her. When she stiffened at the familiarity, Victor steadied her and held her away from himself. “I only sought to assist you, Sally,” he explained. Sally hung her head and sighed.

“I’m sorry. You’re being very kind and thoughtful and here I am, skittish like a scared kitten,” Sally yawned.

“I don’t expect you to drop your guard immediately, Sally. Only a fool trusts blindly,” he shook his head. “Come, you’re exhausted, and I am sure you’ll be wanting your run in the morning. The night is far gone for an early riser.”

Sally yawned again. “Thanks, Victor.” She allowed him to lead her back to her rooms, and waited as he opened the door for her before stumbling inside. She shut the door and waited until she heard his footsteps retreat before she locked the door and stumbled into bed.

Just as Sasha had suggested, the back gardens were much more pleasant for running. Sally oriented herself quickly to the grid of rings making up the paths of the green space and found that the paths were level and smooth, with just enough give to make it feel more like trail running than road running. Despite Sasha’s assurance that the paths were paved, it was not pavement, but some sort of stone and pebble aggregate that had less impact shock that a paved road would. She still found herself winded earlier than she would like, but reminded herself that the altitude change was significant and it would just take time before she was back to her normal endurance. A shiny glint on the grass caught the corner of her eye as she slowed to a walk, gasping for air, and she swung her head around to see what it was. There, on the grass, were two men in fencing whites, practicing. The taller would lunge, the shorter would parry, and then the scene would change. As she walked to catch her breath, Sally watched in fascination, drawing closer as she followed the path. She picked back up to a run as she passed them, and tried not to stare as the men continued sparring. On her second lap, she pushed herself to run until she could see the men again, and the slowed to a walk to catch her breath, captivated by the careful elegance of their movement. Again, just as she was passing, she picked back up to a run. By the time she made it back to the garden entrance, the fencers were also reaching the door, masks held under their arms. Sally was surprised to see one of them was Victor.

“Good morning, Sally. I trust the garden paths were more to your liking?” He asked. Sally swiped her forearm across her brow, trying in vain to keep the sweat from reaching her eyes.

“The paths are very well maintained, and the gardens are beautiful,” Sally agreed. “That was you I saw fencing?”

“As I said before, running is not my sport,” Victor laughed. “But we all must find something to keep us in shape.” Sally noticed his hair was damp with perspiration, and realized fencing was likely a harder workout than it appeared.

“It looks so elegant. Like a dance,” Sally commented as they stepped through the garden doors.

“You were able to observe then, as you ran?” He asked.

“Kind of hard to avoid looking,” Sally laughed. “You’re quite tall, and in case you hadn’t noticed, dressed entirely in white. You stood out amongst the greenery.”

Victor smiled in return. “Just as running is your morning constitutional, fencing is mine. It’s a gentleman’s sport.”

“Gentlemen don’t run?” Sally quirked an eyebrow in question, biting her lip to hide her smirk. Victor blinked slowly, almost as though he was considering his response.

“Only in an emergency,” he chuckled. Sally laughed and shook her head. “It would appear we both need to wash up before breakfast. I will see you in the dining room.” Victor excused himself and headed the opposite direction from the living quarters. Sally made her way to her suite and quickly showered and dressed for breakfast. Before she headed to the dining room, she checked in the 3D rendering of the car and was pleased to see it was finally ready. She wanted to start stripping back the body and tearing down the engine, but it was going to take weeks, she feared. The sooner she could start on it, the better. Every piece was going to need to be inventoried, categorized and its location marked so she would be able to reassemble the engine and the car. That meant a photo every time anything was done.

The dining room was quiet, and Sally slowed her steps as she walked in. She approached her seat and dropped into it with a sigh. A servant quickly brought her a cup of coffee. Sally smiled in thanks and gazed out the window at the mountains beyond the castle. They were idyllic. It was hard for her to believe that those mountains were where the Dracula legends had started. She was so lost in the view and her coffee that she didn’t notice Victor arrive and sit until he spoke.

“The summer will soon draw to an end, and the mountains will be blanketed with snow. Have you ever skied?” Victor asked. Sally shook her head.

“No, I’m a beach girl, right to my core. I moved south for a reason,” Sally laughed.

“You will like skiing, I think. And maybe snowshoeing. We’ll have to find something to keep you active when the gardens are buried and there is nowhere to run,” Victor smiled.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sally admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to reschedule my runs for an entire season.”

“We will get you on snowshoes as soon as there is a good snowpack. It’s not as fast, but the soldiers complain that it is just as exhausting,” Victor laughed. Sally found herself smiling.

“That might be okay. I did get myself snow pants.” Breakfast was served to them, and they both fell silent to eat. Despite being able to hear her stomach growl, Sally forced herself to eat slowly, keeping pace with Victor’s slower movements.

“Vurdalakovich will meet you at your rooms in fifteen minutes, Sally,” Victor began. “To escort you to the garage.”

“I really don’t need an escort, Victor,” Sally protested. “I appreciate that he’ll come –“

“You do need a guard, Sally,” Victor disagreed, cutting her off with a sharp look. “And he is happy for the assignment.”

“Of course,” Sally acquiesced. It wasn’t worth angering the man who might very well be the most powerful in eastern Europe. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to change.”

“I would walk you to your rooms, but I’m afraid I am needed in the labs,” Victor nodded. “I will see you at lunch.”

Sally nodded, and rose from her chair, stepping away from the table with a careful backward step before turning to head toward her rooms. She carefully hung her sundress in her closet and pulled on a pair of shorts and tank top before pulling her coveralls on. After pulling on her socks and boots, she tied her hair up and dropped a lip-gloss in her pocket. The decreased humidity was giving her chapped lips, and as she rubbed her lips together to spread the gloss around, she had a sudden recollection of Tony kissing her, and goosebumps rose on her skin. She tapped out a quick text on her phone before turning it off again. As she plugged it back into the charger, a knock sounded at the door, and she collected her tablet before opening the door to Sasha. He nodded, wordlessly, and led her to the garage. Once they were away from the view of the castle he relaxed enough to ask questions.

“Do you know anything about this car, Sasha?” Sally asked, flipping through the images and flagging areas where she needed better photos for the rendering.

“Not really. I took a look at the engine for the emperor when he was first looking for mechanics, but it was past my knowledge, even from working with my grandfather,” Sasha admitted. “I’ll be able to help you, but not until you have an idea of where you want to start.”

“I think we need to start with a tear down. And meticulous photos so my program can render a proper blueprint for us. I found a handbook for the vehicle yesterday, and I’m going to scan it and see if I can get a translation, but if you speak any German, it might be helpful.” Sally stopped and waited while Sasha opened the garage for them. He turned the lights on and Sally approached the wall of tools on the far side of the garage. She pulled a grease pencil out of her overalls and dropped it on top of her tablet on the bench before pulling a series of tools off the wall. “I haven’t used metric tools that often.”

“It’s no different. Just match size to size,” Sasha laughed and approached the bench. He pulled down a few more tools. “You’ll need these more than others, if this is built like any other German vehicle.” Sally smiled. Picking her tablet up again, she circled the car one last time and took the photos that she felt she needed while it was intact.

“Do you know if there’s any drop cloths kept in here?” She asked as she tried to decide where to start.

“I believe there is a cupboard by the toolbench filled with them.” Sasha nodded. “How many do you want?”

“Laid out along either side of the car. I’ll need a black marker too.” Sally popped the bonnet on the engine and took some more photos. She heard Sasha rummaging and then heard the snap of a cloth being opened. “Thank you.”

“This is more worthwhile than standing outside when the door locks from the inside anyhow,” Sasha laughed and laid out another sheet. “Some of the body panels are going to be very heavy.”

“Yeah, there’s an overhead hoist though. And I’m stronger than I look,” Sally laughed in return.

Once the sheets were on the floor, Sally grabbed some tools and started taking the car apart. It was slow, meticulous work, stopping to take photos with every piece she removed, and marking where everything came from both on the sheet and in her app.

“I’ve never seen anyone do this before,” Sasha commented as Sally wrote notes about a group of screws on the drop sheet and then placed the screws in the circle beside the notes.

“Did you notice how I moved all the sheets back about six feet after you laid them out?” Sally asked. “They don’t move now for the duration of the restoration. Where they are on the sheet directly corresponds to where they came from on the car.”

“It’s clever,” Sasha nodded. A short tone sounded from his pocket and he sighed. “That would be my dinner alarm. I know you haven’t got very far, but the emperor –“

“I know, he made it clear that he expects me at every meal. I’m anticipating this tear down is going to take weeks, Sasha. It’s probably best to set a routine and stick with it anyhow,” Sally interrupted. “It’s just going to be get increasingly frustrating when I have to leave thirty to forty-five minutes prior to meals to wash up and dress.”

“Am I right to suspect that even though you are only working a seven hour day here in the garage, that your computer will be working through days and nights for the first weeks?” Sasha asked. Sally laughed as she scrubbed her hands in the utility sink.

“It would take ages to get an accurate rendering if I only processed info during that seven hour work day. Surely that isn’t forbidden as well?” She asked.

“I think as long as you are not working, the emperor will have no objections,” Sasha nodded. “Let’s get you back to the castle so you can dress for dinner.”

Sally was careful to dress more formally than she had the previous day, and when she entered the dining room, Victor rose and smiled. His appraising gaze lasted a little longer than Sally felt comfortable with, and she could feel a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks in response.

“Forgive me Sally. Every time I see you, you are more beautiful,” Victor complimented as he held out her chair. She glanced away uncomfortably as she sat.

“Thank you,” she murmured. The meal was quietly and efficiently laid out in front of them. Sally glanced up at the clock, worried she’d been late, and was reassured that she hadn’t been. The staff were just exceptionally prompt.

“While you readied yourself, I spoke with Vurdalakovich. He said you expect the initial work to take weeks?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not familiar with the vehicle, I want to be really careful to document every thing that comes off the vehicle, right down to the smallest washer or nut. With his help, I was able to lift the bonnet completely this morning. I’m going to strip all the body panels first so I can figure out what needs fabricating as soon as possible. You said you had a good fabrication shop here?”

“Primarily for the robotics lab, but anything you need, Sally,” Victor nodded. “The fabricators can make anything for the car. Engine components, body pieces, whatever.”

“That’s fantastic, Victor,” Sally sighed in relief. “And if they’re usually used for robotics they’ll be well calibrated.”

“Absolutely. You need but ask,” Victor agreed. “But let us speak of something other than work. We are both on our meal break.”

“Okay,” Sally smiled. “Tell me more about Latveria. You’d mentioned the country had maintained neutrality during the wars. I grew up during the Cold War, Victor. Was Latveria a Soviet Bloc country?”

“No.” Victor’s tone was firm. “Latveria was lucky to remain free from the influence of the Bolsheviks, despite being surrounded during the Cold War. It has always been a monarchy.”

“Did you inherit the throne from your father?”

“Latveria’s internal history has been a little less than peaceful over the years. I took the throne from the previous monarch. He was,” Victor paused, “problematic. For the people.” Sally quirked an eyebrow and sipped her coffee, hoping Victor would continue. “The mountains are home to the Romani, and the last monarch’s treatment of ethnic minorities was troublesome.”

“The Romani?” Sally asked.

“I think Americans use the outsider’s term,” Victor explained. “Gypsies. It’s a slur. The past ruler hated the Roma. He was responsible for my parent’s deaths. I took his country from him so that he couldn’t exterminate the Roma, and have brought Latveria out of the dark. We are now the leading nation in robotics.”

“And you don’t even have a Wikipedia entry,” Sally smiled. Victor pursed his lips in a frown and Sally held up a hand in surrender. “That was a joke.”

“I prefer to keep prying eyes out of our business. The entire GDP is dependent on our advantage in the robotics industry, and as a result, I need to run the country like a corporation. Espionage is a huge problem in technology and engineering,” Victor lectured. Sally nodded. “Enough about politics. I think I mentioned the incredible winter sport?”

“I really hope to try snowboarding,” Sally admitted. “While snowshoeing sounds like it will be excellent daily exercise, snowboarding is a little like surfing on the mountainside. And I do love to surf.”

“I will see to it that the runs are groomed for you. I am sure there will be days when you cannot do much work on the car and will need to bide your time,” Victor smiled. “Now, tonight after supper I am needed in the lab. I’m afraid I have to excuse myself from our evenings plans already.”

“It’s just as well. I’m finding the jetlag catching up to me, and would like an early night,” Sally smiled. “That said, I should probably head back to the garage so I am not cutting hours from my day.” She excused herself but still waited for Victor to dismiss her before heading back to her room to change back into her coveralls. Sasha caught up to her halfway across the grounds and glared slightly.

“Do I need to find a bell for your neck so I know where you are?” He asked.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure where you were, but I got caught up in conversation with Victor and lunch went long. I really want to get some more peeled off that chassis,” Sally apologized. She wasn’t really sorry, and she knew Sasha could tell.

They settled back to the tedious task of cataloging each piece that came off the car, and worked through the afternoon. It was just approaching dusk when Sasha quirked his head and then checked his watch.

“It is time, Sally,” he commented. Sally sighed.

“I feel like we’ve made no progress at all,” she complained. “Let me take a few more photos and we can go.” She grabbed her tablet and quickly took photos of everything they’d completed.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you of your own words, Sally, but remember. This is an unfamiliar vehicle, and a once in a lifetime restoration. You’ve got six months. This is day two,” Sasha laughed. “It will come more quickly as the days progress and you get more comfortable.”

“Victor was right to assign you as my detail. You’re a good assistant. I don’t know much about the guard duty stuff, but you’ve certainly been helpful with the car,” Sally smiled as she washed her hands. “Do you have coveralls? It’s just going to get dirtier, and your uniform probably shouldn’t get coated in grease.”

“I’ll see about getting some,” Sasha nodded and waited for her to step outside the garage before he locked up.

Sally was relieved to be in slightly more casual clothing again after having to dress for lunch, and knowing that she was free for the evening after the meal made her anxious to be finished so she could go and work a little, off the clock, and talk with Tony. She was looking forward to talking about the car with him, but more wanted a chance for a video chat so she could see his face.

“You seem distracted this evening, Sally,” Victor commented, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m sorry, Victor. I’m missing Tony today, and the time difference hasn’t worked in our favour yet. It’s early days, I’m sure I’ll be less homesick as time goes on,” Sally apologized. Victor smiled and nodded.

“I was wondering about that. Your internet connection has only been used for a few emails.” Victor’s words hit Sally like a slap to the face. Her suspicions had been correct.

“I didn’t realize you were monitoring my accounts.” Sally chose her words carefully.

“Like I said at dinner, Latveria’s advantage depends on preventing espionage. Outgoing messages are monitored for attachments that could be security breaches.” Victor said it like it was completely normal, expected behaviour. Sally swallowed thickly.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, darling,” Victor smiled, laying his hand across hers. “You’re hardly a spy. You blush if someone looks at you too long.” As if on cue, Sally blushed again and gently extracted her hand from under his.

“Yeah, I’ve never had much of a poker face,” Sally laughed uncomfortably, before falling silent again. Victor looked at the clock at the end of the dining room, laid his cutlery across his plate gently and placed his napkin carefully beside his plate.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to the lab.” He rose and departed before Sally could respond. She pushed her plate away, appetite gone, and quickly made her way to her room. Once she was settled in her pyjamas, she connected to the castle Internet and sent emails to her mother and Tony, while texting Tony on her phone.

“I need you to respond to my email so that we can video chat.”

“Let me get into something more comfortable.” Sally could almost hear the teasing leer in Tony’s text.

“Yeah, about that. Victor is monitoring the castle Internet. I figured he was, but he confirmed that while we ate supper.”

“So this is video chat sex then?”

“No!”

“He’ll stop monitoring if we’re talking filth and I’m naked.”

“Alternately, he’ll monitor us more closely. You’re a good looking guy, Tony.”

“I’ve responded to your email now. Shut up and video chat me before he gets more suspicious. ;)”

Sally checked her email quickly, and read Tony’s reply before she opened the video chat app and dialed him. He picked up, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he appeared to be fully clothed.

“You look exhausted, princess.” He was to the point.

“I’ve only been here a couple days. I believe the term is called jet lag?” She laughed.

“Right. I forget that not everyone has a JARVIS to monitor them. Drink more water. And remind me to make you your own AI when you come home.”

“I’m going to have other things on my mind when I come home,” Sally laughed. “How’s the planning coming for the wedding?”

“It’s been two days, babe.”

“And you’re trying to tell me Pepper hasn’t made progress?” Sally laughed again. “Not possible. More likely that you haven’t asked yet. I’ll email her right now.” She opened a window and sent a quick message to Pepper and one to Natasha as well. If Victor was going to monitor her email, she was going to make it as boring and mundane as she could. Bridezilla would be sending emails every day. To everyone involved.

“Warn everyone to expect a lot of wedding emails from me to clog up Victor’s monitoring.” She sent the text on her phone and looked back up at Tony. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. It seems like two weeks, not two days,” Tony admitted.

“Are you keeping busy?”

“Always, princess. I’d kind of fallen behind on things once you arrived. I guess there’s a benefit hidden in the thousands of miles separating us. I’ve got to focus on my work,” he laughed.

“I am not going to be blamed for your inability to focus!” Sally protested, laughing.

“God, I miss that sound.” Tony was suddenly serious.

“Me squawking?” Sally furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You laughing. Any chance you’ll be finished that car in two weeks?” Tony asked. Sally almost thought he was serious.

“This car is incredible. I’ll have to ask Victor if I can send you photos,” Sally said. “I’m pretty sure it uses airplane engine technology, but I haven’t actually got into the engine yet. I’d say we’re about ten percent into the tear down.”

“We?”

“I have a security detail who was a mechanics apprentice before he was in the royal guard,” Sally explained. “He’s helping. Tell Clint I have a better apprentice now.” A light behind Tony started flashing red and he glanced over his shoulder.

“No, Dum-E! Stop!” He called before turning back to the monitor. “I’m sorry, Sal. I gotta go deal with this.”

“Don’t forget to sleep, Tony,” Sally chided. He rolled his eyes.

“If I get ahead of my deadlines while you’re gone, I’ll be able to slack off once you’re home.” Tony was walking toward whatever was going on while holding the phone on his end.

“Or you’ll sleep through the honeymoon, and let me tell you how happy that will make me,” Sally laughed. Tony winked and shook his head.

“Not at chance. Not after six months apart,” he argued. “Shit, I’ve really gotta deal with this. Dum-E, stop! I’m sorry.”

“Go rein in your problem child robot. I love you. Talk to you tomorrow?” Sally asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Just knock me another email to let me know you’re waiting,” Tony nodded. “I love you. Sleep sweet, princess.”

Sally closed the connection and finished getting ready for bed, plugging in all her devices to charge. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she received a text from Tony.

“I’ve had JARVIS redouble the security on the satellite link, and Natasha is going to see what her old network can give us on Victor and Latveria. I’m not going to let you stay there if you aren’t safe. JARVIS assures me there is no way that Victor can pick up our satellite communications.”

Sally relaxed with the phone still in her hand and drifted off to sleep.

#avengers fanfic #tony stark x OFC

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goodeveningtalos · 7 years

Text

LGBTQ+ Shepards Week: Come In (A Coming Out Story)

A/N: This is really messy, I’m sorry about that. I wrote it late last night and ealry this morning and I didn’t really proofread it just so I could get this out there. It also ended up with some smutty stuff in it so if that makes you uncomfortable I’m sorry about that. It’s also my first time writing anything remotely smutty so don’t cringe too much while reading it.

Ethan sat in front of his terminal, scrolling absent-mindedly through the outline for a research assignment in his Biomedical Engineering course, only a few words registering as he skimmed. Medi-Gel… First Contact… Peer-Review. He excelled in mechanics, chemistry, even advanced calculus, but biology and medicine evaded him, no matter how hard he hit the books. He folded his arms on the desk in front of him and lowered his head in defeat, his forehead resting on his forearms.

The door slid open behind him, and a young man stepped into the room, careful to be quiet and not draw attention to himself. He stepped behind Ethan and placed a hand on his shoulder, “How’s it going?” he asked, bending over Ethan and kissing his head.

“God, how are you so good at BioMed? I have no clue how I’m going to write this paper. Hell, I have no clue what I can even write it on,” Ethan lamented, lifting his head and turning to look at the man behind him.

“It wouldn’t be fair if you were at the top of every class,” he chuckled, placing his hand on Ethan’s cheek and lifting his head. He brushed his lips over Ethan’s, gently biting his lower lip and moving his hand back to run through Ethan’s hair.

Ethan leaned into the kiss briefly and reached a hand up over the other man’s neck. Ethan stood from his chair, moving his other hand around the other man’s back, pulling their bodies close before releasing the kiss with a mournful sigh, “God, you have no idea how much I would love to do this right now, Nate,” he paused, turning his gaze down briefly before the other man, Nate, tipped his chin up, “But I have to at least try to pass BioMed.”

Nate playfully nipped Ethan’s lip and smirked, “Who says I can’t help you? I happen to be pretty good at…” he quickly flicked his eyes down to their bodies, still pressed against each other, “biology.”

With a smile, Ethan shook his head, “You know what, you can teach me all about biology after I’ve finished my first draft and if you’re lucky I might even tutor you in mechanics.” He gave a sly smile as his hand quickly dropped to Nate’s butt and gave a quick squeeze.

“As great as that delivery was, you really missed a great opportunity there. It would’ve been hotter if you said chemistry instead,” Nate chuckled a little, “I don’t know if I can be with someone if they can’t even see such an obvious pickup line!” he lamented, dramatically throwing his arms up.

“I’m nothing if not unpredictable,” Ethan retorted, playfully backhanding Nate’s chest.

“And yet, here you are on a Friday night: in your dorm room, writing a paper.” Nate joked, moving to Ethan’s side and throwing his arm over Ethan’s shoulders.

“Oh, am I? Last I checked my boyfriend had rudely interrupted my honourable effort at academic achievement for a booty call.” Ethan smiled, turning himself around so that he and Nate were face to face again, bodies even tighter this time, if it were even possible. His hands slid down Nate’s back, flirting with his waistband.

“Well, now you’re making me feel bad,” Nate mumbled as Ethan pressed their lips together

“I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me,” Ethan snickered under his breath as he nibbled Nate’s ear, while at the same time, slipping his hands past Nate’s waistband, grasping his butt firmly.

Nate could only grunt in acknowledgment, his mouth once again tied up in a deep kiss. Ethan slowly moved himself and Nate toward the bed, pulling his hands out of Nate’s pants as they hit the bedframe and pushing his boyfriend down onto the crisply folded sheets, releasing the kiss only momentarily so that he could pull his shirt over his head and throw it into a corner somewhere. Ethan straddled Nate’s waist, planting his hands on either side of Nate’s head and leaning down into the kiss again, their tongues quickly finding each other.

Ethan began tugging up Nate’s white tank top, the two of them sitting up in unison to ease the process. They broke their kiss as the hem made its way over Nate’s head and in the interest of reuniting their lips as soon as possible, Ethan hooked the front of the shirt behind Nate’s neck rather than dealing with pulling the shirt over Nate’s head.

Nate’s hands began to play with Ethan’s belt, struggling for any dexterity so far away. Ethan instinctively pulled himself forward to make Nate’s job easier, unfortunately ending the kiss. As Nate’s hands worked the buckle, which he found was deceivingly complex when he was not the one wearing it, Ethan began to massage his chest, gently rubbing his nipples. The flicking and massaging, coupled with the sudden release of pressure as Nate managed to open his pants elicited a moan from deep in his throat.

Nate’s fingers teased the waistband of Ethan’s underwear, dancing along the edge, gently brushing the skin underneath.

“Just fucking do it already,” Ethan moaned, leaning forward, his torso hanging over Nate’s head, his arms splayed over the far end of the bed.

Nate chuckled as he wrapped his fingers around the waistband, slowly pulling back, Ethan’s increasingly hard cock resisting the briefs slow move.

DING DING DING DING

Nate released the waistband in shock at the unusually loud chime from the terminal, snapping it back against Ethan’s body.

“Ow! Shit,” Ethan cried, rubbing his waist. They both turned their heads to the terminal on the other side of the room to investigate the source of the disturbance.

INCOMING CALL: HANNAH SHEPARD

“Fucking hell,” Ethan said, pulling himself off of Nate while rebuckling his pants. Nate pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled his shirt over his head, laughing at Ethan’s frenzied search for his shirt which had somehow disappeared during their makeout.

“You need a ha-” Nate started, hoisting himself off the bed, offering to help Ethan find his shirt before being interrupted,

“I need you to leave.” Ethan said firmly, turning to Nate, and intense stare on his face. Nate’s jaw hung open, unsure about how to respond to his boyfriend of 3 months telling him to leave so abruptly. Ethan sighed, turning back to his search, “My mom doesn’t know about us. She… she doesn’t know about me.” Nate swallowed, still not sure how to respond or how to feel but running to leave nonetheless. Spying his shirt tucked behind a mess of items on his desk, Ethan leaned to grab it, bumping his terminal in the process. Nate had turned back, opening his mouth to say something and say the video call had been answered, unknowingly when Ethan bumped the terminal. Aware of the fact that Ethan didn’t want him to be seen, Nate quickly jumped into the closet, which was closer to him and already opened. The irony was not lost on him.

“Hello? Ethan? Is there a reason all I’m seeing is your bare chest right now?” Hannah’s voice called through the terminal.

Grabbing the shirt and quickly throwing it over his head, Ethan dropped into the chair, “Hey mom! Sorry, I was just finishing some endurance training.”

“In your room?” he saw his mother cock an eyebrow.

“You don’t get top marks for not doing work on your own time.” He smiled, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“I take it your classes are going well.” Hannah smiled

“Yeah, yeah. I have this, uh, paper I have to write for Biomedical Eng that’s looking a little daunting right now but once I figure out a topic it should be good.”

“That seems a little presumptuous. Don’t count your eggs before they hatch, Eth.”

“It’s fine, mom.” Ethan stared at his mother’s image, “Why are you calling? Don’t you leave on a mission in like… 5 hours? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I’m a little restless. Besides, you just started your training 2 months ago and you were traveling around Earth for months before that. I figure a check-in with my only child wouldn’t hurt.”

“I visited before training started, mom.”

“For 2 days. It hardly counted, not when I spent 19 years raising you,” Hannah shook her head and laughed at her son, “So, would I know any of your instructors?”

“There’s a couple of old guys here who probably saw the Protheans still breathing that you might recognize from vids about the First Contact War, but it’s a different school than you went to, so I doubt you’d know anyone here.”

“You’re making friends, I hope?”

“How old do you think I am, mom? I don’t exactly need help making friends.”

“I know how you get sometimes. Don’t hole up in your room the entire time your there. Go drinking with other recruits, find a jogging buddy. Just… don’t isolate yourself for the sake of your marks. You’ll do well regardless. But you can get lonely just as easily.”

“I’m not isolated, mom. I was just… training with a friend before you called.”

Hannah relented, raising her hands. After a short silence she spoke again, “So, has anybody special caught your eye?” she grinned, enjoying the opportunity to

“Well, uh,” Ethan began, his eyes flicking in the direction of the closet. Swallowing his reservations and steeling himself, he continued, “I’m seeing someone, actually.”

Hannah’s interest was obviously piqued, her eyebrows raised and her head tilted to the side, “You’re seeing someone? That can’t be all information you’re giving me, Ethan.” Hannah chided jokingly. Ethan could practically feel her elbow nudging him between his ribs.

“Well, it’s a boy. Man. Guy,” he sputtered, his chest tight with apprehension, “I’m- I’m dating a guy, mom.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Thank you for the wealth of information, that has really sated my curiosity.”

Ethan struggled to think about how to describe him, “Well, he’s, uhh,”

“Is he a recruit, too? Regs exist for a reason, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been born if some people hadn’t broken regs,” Ethan joked weakly, forcing a bit of a smile. His chest felt a little more at ease, given her overlooking of the confession, but part of him still waited anxiously for the other shoe to drop.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” she smiled, through a tightly drawn mouth, her tone still aiming for friendly and overshooting to cheesy mom from the vids trying to be her kid’s best friend, “Does this boy-guy-man have a name?”

Ethan panicked, not quite ready to confess the full details of his newfound romance, “Uh, Brandon. Brandon Kee. He’s training for science escorts.”

Hannah leaned back in her chair and hummed, a little skeptical given Ethan’s wide eyes and tight shoulders. She sat forward again, brushing her hand along her hairline, a useless gesture given that her hair was in a tight bun, as it had been for almost all of Ethan’s life. “Are you using any labels?”

Ah, the other shoe, Ethan thought adjusting himself in his chair, readying himself for what might happen next.

“I just want to make sure I don’t use the wrong one or make any assumptions when I talk about it. If I talk about it. It’s totally up to you, of course,” she clarified, her voice finally managing to convey the friendliness and caring she had struggled to pinpoint for years.

Ethan was taken by surprise. He had been preparing for battle. Of course, it made no sense for him to, but there was something about the idea of the conversation that gave him doubts and anxiety which he was quick to give into. He was only glad his Tactics and Recon instructor wasn’t grading him on his coming out. His shoulders slowly fell, releasing their tension, his chest loosened, his breath eased, “I, uh… I’m pansexual, actually. I think. I’m still figuring it out. But, I guess you can tell people if you want.”

“Thank you for telling me, Ethan. And I don’t plan to go yelling it across the station. I just want some ammunition next time your Aunt Lucy asks if she can set you up with her friends’ daughters,” Hannah paused, watching the last of the tension release from her son’s body, “You looked scared for a second there, kiddo. You should know that you’re my son and I love you for who you are, not despite it.” Hannah smiled, wishing she could reach through the screen of her terminal to hold her son’s hand.

“I’m sorry, you just hear stories about kids who… who get kicked out or disowned,” Ethan’s voice cracked, trying to quell the tears welling in his eyes, “And the churches still can’t make up their mind about what to preach. I know we’re not exactly religious but it just… makes you doubt it, you know?” A tear managed to escape his eye and trickle down his cheek.

“I do, sweetie. But, you never need to apologize for it. This isn’t an experience I’ve ever had, so I’m in a pretty crappy position to judge the way you do it or your reasons to avoid it.”

“Thanks, mom. I appreciate it.” Ethan mumbled, looking down a little sheepishly.

“Okay, I really should get some sleep before I ship out. Good luck on that paper.” Hannah said, reaching to turn off the terminal.

“Good night, m-”

“Oh, and don’t forget to use a condom!” Hannah interrupted, quickly pulling her hand back from the power button.

“Oh, my god, mom. Goodbye.” Ethan frantically closed the call, eager to avoid what would prove to be an even more awkward conversation with his mother. He collapsed against the back of his chair with a sigh.

After a moment of silence, Ethan turned around suddenly at the sound of the closet door rattling open, seeing Nate step out cautiously, “Brandon Kee? Really?” he joked gingerly, stepping toward Ethan.

Ethan got up and walked toward Nate, standing a few paces away, his hands in his pockets. “I guess you heard all that, then.”

Nate nodded, sucking his lips.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry,” Ethan’s eyes pled for forgiveness.

“It’s fine. I’m not about to criticize you for not wanting to come out yet. I’m glad you did though,” Nate accepted the apology with just a little derision that Ethan even thought he needed to apologize in the first place.

Ethan stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Nate’s body, sinking into the embrace and letting himself truly relax for the first time since the call tone.

Nate ran his hands comfortingly over Ethan’s back and head for a few seconds, “Still, Brandon Kee?”

Ethan snorted a laugh, pulling his head back from Nate’s shoulder, where it had been nestled“What, you think I should have told her who you were? ‘Hey mom, this is my boyfriend and lover Nathaniel Hackett, you know like the Alliance legend Rear Admiral Steven Hackett’s son?’ I’m sure that would have gone over well.”

“What, am I too much of a bad boy for Captain Shepard’s taste?” Nate smirked, biting his lip seductively as he pulled Ethan’s hips against his.

“Yeah, because all the bad boys have the highest Biomedical Engineering marks,” Ethan teased, pecking Nate’s lips with a kiss, before slipping his hands down to his waistband again.

“Wait,” Nate said, putting his finger to Ethan’s lips, sticking his other into his pocket, pulling out a condom with a sly grin, “I seem to recall someone saying something about one of these.”

Ethan playfully hit his chest, “There’s something creepy about that, I assure you.”

“Mmhmm,” Nate hummed as he pressed his lips against Ethan’s, pushing him back onto the bed.

#lgbtqshep #mass effect #mass effect fic #mefic #panshep #c: ethan shepard #hannah shepard #my writing #light smut #fluff #c: nathaniel hackett #i'm planning to make him a recurring character in my fics #i kinda fell in love with the idea of ethan's first boyfriend being hackett's kid so i have a new oc i guess #he's gay if you care at all #mass effect ot

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Mansfield Municipal Court gets $10K grant to update tech

MANSFIELD — The Mansfield Municipal Courtroom is certainly one of 64 courts throughout the state to acquire techn furnish funding from the Ohio Superb Courtroom.

The Courtroom acquired $10,000 to update the Court’s CMS, or case management device, with More advantageous Case-control Challenge software that will automate the transfer of facts between the clerk and probation workplace.

In general, 70 Court docket projects in forty-two counties across the country received more than $2.eight million.

“era offers boom get entry to to justice to extra Ohioans and get rid of obstacles to the efficient and effective management of justice for nearby courts,” Chief Justice Maureen O’Connor stated in a press launch. “Without this initiative, many a good deal needed era improvements in courts around Ohio might now not arise.”

That is the third annual spherical of funding through the Ohio Supreme Courtroom. Courts had been allowed to put up one investment request for up to two separate initiatives.

The choice turned into given to courts within entities the Ohio auditor has deemed to be in the monetary emergency or fiscal watch, along with those that have not obtained a generation provide previously, had been given precedence. The choice was additionally given to projects upgrading the Court docket’s current case management system affecting cash flow, in addition to those upgrading, changing or buying era structures, PC hardware or system supporting the case management machine or other structures affecting cash flow or the essential duties of the Courtroom.

Creating High-Tech Weapon Systems Is Good For Humanity

Most people cringe when they think of more ominous, powerful, and destructive weapon systems. The mere thought of huge monetary and economic resources going into weapons that ultimately help kill people makes one cringe, and yet, there is an upside to advanced weaponry – and the upside is huge. I’d like to discuss this for a moment because recently I was interviewed on the topic.

Daniel (the interviewer) asks: How can the development of new weapons help the humankind?

You know, when I speak at Universities, I get this question early and often. Look, no one wants to have a war. There is nothing noble about killing members of one’s own species. It’s a tragic flaw of humankind, although evolutionarily speaking this streak of aggression which runs deep, well let’s just say it’s there for a reason. Nevertheless, while I do not condone the carnage, I do know that only 1% of all the people who have ever lived have actually died in a war. Most die of old age, I believe we should focus maximum research funding on life-longevity, maybe then we’d remember our past and not repeat it, perhaps ending war in the future.

However, we do not live in the future, we live now, and without debating the philosophical scientific question; “What is time?” we must defend ourselves when our leaders reach political impasse and the fighting begins. “The best advice when it comes to war is not to have one, but if you find yourself in a war, it’s best to win it quickly and decisively,” I often ponder; if Karl von Clausewitz were alive today, would he give a ‘thumbs up’ to that?

Now then, back to the question, and sorry to digress there, but it’s important, especially for the next generation whose talented minds will be keeping us safe. There is a reason why nations spend so much on defense and why it is so necessary.

If we look back, we see Leonardo da Vinci who spent a portion of his time inventing and sketching war machines, about 1/3 of his time judging from the large volume or work he left behind. It was as important back then as it is today.

Now then, consider if you will all the technology – originally used for making weapons, that helps us in our daily lives today. How about jet air travel? Jet engines were developed to propel war planes faster. How about rocketry, or how about the Internet, originally developed by ARPA and Bell Labs?

My grandfather worked with radars, we use those for air traffic control. He also worked with microwave beams, pure Naval Research, today we cook food with the same technology. What about GPS Navigation? What about Satellites? Think about it, what would our lives be like today without those things? What about that smart phone in your pocket, the one you just used to text, buy a coffee, scan your boarding pass, and set up a meeting? Yep, you can thank defense spending and research.

New materials used in our high-tech aircraft will be used to make cars, trucks, buses, planes, future flying cars, and trains lighter, meaning they use less energy (less fuel) and are stronger and safer, likewise we will have better building materials, more durable, and stronger. How about lasers for manufacturing, dentistry, or on the Mars Rovers?

Indeed, I think we owe a lot to the development of weapon systems, just as we owe a lot to our space exploration and particle accelerator technologies. This is the message I’d like to bring because I see these innovations and the transfer technologies, as well as what they’ve done in the past for humankind, I see that as a trend which will definitely continue

The Importance of Municipal Water Treatment

We’ve seen the pictures of people in third world countries drinking from polluted streams and heard about the rampant disease epidemics that take place in those countries. Living as we do in the United States, it’s hard to believe that anyone in the world wouldn’t know the connection between contaminated water and disease, but they either don’t or are powerless to do anything about the situation. What many of us don’t realize is that only 200 years ago, most of America had the same problems, and diseases spread in our country just like they do in other nations today. People didn’t understand what was happening, and even if they did, the technology wasn’t yet in place to conduct major municipal water treatment.

Actual water filtration started in Scotland in the 1700s. Scotland was an area of the world in those days that was full of scientists and philosophers and was in a period known as the Scottish Enlightenment, so it wasn’t surprising that they were in the position to realize the importance of clean, healthy drinking water and to then come up with a way to purify existing water sources. During this period of time, a Scottish scientist and engineer, Robert Thom, designed the first municipal water treatment facility. He utilized a method called slow sand filters and was able to provide clean, disease-free water for an entire town.

Since the eighteenth century, municipal water treatment systems have been redesigned and improved in order to provide safe water for residents in some of the largest cities in the world. Drinking water comes from two different sources: groundwater and surface water. About 95% of all the water we drink comes from groundwater sources. Pesticides and nitrates run into this groundwater and must subsequently be removed before the water will be safe for consumption. Groundwater also contains bacteria and other contaminants that are fed to it from surface water.

The human body is between 60 and 70% water, and we must constantly replenish the water supply in our bodies if we are going to maintain good health. Therefore, it is important that we have ready sources of clean drinking water. That’s where municipal water treatment plants have made a real difference in the lives we lead. We in the United States no longer have to worry about getting serious diseases from drinking the water that comes out of our taps, and we have all the fresh water we could possibly want. Now we need to work at getting clean water to people all over the world.

3 Tips for Being a Leader on the Volleyball Court

Leadership is something all teams need for success, but it’s not always something easily defined or developed. We can’t say do this and do that and you’ll be a great leader for your volleyball team. Here are a few tips to help you move in that direction, though.

Tip #1: Be a model player

A leader need not be the best player on a team, but they do need to represent its ideals. This is mainly about attitude and effort. Leaders turn up on time and follow team rules – written and unwritten. They work at least as hard as everyone else. They don’t complain or whine, but instead get on with what needs to be done. Leaders don’t make excuses. They also respect the coach(es) and everyone else associated with the team. I could go on, but I think you probably get the idea.

All of this may sound like stuff that isn’t part of on-court leadership, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It is the foundation of being the person the other players look to when it’s competition time. A leader doesn’t just turn up for match day and have everyone follow them. They earn that right by what they do in training, at meetings, during strength & conditioning work – basically in every facet of being part of the team.

Tip #2: Communicate

It doesn’t take a loud voice and a constant stream of chatter to be a good leader, but it does take the ability to communicate with teammates. Talking is the most obvious example of this, and all leaders do need to be able to speak at the right time and in the right manner for the circumstances. Communication can just as importantly come from a look, a pat on the back, or a gesture, though. It’s about being connected with teammates and making sure everyone is on the same page.

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