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littlepadika · 3 years

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hi angel 🥰 i’m just in the middle of rereading calling home !!!! i was just wondering, could you ever do a one shot of like sweet pea calming frankie during the middle of the night if he has like an anxiety attack or nightmare? i love the dynamic between those 2 and would love to see how sweet pea calms frankie 🥺

Hi bb sorry this took me a hot minute to get to. First off... i'm thrilled you are re reading my series! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, comfort, fluff

AN: This is early in their relationship. Probably right after chapter 5. Therapy also referred to in this drabble

source: @uuuhshiny

You blinked up at the ceiling, sleep momentarily thinning. You heard low muttering beside you.

"Frankie?" You turned reaching over to his side of the bed. He was shaking and sweaty under your hand. "Frankie!" You sat up, this time going to the other side of the bed to flick on the bedside lamp. The dim yellow light revealed Frankie twitching and muttering incoherently. Sweat clung to his forehead. His mouth was pursed in between a frown and snarl. His jaw was clenched tight. His whole body was stiff as a board. He was deep in a nightmare. You heard him say something like "no no".

You had been over this scenario with Frankie. He advised you not to touch him when he was having nightmares in case he acted on instinct and accidentally hurt you. But now that it was real, you couldn't just watch him endure a nightmare like this.

"Hey... hey..." You stoked his arm with your fingers lightly. He jerked away from your touch with a grunt. When he turned his head you saw that there were tears in the corner of his eyes. "Oh, Frankie... Wake up please. Come on, baby. Please wake up." You just continued to slowly stroke his arm, his chest, eventually making your way up to his face. He seemed to be calming down.

Then he abruptly sat up, scooting away from you reflexively.

"Wha-What's..." He looked around the room and then trailed off when he saw you watching him, concern evident on your face. He wiped his wet eyes.

"Nightmare." You explained though you were sure he already knew.

"Did I hurt you?" He immediately asked, looking away in shame. His humiliation mixed toxically with his adrenaline and fear from the dream.

"No. You didn't hurt me." You answered quickly, pushing yourself up, but you resisted hugging him for fear he was still overstimulated. You offered your water bottle to him. "Do-do you want to talk about it?"

Frankie shook his head, looking down at his sweaty self. "It's the usual dream. The helicopter crash." He shuddered, trying to pull himself into the present and away from his distorted memory. He took a couple sips of water and then handed the bottle back to you. Mentally he did the exercises he had practiced. Name one thing you see: Sweet pea. Name one thing you hear: A passing car. Name one thing you feel: Soft sheets. Where are you? Home. Home. Home.

You waited patiently through all of this, giving Frankie space to speak when he was ready. He took a few deep ragged breaths, his fists clenched on the bed below you. Too scared to touch you yet. He worried that he may have scared you off. That now you would have seen that all of his demons were real.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, sweet pea." His gruff voice was dripping with guilt. You frowned, not in frustration at him but at the stigma that led him to feel so terrible about dreams he could not control.

"Frankie...you didn't bother me." You couldn't resist laying a hand over his bare stomach feeling him relax at your touch. "I'm glad I woke up. I want to comfort you."

He sniffed, new tears in his eyes. He was still looking away from you. You understood. It was such a vulnerable state for anyone, let alone someone who had endured as much rejection as Frankie had.

"Can I hold you? Is that okay?" You feel your own voice shake with emotion. Your power and your love was limited with him not in your arms. As much as you knew your voice could move mountains, you needed to console him with more than words.

"Yes. please." Frankie exhaled finally looking at you, his brown eyes misty and wanting. You wasted no time climbing over his legs and pulling his face into your neck. His arms linked around your back, holding you close.

His skin, that earlier vibrated like it was trying to break apart, settled under your touch. Solidifying enough so he could finally sense each part of his body. Hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, and so on. He mentally listed each one as it related to you. Your hands on his head. Your chest on his chest. Your breath on his neck.

"I have you." You promised, knowing the words would help ground him. "I have you. I'm not going anywhere. Just be here with me."

"I'm so tired of this." He whispered into your warm embrace. "I just want to be better."

"I know." You sat back cupping his face in your hands, rubbing your thumb over that patch of grey in his beard.

"I was doing so well." He continued to beat himself up. He had been so pleased to have gone nearly a month without any nightmares or PTSD. He tried to think of something that could have triggered him but yesterday was a normal Thursday. He didn't drink. He didn't have a stressful customer at work. He had sex. He showered. Sometimes there was no trigger and that was the most unsettling type of episode.

Frankie ducked his head, resting his forehead in between your breasts. He wished he could crawl inside you and away from his thoughts. His PTSD made him nauseous and too hyper to sleep. He was both hyper-focused and dazed at the same time. Every nightmare always felt like an omen that things were going to get bad again. He was going to start craving and then eventually relapse.

You rubbed his back in slow circles trying to coax him into a more normal breathing rate. A minute passed, the only sounds were Frankie's rough breathing and your slower one.

"What else do you need?" You asked gently.

"Can you- can you light the candle please?" He requested in a muffled voice.

"Sure." You smiled, reaching over to his side of the bed and pulling out the lighter. Your candle, already well used, was soon flickering brightly. The floral scent you and Frankie loved, filled your brain making sleep slowly start to edge its way in. You could feel his breathing slow. "That better?"

"Mmhmm." He grumbled. Something about the scent grounded him to this chapter in his life; the one with you in it. He wasn't that lonely guy anymore. He wasn't in a war zone. He had everything he could ever dream of right in his arms... and yet... this still happened. "I'm sorry, sweet pea."

"What for?" You tousled his hair affectionally.

"For-for being messed up."

"Frankie..." You nudged his head up so you could kiss him deeply. You let him take the lead, pressing him tongue into your mouth and pulling you tighter against his chest. At your quiet moan he pulled back letting you finish your thought. You didn't care how many times you had to say it, touch it, kiss it into reality: Frankie was perfect the way he was.

"You aren't messed up." You murmured, holding his eyes with your earnest gaze. "You're strong. You're resilient and brave. I love you because of that. You're like... a phoenix. You rise from the ashes." Then you giggled. "Sorry I just thought of a hybrid between a catfish and a Phoenix."

"Ha." He laughed shakily, tightening his arms around you. "A fish on fire. Sounds about right."

"Or a bird with whiskers." You snorted.

He kissed you again, relishing your little giggles against his lips. You laced your hands with his.

"I'm here to remind you to be kind to yourself. Remember how far you've come. I'm so proud of you, Frankie."

Once again he reflected on how lucky he was to have you in the flesh. Your empathy amazed him. It had from day one but his awe grew monumentally tonight. You weren't scared. You saw all of his brokenness for what it was and you only loved him harder. He had to trust your vision of him when his own internal compass failed.

"You tired, little pea?" He chuckled when you yawned cutely, after trying to hold it in.

"No." You told a small lie, just to keep him from trying to put your needs first. You weren't going to sleep until you knew he felt safe. "How are you feeling? Be honest, please."

Frankie searched his body with another deep breath. "Better. I'm just really amped up from the adrenaline. But go back to sleep, little pea. I'll read or something.”

"Mmm read to me?" You asked holding back another yawn.

"Sure." He chuckled. You rolled off of him pulling the covers back over you both. Frankie grabbed his copy of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue. You latched onto him like a koala bear and hung onto his deep voice. Frankie appreciated the weight of your arm on his stomach and head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat below your ear slowing.

Frankie paused his quiet oration to peer down at your relaxed face and fluttering eye lids. "I love you, sweet pea."

"mmm love you too." You breathed in reply.

For the first time, Frankie was able to go back to sleep after his nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~

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anon-rebel-writes · 3 years

Text

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

#pro lukamari #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #ao3 #fluff #love confessions #mlb #late night calls #late night #texting #calling #facetime

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lumberwoof · 2 years

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more thoughts/notes/ideas about this Arcane AU of mine:

-takes place immediately following s1

-Mel and Cassandra (Caitlyn’s mom) survive the explosion, because A) Mel’s a Medarda and no matter how much she believes in peaceful resolutions you can’t tell me she isn’t prepared for assassination attempts and that the gold thing that literally never comes off her body isn’t some kind of protection, B) I refuse to kill Mel for Jayce’s character development, and C) Cassandra can’t die because there’s already too many dead moms in this universe -Mel and Cassandra are both pretty badly injured tho, if only so there’s time for Jayce to be alone and make one or two or twelve bad decisions -Piltover and Zaun are both in bad places. Piltover has a vacuum in leadership both on the council and on the Enforcers. Zaun has a vacuum in leadership and also just got an independence that the people really had no say in, so there’s no structure in place to take over now that they aren’t getting support from Piltover, which is fucked up, to say the least. (again, Piltover making decisions for Zaun without actually consulting the people of Zaun) -god Caitlyn tries to help from topside, but guns and badges weren’t made to heal people, and helping heal is what she vowed? promised? to Ekko that she’d do, so I think she quickly realizes that she can do more good in Zaun

-I think a lot about Viktor’s quote “in the pursuit of great, we failed to do good” and that I think Caitlyn is the kind of person who, maybe somewhat inadvertently, gives up greatness so she can do good, and this AU is kind of an extension of that

-reintegrating into the Undercity/Zaun is going to be hard for Vi, especially considering the whiplash of the last few days. she’s been gone for years, and it’s not Vander’s town anymore. though I think enough of them still respect Vander to not give Vi too much trouble, there’s also a lot of folks who respected Silco and aren’t gonna like her waltzing into town after his death -Caitlyn initially helps out Vi by keeping all the paperwork and bookkeeping for the Last Drop in order while Vi tries to re-establish the Lanes, maybe initially she wants to return them to what they used to be, but eventually makes something new, something beyond what Vander and Silco could imagine -it turns out, when you have political training and you’re in control of the money, you often end up being the one talking during business meetings, and then sometimes you end up being the one placing threats because you control the money so you have the power. sometimes, you do this often enough that you start being considered the boss and sure, these might be Vi’s Lanes now, but everyone knows that if you don’t want to piss off Vi, then you better not piss off Caitlyn, because she’s the one that calls the shots -and so, yeah, ok, there’s no way Caitlyn could’ve forseen this, just a year removed from her parents getting her fired from her Enforcer job and her busting out an Undercity criminal with forged documents, and now she’s a Zaunite mob boss. but these things happen sometimes

-and if a retaliation from Piltover releases a werewolf from Singed’s labs into the streets with an eerily familiar snarl, and a confrontation between Vi and Jinx puts Vi in danger and forces Jinx to work with Caitlyn, well hey, these things also happen

-also Sevika becoming a lieutenant to her third mob boss in 10? 12? years and grumbling about the younger generation because I love her and I want her to be “right in front of my card game?” all the damn time at Vi and Caitlyn

#arcane tag #god I really don't wanna tag this with anything but w/e #I don't really know any lore outside of the show other than something something Warwick #and a little bit of digging into Viktor #so don't @ me about shit

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perksofhs · 4 years

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‘Please forgive me, I need you baby’

Harry and the missus disagree, and as always, the missus is right but it may be too late...

It had been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since he’d left. 3 weeks since you’d last seen him. 3 weeks of unbearable pain that you could no longer endure. All you could think about was him. You’d find your mind wandering, thinking about where he was, what he was doing, and especially who he was with. The argument that ended things had started with you being jealous of one of Harry’s female friends who, although he couldn’t see it, was getting a little too touchy feely and you’d been honest and told him how you felt. The argument then turned nasty, misguided accusations from both sides. You’d always trusted him and he’d always trusted you but in a fight you’d both bring up things from the past to back up your stupid arguments and this time it was too much and he couldn’t take it.

“Fine then Harry do whatever you want, go call your best friend, I don’t give a fuck! I’m sure she’ll love the attention that she seems to so desperately crave from you!” You’d regretted it the second you’d said it but there was never any stopping you in the heat of the moment. “For fuck sake! You bring her up all the time! I’d never do anything with her and I never fucking have either so stop! Do you not trust me? Is that it? 2 years, 2 years I’ve been nothing but loyal and for some reason every argument we have you throw it out there that I’m somehow going to cheat on you! I can’t take it anymore! If there’s no trust there’s no relationship!” Tears were brimming in his eyes and yours, your lip was between your teeth, physically stopping yourself from saying anything else because you knew, you knew that it was the last straw. “Don’t say that, you know I trust you, I always have, I just don’t trust her around you Harry, and I’m sorry but I just can’t see it any other way” you were now quietly sobbing.

You’d never been the jealous type in any other relationship you’d had, but to be fair you’d never gone as deep and were never as committed to a relationship before this. You were in so deep and that scared you a little, the thought of it being taken away and you being alone again was just too much and when an argument arose you’d find yourself so shaken that you couldn’t control your insecurities and they’d just blurt out. It was strange though, Harry had women fawning over him wherever he went but none of them had ever made you insecure like this one particluar friend of his did. Mel was a tall leggy blonde, the typical LA instagram model type, and you were not that at all. You weren’t model thin or 6ft tall. You weren’t immaculately dressed in designer labels from head to toe every day. You didnt drive a luxury car or live in an expensive hill top home. You were just you.

Unbeknownst to you, you just being you was what Harry loved the most about you. He loved that you weren’t like anyone else he had ever met. He loved that you were unequivocally yourself and you refused to change to yourself to fit a stupid mold. He loved that you didn’t give a single fuck about followers or likes or any sort of ‘public image’. His past relationships had all ended with the realisation that he was just being used, almost all of his ex girlfriend’s used him as a springboard into fame and nothing more. You were the opposite, you were grounded and real and he couldnt have bene more in love with you if he tried. He’d fallen just as hard as you had, he had planned out your future together, he could picture it all. He was so sure you were the one that he’d even bought a ring.

“I don’t get why you think Mel would ever try anything like that with me? She knows we’re together, she even tells me how much she likes you and how much she wishes she could find something like what we have! You;re just fucking paranoid for fuck sake” Harry says, his brow furrowed in frustration and confusion. He cannot fathom why you would be so threatened by her. “Harry how can you not see how she looks at you? Or how she speaks to you or even about you! She like you and you’re fucking blind if you cannot see that!” You yell, hurt and genuinely baffled as to how he has been so oblivious to her advances. You let a sigh of frustration as the tears continue to rolls down your already mascara stained cheeks. Harry’s head was now in his hands as he tried to make sense of the argument. He was mad, upset and confused like he had never been and before you knew it he was on his feet, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him as he fled the small flat.

You shake your head to stop yourself from playing that moment back for what feels like the millionth time since that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what you had and what you could have had if that night hadn’t happened. As you lay in the bed you had become pretty much attached to for the last 3 weeks your phone buzzed on your bedside table. You heart skips a beat still every time a text comes through, just hoping that its him, praying that its him, but it never is.

Reluctantly you roll over, reaching for the phone and adjusting yourself to sit up for the first time this morning. You rub your eyes before tapping the screen and watching as your phone unlocks and revelas the message. Your heart stops as you read the 4 words on the screen.

Harry xx: I’m coming over

It took you a full minute to take in the words on the screen. 3 weeks of nothing and then suddenly this. It makes no sense. You quickly reel yourself back in, jumping up from the bed knowing he doesnt live far and he always texts you just before he pulls out of the driveway. You pad across the room to the nearest mirror, taking in the sight of your tangled hair and dark cirlces. You looked as you’d expect someone who hadnt slept for more than a couple of hours in 3 weeks would look. You were only in one of his soft tees, he had a drawer full at your flat, his excuse for it being ‘back up clothes just in case’, but really he knew how much you loved wearing them and he liked knowing that there was always a piece of him there all the time.

You wandered into the living room, noticing the dirty dishes and used tissues you give the room a quick tidy. Knowing your appearance would enough of a giveaway for your state of mind without the flat giving away just how depressed you had been. After you tidy you find yourself on the couch, your head swirling in an attempt to prepare for what may be about to happen. Is he coming to officially break it off? Is he coming to make up? Is is coming back for his things? You can’t stop yourself from catastrophising the situation. The door buzzer snaps you from your thoughts and you approach the intercom. Even on the poor quality of the door cam you could see that he was tired, the bags under his eyes almost as big as yours and if you’re honest it makes you feel a little less self conscious. You press the receiver button and stutter out a “Its open” and watch as he enters the building.

You wait by the door, your hand already on the door knob when he gently knocks. As you open the door you tak ein the sight before you, he’s in sweats, his hair disheleved, his eyes puffy and tired. He does the same with you, he can tell immediately the state you have been in, it hurts him to see you just as tired and still just as hurt as when he walked out. He takes a quick breath in an attempt to hold in his tears before letting out a soft “Hi..”.

“What do you want Harry?” it comes out harsher than you had wanted but he knew you had every right to be mad. “You were right. You were right about everything.” he says, tears welling in eyes. “What do you mean Harry?” you say now even more confused. “You were right about Mel! Fuck baby you were right about it all!” He says, pushing past you into the room. ‘Baby’ god how you missed him calling you that. “Let me get this straight? The last thing you said to me was that I was ‘paranoid’ and now you’re here telling me that I’m not?’ you shoot back, not wanting to immediately accept his grovelling. You could see the guilt as he dropped his head staring at his hands as he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. “She tried to kiss me” he says, your eyes widening at the revelation.

Harrys eyes find yours, a wave of panic comes over him “I didnt kiss her back! I promise I didn’t baby. Fuck how could I have been so fucking blind?” he proclaims, walking over to you as you remain gobsmacked by what has just been announced. “I knew it..” you whisper, looking down at the floor with teary eyes. you were amazed that your body could even produce more tears at this point. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I called you paranoid, you had every right to be suspicious. I’m sorry that I left you. I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” by this point he’s standing in front of you, desperately trying to get you to look at him. “Please forgive me, I need you baby” he says, gently clasping his fingers with yours, you instinctively grasping his much larger hand. You;d imssed his touch so much.

You slowly trail your eyes up from ground to finally meet his similarly teary eyes. “Harry you hurt me, you really fucking hurt me” you can’t hold back the tears now. “You couldn’t see what was obvious. You made me think i was crazy. You made me doubt myself. You have to know how painful the last 3 weeks have been.” He could see how hurt you were, and it killed him to think he was the reason. “I know. And I will never be able to apologise enough. I was mad, I thought I finally had a friend who wasn’t trying to manipulate or use me. I was blind. I was stupid. And I’m sorry I didnt call you or message you. I coudlnt bare being left on read or having my calls go unanswered. I also couldnt bare the thought of hearing you cry again. I know my excuses are poor but I just couldnt take it.” tears were now rolling down his cheeks as well. He let go of your hand, rainsing his hands to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks, his gaze not leaving yours for a moment. You unwillingly melted into his touch, you were still hurt but you couldnt deny how much you wanted him to just hold you. You could tell he was genuine in his apology. “Please baby, please say you still love me. Please.” he pleads once more.

“I never stopped loving you Harry, I could never stop loving you no matter how hard I try.” your heartbreaks the thought of him thinking you didn’t love him because there was no way you couldn’t. “I forgive you, but you have to promise me that you will never do that to me again? I’ll promise to not blow up as easily but you have to promise to believe me. I can’t go through this again. I just can’t” Harry hangs on every word you say, releife evident in his face after you say the words he has been dying to hear. He can’t help but smile “I promise, I promise I will never do that to you again, fuck I love you so much” he says cupping your face before crashing his lips on yours, the kiss expressing how much you both needed each other. You rejoice in that moment for as long as you both need to. The kiss soft yet passionate. As you pull away, your smile matches his. “I missed you baby” you say before pecking another kiss to his lips just to feel them again.

As you pull away, you bury your face in his chest, taking in the familiar warmth, his arms engulfing you in a much needed hug. Harry presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer than he ever has before, not wanting to let go. “God I love you fucking much.” He says, kissing the crown of your head once more, “I love you too Harry, so fucking much.”.

Finally, you were both back where you belong, both of you vowing to never hurt each other again. Content. Together.

Hi lovelies!! This has been sat in my drafts for genuinely a year, a lot has changed since last time I posted. This is yet another installment of ‘The Words You Speak” series. I love writing a bit of fluff on a Sunday! I hope you’re all keeping safe in these crazy times. Enjoy and let me know if there is anything else you want me to write! Requests are always open xx

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #imagine harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harrystyles #harryedwardstyles #one direction #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry oneshot #styles fanfic #harry fic #harry fanfic

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crystal-heart-saga · 3 years

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CRYSTAL HEART:

CHAPTER ONE: A Startling Discovery.

DISCLAIMER; I DO NOT OWN MARVEL, IF I DID, HALF OF ENDGAME WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.

TW; MENTIONED/REFERENCED/IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE.

Natasha’s POV

The Battle raged around me as I raced across the compound. I had to get inside before HYDRA wiped their Computers.

“I’ve got your six Tash,” Clint’s voice rang in my ear.

“Copy that,” I said, effortlessly taking out a HYDRA agent that had attempted to block my path.

I took a moment to catch my breath, the gun still firing from my shoulder. Suddenly, a barrage of bullets rang out from the other side of the fence. I turned around and saw Cap crouched behind his shield. pinned down by a half dozen HYDRA agents.

I vaulted over the fence and rolled towards the sounds of gunfire. A HYDRA sniper had been hiding on top of the security building. I fired a few rounds into him. He screamed as one of the bullets hit him. His weapon ejected and he crashed to the floor below. I grabbed a piece of pipe, and another HYDRA agent rushed towards me. I smashed him with the pipe, knocking him out cold.

This gave Steve the opening he needed, he leapt to his feet and tossed his shield. taking out three goons in one swoop, then he punched the last one and tossed him into the security fence.

"Go Romanov," He said, turning to me, "We've got this out here, but there's no point if we lose the Data."

I nodded, heading towards the door.

Inside the perimeter of the security building, three HYDRA agents had managed to capture James. Clearly they'd used a trigger word to knock him out.

"What's the plan Ms Romanov?" Spider-Man asked. I glanced to my left where he hanging upside down off a web at my side.

I held up a finger to shush him as I watched what the HYDRA goons were up to. They were working on loading the gasses back into the portable canisters.

"I'll take them out, you get James to safety," I whispered, turning to the boy beside me.

"You got it."

I kicked down the door, startling the agents, One of them tossed a canister at me, I dodged it but It exploded, the blast left a giant hole in the floor.

That was the opening I needed.

using my widow's sting on the agents, I was quickly able to incapacitate them. and as Spidey moved in and got James out, I dropped down through the hole in the floor.

I was inside the Compound.

Walking through, it seemed that all the occupants of the compound were outside getting their butts handed to them by the rest of the team. Reaching the Server room, I pulled a USB drive from my suit pocket and plugged it in.

"Alright JARVIS," I said, "Start the Download."

"Straight away, Agent Romanov," the AI replied.

While I waited, I picked the lock on the filing cabinet and started digging through the paper records. I found the Winter Soldier Files but put them back without looking. That was too Personal. Something else caught my eye, A file marked Kriegerkinder

Kriegerkinder? why did that sound familiar? I opened the file and promptly shut it again, desperately trying to dispel the nausea that had risen from what I'd seen inside. the team needed to know about this.

As the download finished, I grabbed the USB drive and started to head out through a different exit. walking down a dark, foreboding corridor. lined with doors to what seemed like holding cells. suddenly, my foot collided with something soft.

I looked down, it was a teddy bear. A tattered, old, slightly disgusting teddy bear with a missing arm, ear and eye.

Children, there had been children here.

maybe there still were.

I broke opened every door in the corridor, all of the holding cells were empty. the floors were stained with blood, vomit and other body fluids. and the walls had chains much too small for any adult.

Cell after cell, empty, empty, empty. Like HYDRA had gotten them all out when we'd shown up.

and then, as I threw open the door to the last cell, I found a sight I'd never forget.

It was a child! A little girl who couldn't be older than ten huddled in the damp corner of the cell. she had messy platinum blonde hair that was long, unkept and matted with filth. scraps of tattered grey fabric that could barely be called a dress, hung loosely off her far too thin body. Big heterochromatic eyes, Blueish green on the left and deep hazel brown on the right, stared up at me in fear.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered, kneeling down, "I won't hurt you."

The little girl looked at me as if she didn't believe me.

"You are safe now," I told her, "you're okay now, I promise. What's your name?"

"1 2 2 8 1 9 2 2." She replied, almost robotically.

"That's your number, what's your name?" I asked again.

She remained silent and looked at the floor.

"You don't have a name... do you?" I guessed.

She shook her head, Blood-stained pale locks falling in her face.

"Well, I'm Natasha. Natasha Romanov."

The Little girl gasped and recoiled in fear, "You... You're... You're one of them! You're an Avenger!"

"Yes, I am an Avenger. But I'm not going to hurt you. and neither will anybody else. We don`t hurt children."

"So you`re not going to feed me to the Hulk?"

"Why would I do that?" I asked, appalled.

"That's what they said you'd do to us if we ever left."

It didn't take me long to realise why the little girl thought I was that kind of person. HYDRA tells people anything to keep them under their control.

"How many of you are there?" I asked.

The little girl hung her head and chewed her lip, "I... I... I don't know... but... They stick us with needles then we become really sick. A lot of us don't make it."

Bile rose in my throat as I tried not to let my anger truly show. I'd only scare this little one who'd already been through so much.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

The little girl shrugged.

"Would you like to leave here? with me?" I asked, "We can keep you safe. I promise."

The little girl looked away, as if thinking about it. then she turned back to me and nodded meekly.

I offered my hand and she hesitantly took it. Together, we left that dark, damp cell behind.

"You know, I have to call you something," I said, "You really don't know If you have a name?"

The little girl shook her head again, "No. but... but I have dreams occasionally, someone's in them, and they call me Mel."

"Mel, huh? Well, I`ll call you that. Would you like that?"

she nodded.

I held Mel close to my side as we left the Compound and walked across the now-empty battlefield. Evidently, the Avengers had won the day yet again.

Mel Stumbled as we passed through the mangled wire fence and headed for a large group of black Vans.

"M'sorry." Mel said softly.

"Nothing to be sorry for," I replied, "It's alright, just a few more steps."

"Tash!" Clint called out to me. I felt Mel jump and try to make herself smaller. "There you are! Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Sorry, got a little... distracted," I replied, gesturing towards Mel.

"S***!, Barnes was right... the orphans... the experiments, just like the twins."

"I think she's the only one left."

"What's your name kid?" Clint asked, kneeling to Mel's height.

"I don't really have one," Mel responded shyly, "but Ms Romanov's been calling me Mel."

"Nice to meet you Mel, I`m Clint Barton, Codename; Hawk-eye." Clint smiled, then he turned back to me, "You should talk to Hill."

"That's a given, here she comes now," I replied.

"Agent Romanoff, did you discover anything?" Hill asked.

"You could say that."

#the crystal heart saga #natasha romanoff #clint barton #black widow #hawkeye #spiderman #bucky barnes #Please leave thoughts…#oc #tw child harm #TW CHILD ABUSE #marvel fanfic series

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ginger-and-mint · 3 years

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Happy birthday Myx! 🥳🎂 Have Several questions because I Want To Know Things. ^^; Illness & Injury 6 for everyone, Whump 2 & 3 for everyone, and Writer's 2, 13, 19, and 46 for you!

thank you Mel! ♡ and oh my gosh I’m so delighted by this abundance of questions!

6. What is their go-to remedy for an upset stomach?

Kara and Bramley both like some warmth on unhappy tummy. They’ll make themselves tea, more for the warmth than anything else, and sip it while taking it easy. Kara is likely to get herself a little warm pack too if she can.

Malia tends to go straight for medicine or a tonic. She doesn’t like to be slowed down by her body, and so will opt for whatever she thinks will be most effective in the shortest amount of time.

Si, being a song-mage, was once surrounded by fellow song-mage friends they could ask to cast a stomach-settling healing spell on them. With that option off the table, they'll also look for a fast-acting medicine or tonic.

Grayson and Elliott both try to ignore an upset stomach for a little while in the hopes that it’ll settle. When that fails, Grayson will go get himself a tonic and complain to his friends until it kicks in, while Elliott will either try sitting quietly and sipping on water or tea, or if he can get away, just sleeping it off.

Ryder is knowledgeable enough to take a different approach depending on how upset his stomach is. For something minor, he’ll make himself a digestion-easing tea, like mint or chamomile. If he knows that won’t be effective, he’ll go straight to a tonic. When it’s something he’s eaten that’s not agreeing with him, sometimes he’ll just go make himself throw up to get it out of his system.

2. What is their pain tolerance? Do they close their eyes and block it out, or go into a full blown panic?

Grayson really hates tolerating pain, but if he has to, he can take a lot. Most of the time, he will remove himself from painful situations as quickly as possible and complain bitterly about anything that hurts. But if the chips were down, he would turn out to be a lot tougher than anyone expected.

Bramley is a Sweet Baby and We Do Not Harm Him is not really used to enduring pain and has a low tolerance for it. He would close his eyes and block it out rather than panicking, but not really be able to do anything except sit there and block pain until he was Helped. c’:

Kara is Pure Sunshine and We Do Not Harm Her Either has a pretty high tolerance for acute pain and doesn’t panic about injuries, but she has been known to get faint from them. She’s also easily worn down by chronic discomfort, like being too hot or cold or just having a constant dull ache of some kind.

Malia is the opposite. She can put up with low-key pain or discomfort for a long time, but an acute injury would freak her out a lot more than she’d like to admit.

Ryder has a high pain tolerance on all fronts, honestly. As soon as he feels pain, he looks for a solution to ease it, and if there are none to be had, he’ll grit his teeth and block it out.

Meanwhile, poor dear Si is not great with pain. Song-mages are primarily healers, and so Si is really used to having even little hurts soothed quickly and easily. They don’t panic when in pain, but they do get extremely miserable.

Elliott has a very high pain tolerance when the pain feels within his control; he can power through even the worst headaches or stomachaches, for example. But as soon as the pain feels out of his control (i.e. he gets injured), he panics.

3. How long do they typically take to recover from illness or injury compared to average?

Ryder and Kara, by virtue of Robustness and Being Sensible People who largely take care of themselves when under the weather, are quick to recover.

Grayson and Malia both heal quickly from injuries, but take a little longer with illnesses. With Grayson, it’s more a matter of him not being back to himself until his symptoms are completely gone (he is very much a Man Flu type of guy.) Meanwhile Malia will treat an injury with appropriate care, but is likely to push herself back to full capacity before she’s fully better from an illness, leading to a slower recovery.

As big and strong as Bramley is, he’s actually a little more delicate immune system-wise. He tends to be a slow recoverer, even though he’s good about looking after himself when sick or hurt.

Elliott and Si also tend to have slow and uneven recoveries, but in their cases, it’s due to hooliganery. Si takes good care of themself during the uncomfortable phase of their illness or injury, but as soon as they feel 90% better, they’re eager to leap back into life with their usual zeal. That’s not always a great idea and can lead to them prolonging whatever is afflicting them. Elliott, on the other hand, is just a stubborn idiot who doesn’t take care of himself. He’s particularly bad about this with injuries, often aggravating them and even making them worse because he won’t give them the rest they need to heal.

2. Are you a pantser or plotter?

Usually I lean more towards plotting, although I do leave a lot of room for the new directions and ideas I know I’ll discover during the process of writing itself. But Ginger and Mint is the big exception -- I started writing it with zero plan whatsoever. I do have an outline for it now, but I was probably eight or nine chapters in before I made it.

While the final product is definitely not as a polished as it would’ve been if I’d planned it from the start, it was honestly super refreshing to not worry and just write. I’ve been trying to bring a little of that experience over into my more serious writing -- it’s so easy to get caught up in plotting and forget to leave room for writing itself to be a generative process.

13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished

Have idea. Whee!

“Mark out” the things I want to happen in the story or chapter:

I usually do this by writing out short snippets of prose or dialogue related to the ideas I’ve had about each moment. For example, let’s say I know I want a moment where Grayson talks to Ryder. I’d type up a couple lines of dialogue and/or maybe a line about Grayson encountering Ryder and noting what he’s doing or how he’s looking -- whatever’s relevant to the scene. Basically, whatever ideas I have about that scene will be represented in writing in the “mark.”

I have all these marks ordered in the document in the same way the scenes will eventually be chronologically ordered. For me, having visual space is important for my ability to think, so I hit the enter key enough times between the marks that I can see only blank space when I want to work with a certain moment.

Build out each mark until I have a full scene. I do try to go roughly start to finish, but definitely jump back and forth depending on what I’m feeling most inspired by or what my brain seems to be spitting up ideas about. I also skip ahead whenever I feel stuck, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Go back and string the scenes together. Add transitions, fill in any missing pieces, etc.

Re-read the full thing from start to finish and make final edits. Yay, done!

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

goooood question fam

I struggle with this as much as the next person (see: 2.5 year G&M hiatus). I haven’t discovered a foolproof method of motivation yet (pls advise if you have), but I do tend to feel inspired whenever something reminds me why I want to write this story. That could be thinking about a scene I’m really excited to share, re-reading a scene that reminds me why I enjoy portraying a certain character or environment -- anything along those lines.

46. Do you reread your own stories?

Yes, the ones that I like! Some things I’m not particularly proud of and don’t go back to very often, but re-reading pieces of writing I do like helps me feel motivated, inspired, and confident.

#thank you so much these were so FUN #asks #gnm asks #lessthanconventional #nausea #just the briefest mention

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hideawayintheimaginationworld · 4 years

Text

I am Machine: Chapter 12

It was going to be a tomb for him, for the others. He didn’t know how long he had been in this darkness, he was looking around, it was a sea of cries for help that were unanswered, it made Alec uncomfortable in the sense this was like a graveyard, he noticed some of these Lonely Freddy's were quiet and very still, it appeared they died.

It was dawning on him now that would most likely happen to him, to the rest of them, they would die and no one would realise they died.

That would be the end of his story.

Trapped forever with no escape.

This place was a wasteland just about.

Suddenly Alec heard something from outside, his eyes looked up, he heard something rattle.

Light poured in as the lid was lifted up, Alec wondered if someone else was being thrown in, but instead, he saw a man peer in, he made a disgusted face but reached in with his gloved hands, something unexpected was happening.

The man was grabbing some of the Lonely Freddy's and pulling them out, Alec was unsure why that was happening, disposing of them with fire or something?

The last one was grabbed..... Was Alec.

He was shocked the man lend down, reaching his hand down and grabbed his wrist, lifting him out, Alec was exposed to daylight again, which made his eyes slightly hurt, he blinked away irritation and looked around.

Alec was placed in a cardboard box among the other random five that seemed to be chosen. He watched the man pull a key from his pocket and re-locked the dumpster.

The man then stepped over and lifted up the box, walking away with the box, Alec looked to the direction he was walking and saw he was walking back inside the pizzeria, the door open. It suddenly occurred to Alec at that moment.

“Hey! I'm not a Freddy! Can you help me??” He spoke.

The man seemed to not hear him, Alec was positive he spoke as loud as he possibly could, he thought it was still possible he couldn’t talk, none of the other Lonely Freddy's next to him seems to talk.

Alec watched the man take the box into a strange room, a room with several desks, locked cabinets, and another man there, working on a robot that Alec vaguely remembered.

The robot was sitting on the desk, both eyes black and vacant, with the appearance of a bear that looked different to Freddy, its fur was black, Alec saw a red hat and bowtie on his neck, he tried to recall his name but it didn’t come to him in that time.

The man put the cardboard box down on one desk and went to tap the other man on the shoulder.

The one working on the black bear stopped and turned to the man, “Oh Wayne, you got them as I asked?” The man asked.

Wayne had nodded and pointed to the box. He stopped working and walked to the box, he peered in and pointed his finger at each one, “Six... I'm honestly so angry that bloody employees like Mel, Terry and Garry think it's okay to throw them out when they start acting strange, seriously I can fix them in a jiffy!”

“What? Were you talking just now?”

Alec noticed that tone spoke quite emotionless.

The man who looked at them turned back to Wayne, “I was just talking to myself, Wayne! You know how I am... You can go now if you want!”

Was that guy Wayne deaf? Is that why he couldn’t hear him?

Wayne had walked off, the man turned and shook his head, “I’m telling Mike about this, it's ridiculous! These things still work they're just... A bit filthy... Suppose I'm cleaning up... Lefty can wait for a while... I can’t understand his requirements...” He looked at Alec, “Great, stale vomit... Well, I guess I need to soak and scrub you up.”

He pulled on white gloves and lifted Alec up like a toddler, Alec kept absolutely still as he removed from the box. He saw the man had a name tag and read it.

Benedict.

Must be a mechanic of some sort, he was repairing that bear in the room.

Alec was put into a bucket, Benedict pulled off the black hat on his head and yanked off the bowtie, he looked up to see Benedict had grabbed a white bottle, he then splashed something on his head, he had to resist the urge to shiver at how cold it felt.

Benedict then started scratching at his head then moved it further down, at that moment Alec realised this was some sort of strange bath, Benedict was scrubbing a special soap mixture into the fur.

After a few minutes of scrubbing and manipulating his “body” in strange ways, Benedict sat him down in the bucket.

“Alright, need to leave you for a few minutes, let that set in.”

When Benedict looked away, Alec looked at the “hands” he had now which were covered in soapy bubbles.

He was not going to get used to the fact that this wasn’t a nightmare.

“Oh no, this one hasn't got an eye, like you huh Lefty?”

The man was talking to himself, kind of stupid but Alec didn't make that judgement known.

Alec heard the door open.

“Hey Benny!”

“Hi, Jeremy!”

Someone else entered the room.

“How long until Lefty can be back on stage?”

“I've set his systems to reboot.... He should be up and about within.... It says 10 minutes...”

“Good.... Good....”

“I'm also fixing up some of these discarded Lonely Freddy's...”

“Oh god, the staff are finding stupid reasons to dispose of them... I know some do stop working but about 40% of them can be fixed.”

Is that why Alec and some of the others had been picked out? They were going to be put back out in the pizzeria? Alec suddenly had awful flashes of toddlers pulling on his limps like a toy, he hated how he was treated by them... But he guessed this was how they treated every Lonely Freddy.

“Hey, Jeremy... I wanted to ask... About the policy of co-workers dating?”

“Well... Just as long as it doesn’t interfere with work... Why?” He asked.

“I'm interested in asking out Lewis.... I've been told he has had male partners before... So I feel less anxious about asking him out.”

“Well go ahead and ask Mr Music Man if you can duet.”

Alec kind of tuned the conversation, he was thinking about what would be next, he couldn't see a future where he went home at this point unless he did something to make it known he wasn't a Lonely Freddy.

“I will! When I get a second...”

“Don't make that second so long... It might be likely Lewis could find another love interest if you don't pluck up the courage to ask him!”

“Yes... Yes... I know....”

“I was told we had a ripped Yarg Foxy a week ago? Was it fixed up?”

“Yep, fixed it in 10 minutes for a sweet little girl named Hazel, she was so polite and talkative! I rarely get to talk with children when I'm working... She was slightly upset though, about her older brother she told me, his name was... Um... Alex... No, it was Alec, yes Alec was his name. I felt bad for her, clearly, this Alec character doesn't realise he has an amazing sister. Apparently, she wanted the toy for him.”

Alec felt ashamed of himself, for everything, not just that, but for so many other countless things. Hazel just wanted to be his friend and he was too stupid and paranoid to see that, he thought they were a problem but he was the problem.

“Fan of Foxy, I'm not surprised, most boys like Foxy.”

“Well, he's cool. I like the original though, I mean.. Rockstar Foxy is good but the original was amazing.”

“I understand what you mean, Mike is a fan of Foxy also. I see him usually looking at the pictures from back in the day, he uses to work as the nightshift in one of the original places years ago...”

“Kids go nuts over Foxy....”

Alec slowly stood up, peering out of the bucket, he saw Benedict and Jeremy having a conversation, this body appeared to move easier now, his movements were stiff before but he found now they were much better, it was like his self conscious had adjusted to this body, which he admittedly didn't want to adapt to a body that wasn't his and would never be his.

He saw the bear on the desk slightly moved his hand.

“Anyway, I need to go start working, have a good day!” Jeremy smiled and left.

Benedict nodded, he had turned his head one way then turned back.

“Hello there! You still work little guy?”

He was talking to Alec, no doubt, his eyes were on him, Benedict walked over to him, “I bet being in that dumpster was pretty scary huh? Dark place...”

Was he searching for a conversation? Alec didn’t feel like talking honestly, he knew this guy wouldn't treat him as a human.

“Let's wash the soap off, I think the smell should be gone by now....”

Benedict pushed Alec down so he was sitting in the bucket again. He then abruptly splashed cold water on him.

“Cold!!!” Alec screeched unintentionally nearly jumping out of the bucket.

“Sorry cold water is the best...” Benedict lifted him out.

Not too long after, he had been dried off and placed on the desk.

“Alright... Let's try some basic tests, Hello there!”

“Hello?” Alec responded sounding unsure, he did actually hear his voice and Benedict seem to react, frowning when he spoke.

“Why does its voice sound so peculiar?..... Eye colour is also incorrect...” Benedict asked, “Okay, try this... Tell me who you are.”

Alec looked around, a bit uncomfortable, he couldn’t understand anything, he was in a strange place in a strange body.

“What's wrong?”

“Why did I do what I did? I made a mess of everything...”

Benedict looked even more confused, “How did you, Fred?”

Hearing that name made Alec nearly cry, it was like he lost his identity as a person and had become a mindless machine, “I'm not Freddy!!!” He shouted not wanting to hear the name ever again.

“Benedict! We need help immediately!!”

Benedict got up from his seat and left the room.

Alec looked around this place, he thought about Benedict's confusion, he sees me as factory reject probably, he thought, starting to feel sick.

“I’m watching you, demented little bear your days are numbered.”

Alec shivered, he was supposed to be alone, who just spoke then?

He looked around and his eyes fell on that black bear who had somehow moved his head towards him, his eyes were black voids but he seem to stare straight at him.

Impossible! He thought, These things can’t move on their own accord! Somebody must be controlling it!!

The bear just stared at him, Alec had the strangest feeling, a sinking gut feeling like this robot should be avoided. Alec got off the desk, and ran outside the room, he turned to make sure the robot wasn’t following him, but he hadn’t turned back in time and he hit directly into something.

“What the? What’s your hurry?”

Alec had smacked into one of the robots, he looked up, oh god it looked so much more bigger and scary than it should.

And it was Chica he struck, she wasn’t even a threatening animal!

Alec wanted this nightmare to end! But there didn’t seem to be an end in sight!

“What's going on?” Freddy had approached them, and with that, Alec was outnumbered.

“This one ran into me. Dunno why, they don’t run,” Chica replied.

“Maybe we’ll ask Lefty about it... can you come with me for a minute?”

Alec wanted to say no, but he just shook his head. He was gripped by fear and being outnumbered wasn't helping.

“Why does this one have green eyes?”

“Lefty!” Chica yelled out.

Alec didn’t like the idea of being around these robots, they had looked around with their eyes away long enough that Alec ran off from their view, he saw the door to the back rooms was open so he ran though there, he decided at that moment no one would see him ever again if they couldn't see who he really was.

“...I thought the voice was you, but it sounded very different.... I was scared of you... But I’m not scared of you anymore...”

“I’m glad to know that Alec, because I’m not scary... I was built to help kids, not give them nightmares.”

“This still.... is kind of like a nightmare... it feels like one... but I can’t wake up.”

“I think reality can sometimes be the worse sort of nightmare, because you can’t wake up from it.”

“That's.... that’s really true actually...”

They both heard thunder, Lefty looked up at the celling, the garage was unlit but his eye and Alec's eyes had reacted and turned into a beam of light, it was like a flashlight beacon of yellow and green, the feature was useful to see. Lefty looked slightly irritated by the sound, “Dam it that bloody storm is not letting up... It's probably well pass midnight now...”

“Lefty?”

“What is it?”

“I’m actually scared that I can’t go back,” Alec admitted.

“I know it's really scary... Just know whatever comes next... I’ll help you, whether that be talking to your parents, or even confronting Lonely Freddy.”

“I see both of those as bad ideas honestly.”

“We need to keep all the options open at this time... I am aware Lonely Freddy will not give up without a fight and I hate to imagine what could happen if you accidentally get caught up... as I said... if he realised you were still alive and there is a chance he can be stopped, he would want to kill you... I have little doubt he is beneath killing... but I will protect you from him.”

Alec's ears lowered, “I... I want my life back... this isn’t what I want.”

Lefty gently ruffled the patch of fur on his head, “Rest assured, I'm not letting Lonely Freddy get away with what he did... I know the body you are in feels like a cage but I will break this curse, your story is not over and I will help you fight for your happy ending.”

Lefty has vowed to help Alec get a better ending....

To be Continued...

First Chapter | Previous | Next

#five nights at freddy's #fazbear frights #Lonely Freddy #I am Machine Story #I am Machine—AU #FNAF Alec #Lefty #FNAF Lefty #FNAF Benedict #FNAF Jeremy #Cameo from Rockstar Freddy and Chica #Lefty being reassuring to Alec during his difficult time #FYI: Lefty definitely didn't talk to Alec when he was in the workshop.... that was somebody else.#I'm also experimenting with linking to the previous and first chapters #Alright I'm done for the day time for bed

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adoreyou303 · 4 years

Text

Sweet Creature (H.S. Fic)

CW: Pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

Chapter Six

Sharp, short knocks echo through the dark hotel room. She groans out of frustration, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head. After a fitful night of sleep, the last thing she needs, nay wants, is someone pulling her back to reality. She would rather stay in her cocoon of blankets and pillows where her aching body is supported by a mountain of fluff and fuzz.

Once again, the knocks ring through the room, signaling her again of someone’s presence at her door. If it’s important, they will let themselves in… she thinks. A familiar beep sounds before the click of the door lets in a sudden rush of light from the hallway.

“Lucky I have a key to your room,” Harry chuckles, quietly closing the door.

“Whatever would I do without you,” she mutters sarcastically.

“How’re you feeling, love?” he murmurs, sitting at the foot of the bed. He places his hand on her foot and squeezes gently. She throws the pillow off of her head and looks at him through squinted eyes. Dark circles outline the skin below her eyes. Her eyes are stormy blue, darker than he’s ever seen. The tip of her nose is pink, standing out from the pale translucency of her face. She’s cuter than a button, even when she feels like she’s been hit by a bus.

“I felt so sick, I barely slept,” she admits, closing her eyes. She feels the weight at the end of the bed lift and for a moment, she feels white hot whips of panic roar through her chest. Did she scare him away? Is this what finally makes him leave?

Before she can think of any more worst case scenarios, the bed dips again, but this time, it’s much closer to her body.

“Oh, Mel. Have you thought about saying something? Your team could help you when you don’t feel well. I don’t want a repeat of last night. I barely convinced them you were just tired,” he sighs.

“What if they make me stop doing all of this? Or make me go home? I can’t do this alone,” she whispers, slowly reaching out towards Harry. His eyes search her face worriedly until their eyes meet. The eyes are the beholder of true feelings. They say everything without uttering a word. Harry’s never felt more connected to a single soul. There is no tension or awkward feelings. There’s a comfortable silence as they both drink in each other’s presence.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, holding his hand out, allowing her to weave her fingers through his.

“Can I-”

“Will-”

Both stop midsetence, cheeks flushed at the mutual interruption. “You go, love.”

“No, you started first,” she insists.

“I was just going to ask if I could hold you,” he asks sheepishly, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. No one has ever held this much power over him. Usually he is the one making others flushed. He’s not used to someone making him feel this way. Instinctively, his other hand reaches up to scratch at his neck. Nervous tick.

Instead of answering, she nuzzles her head closer, immediately inhaling his intoxicating scent. She releases their intertwined hands and wraps her arm around his torso. “Do believe you were going to say something,” he reminds her.

“No need. It seems you happen to have read my mind,” she hums, tucking her face into the safety of his chest. He takes the moment to breathe her in. The smell of her shampoo is emintating off her hair in gentle waves. A faint trace of her favorite chapstick still lingers on her lips. Deep, glittering purple swatches of nail lacquer expertly decorate her nails, executenating her devine hands. And, no matter what time of day, she always smelled of something sweet. Call it what you will-- a sweet tooth, a lack of self control, but Melanie loves her chocolate and will go to the lengths of the end of the Earth to make sure she gets it. Something sweet for someone sweet.

“How would I tell people?” she questions, pulling her head from it’s safe burrow in Harry’s chest.

“Well, that’s up to you. It doesn’t have to be all fancy like you see in the movies or anything. I reckon you could call a meeting or summat?” he suggests.

“That’s… too formal and rigid,” she rejects. He hums in response, lost in thought.

“There is that label dinner next week. ’re all expected to be there. Would you consider doing it then? I know ’s in public and all, but-”

“H, that’s perfect,” she beams, reaching up and grabbing his face between her two hands. There is a deep ache in his chest, a pull at his heart. He isn’t sure if it’s because of the nickname and the sudden contact of the girl of his dreams or if he’s elated to see his best friend happy after seeing her struggle for so long.

“Really?” he smiles. “What makes you say that?”

“We’re supposed to be discussing our upcoming projects. It can be treated like… I don’t know, a new beginning or such. You keep going on about support and what not, so why not start in a positive place? I don’t want it to be in a record label boardroom with contracts and attorneys fussing over details. It would be more like… friends finding out news. Right?” she ponders, her voice wavering slightly.

“You’re brilliant, love. I was thinking if it didn’t go well you could just fill up on pasta and breadsticks, but you really blew me out of the water on this one, didn’t yeh?” he chuckles, pressing a hand to the back of her head.

This movement sends a thousand tingles down her spine. His thumb gently caresses the nape of her neck, slowly and softly swiping back and forth every so often. Almost as if to remind her he’s still there, he still has her.

The next week passes way too slow for Melanie’s liking. She tries to distract herself with recording and writing, but anxiety about sharing the news swells in her chest. That isn’t the only thing swelling, either Her ankles have grown twice in size and she can no longer fit into her favorite pair of jeans. She isn’t huge, but she’s growing. Fortunately, the change hasn’t been noticeable by too many. The focus has mainly been on Harry promoting his new single. He’s been away doing various promotions, so the team has paid Melanie less and less attention. Once he returns, though, it’ll be back to the spotlight with their currently underwraps collab album.

She has no doubt the second Harry lays his eyes on her, he will notice the changes in her body. Unsure of how his attention on a body that is quickly becoming not her own will make her feel, she soaks in all the non-attention as much as she can.

As she prepares for the company dinner, her mind races with various scenarios of how the evening could possibly play out. She could get fired… she could be told off… her friends could leave her… they could laugh at her… anything could happen. She slips a light blue dress over her hand, letting it slide down over the rest of her body. She has to shimmy, pulling it down with more umph than usual. Her butt has also joined the swelling party.

A soft knock at the door pulls her from her harsh gaze in the mirror.

“Who is it?” she asks curtly. The driver isn’t supposed to be at hers for another 15 minutes.

“‘S me, love. Thought you might fancy a cuddle before dinner?” She could practically hear his smirk through the door.

“It’s open, Harry,” she calls, walking back into the bathroom to grab her earrings. Pushing through the door, he is hit with the scent of home. Fresh cookies. Vanilla. Faint Citrus. Her. He feels as though a permanent smile has been etched on his face as he places his bags on the floor near the door.

“Where are you, love?”

“Bathroom, be out in a sec,” she responds. After placing her jewelry in the right places, she takes one last look in the mirror. She sighs a breath of relief, fixing her hair yet again. Satisfied.

She returns to her bedroom to find a familiar face sitting on the edge of her bed. The mere sight of him makes her feel as though there is no air left in her lungs. His ring-clad fingers are sat upon loose fitting light teal trousers. One hand runs through his curly locks, bringing her eyes up to his torso, snuggly tucked in a matching dress shirt with the top buttons undone. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, allowing for his tattoos to dance freely on the toned muscles of his forearms. If she wasn’t staring before, she was now.

“You look gorgeous,” he smiles, standing up for a hug.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” she covers, avoiding his piercing stare. Allowing herself to fall into his embrace, she remembers back to the times he’s complimented her appearance. She’s never doubted his sincerity, but why did it feel so different now?

“I, um, need help with my dress. Would you mind?” she asks, pointing toward the back. He gives her a quick kiss on the check before reaching up to her shoulders to turn her around. His gaze falls to admire her dress when suddenly he flinches and pulls away as if she was the most repugnant thing he’s ever seen.

“What??” she exclaims, looking over herself to see if she had some sort of anomaly or something to cause alarm.

“Melanie, love, you’re showing,” he whispers, his eyes trained on her belly. Her gaze follows down to her stomach and back up to his face, whether their eyes meet.

“I-I am,” she says, almost as though she’s trying to convince herself. Harry’s hands reach up to cradle her face.

“This is incredible. Can I?” he asks, breathless. Unsure of what he’s doing, but not wanting him to stop, she nods furiously. His hands drop to her sides, thumbs rubbing gently over the taut skin of her belly. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure, maybe a few days ago?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not exactly something to be… excited about,” she sighs, averting her gaze.

“C’mere.”

He brings her around to her floor-length mirror and pulls her in front of him. Instead of zipping her up, he pushes her straps down.

“Harry, I-”

“I promise ‘m not going to hurt you. Let me show you something.”

The dress slowly comes off her figure, leaving her only in her bra and panties. His large hands rest on the outer sides of her thighs. His eyes meet hers in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes brimming with tears.

“Do you know what I see?” he questions in hushed tones. She shakes her head, instinctively retreating into his chest. “I see a beautiful, glowing woman who is growing a child. Her child. She’s the strongest person I know. Smartest, too, I reckon. She could beat my ass any day,” he snickers. This earns a small laugh from the girl in his arms. His heart gleams with pride and love as he sees her stand a little taller. He raises a hand from her thigh, trailing his fingers along her sun kissed skin, and places it on her belly. Her little swollen belly. Gently, his other hand follows until both his hands are embracing her, holding both Melanie and her baby. After a few minutes, her hands wiggle free from his embrace. She gently rests them on his large ones atop her little baby belly. She relaxes back into his chest, letting her fears melt away.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, squeezing his hands. He nudges his nose into her cheek with a soft smile.

“Now, let’s get you dressed, yeah? Can’t take you to dinner in your knickers.”

Melanie can’t lie, dinner with friends is exactly what she needed. Although it is technically a company dinner, she loves everyone she works with. Laughter and fun stories pass the time so quickly, she almost forgets she has to break life changing news. So much so, it isn’t until Jeff mentions the collab album that she breaks into a nervous sweat. Almost as if on cue, Harry places a calming hand on her knee, talking cooly about plans he had thought up on his recent promo trip.

“Actually, if I might chime in,” Mitch interrupts, eyes darting between dinner guests. Mitch has been with Harry since he went solo, so his word is just as important as Harry’s. Everyone’s attention turns towards the guitarist as he pushes his chair to stand. “I think this collab album is a great idea. It could really showcase both Mel and Harry’s strengths and teach them a lot about each other as artists.”

He pauses as he walks around the table, nervously pulling at his black velvet blazer. “However, I don’t think the timing of this is… ideal.”

Melanie gulps and she swears the whole table could hear it. Her frantic eyes meet Harry’s, who looks just plain confused. There is no way he knows… could he?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of this project. Here’s my issue.” Here it comes… I’m ruined. “When I started working for this company, for Harry, I only had myself to think about. I could drop everything and go to studio and write for hours on end. Hell, Styles dragged me to Jamaica at a minute’s notice. Well, I can safely say that is no longer the case. I’m not on my own anymore and I don’t want to be ever again,” he says softly, training his eyes on Sarah. Her mouth drops, clearly not expecting his speech. “Sarah, you took my breath away the moment I saw you. Somehow you manage to bring me out of my shell and make me unafraid. I never want to imagine what it would be like without you practicing drums at the worst hours or praising my cooking even though, darling, we both know it belongs in the bin,” he admits, a water chuckle escaping his lips. Tears are fully dripping down Sarah’s cheeks as the realization sinks in. “I loved you when you rejected my first attempt to ask you out and I love you now. I will love you always. Please, darling, will you marry me?” he asks, bending on one knee, gently grasping her hand in his.

The whole table is dabbing tears away from their eyes as they take in the scene in front of them. Melanie sheds a few tears herself, but promptly feels a kick to the gut, like the wind has been taken out of her sail.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Sarah finally answers, fully crying. Mitch slips the ring on her finger before engulfing her in a full embrace. There is a full uproar of cheers and congratulations from the party, but Melanie just feels sick. She joins her friends in happily (and tearily) congratulating Mitch and Sarah before quietly excusing herself from dinner. This wasn’t her moment. Not yet.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writings #harry styles fandom #harry styles fluff #hs fandom #hs fic #hs writing #sweet creature #chapter 6 #harry styles pregnancy

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scotianostra · 5 years

Photo

September 11th 1297 saw the Battle of Stirling Bridge.

If you follow my history posts through the years you will know I try to change them around, rather post the same old thing every year, in this post I will concentrate a wee bit more on the man usually forgotten, Andrew de Moray and his struggle in the North. Just a month ago I argued with a friend in a pub about the importance of Andrew de Moray in the struggle against the English.

Andrew de Moray had been captured after fighting for King John at the Battle of Dunbar but had escaped only to find his family's lands in Avoch on the Black Isle under English control.

There can be no doubt that de Moray got his patriotism and fighting zeal from his father, Sir Andrew de Moray, who was also captured at Dunbar and incarcerated in the Tower of London, where he died in 1298.

The young de Moray was imprisoned in Chester and promptly escaped and made his way back to the highlands and the family seat, Avoch Castle near Inverness.

He is sometimes portrayed as Wallace's lieutenant but Moray was entirely his own man and a very capable leader in his own right.

The English having travelled as far as Elgin at one stage, were beaten back by de Moray and his rag-tag bunch of local freedom fighters. The northern troops’ activities mirrored much of what was going on in the south, with guerrilla tactics widely used to unsettle Edward’s army and score small but psychologically significant victories. The uprising gathered pace and it was in the early months of 1297 that Wallace and de Moray were said to have met, although historical documents of the period are imprecise. The meeting apparently took place in Perth, where both armies met to expel the English occupiers and create a base for an attack to liberate Dundee. Wallace, at this stage, is said to have returned south with his army and the preparations for the battle at Stirling began. De Moray, held in high regard by Wallace and, according to some, the senior partner of the two, is credited with creating the tactical plan that won the day for the Scots.

Unfortunately de Moray was fatally injured at Stirling, when a stray arrow is said to have pierced him and, after a period of around a month, finally took his life. The Scots would go on to some heavy defeats in the future and, it is argued, were unable to function as well without the tactical nous de Moray brought to what was, in effect, a peasants' revolt. De Moray’s son, also called Andrew, followed in the family tradition and rallied behind Robert the Bruce, even marrying his sister, Christina, at one stage. The relationship between de Moray and Wallace has fascinated historians, although the former has failed to gain the widespread appeal of his partner despite some evidence suggesting it may have been he who was the dominant one in the relationship.

Both men were conferred with the title of ‘leader of the army of the realm of Scotland’ and both received Knighthoods at roughly the same time – suggesting that, during the period they were held in equal regard.

Both men co-signed a letter to the mayors of Lubeck and Hamburg asking for trade routes with Scotland to be re-opened with, interestingly, de Moray’s name above that of his more celebrated colleague. Where Wallace has, like so many other Scots historical figures, been romanticised; his story pulled to the boundaries of what is actually true in print, poem, song and more recently Hollywood, it is no surprise that de Moray, who shamefully, failed to get a single mention by Mel Gibson, has been purged from the nation’s psyche.

For the Battle buffs, who want to know what happened, here is an amusing account, amusing because it is by an English chronicler, you really have to read this to believe it, in it there is a claim that one English knight actually took the bridge for the English, it's a bit long but very funny in my opinion.

.....In the month of May in the same year, the perfidious nation of the Scots began to rebel in this way. The Earl of Warenne to whom our King [Edward I] had entrusted the whole of the kingdom of Scotland on his behalf and in his name, giving as his reason the debasement of money, said that it was not sensible for him to stay there and he remained in England but in the North, and half-heartedly pursued the enemy who were living in exile, which was the source and origin of evil for us in the future. And the King's treasurer the lord Hugh de Cressingham, a solemn and lofty man, loved money exceedingly and failed to construct the stone wall which the lord the king himself had ordered to be constructed upon the new fortifications at Berwick; which turned out to be a scandal to our men as will be clear below. Now the King's justiciar, William Ormsby, prosecuting the King's command, began to send into exile all those without distinction of persons who had refused to make firm fealty to the King of England.

There was also a certain brigand, William Wallace by name, who had been in exile many times. Since this man was wandering and fugitive, he assembled about himself all those who were living in exile, and became something of a chief to them, and they grew into a large people. To him also was joined the soldier James Douglas who in the capture of the castle of Berwick had given himself together with his men to the King, saving his life and limb, as has been said above. Although the King had restored him to everything he became forgetful of his goods, and a robber allied to a robber, pursued his liberator to death, at least in his subjects . . .

[Sir William Douglas and the Bishop of Glasgow started an abortive rising. Warenne moved against them and both were soon handed over to him.] When that robber William Wallace had heard this [the imprisonment of the Bishop of Glasgow] he became angry in his mind and proceeded to the Bishop's house and drew to himself all his furniture, arms and horses, and the sons who were called by name of the bishop's nephews. And he was increased by an immense number of Scots to the point where the community of the realm began to follow him as their leader and prince. And entire households [retainers] of the nobles began to adhere to him and even though the nobles themselves were with our King [Edward I] in body, their hearts were a long way from him. Indeed our men having become so irritated, since they did not wish to put up with such things any longer, marched forward in arms to the town of Stirling where the Steward of Scotland and the Earl of Lennox and certain others of the nobles of Scotland came and asked our men to hold off for a short time in case they might be able to pacify their men and the people of the Scots in whatever way.

Although this was granted to them, they came back, that is to say on the 11th of September, and replied precisely that they could not answer for them, promising however that they would come to the aid of our men the next day with forty armed horse.

[The English army headed towards Stirling Bridge. Meanwhile, de Cressingham was given the offer of reinforcements under Sir Henry Percy.]

. . . he [Sir Henry] received in the commands from the lord Hugh de Cressingham the King's treasurer that he should send the same people back with his thanks, saying that the army that they had could be enough and that it was not useful to trouble them for nothing or to consume the King's treasury more than was necessary. He did this, and the people were mightily angered, wishing as if to stone him, and so with various people reckoning various things, some began shouting aloud that they should cross the bridge and some on the contrary that they should not. Amongst them the King's treasurer, a pompous man and a son of death, added,'It is not fitting my Lord Earl to prolong the matter further and to expend our King's treasury in vain. But let us go up and pay our debt, rather than hold ourselves back.' And so the Earl, moved by those words, commanded that they should go up to the bridge and cross it. It was astonishing to say, and terrible in its consequence, that such a large number of individual men, though they knew the enemy was at hand, should go up to a narrow bridge which a pair of horsemen could scarcely and with difficulty cross at the same time. Since, as some who had been in the same conflict were saying, if they had crossed over from earliest morning until the eleventh hour, without any interruption or hindrance, the last part of the army would have remained in great part until then.

Nor was there a more appropriate place in the kingdom of Scotland for shutting the English into the hands of the Scots, and the many into the hands of the few. So there crossed over the King's and the Earl's standard-bearers and amongst the first that most vigorous soldier, the lord Marmaduke Tweng, and when the enemy had seen that as many had come forth as they could overcome, as they believed, they then came down from the mountain [high ground], and sent the spearmen to occupy the foot of the bridge, such that from then no passage or retreat remained open, but in turning back, as also in making haste over the bridge, many were thrown headlong and were drowned. And so as the Scots were descending from the mountain, the lord Marmaduke said to his allies, 'Is it the time brothers for us to ride at them?' And with them answering that it was, they then spurred their horses and engaged together. And whilst some of the Scots were falling together, the rest of the horsemen, almost all, were turned to flight. Whilst those who were fleeing followed after them, one of our men said to the lord Marmaduke, 'My Lord, we have been cheated, for our men are not pursuing and the King's and the Earl's standards are not present.' Looking back to these things, they saw that many of our men, and the King's and the Earl's standard-bearers had fallen to the ground, and they said 'The way to the bridge is already cut off from us and we have been cut off from our people. It is therefore better that we put ourselves at risk of danger, in case we may cross over, than that we should fall, as if for nothing, whilst penetrating into the enemy's troops.

Crossing through the middle of the Scots has already become difficult - or rather - impossible for us.' In reply to this Marmaduke, that most vigorous man, said, 'My dearest friends, may it certainly never be said of me that I willingly drowned myself. And far be it from you, but follow me, and I will make you a way through them as far as the bridge.' And after goading his war-horse he then rushed into the enemy, and submitting now these, now those to his sword, he crossed over through the middle of them unharmed; and a great way opened up to those who followed him. For he was powerful in strength and of tall stature, and when he was fighting strenuously, his own nephew, wounded and stunned but standing on his feet, his horse having been killed, called out to him, 'My Lord, save me,' but he said, 'Climb up behind me,' he said, 'I cannot, for my strength has failed me.' Then his comrade, the same lord Marmaduke's shield-bearer, got down from his own horse and made him mount and said to his lord, 'I will follow you my Lord wherever you shall go' and he followed him as far as the bridge and each of them was saved. So with the bridge captured through the bravery of that vigorous fighter, as many as stayed there fell to the number of about 100 men-at-arms and about 5,000 foot-soldiers, amongst whom were 300 Welshmen, although they had deprived many of life. At length some from amongst those who were left crossed the water by swimming. Also one soldier from our men crossed the water with difficulty on an armed horse.

On the same day amongst the Scottish spearmen fell the above-named treasurer of the lord King, the lord Hugh de Cressingham, rector of the church of Ruddeby, and chief judge at the assizes of York. Although he was a prebendary of many churches and had the cure of many souls, yet he never put on spiritual arms or the chasuble, but helmet and cuirass, in which he fell. And he who had previously terrified many by the sword of his tongue in many court trials, was eventually slain by the sword of evil men. The Scots stripped him of his skin and divided it amongst themselves in small parts, not indeed for relics but for insults, for he was a handsome and exceedingly fat man and they called him not the King's treasurer but the King's 'Treacherer' and this was truer than they believed. For he led many astray that day, but he too, who was smooth and slippery, exalted with pride and given over to avarice, was himself led astray.

At the first encounter of our men with the Scots, the Steward of Scotland and the Earl of Lennox, who previously had come in peace, when they saw that our men had fallen, immediately retreated to their own men who were lying hidden in the woods near the pows [slow-running streams feeding into the Forth]. Seeing the outcome of the abominable thing they came out in front of our men and killed many, particularly those who were running away in the same area, carrying off much plunder and leading away loaded waggons to the pows, for the waggons could not be easily be led away by those fleeing in lochs and marshes. Indeed our Earl, remaining throughout on this side of the bridge when the lord Marmaduke had returned with his men, ordered that the bridge be broken and burned, and entrusting the custody of the same castle of Stirling to the aforesaid lord Marmaduke, promised him faithfully with granted pledge that within the first ten weeks he would come to his help with a strong band of men; however he did not carry out what he had promised, and forgetting his own old age, he set out for Berwick with such haste, that the war-horse on which he had sat, which had been placed in the stable of the Friars Minor, nowhere tasted its fodder. From there he proceeded into southern parts to the King's son and left his fatherland entirely abandoned. This ruin was brought about on the third day before the Ides of September, namely the Wednesday in the year of grace above-stated.

Translated by J. Russell from Chronicle of Walter of Guisborough, ed. H. Rothwell, Camden Society, 1957.

#Scotland #scottisih #Scottish Battle #english #History

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singledarkshade · 6 years

Text

Mistaken Identity

Part Five

Rip woke slowly, aware that he had a headache and no idea where he was. He felt his arm was attached to something and began to panic slightly that he’d been caught.

“It’s okay,” a voice soothed as a hand was pressed to his forehead, “Rip, you’re on the TARDIS. You’re safe. I promise.”

Forcing his eyes open Rip saw his own, albeit clean shaven, face looking back at him, “Rory?”

“Yeah.”

Rip tried to sit up but Rory’s hand touched his shoulder pushing him back onto the pillows, “Stay still until the IV bag is finished. It should help rebalance your system then you’re going to eat what I give you.”

“Rory...”

“You’re on the cusp of being malnourished. While you’re here you will eat and drink whatever I put in front of you,” Rory told him, “With no arguments.”

Rip frowned, “I know Gideon worries about me but I’m fine.”

“I’m assuming with reason,” Rory retorted stopping him from replying, “But this is my medical opinion not hers. I’m a nurse, Rip and you’re currently my patient.”

“Rory...”

“Rip,” Rory said softly, “I know you’ve been alone for a long time but I’m your brother and I won’t let you continue doing what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

“People get hurt around me,” Rip sighed, trying to get his new found brother to understand, “I’m poison, Rory. The people I love die.”

Rory squeezed his shoulder, “Then it’s a good thing I’ve died several times already.”

Rip stared at him confused.

“What do you remember before you woke up here?” Rory changed the subject, pulling a chair over to sit beside his brother.

“I was talking to Gideon,” Rip shrugged before grimacing, “She’s probably really worried I passed out.”

Rory shook his head, “You didn’t pass out. Gideon was trying to get you to stay with her.” “I don’t...”

“Don’t think about it,” Rory said sharply, “It seems that whenever you think about returning to the Waverider permanently you end up in pain. The Doctor put you to sleep so we brought you here to recover.”

Rip frowned, “That means...”

“It means someone’s been playing with you,” Rory said, checking the IV had finished removing it from Rip’s arm and allowing him to sit up properly, “You’ve been programmed so you won’t return to the Waverider and take it back. Anytime you even think about it, from the information we currently have, you get a debilitating headache.”

Anger filled Rip, “Someone is keeping me away from Gideon?”

“From what Gideon told me about what happened,” Rory continued, “I don’t think you’re the only one affected.”

Before they could discuss anything else, there was a crash and they were thrown to one side.

“What is he doing?” Rory demanded to the air, he moved to the cabinet and pulled out a plate with a sandwich on it along with a bottle of orange liquid. Placing it on the table beside the bed he folded his arms fixing Rip with a stern look, “You will eat and drink everything I put in front of you from now on until I deem you healthy. The TARDIS will also not let you find any other room until you have finished this.”

“What?”

Rory gave him a slightly beatific smile, “Once you’re finished we’ll be in the control room.”

Rip watched his brother walk out leaving him alone. With a slight grimace he pulled himself off the bed and started after Rory, frowning in annoyance when he re-entered the room he’d just left.

He tried three more times before giving up and, sitting on the bed, he began to eat.

*********************************************

Amy sat in the chair in the control room watching the new version of her friend as he wandered around the console. She’d known for a long time that the Doctor could change his face, his entire body. They’d watched Mels change into River and her mind kept going over and over why that had happened.

“Doctor,” she said softly, “Were you hurt?”

“What?” the Doctor looked up from his tinkering.

Amy stood and moved to him, “When you changed. Was it because you were hurt?”

“Oh, my dear Amelia,” the Doctor said, taking her face in his hands, “That body was old. It was time for me to change. It wasn’t a bad thing, I promise.”

She nodded and the Doctor wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly while she clung to him.

“Do I have to get my sword?” Rory’s voice interrupted them.

The Doctor let her go and turned to him, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr Pond.”

Amy chuckled to herself at the way Rory rolled his eyes at the moniker. She knew he loved it because it meant he was always included especially considering how insecure he had once been where her relationship with the Doctor had been concerned.

“How’s the patient?” Amy asked.

Rory grimaced, “I left him eating some lunch. He’ll be allowed out once he’s finished.”

Amy shook her head with slight annoyed sigh, “How do you do that? How do you get the TARDIS to do what you want?”

“She’s helping me care for my patient,” Rory replied with a shrug.

Wrapping her arms around Rory’s waist she tugged him to her, “As long as she remembers you’re mine.”

Rory kissed his wife with a smile, “Trust me, she knows.”

The Doctor watched his young friends with a smile; he’d forgotten how good having the two of them around made him feel. Amelia Pond had deeply ensconced her way into his hearts and had brought with her a quiet patient devoted fiancé, the two of them becoming the family he’d been missing for such a long time.

Turning back to the TARDIS controls to give them some privacy he checked on their next destination. It was the best idea he had at the moment, the only place he could think of to start working out what had happened to Rip and the Time Bureau.

Hearing footsteps he turned to find the final occupant of the TARDIS appear looking nervous, unsure of how he would be received.

“I take it you finished your lunch,” the Doctor noted amused when Rip reached him while the Ponds were busy with one another.

Rip nodded, “I wasn’t allowed out the room until I had. I tried several times and always ended up back where I started.”

“Yes, the TARDIS is very fond of Rory,” the Doctor shrugged, “And she always follows his instructions when he’s taking care of one of us. It can be extremely annoying,” patting the man’s shoulder he turned back to the couple, “Okay you two. We have things to do.”

Amy deliberately pulled Rory into another quick kiss leaving him with a dazed smile. She turned and grinned at the Doctor cheekily before walking over and offering her hand to her husband’s double, “Hi, Rip. I’m Amy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rip took her hand, surprise covering his face when Amy hugged him.

The Doctor forced a smile down when Amy released the other man and returned to her husband’s side.

“Well then, Ponds,” the Doctor told them, “First thing first, we need to do something about what’s happening to Rip, then we need to work out who not only managed to do that but has subverted the Time Bureau and Legends.”

“And we have a plan for this?” Rory asked.

The Doctor nodded, “We’re going to visit some old friends.”

*********************************************

Rory watched the Doctor take the lead once the TARDIS had landed, falling in behind him with Amy and Rip bringing up the rear. When the doors opened, Rory smiled at the familiar voice scolding the Doctor for landing the TARDIS in her parlour.

“I brought some surprises if that will gain me some forgiveness,” the Doctor replied with full charm before stepping out of the TARDIS allowing them to be seen.

“Centurion?”

“It’s good to see you again, Vastra,” Rory greeted the shocked lizard female before him.

“Amy?” Jenny’s voice came from the doorway.

Both women stalled when Rip slowly exited the TARDIS, his eyes focussed intently on Vastra in amazement.

“Ladies,” the Doctor grinned, “Allow me to introduce Rip Hunter, once Michael Williams Rory’s twin brother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jenny spoke up while Vastra returned his stare challengingly.

Rip shook himself, “My apologies for being so rude but you’re Silurian. I never thought I would meet a member of your species living at the same time as humans.”

“You’ve met others of my kind?” Vastra asked confused.

The Doctor clapped Rip’s shoulder, who flinched slightly, “Another time traveller.”

“Doctor,” Rory said seeing how uncomfortable his brother was with the attention, “Can we get to why we’re here?”

“Oh, of course,” the Doctor replied, “I need Strax’s help.”

“I didn’t know humans had clones,” the Sontaran butler noted as he looked at Rip and Rory.

“We’re not clones,” Rory stated, “We’re twins.”

Strax frowned as he set out his equipment, “But there are two of you and you are identical. Therefore you are clones.”

Rory dropped his face into his hand frustrated, “Strax, can you just do the checks?”

Strax frowned again before looking at Rory, “And you’re sure...”

“Oh give me that,” the Doctor snapped snatching the equipment off the diminutive alien shooing him out of the way, “Alright, Rip I need you to just look directly at the wall behind me.”

Rip looked a little concerned but did as ordered and found a spot on the wall to stare at while the Doctor used what looked like a small torch to stare into Rip’s eyes. Rory folded his arms across his chest glancing to the other side of the room where Amy was catching up with Jenny.

After Demon’s Run, River had brought them all back here to allow Amy some time to recuperate before they returned home. Jenny had shown them to a bedroom where Amy had simply climbed onto the bed and curled into a ball hugging the pillow. Anytime Rory tried to comfort her she curled further away from him so finally he stopped trying.

Jenny appeared with some tea and she offered to sit with Amy for a while so he could get changed making him realise he was still wearing the uniform the Doctor insisted he wore. He stood in the doorway watching Jenny coax Amy to drink the tea, annoyed when Amy responded to the other woman. He remembered wandering around the house not sure what to do finally finding a room in the basement with the era’s version of workout equipment. His anger took over Rory suddenly, something that happened rarely to him, and grabbing his sword he began to hack at something he couldn’t name but was made of wood with some pads. Finally exhausted he dropped to his knees and screamed.

“Let it out,” Vastra said appearing from nowhere, rubbing his back soothingly, “No one can hear you. Amy can’t hear you.”

Rory looked up at her, “Two thousand years in my head, all that training, all the abilities the Centurion has given me and I couldn’t protect them. My baby girl was taken because I couldn’t protect her.”

She took his face in her hands wiping his cheeks, “Rory, you did absolutely everything you could. There was nothing more you could have done. You can stay here as long as you need. Then, when you’re ready, go back upstairs, and remind Amy that you’re there for her.”

“Thank you, Vastra,” Rory whispered.

A clatter of a teacup hitting a saucer brought Rory back to the room from his memories and he smiled to see Amy laughing with Jenny. They’d been through so much since that day but Rory never forgot that moment with Vastra, where she let him grieve giving him the strength to be Amy’s support once more.

Turning to look at his brother Rory knew he now had to be Rip’s support for whatever had happened to him.

Part Six

#fic #doctor who #rory williams #amy pond #twelfth doctor #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon

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nationalparkposters · 4 years

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Visiting Dry Tortugas National Park

Visiting Dry Tortugas National Park: Some 70 miles west of Key West Florida, in the Gulf of Mexico, lies one of North America's most inaccessible national parks. Renowned for pirate legends, shipwrecks, and sheer unspoiled beauty, Dry Tortugas National Park harbors unrivaled coral reefs and marine life, an annual birding spectacle, and majestic Fort Jefferson, the largest masonry stronghold in the Western Hemisphere. Getting There Accessible only by boat or seaplane, just 60,000 visitors make it to Dry Tortugas National Park each year. Compare that to the more than 330 million people who visited America's national parks last year. But it's really no surprise when you consider what's involved just getting there. The jumping off point is Key West, Florida, and from there, you can choose between an all-day boat ride, and half- or full-day seaplane trips, assuming you don't have your own vessel. Pre-Flight When I visited Dry Tortugas National Park, I opted for the seaplane flight and checked in at the Key West Seaplane Adventures office at 7:30 for an 8:00 am flight. Even though it was late March, the sun was just rising, and filtered by wisps of pink and orange clouds. When the remaining nine passengers arrived, we received our briefing, were introduced to our pilot, and then walked out on to the tarmac together to board the DHC-3 DeHavilland Turbine Otter Amphibian. The plane can carry 10 passengers plus the pilot…and when the co-pilot seat was offered up, I literally jumped at the opportunity! Our pilot has been flying to and from Dry Tortugas for years. He would make five trips to and from Dry Tortugas that day…and after dropping us off, his early morning return flight to Key West would be a solo one. Ready for Takeoff Once we had our seat belts fastened, and perhaps more importantly, our headphones on, the pilot began to narrate our early morning adventure as we taxied out on to the runway. I fired up my video camera…and before I knew it we were airborne heading due east into the morning sun, and just as quickly banking south, then west for a bird's eye view of Key West. It was only then that I had the exhilarating realization I would be setting down in a place I'd only been able to conjure in my imagination — turquoise waters, green sea turtles, bright coral, frigate birds, shipwrecks, and a coastal fortress some 170 years old. The co-pilot's seat offered the perfect view of Key West, its hotels, Duvall Street and Mallory Square, which quickly faded from view. The pilot pumped some music into our headphones…though I wasn't quite sure what to make of his first selection: Tom Petty's “Free Fallin'”! Flying at at 130 knots, we were quickly over an area called the “Flats,” a body of shallow water just 3–5 feet deep extending almost 20 miles to the west. Flying at just 500 feet above the water, these shallows are teeming with Loggerhead turtles and you could clearly see dozens of them swimming about as we cruised overhead. 25 miles out, we flew directly over Marquesas Islands, a coral atoll…and then over an area called the “Quicksands.” Here the water is 30 feet deep with a sea bed of constantly shifting sand dunes. This is where treasure hunter Mel Fisher found the Spanish Galleons Antocha and Margarita — and more than a half a billion dollars of gold and silver strewn across an eight mile area. They continue to work the site, and even today, there are regular finds of huge Spanish Emeralds. But it wasn't long from my vantage point in the cockpit before I could begin to make out Fort Jefferson on Garden Key, and further west, the lighthouse on Loggerhead Key. Fort Jefferson, a massive but unfinished coastal fortress, is the largest brick masonry structure in the Americas. Composed of over 16 million bricks, the building covers 16 acres. Florida was acquired from Spain (1819–1821) by the United States, which considered the 75 mile stretch connecting the Gulf Coast and Atlantic Ocean important to protect, since anyone who occupied the area could seize control of the trade routes along the Gulf Coast. Construction of Fort Jefferson began on Garden Key in 1847, and although more than $250,000 had been spent by 1860, the fort was never finished. As the largest 19th century American masonry coastal fort, it also served as a remote prison facility during the Civil War. The most famous inmate was Dr. Samuel Mudd, who set the leg of John Wilkes Booth following the assassination of President Lincoln. Mudd was convicted of conspiracy and was imprisoned on the Dry Tortugas from 1865 to 1869. The fort continued to serve as a military prison until 1874. Almost There… Our pilot banked the De Havilland to the right, providing a spectacular view of the islands and Fort Jefferson, heading the seaplane into the wind for the smoothest landing I've ever experienced — on land or sea — gently skimming the surface, and we glided effortlessly across the turquoise waters and headed towards shore. One more roar of the engines, a quick turn, and we were up on the beach ready to disembark. We arrived about 8:30 AM…and aside from the 10 passengers on board, a half dozen campers at one end of the Garden Key, and a few National Park Service employees, we had the island to ourselves. As I watched the seaplane take off, heading back to Key West, it struck me just how isolated we were in this remote ocean wilderness. I imagined the islands didn't look much different to Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León, credited for discovering the islands in 1531. He named them Las Tortugas, or “The Turtles,” as the islands and surrounding waters were aswarm with loggerhead , hawksbill, leatherback, and green turtles. For nearly three hundred years, pirates raided not only passing ships, but relied on turtles for meat and eggs and also pilfered the nests of roosting sooty and noddy terns. Nautical charts began to show that The Tortugas were dry — due to the lack of fresh water — and eventually the islands were renamed as The Dry Tortugas. Taking advantage of the early morning light, I headed inside the fort, making my way up the spiral staircase, and stepped out of the old Garden Key lighthouse built in 1825. The lighthouse is no longer in use, since the “new” 167 foot tall lighthouse on Loggerhead Key, completed in 1858, continues to flash its beacon to mariners, warning of the shallow waters. The view from atop of Fort Jefferson provided a spectacular 360 degree panorama. And besides the few spits of land that make up the park, there was nothing but sky and sea in every direction. About the Park Dry Tortugas National Park, situated at the farthest end of the Florida Keys, is closer to Cuba than to the American mainland. A cluster of seven islands, composed mostly of sand and coral reefs, just 93 of the park's 64,000 acres are above water. The three easternmost keys are simply spits of white coral sand, while 49-acre Loggerhead Key, three miles out, marks the western edge of the island chain. The park's sandy keys are in a constant state of flux — shaped by tides and currents, weather and climate. In fact, four islands completely disappeared between 1875 and 1935, a testament to the fragility of the ecosystem. The Dry Tortugas are recognized for their near-pristine natural resources including seagrass beds, fisheries, and sea turtle and bird nesting habitat. The surrounding coral reefs make up the third-largest barrier reef system outside of Australia and Belize. President Franklin D. Roosevelt established Fort Jefferson National Monument under the Antiquities Act on January 4, 1935. It was expanded to it's current size in 1983, when the monument was re-designated by an act of Congress as Dry Tortugas National Park on October 26, 1992. Its charter: to protect the island and marine environment, to preserve Fort Jefferson and submerged cultural resources such as shipwrecks. Just 100 yards or so from Fort Jefferson is Bush Key. Home to a diverse collection of birds that frequent the islands, it features a mix of mangrove, sea oats, bay cedar, sea grape and prickly pear cactus, reflecting the original character of the islands. A great wildlife spectacle occurs each year between February and September, when as many as 100,000 sooty terns travel from the Caribbean Sea and west-central Atlantic Ocean to nest on the islands of the Dry Tortugas. Brown noddies, roseate terns, double-crested cormorants, brown pelicans and the Magnificent frigatebird, with its 7-foot wingspan, breed here as well. Although Bush Key was closed to visitors when I visited, hundreds, if not thousands of birds filled the skies and the sounds of their screeches and calls filled the otherwise tranquil surroundings. There is no water, food, bathing facilities, supplies, or public lodging (other than camping on Garden Key) in the park. All visitors, campers, and boaters are required to pack out whatever they pack in, so the National Park Service created a wi-fi hotspot — only at the dock — where you can scan a QR code and download a variety of PDFs to your phone or tablet. It's an idea that's bound to catch on with so many mobile devices, reducing the need to print (and throw away) paper brochures. Inside Fort Jefferson, a small visitor's center has a few exhibits and shows a short video. I stepped across the entranceway, and found an equally small office that houses the National Park Service employees who maintain and manage the park. Some of the best snorkeling in North America Although I was only on the half-day seaplane trip, I still had enough time for a quick swim and snorkel on the west side of Garden Key. In the late 1800s, the US Navy built piers and coaling warehouses for refueling, but strong storms destroyed them, leaving only their underpinnings. These pilings, and the deeper water of the dredged channel, now offer an excellent opportunity to see larger fish like tarpon, grouper, barracuda…as well as the occasional shark. Multi-colored sea fans swayed in the gentle current. Colorful reef fish — with their vivid and boldly patterned reds, yellows, greens and blues — were camouflaged amongst the bright coral and sea grasses. Today, turtle populations have diminished, but you may still be able to see green, loggerhead, hawksbill, and leatherback sea turtles. As I walked back to the changing rooms at the dock, the seaplane for my return flight was just landing and I realized my time at Dry Tortugas was coming to an end. If I ever have a chance to get back, I would definitely opt for the full day trip. A week later, after returning home to Colorado and was shoveling snow off of the driveway, a small plane passed overhead and I suddenly thought of my flight to Dry Tortugas : the bright sun, the crystal clear waters, the abundant life — above and below the water's surface — a surreal landscape so captivating, so remote, that even having seen it with my own eyes, I still somehow could barely imagine it. About the Author Rob Decker is a photographer and graphic artist who is currently on a quest to photograph and create iconic WPA-style posters for all 61 National Parks. Rob visited his first national park at age five and began photographing them at age seven on a 10,000 cross-country trip with his family. He would spend the next decade working on his own, building a wet darkroom with his grandfather in the garage and serving as head photographer for the high school yearbook. But Rob's professional training really started at age 19, when he had the rare opportunity to study under Ansel Adams in Yosemite National Park during the summer of 1979, less than five years before Mr. Adams passed away. Since then, he has visited and photographed 50 of the national parks in the US, including those in Alaska, Hawaii, and the Virgin Islands. Click here to see the current collection of posters. https://national-park-posters.com/blogs/national-park-posters/visiting-dry-tortugas-national-park?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=Sendible&utm_campaign=RSS

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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106: The Crawling Hand

A movie in which a guy is brutally attacked while Surfin' Bird plays on the soundtrack. We can all strike that off our list of Shit We Never Thought We'd See.

As the film opens, astronaut Mel Lockhart (no relation to Gilderoy, but perhaps an ancestor of Brant) hasn't quite made it back to Earth. He gets blown up before he can complete the trip, but his severed arm somehow survives re-entry and washes up on a beach where it comes to the attention of a kid named Paul Lawrence. The arm is carrying some kind of alien organism that infects anything it touches with the desire to kill, and soon Paul Isn't Paul Anymore as the space bugs take over his mind. The arm, meanwhile, goes on a rather more limited rampage of its own, strangling Paul's landlady and knocking over her preserves. Cops and scientists argue over who's in charge of the investigation, and horror and comedy argue over who's in charge of the script.

I had forgotten, but Allison Hayes is in this, too. She plays Captain Lockhart’s girlfriend in a subplot that goes absolutely nowhere and she’s still more into it than she was in The Unearthly. I’m gonna assume that her boyfriend blowing up in space was what caused the nervous breakdown that landed her at John Carradine’s little home hospital. I told you guys the movies were coming together!

The bit about infectious alien bacteria in the summary isn't quite accurate. The two scientists, Dr. Curan and Dr. Weitzberg (whose name the movie has to take the trouble to spell for us), spend significant time expositing poetically to us about what's been happening to living tissue sent into space. Something about an Earth cell romancing a cosmic ray and giving birth to some vital force that evolves intelligence within minutes or hours, turning men into killers and rats into brooding supervillains. I don't know why they went with this labored explanation when 'angry space germs' is literally three words. Generally in movie exposition less is more, unless the 'more' is somehow vitally important to the plot – which here, it is not.

The Crawling Hand is a dumb movie, and it's not my favourite film or my favourite episode, but I've kind of been looking forward to writing about it because this is my chance to share my theory about Hand Movies. There are a surprising number of animate severed hands in movies. Attack of the The Eye Creatures had one, for instance, as did The Evil Dead 2, and everybody remembers the Addams family's pet hand, Thing. But hands also have movies of their own: in addition to The Crawling Hand there's The Beast with Five Fingers and The Hand, Severed Ties and that one short in Dr. Terror's House of Horrors. What can we take from this, besides the fact that I watch way too many movies? Well, I think that the Hand Movie is actually a sort of necessary partner of the Brain Movie.

We – or at least, those of us with an unhealthy love of awful old horror movies – have all seen a Brain Movie. Stuff like The Brain from Planet Arous or Donovan's Brain, and several movies simply called The Brain. Even things like It Conquered the World can be thought of as variations on the Brain Movie, because what the brain represents in movies like these is intellect unfettered by morality. Either because they have no emotions or simply no interest in the lesser beings still trapped in the flesh, these brains apply their intelligence to doing things normal humans could but know that we shouldn't.

There's a problem with being a disembodied brain, though. Humans are very proud of our brains, claiming they're the main thing that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom etc etc etc, but our brains wouldn't do us much good if we didn't also have hands. The thing humans do, to a degree no other creature does, is build shit. Our brains are vitally important in figuring out how to build shit, but it's our hands that do the actual work. We talk about finding 'intelligent life' in space but intelligence alone is not what we're looking for – dolphins are smart, but an alien SETI program would never find them. That's why dolphins need that alliance with the electricians, so there'll be somebody to build their warships for them. Our search for life in space is a search for fellow builders.

The lack of hands plagues the villains of brain movies. Gor from The Brain from Planet Arous needs a body in order to take over the world, so the poor thing is forced to possess John Agar's. Donovan's Brain uses its telepathic link with Dr. Cory to carry on shady business dealings. In It Conquered the World Beulah uses human slaves, either willing or unwilling, to do its bidding. A brain without hands is mere purpose without action – which brings us to the Hand Movie. If an isolated brain is purpose without action, then an isolated hand is action without purpose.

Sometimes evil hands in movies do have a purpose – The Beast with Five Fingers seems to be taking revenge on the people who wronged its owner in life, for instance, and Ash' possessed hand in The Evil Dead is being controlled by the movie's nameless evil force. Even in these cases, however, the hand itself is just a tool. It cannot be reasoned with, and killing it does not mean killing the controlling influence, which can find another tool and try again. The Crawling Hand isn't one of these, though. It is in fact a particularly pure example of the Hand Movie, because the titular crawling hand is animated by the alien bacteria and there is no purpose to its actions at all. It's not trying to rule the world, or to make money, or anything like that. It just kills people because it can, and there's no way to stop it from doing so except to either lock it up or destroy it.

If Brain Movies are about intellect without emotion, it's also possible to read Hand Movies as emotion without intellect. The emotion involved is usually anger, whether the vengeful rage of The Beast with Five Fingers or the undirected murderous instinct of The Crawling Hand. Whether the dichotomy is thought/action or reason/emotion, Hand Movies represent the partner of the Brain Movie, and the end result is the same whether it's the hand or the brain that has been isolated. Either is an incomplete, perverse entity that cannot contribute anything to the world. True creativity, true invention, and true humanity can only come from brain and hands working harmoniously together in one being.

This line of thought, that wholeness is essential to human-ness, is probably why we get things like bad guys with partially or even mostly-robotic bodies, like Darth Vader or that guy in Lois and Clark who wanted to transplant his head onto Superman's body – which I would much rather watch than bullshit like Me Before You, in which a man who has lost the use of his limbs cannot be convinced that life is still worth living even with Emilia Clarke. For the record, if I ever lose a major body part, I am definitely going the supervillain route. If I get to hang out with the cast of Game of Thrones while I do it, bonus!

But let's get back to The Crawling Hand. The movie presents this unreasoning incompleteness as something infectious, that can spread to humans and deprive us of our intellects, leaving only the purposeless rage of the hand. In the opening scene we briefly see the doomed astronaut begging for help. He is well on his way to hand-zombie-hood, periodically breaking off his sentences to chant, “kill, kill!”, but when he describes his situation he refers specifically to his problem being in his hand. It started there, 'making him do things', before moving on to the rest of his body. The fact that it started in his hand is in large part responsible for the mess he's now in, since with that appendage out of his control, he can't activate the spacecraft's self-destruct mechanism.

Maybe it's because of the alien influence that the hand survives to land on Earth and be picked up by Paul Lawrence (man there were a lot of Pauls on MST3K), who it infects in turn. Under the influence of the angry space germs, Paul too becomes little more than what the hand is: an undirected, purposeless killing machine. In this form he attacks people he knows, but there's no hint that this is because Paul himself is in any way resentful of them. The soda shop owner was a weirdo but Paul had no reason to want him dead, and Marta is explicitly somebody Paul loves. Zombie-Paul attacks them not because he is letting out anything he has suppressed, but simply because they are available. When he has a choice, he tries to make Marta leave his house, or decides to run away from home, in order to avoid harming her or anybody else.

Sadly, most of what's interesting about The Crawling Hand is the opportunity to examine the sub-genre it lies in and how it relates to other types of body-part movies. The movie itself spends way too much of its time on Paul and the scientists, and not nearly enough on what drew the audience in to see it, which is the unavoidably humourous image of a disembodied hand strangling people. Instead the film-makers use Zombie-Paul as the main villain, probably because they knew damn well the hand thing would make people laugh rather than scream. This was probably a mistake. The surf movie soundtrack, the crusty soda shop owner, and the scientists' clumsy improvised investigation are all clearly meant to be funny, and the movie as a whole would probably have worked better as an explicit horror-comedy about a murderous hand than it does trying to divide itself into discreet 'horror' and 'comedy' sections.

And yes, you can expect to see both The Brain from Planet Arous and The Beast with Five Fingers in the Episodes that Never Were section. I wouldn't miss them for the world!

#mst3k #reviews #the crawling hand #tw: suicide #paul isn't paul anymore #60s

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stevefromitreviewsgameofthrones · 5 years

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The Long Night / S8E3

Ok took a bit but here it comes… kinda clinical recap as it is a fight recap mostly…

The dead has arrived and our forces are standing at the ready

In Comes Mellisandre not the most popular gal but she lights all the Dothraki swords on fire before they charge into battle… the fire did not seem to help them but when it went out we knew they all died

Death Toll: All Dothraki

Kinda expected that no matter how good they are they rode into a no-win situation.

Now it is the undead armies turn they swarm over the Unsullied. All forces join in and it is a massacre when they realize they are losing they retreat to the keep and the unsullied stand and fight. At this point Jon and Dani join the battle and burn as much as they can. Until a sudden snow/cloud forms blinding them from everything including each other ..few mid-air collisions. The dragons were to light the pit but well blind as I said after some futile efforts Melisandre is brought out by Greyworm and company to light the pits. Greyworm also drops the bridge keeping the undead on the other side and trapping many unsullied. Once lit we retreat to the keep.

**undead do not care about dying so make a great body bridge don’t ya think?**

Death Toll: Most of the unsullied Ed Many wildlings Many Northmen I’d say Wights but they just get back up

The battle proceeds in the castle attacks on the walls and the door. Sansa is sent to the crypts with a dragon glass dagger and Arya joins the fight.

Soon a Giant breaks in and is fighting the Mormont clan at the door. ..

Arya gets swarmed and flees Lyanna Mormont gets her body crushed in the hand of a giant the **sound was sickening** but not before she kills him with a stab to the eye

Beric and The Hound Pursue

Death Toll: Lyanna Mormont House Mormont More Northmen and Unsullied More wildlings

OK thus far this is really not going well… moving on

Arya, stealthy girl she is, flows around avoiding all undead and slips out a door only to be attacked and trapped. In comes Beric and the Hound to save the day, they pull her away and the Hound leads her out while Beric tries to buy them time. They finally make it to a room with Melisandre. Beric dies…. He has fulfilled his mission for the Lord of Light Arya has more eyes to close … specifically Blue ones.

What do we say to the God of Death? Not Today.. unless you are Beric in which today might suffice..

Death toll: Beric

We then find Jon on a Dragon battling the Night King who falls from his Dragon Jon crashes to the ground and Dani flies in to burn the Night King.. who does not burn. Would have been good to know that upfront. He tries to attack Dani and misses. The Night King raises all dead.. god damn we were almost there. Dani swoops in and cooks the undead attacking Jon who then chases the Night King… Dani makes her mistake she is on a dragon she should be in the air instead she sits on a battlefield, the dragon gets attacked and flies to try to shake the undead off.. in the process he shakes off Dani. Jorah comes out to protect her and acting as her shield dies for her.

**special note here**8 anybody else notice when the dead were raised all had blue eyes except Delores Ed who’s eyes were white?

So we find Theon and the Iron born in battle in the godswood protecting Bran all Iron Born die except Theon..

Back to Jon running through Winterfell in pursuit of the Night King to end this fighting his way through ignoring friends who may or may not need help. Heading to protect Bran and kill the King.

Meanwhile down in the crypts… uhhm who exactly thought putting people who can’t fight in a crypt while fighting a guy who can raise dead needs their head examined… anyway must have been fun for Sansa being attacked by long gone relatives.. so battle ensues in there and it appears like Tyrion and Sansa either made a suicide patch or just a ok lets go run out and die brave pact so off they go. Anyone else think they will re-marry?

Where the hell is Arya??? Oh NM we’ll come back to her…

Back to Jon still making his way but runs into Vyserion ok man vs undead dragon.. not an easy fight I think Jon will be a bit late… hopefully Theon can hold out..

Back to the Godswood the Night King and his entourage has arrived but Theon is a good man… so instead of running as is his usual tactic he fights and dies immediately and the Night King heads slowly to Bran guess he wanted to Savor this moment..

Suddenly Here’s Arya diving down on him out of nowhere which is a great tactic for no one he catches her and in an extreme badass Arya move our favorite assassin appears to drop her knife but only to swap hands and stabs him in the chest with Valyrian steel… all undead cease to be including Vyserion.. the north survived… somewhat..

Special note the knife that started this all ended it

Mad props to Arya my favorite little Assassin.. shame though she could not score a face from the Night King

Upon the morning Melisandre walks out to the battlefield to die.

Death ToLL confirmed: Beric Ed Dothraki – all 10,000 Unsullied – most 8,000 Wildlings most All house Mormont Many Northmen Lyanna Mormont Jorah Mormont Theon The Iron Born Night King All White Walkers All Wights Vyserion

Pre answers to questions

Yes Jon is Aegon Targyrian 6th of his name blah blah and has had his staredowns with the Night King. But every time they faced off the Night King ended up on top and Jon ended up making it out alive. Why think it would be different. Plus every standoff the Night King just raises an army and shows Jon he can never win. As much as people feel Jon should be the one..

What was all Arya’s training for? Just so she can slit Little Finger’s throat? Nah she had a purpose and as Mel pointed out her own prophesy and she was the one the Night King would not see coming. So her purpose in all this has been realized there is no real shocker here. I was pleased not disappointed.

All the Wights and White Walkers died because he controlled them all so once he died they died simple.

Whereabouts of Gendry and Sam So last we saw Gendry was on the wall and then not again. Somebody was pulled over the wall to their death I rewatched and the person’s hair was too bushy to be Gendry so his whereabouts are unknown but all things I check on the internet has him among the Living. Last we saw Sam he was on the ground fighting and looking to be losing when Jon ran by. We do not know the outcome and when all survivors were seen after the dead were gone he was nowhere to be seen. Still no confirmation of death so likely still alive. Neither were shown in the preview for next week either… in all fairness we never actually saw ghost dead but he never returned either I have less hope for him Direwolves do not live long in the Stark family.

I myself am wondering about next week.. from what I saw Cercei is now mobilizing, and while Dani seemed loaded with confidence they lost almost all their armies so… does not look good unless dani just takes the armies out with the dragons but lets face it who will respect her as queen if she does..damn it I keep forgetting I don’t think there are any families left north or South.

And now my watch has ended

*******************

A note on Arya killing the Night King

For starters way back in Season 1 Arya was taught the only god is death and what do we say to Death? Not today

Melisandre saw her and told her she had darkness in her and she sees eyes looking back at her, brown eyes, green eyes and BLUE eyes and they would meet again

Bran who sees all past present and future gave the Valyrian steel dagger to Arya for a reason.

Arya displayed her slight of hand Knife moves sparring with Brienne

And remember the ones who need protecting are the ones who get in her way..

Then something I noted on re-watch

The Hound hiding Beric trying to get him to help the Hound this is death you can not fight death. Beric: tell her that and looks to Arya. Beric had been brought back by the Lord of Light for one reason – Arya. He might have known both his and her future

The Dagger Arya used was pictured in a book in the Citadel which would indicate it is a legendary weapon

All Northmen who did not back Jon that also were not between Winterfell and the wall would join them after that battle.

***Follow up questions and Steve’s answer in italics***

1. When that undead first busted through the wall into the crypt, was that someone who had been buried in there, or was it a wight who found a way in? Can the Night King only raise those who have been killed by him/his kind?

It is corpses from the crypt if it is dead he could raise it

2. I saw Gilly get attacked in the crypt, did she make it? My original thinking was no, she didn't.

I dont think it was Gilly a lot of people were in there, however I saw Gilly in the crypt after the battle was over.

3. I know you want Tyrion to kill Cercei, but the prophecy of green eyes...does that mean Arya will kill Cercei? Maybe wearing Jamie's face, or do we thinking Jamie lives?

Actually have been telling Susan it will be Arya wearing Jamie face. Tyrion is the most popular theory though. Jamie is still alive and redeemed himself a bit doubt she will kill him for his face.

4. Any theories about where Dani/Jon are going to find an army to fight Cercei? Maybe some Dornish people who hate the Lannisters?

Nick and I were discussing this last night. If both Sam and Gendry lived...Gendry can be legitimized making him lord of Storms End giving him the ability to summon the bannerman and the Baratheon Army. Also Storms End is a great place for them to relocate to for the war. The outer walls are 40 feet thick facing Kings Road and the sides facing water are 80 feet thick and face Aptly named Ship Breakers Bay. So protection from sea and land attack and close to Kings Landing. Sam is now Head of the Tarly family so can summon the remaining armies and banners. With Cercei's prisoner Dorne would also join. And fleets from Iron Island. Let's also not rule out Howland Reed and the Crannogmen

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fraldscenix-blog · 7 years

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Abundance of Firsts

As I sit down to compose this first piece, I feel weirdly confident, happy to learn that I have specialized in controlling my life, at least during the previous month. As September starts, I also feel empowered, thankful that I’ve waited for August to start, as there are many things August excite me but it has just ended. Perhaps, my ability to juggle work, business and all things i love gives me this strange, weird emotional state. And proud that I have maximized its four weekends. Buwan ng Wika 2017, salamat at paalam.

Yesterday, August 31. I have responded to an invitation to the 11th International Silent Film Festival at Shang Cineplex. This is my 3rd year to attend this annual free admission event but this is the first time I’ve joined the organizers in the opening night cocktails. I watched its opening film, El Golfo (1918) which was accompanied by the Talahib, a Filipino rock band. This event will close on September 3. A friend asked me, “Rod, ano ba yang silent film festival na yan, bakit silent film?” Sabi ko, “Silent film kasi yung nasa screen, parang naka-mute mode, walang sound, as in silent… pero ang twist may live performance from a band to provide musical score sa film.” Sagot niya, ang cool pala, may film na, may band pa.“ Sabi ko, kaya nga simula nung malaman ko yan at libre, basta may chance ako, pumupunta talaga ako.” Before this at around 12 noon, my new passport was delivered.

August 30. Matthew Jacob’s 7th Birthday dinner. He has received a new chess set, which he and his dad, who took a leave from work, played for the first time. I asked him what happened during their Buwan ng Wika quiz bee. He said, he scored 21 out of 25 which earned him a certificate of award. At work, the SRU activity went well. Ikinatuwa siya ng madla kasi 5 days na naging 1 day activity. Ang huhusay nila. Finishing touches ko na lang pala ang kulang. Hahaha.

August 29. Emetchwhy’s nth birthday and National Heroes day. At home, i did a general cleaning. I was somewhat inspired by FB posts about de-cluttering. It was raining hard outside as if the heavens cry as I throw some old items away.

August 28. HA! Just so I thought it was going to be a rest day. I missed out the notice that I will be the escalation for an Oracle Upgrade activity. Went onsite to assist Ralph, who spoiled me with burger steak. The activity went well. Just that it triggered my migraine.

August 27. Tonight, Maria, Somewhere, 3 of the songs I’ve heard in non-pretentious ways with cultured attitude in Theater at Solaire as I, Teri and Ate Jules witness the Manila-run of West Side Story. We headed to MoA after the show for dinner and dessert. “Finally, insan!” quips Ate Jules. First time kasi naming manood nang sabay. We planned it since Les Mis and Wicked runs but our schedules didn’t permit.

August 26. Yay! This marks my first time to join an AHP (Advocate for Heritage Preservation) tour. I was convinced by my former HS teacher, Fer, to try it. We had contact since Cinemalaya days. I didn’t have plans for the weekend but to work, with his convincing skills, I’ve skipped the earning opportunities for an educational, heritage tour. I have enough to tell about the tour. The experience was like having a reunion of my soul to the time of the past. The San Sebastian Cathedral was our first stop. The priest welcomed the group with a 15-minute talk about the church, the origin of Lipa City and how it got its name. Part of our itineraries were: Museo de Lipa, Casa de Segunda, Aranda Ancestral House, The-Luz-Librea-Bautista Ancestral House, Carmelite Monastery, Our Lady of Mediatrix, Most Holy Rosary Parish Church in Padre Garcia and St. James the Greater Parish in Ibaan. The sunset was so beautiful i had my camera and captured it. They say that when it is your first time to visit a church, you are entitled to make a wish. I thank the Lord that i have found a family in AHP, instead. I will have a separate post about this tour. For now, here are some of my selfies during the said tour.

August 25. I was happy to note that finally, after several attempts, I’ve captured Arcana. Hahaha. Wala, sa everwing yan. Haha

August 22-24. CM week. Ang sipag-sipag ko kayang magsulat ng script sa CAB.

August 19- 21 - Long weekend! How about a mini movie marathon to support Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino? Sige na nga. I strike out from the list ang Hamog (kasi napanood ko na yun sa CinemaOne Originals 2015, kasabay kong pinanood ang Baka Siguro Yata, Manang Biring, Miss Bulalacao at Bukod Kang Pinagpala at yung kay Kaye Abad, di ko maalala ang title basta comeback something, ang husay nya dun eh. haha). Di rin kasama ang 1st Tofarm Film Festival entries na Paglipay at Pauwi Na dahil napanood ko na yun kasabay ang Free Range at Pitong Kabang Palay. Di ko na rin pinanood ang Birdshot kasi napanood ko na iyon as the Cinemalaya 2017 opening film. Di ko na rin pinanood ang Patay na si Hesus kasi napanood ko naman ito last year sa QCinema International Film Fest kasabayan nito yung Focus on Mike De Leon (haaaays, IDOL) at Ang Alamat ni Meng Patalo. Ang sipag kong dumalo sa mga film fest para makalimutan si E. hahaha

Natira for me to watch were: Manananggal sa Unit 23B (sa QCinema din ito last year kaso di ko napanood), Star na si Van Damme Stallone (last year din ito sa CineFilipino Film Fest), at yung mga bago: Bar Boys, 100 Tula Para Kay Stella, Triptiko, Salvage, at Awol. Kaso ang napanood ko lang out of 7 ay dalawa, kasi naman ang DM week ko was until 20. huhuhu

A post shared by Rodel Bugayong (@fraldscenix) on Aug 22, 2017 at 12:40am PDT

August 14- 19. DM Week. Tiring but somehow fulfilling. What fulfilling? Pati ba naman sarili ko, lolokohin ko? Nakakapagod lang siguro as my body adjusts from my former body clock. Sakit sa katawan, honesto! Honesto, promise!

August 17 - Dinner with Dan and Janni in Crazy Katsu and The Baker’s Table Maginhawa bago magtrabaho. Ang saya nila kasama, namiss ko silaaaaaa.

August 13. Wow, IT Specialist by day (worked xhours for the BW Re-initialization) and Cinephile by night (Awards Night of Cinemalaya 2017). First time kong umattend ng Awards Night nang hindi nagbabayad. Haha. Yes, our film, Ang Guro Kong di Marunong Magbasa did not win an award, pinilahan at umani naman ito ng magagandang feedback at appreciation from the movie-goers. 4 films kaming walang naiuwing award — na-zero ang pelikula nina Sharon Cuneta, Alfred Vargas, Angel Aquino at Jake Cuenca. Ooops, don’t get me wrong, please.

August 11 -12 - I didn’t have the chance to speak out. DM for two morning shifts coupled with an OS Patching activity on the 12th? Wow. The reason: to give others the chance to rest. Just wow. Her management skills is impeccable. And my skills include sarcasm. Ang bait-bait ko kayaaaaaaa.

August 10 - We sit down in one of the offices in House of Representative, QC to discuss the next steps for the film. In attendance was Alfred, Direk Perry, our line producer, marketing team and other fellow producers.

August 9 - A heartfelt farewell to Yaggy as she takes on a different path away from IT, and to JE who moves on outside the corners of dxc. Meanwhile, our manager celebrates her nth birthday! Naiyak talaga si Bes Jane.

August 6 - After finishing the Ariba Install activity i hurriedly booked an uber ride to the Cultural Center of the Philippines for the Ang Guro Kong di Marunong Magbasa Gala Night. Noon, hanggang panonood lang ako, ngayon, for the first time, umakyat ako ng stage, yes CCP stage. Feeling prestige. Feeling lang naman. hahaha. This was the first time, after almost a year, that I have seen my former HS teacher, Fer Braganza. Nagpapicture at ni-congratulate ako. He also wrote an inspiring review about the film. Salamat po, idol!

August 5 - Ang Guro Kong di Marunong Magbasa premieres in Trinoma Cinema 1 and Glorietta 4 with Meet and Greet. I have invited several friends, but only true friends showed up. Ayoko na nga mag-imbita. Nakakatampo. huhu. Fortunately, Trinoma Cinema 1 was almost full. Thanks Janni, Mel and son, to my family and to all who have supported the movie on its first Cinemalaya screening!

August 4 - The 13th Cinemalaya opens with Birdshot as its opening film. Thanks Direk Perry and Miss Noreen for my festival pass. First time to have a free “guest” pass. This was the first time to venture a food stall business in CCP, called “Juice Colored.” (I will share photos on all things Cinemalaya in a separate post.)

August 3 - I decided to see my barber to avail of haircut. This was after i grow my hair for 8 months. Goodbye long hair. :(

August 2 - Ben’s birthday! But i was busy with work and bangusan. Haha.

August 1 - Mama Lyd’s Interment and our travel back to Manila.

There, I have collected many firsts, had new experiences. Thanks August! Thank you, Lord!

#fraldscenix #cinemalaya2017 #anggurokongdimarunongmagbasa #first #pistangpelikulangpilipino #internationalsilentfilmfestival #rodbangus #ahp #advocatesforheritagepreservation #birthday #itworks

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