#WHOA-OH JEM

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Marvin’s Magnificent Mishaps

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

So fun fact, there are sections in this part that were supposed to go in the last part. But because of how insanely long that got, they had to be moved over here as flashbacks. Marvin’s in the hospital after that whole ordeal. He’s messed up. And said flashbacks will show just how and why. Meanwhile, everyone tries to get things in order after what happened in the house on Aspen Street. Enjoy ^-^

More of this AU found here

He was awake, but he didn’t open his eyes. Instead, he tried to figure out what was going on through his other senses first. He was lying in a bed. He was lying in a bed, and everything hurt. Some places more than others. Light leaked through his eyelids. The room was silent. Until he moved his arm just a little bit, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Jesus fucking christ,” A voice muttered. He heard something creak, and then someone grabbed his arm, moving it back to where it was before. “You know, I get why they did that, but doesn’t mean I have to like how fucking loud it is. God.”

There could be no mistaking that voice. “Someone’s grumpy,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes.

“Marvin!” Anti, leaning over him, suddenly jerked backwards. “You’re awake!”

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin blinked. He was light-headed, in pain, and could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, but he was awake, so that was probably good. “Wha’...Where...?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Anti explained, sitting down in a chair nearby. “Westpoint. The usual one.”

Marvin looked around the room. Yep, this was a hospital room alright. He was very familiar with them by this point. His head was tilted to the left, staring at a cluster of chairs and a window that showed a dark sky outside. He probably should have been concerned with more immediate matters, but absurdly, his first thought looking around was that Westpoint must have had an increase in budget, because the chairs looked nicer than usual. He almost laughed at that. Then he turned his head over to look at the other half of the room, and any laughter immediately died. “Jem—!” He started to sit up, but his head spun and he fell back down.

“Whoa, hey, be careful!” Anti half-reached out, but stopped. “Uh, yeah. H-he kind of fainted and started bleeding after we got out of there. Stacy and I thought the doctors should check him out.”

There were two beds in the hospital room. Marvin was lying in one, and Jameson was lying in the one to his right, eyes closed and pale. “Jems,” Marvin mumbled, and tried to adjust his position to get a better look at him.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Anti shouted. He glared at some sort of device by Marvin’s bed. “We’re trying to have a serious talk here!” Then he looked back at Marvin. “Hey, try not to move your left arm so much. Every time you do, the IV moves, and that machine freaks out.” 

“Hmm.” Marvin looked down at his arm—bare, as the hospital staff had changed him into a gown. He thought there was a weird sensation in the crook of his elbow. Turns out, there was a needle there, held in place with white medical tape. A clear tube led to a bag. “Why...?”

“For the blood loss, I think,” Anti explained. “You lost like...two liters of blood.”

“Tha’ doesn’ sound righ’.”

“Okay, it was probably less, but you get my point. It was a lot.” Anti paused. “You...you really...H-he did a number on you.” He didn’t look at Marvin as he said this.

“Wha...wha’s the day?” Marvin asked, putting his arm back down and stopping the beeping machine.

“Uhhh, it’s...well, technically, it’s February 6th, because it’s past midnight.” Anti glanced at a clock in the wall, and Marvin followed his gaze. Three in the morning. “We got you here at around five-ish on the 5th.”

So not that much time had passed. Even though it felt like forever, trapped in that—that box. Marvin’s breath hitched, and he quickly asked about something else. “Wha’ happened t’Jems?”

“He used too much magic,” Anti said. “I mean, it’s a good thing he used all that magic, pretty sure we’d still be fucking trapped there if he hadn’t. But, uh, yeah. He just fell over. The doctors say he’s fine, though they’re confused as fuck about what caused it. But anyway. He should wake up soon.”

“...good.” Marvin looked up towards the ceiling and went quiet. He became aware of his breathing, and started counting every inhale and exhale. One...two...three...

He got to ten breaths before Anti coughed, drawing his attention back to him. “Marvin, I...” He trailed off, visibly struggling with whatever he was trying to say. “I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know if you know this, if you figured it out, but I—I-I was the reason you ended up there. Distorter used me, a-and it’s all because when the kids got taken I had to—”

“I know.”

Anti blinked. “Oh. You do?”

“He told me,” Marvin said quietly. “He wanted me to know.”

“...oh.” Anti sat down heavily in one of the nearby chairs. He looked down at his hands, fingers intertwining and pulling on each other. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“Yeah.”

Anti nodded. “Well, uh...I’ll just go, then.”

“No.” Marvin reached towards him, starting up the BEEP of the machine again. He quickly put his arm back down, but kept his wide eyes on Anti. “Please don’.”

Anti had started to stand up, but stopped halfway. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes.” Marvin nodded. “Jus’...at least ‘til Jems wakes up.”

“...okay.” Anti sat back down again. “I guess I don’t really have anywhere to be,” he muttered. “Called Rama and told them to let Will stay over for the night, so that’s fine. Stacy wanted to be on her own. She’ll probably be here tomorrow. Don’t have any videos to do. Might as well.”

Others may have found the ‘I don’t have anything better to do’ spiel insulting, but by now, Marvin had figured out that Anti was hiding how much he really wanted to stay. He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. It felt better, knowing he wouldn’t be alone.

But everything still hurt.

———————

It tasted like iron.

He couldn’t escape the taste of it. The white sleeves of his shirt were streaked with red from his previous attempts to wipe it away, but it just kept coming. He could barely see through it. When he tried to open his mouth to speak, it was filled with that taste. This wasn’t normal. There wasn’t usually this much. It was supposed to be two thin streams, not a pair of crimson rivers.

Knock knock knock. The sound came from above. He looked up and saw him. While he was busy trying to wipe the blood from his face and eyes, Distorter had climbed down into the box. Or had he been standing there the whole time? Either way, Distorter was here now, right in the center of the five-by-five box, smiling down at him. That smile widened, and he knocked on the ceiling of the box again, slower. Knock. Knock. Knock. “This kind of sucks doesn’t it?” he said casually. “I can’t even stand up. Can you?” He laughed. “Oh who am I kidding? We know the answer to that.”

“Shut—” Marvin started to speak, but choked instead as warm, thick blood dripped into his mouth and down his throat. Frantically, he tried to wipe it away again, bending over on hands and knees.

“Oh? Looks like we have company,” Distorter’s voice said. And when Marvin looked up, he was gone.

He tried to stand, but lost his footing and fell, hitting the side of his head on the wooden box wall. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing heavily against the weight in the air that was everywhere in this place.

“Marvin?” A voice said. Then a face appeared in the trapdoor above. “Marvin!” The voice said again. His vision was covered by blood for a moment, and suddenly, there was someone else in the box, bent over by the low ceiling. “Are you okay?” Jackie asked. “Gah, stupid question. We’re here to get you out!”

Marvin stared at him. He...he wanted to believe him. But...he couldn’t. “Wh...what’re yeh doin’ h’re?”

“I said we’re here to get you out.” Jackie crouched low to the ground, inching closer to where Marvin was sitting in the corner. “Oh shit, that looks bad. There’s not normally that much blood.”

“Nn, I...I know what yeh said.” Marvin backed farther into the corner. “Wh-why...why izzit you? Yeh know...you know wha’it’s like. Yeh wouldn’ come back.”

Jackie shuddered. “I...I don’t want to be here,” he said, his voice strangled. “But like you said, I know what it’s like. I had to help the others. I...I had to help you. I couldn’t leave you.” He raised a hand, slowly. “Here. Let me look at that.”

Marvin stared at him, blood flowing from his eyes with every blink. Would Jackie do that? Come back here after everything he went through? Maybe. Marvin still doubted it, but...there was such concern in Jackie’s eyes. Such care and worry. That had to be real, didn’t it? Slowly, Marvin leaned forward again. Jackie reached out with one hand and touched his cheek. Marvin flinched, but didn’t pull back, and that encouraged Jackie to cup Marvin’s face in both hands. After a second, he began to relax a little. It was Jackie. It was really him.

And then the hands tightened their grip. “I’m glad we could have this moment of trust.”

“Nnh—!” Marvin instinctively jerked his head backwards, but he couldn’t pull away from the hands—the blackened hands—holding his head. Nails dug into his skin. He grabbed Distorter’s wrists and tried to pull them away, but he couldn’t. Distorter’s grip was too strong, and with the heavy weight in the air pressing him down, he was too weak.

“Shhh. You’re just ruining it.” Distorter leaned closer. Marvin’s eyes darted around, trying to look anywhere except at that grinning face. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to go. His breathing quickened with panic. “Aw. You’re nervous. Don’t worry, I get it. It’s hard to be vulnerable. Why don’t you close your eyes and take a deep breath?”

Marvin tried to shake his head, but Distorter held it in place. Blood fell from his eyes, and he tasted iron as it stained his lips.

“I said close your eyes.” Distorter’s hands shifted, and his thumbs closed Marvin’s eyelids. They stayed in place, pressing against his eyes. “And take a deep breath.”

He couldn’t. If anything, his breath was speeding up into hyperventilation. He tried again to pull Distorter’s hands away, but they didn’t move an inch.

He heard Distorter sigh. And then suddenly he pulled Marvin’s head forward and slammed it back hard against the box wall. Marvin cried out, and Distorter did it three more times in quick succession, until Marvin let go of his wrists and went limp. He slumped against the wall, stunned, for a few seconds, breathing slowly. And then Distorter abruptly let go of his head. “There. See? Don’t you feel better?”

Marvin blinked, squinting through the blood still coming from his eyes. Not that there was much to see. Just Distorter’s black eyes and satisfied smile.

———————

Marvin’s eyes flew open, heart pounding in his chest, sweat making his hair damp. He stared up at the tiles on the hospital room ceiling. Some of the overhead lights had been turned off. Not all of them. But enough to make the room much dimmer. He looked to the left and saw Anti was still there. He was sitting in one of the new, nice hospital chairs. This one could recline. And Anti had apparently taken advantage of that, as he had leaned back and fallen asleep.

Then he turned his head the other way, and gasped. “Jems.”

Jameson was awake. His hospital bed had been propped into a sitting position. He looked over at Marvin and smiled, waving a small Hello.

“Are...’re you alrigh’?” Marvin asked.

I think I should be the one to say that, Jameson said. Are YOU alright?

Marvin squeezed his eyes shut. They were aching. A few tears leaked out, and for a brief second he expected to taste iron. He opened his eyes again. “No,” he said quietly.

Jameson stared at him sadly. I’m sorry about that, he said. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.

“I t’ink he would’ve found a way event’ally,” Marvin mumbled. “Unless I stayed in the house all the time. A-and I...I won’ do t’at.”

I’m still sorry, Jameson said.

“T’s not your fault.” Marvin tried for a weak smile. “Besides, ye got me out of t’ere, huh? Anti said you used all your magic.”

I did. Jameson nodded. That house...it’s not a normal house anymore. It’s like its own world. It amplified my magic, but even with that, I may have overspent a bit.

“So...are ye alrigh’?”

Jameson smiled a little. I’m exhausted. Feel like shit, honestly.

Marvin let out a single laugh. “Don’ hear you say t’at often.”

Well, this really warrants it.

“Feel like shit, too,” Marvin mumbled.

Jameson’s expression turned serious. What did he do to you?

“A...a lot of t’ings,” Marvin said quietly. “I should’ve asked Anti what the doctors said. Maybe I’ll do t’at when he wakes up.”

...Why? Jameson said, turning and staring off into the distance. Why would he do that to you? Doesn’t he think of you as his “friend”?

“Friendship is twisted for him. It jus’ means he won’ kill you. It jus’ means he’d rather have you do wha’ever he wants.” Marvin swallowed. His throat felt dry. “I t’ink...I-I t’ink he was...hurt. At some point. So, in his logic, if you’re his friend...you have to hurt too.”

Jameson didn’t reply for a while. Then: I’m sorry. He didn’t look right at Marvin when he signed. I know you probably don’t want to hear it for a fourth time, but I have to say it.

“Not your fault,” Marvin repeated. “Don’t be sorry. I-I know...I know ye prob’ly feel guilty. I don’ know how to help you stop feelin’ t’at. But you did ev’ryt’ing you coul’. You and Anti. T’ere’s guilt enough between the two of ye. I don’ blame either one.” He smiled softly. “T’ank you. For gettin’ me out.”

And again, Jameson didn’t reply. He blinked, and Marvin could see the faint glimmer of tears in the dim light. We’d do it again. Every time.

“I know. And t’ank you.” Marvin looked back up at the ceiling. His eyes drifted closed once more. At least Jameson was okay. That was a small consolation.

———————

“You’re an actor, right?”

Marvin didn’t answer the question. Partly because he didn’t want to give Distorter the respect of an answer, partly because his head was swimming. The walls of the box seemed to flex slightly. They bent inward, and his breath hitched. They bent outward, and he sighed. He knew it was just a trick of his vision, but he didn’t like the idea of this already small box getting even smaller.

“Wow. Okay, don’t say anything then. Rude.” Even though Distorter was sitting with his back pressed against the opposite wall, he was much too close. “Anyway. If you’re an actor, then how come you haven’t been in a single play or movie since you got here? Or, rather...now?”

“Shuddup,” Marvin mumbled.

“Aww. Jeez, Marvin, I only want to help you out.” Distorter’s grin widened as he leaned forward. Marvin instinctively tried to back up, but of course, couldn’t go anywhere. “We should put on a play right now! Wouldn’t that be fun? Come on, let’s do it!” He crawled forward. Marvin scrambled to the side, but it was only a couple seconds before he was cornered and Distorter was leaning over him. “Get up and get ready!”

Marvin whimpered. Distorter grabbed his shirt and pulled him off the ground. He lashed out, clawing at Distorter’s blackened flesh and kicking his legs. But his movements were weak. How long had he been stuck here? How long had that weight in the air been pressing down on him? It felt like he was trying to push through water.

“Don’t be like that. Look outside!” Distorter pulled him upright—or as upright as he could in this box—and held him in place by wrapping an arm around his torso. He grabbed Marvin by the hair and pushed his head to look through the clear plastic window of the box. Outside, there were...faces. Rows of faces. An audience. He could hear the faint murmur of audience chatter from backstage. 

Backstage? There was no backstage. This was a box. And that audience couldn’t possibly be real. Yet he could feel their gaze. He saw familiar faces in the first row. The friends he’d come to know—Jameson, Anti, Jackie, Schneep—but also ones he’d left behind. He could see his grandmother. She’d died in 1921. But there she was. Staring at him. Waiting with all the rest.

“Well you can’t perform in this condition.” Distorter let go of Marvin’s hair, and his head instantly dropped. “But we can’t let them down! Good thing I have a plan.” He shifted position a bit, grabbing Marvin’s arm. Marvin didn’t think much of it until he felt something tighten around his wrist. He glanced over and saw...

String. Thick white string, like yarn used for knitting. Distorter tied it tight around his wrist, then dropped Marvin’s arm and grabbed his other one. Marvin tried to pull away, but Distorter’s grip was too tight. A second string was tied around his other wrist, too.

“There,” Distorter said happily. And he abruptly dropped Marvin. He fell to the floor at the unexpected lack of support, crying out but finding more blood from his eyes got into his mouth and choked him. He took a moment to try and wipe it all away again, and when he looked up again, Distorter had disappeared from the box. But the strings that he’d tied around his wrists remained. Not on the floor. But instead, they went up, up, up, through the trapdoor in the ceiling. Distorter’s face appeared there, and he waved a blackened hand. “On the count of three. One, two—”

Marvin yelped as the strings were pulled, yanking his arms backwards and upwards. But it didn’t stop there. They kept pulling, forcing his joints to cry out, until eventually Marvin was lifted off the floor. He stared out through the box’s plastic window and saw that audience of familiar faces again. He heard them applaud. The strings were digging into his wrists. A bit of warm liquid dripped down his arm, and he looked up to see blood coming from a cut the string had made as it dug into his skin. His feet scrambled on the ground, trying to find purchase in this awkward position where he couldn’t fully stand due to the low box ceiling, but couldn’t quite kneel because of the strings pulling upwards.

“It’s your cue!” Distorter said, voice filled with glee. “Put on a good show for everyone, hmm?”

———————

“He’s still asleep. Can you come back later?”

“Can you come back later? The nurse told me you slept here.”

“Well, he asked me to stay.”

Marvin opened his eyes immediately and looked around the room. It was the same hospital room. The window was bright now, showing a view of the next building over. He rolled over, facing towards the voices.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Holy fucking shit in a basket!” Anti shouted. He turned to glare at the sound, then stopped when he saw Marvin’s eyes open. “Oh. Oh! You’re awake.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t quite make it.

There’s a little remote for adjustment to the right, Jameson signed.

“T’anks,” Marvin mumbled, searching around for it with one hand while trying to readjust his other arm to stop the beeping. After a few seconds, he found the remote, and figured out how to get the hospital bed into a half-sitting position. Then he looked back at the others. Anti and Jameson were still here, of course, but now there was a new arrival. “Stacy. H’llo.”

“Hi.” Stacy waved awkwardly. “Are you, uh...I-I wanted to come in and talk to everyone, but if you just woke up, I can come back later. We all can.” She glanced at Anti. “I’m sure we have business to take care of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anti demanded.

“Nothing.”

Stacy, Anti was just telling me how he’d called Will and asked him if he was okay with staying at Rama’s for a bit longer, Jameson said. It seems he was alright with it. Apparently he and Michelle haven’t hung out in a while.

“Oh. Yeah, uh, good.” Stacy’s shoulders slumped with relief. Evidently, she had been worried about Anti’s son. “Well, still. I can come back.”

“No, no, you can stay,” Marvin hurried to say. “I...I want t’hear what happened when ye all came to the house.”

The other three exchanged looks. Then Stacy and Anti sat down in two of the hospital chairs. Stacy took a deep breath. “Okay. You two start.”

Marvin listened to Anti and Jameson recount their experiences in the house on Aspen Street. Their discovery that Anti had taken Marvin away, their subsequent separation, Jameson figuring out how his powers were amplified and how to manipulate the house’s repeating, reflecting rooms, and how they used that to find Marvin. Anti was vague about his experience, not saying much other than how he got stuck in an endless stairwell and heard familiar voices. But the others didn’t press.

What about you, Stacy? Jameson asked. Anything unusual happen while we were on our own?

“Yes, actually,” Stacy said quietly. She hesitated, then blurted out, “I heard my sister and the kids.”

“Hmm?” Anti perked up. “The first victims,” he said, trying to put on a spooky voice. It would have worked, if his facial expression had been sinister and not intrigued.

“They were...the voices, I mean...th-they were coming from the walls,” Stacy continued. “And when I really started to pay attention, I heard all sorts of voices in the walls. Ones I didn’t recognize at all. I think...they were past victims.” She took a deep breath. “Roxy and the kids said they were in the basement. Which, well...accurate, from what they told me about the case. So I went downstairs. No eternal staircase for me, I just went right down. And I...I saw him.”

Distorter? JJ asked, eyes wide. Did he say anything?

“No. He was trying to avoid me, I think. But I-I managed to corner him. I talked to him...and...I said his name.” Stacy whispered the last part. The others almost missed it.

“Wait. You mean—his name name?!” Anti gasped, catching on first. “Like, from before the Distorter times?” Stacy nodded. “How the fuck did you do that?! We weren’t ever able to say his name before! Even when we were trying to read it off the fucking police records!”

“I don’t know what happened!” Stacy half-shouted, sounding somewhat panicked. She shook her head. “I can’t even remember what I said anymore, but I know it was definitely his name from before. And he turned around to look at me, and his eyes weren’t that all-black thing, they were gray—”

“Gray like...like with irises?” Marvin asked.

“Yes, gray irises. A-and I realized that felt wrong, because his eyes were blue. His eyes were blue. I-I remember that his eyes were blue now.” Stacy had grabbed the fabric of her jacket at one point, lifting it away from her body, and started squeezing it tightly. “They were blue, but they were gray when I saw him.”

“Blue eyes,” Anti muttered. “Well. I guess that’s one detail in the soup of whatever his features are.”

I wonder if being in that place helped you remember, JJ speculates. None of us knew him before. But you did. And being in the house somehow let you see through this forgetting magic he has and remember his name and his eyes.

“Why were they gray, though?” Stacy asked. “Why did I see gray, but remember them as blue?”

“Lighting?” Anti suggested.

“No, it wasn’t that.” Stacy breathed in shakily. “It feels important. That the color was different.”

Maybe we won’t figure it out until later, Jameson says. But now? I think I know why Distorter flees whenever he sees you. Because you can remember.

“I only remembered while in the house, though,” Stacy reminded him.

Well, maybe there was always a chance that you would remember while you saw him. You said you cornered him, right? Before that, I don’t think you ever saw him for more than a few seconds.

“He doesn’ want to be remembered,” Marvin said quietly. He laughed. “Of course. Of course he doesn’. I—I don’ t’ink he’s ever said as much, but it...fits. Somehow.”

Stacy frowned. “Why would someone not want to be remembered? That feels weird.”

Marvin shook his head. “I don’ know. But it jus’ seems right.” He looked at the other two. Jameson was nodding slowly, his mind clearly working to fit all the pieces together. But Anti...Anti was looking down at his hands. He kept fidgeting with his fingers. Marvin couldn’t quite place the expression on his face. Solemn? Thoughtful? Something else?

Maybe if someone remembers him, he’ll lose his powers, JJ said.

“Really?” Stacy asked. “How does that work?”

I don’t know, it’s just a blind guess. JJ shrugged. But it’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Anti, you copied the police records Henrik got about the Aspen Street case, right? Do you know where they are?

“Huh?” Anti looked up. “What?”

“He made a couple copies,” Marvin remembered. “I t’ink we all got one. You and me did, I know t’at, and Schneep and Jackie—” He stopped. “Where is Jackie, by th’way? He...I don’ remember him t’ere. When you guys showed up in the house.”

The others were quiet. Anti and Jameson glanced at each other. We...don’t know where Jackie is, Jameson said slowly.

“Rama said he showed up at their house last night,” Anti said. “They said he seemed calm, but she could tell something was wrong. He...he told them that he loved them, gave Michelle a present, and...said goodbye. They haven’t heard from him since then.” He shook his head. “I-I don’t like that. It all sounds...final. And that gives me a bad feeling.”

“What...?” Marvin’s voice broke. “What—did anything happen to Jackie?”

He freaked out when we realized Distorter took you, Jameson explained. Said a lot about how we didn’t understand what being in the house was like, and how we couldn’t protect ourselves, and then...said he was going to fix it. And left.

Marvin felt his stomach drop. He bolted from his half-sitting position on the bed into an upright one. But he moved too fast. He gasped as black spots appeared in his vision, then consumed it. When he hit the pillow again, he was already out. 

———————

The applause was deafening. He knew it wasn’t real, that it was just some auditory illusion Distorter was causing, but the sound still thundered against his ears. Accompanied by laughter. They were all laughing. He couldn’t always see clearly through the blood coming from his eyes, but when his vision cleared, he saw their laughing faces.

“Look at that! They love you!” Distorter said, laughing as well.

Marvin wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and block out the sounds of the false audience. But he couldn’t. His whole body was limp, and it felt like even breathing was a struggle. He would have fallen to the ground a long time ago if it wasn’t for the strings holding him up.

“I said look at that.” Distorter’s voice was low and threatening. Marvin fought to raise his head to fully look out the box’s window at the rows of smiling faces. “Great. Now time for the grand finale.”

He couldn’t ask what that meant. His arms jerked upwards as Distorter pulled on the strings. Then he must have secured them somehow, because Distorter dropped into the box through the trapdoor, landing right next to Marvin and making him flinch. He was holding something. It took Marvin a while to recognize it, though it was familiar. His cane. The one that he’d left behind the first time Distorter tried to grab him. How long ago was that? It had been over a week when he’d been taken, but how long had Distorter kept him here?

“There’s not a lot of space in here, but I think there’s enough,” Distorter said. “Let me just test it out...” He held up the cane by one end and stretched, pointing it towards the wooden box wall. And despite how small the box was, despite how there shouldn’t have been enough room, he managed to fully extend his arm without the end of the cane even brushing against the wall. Marvin blinked. His head was spinning. That...didn’t make sense.

But there wasn’t enough time to think about it.

“Yeah! That’s what I thought!” Distorter’s grin widened. “And now—”

Marvin cried out as the wood of the cane hit him in the ribs. But he didn’t have enough time to recover before Distorter swung it again, hitting his other side. The laughter and applause of the false audience grew louder as Distorter swung faster and faster. He tried to pull back, to get away. But he couldn’t. All he could do was endure blow after blow, until the individual impacts blurred together into one steady stream of pain.

Then—

CRACK!

It felt like nothing at first. The sound was more confusing than anything. And then Marvin screamed as his leg erupted in agony.

“Ohhhh that sounded bad.” Distorter took a step backwards. “But hey, at least that was a good finale! Take a bow.” He reached up and seemed to grab something, and Marvin suddenly fell to the ground, yelping as the landing made his leg hurt more. He was sure there were tears mixed with the blood from his eyes now. “That was fun. Didn’t you have fun? Let’s do this again sometime. But I have to take care of some stuff first. I’ll be back.”

Marvin looked up, and saw that Distorter had disappeared. The false audience was gone, too, as he no longer heard their laughter. The box was back to being just a wooden box. He lowered his head to the ground. It landed in a puddle of red liquid, but he didn’t care. His hands were stretched out before him. He could see the strings around his wrists. They had gone from white to red, covered in blood. He should be worried about that, shouldn’t he? Losing blood wasn’t good. But he couldn’t keep that thought in his head for long. Not when his whole body—and especially his left leg—were aching, hurting.

He stayed there for what felt like ages, just breathing through the pain and the fog. Feeling like he was adrift in his own body. And then...he heard the faint sound of voices.

———————

“Marvin? Marvin!”

“Hhhwha...?” Marvin opened his eyes, blinking away the darkness. On his left was Anti, leaning close over him. On his right was Stacy, not as close but still hovering nearby and looking worried.

“Are you okay?” Anti asked.

“Uh...yea,” Marvin mumbled. “Wha’ jus’...?” 

“You fainted,” Stacy explained. “You must’ve tried to sit up too fast.”

“Oh.” Marvin blinked some more. He turned his head, seeing Jameson still in the opposite bed, staring at him with a worried expression. “How long’ve I...?”

Just a few minutes, Jameson said. We were wondering if we should call the nurse soon.

“A few m’nutes? Huh.” Marvin raised his right hand to rub his eyes. He noticed the bandages around his wrist. “I want’d t’ask this sooner. What...did the doctor say? About...wha’s wrong with me.”

“Well...you lost a lot of blood,” Anti said slowly. “Bruises all over. Some deep cuts in your wrists. And, uh...” He hesitated. “Your leg is broken.”

Marvin went pale. He’d expected something like that, but hearing it was an entirely different thing.

“It’s not as bad as that!” Stacy hurried to say. “It’s a partial fracture. Not broken all the way through.”

“Right, yeah.” Anti nodded. “They said it was, uh...oblong.”

“Oblique,” Stacy corrected. “It means it’s diagonal across the bone and probably caused by an impact.”

Marvin looked at Jameson. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Jameson understood the wide-eyed, pleading expression on his face. They said it’ll be healed in six to eight weeks, Jameson said. And it will stop hurting after one or two.

“...I see,” Marvin said quietly. He let out a sigh. That was just...something he’d have to wait out. It would be fine. He was used to difficulties. It would be fine. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Still. He didn’t want to think about it right now. “Wha’ were we talkin’ about before?”

“Uh...Jackie,” Anti said.

“Righ’.” Marvin nodded. “Sounds like he didn’ react well to...the whole... kidnapping... t’ing.”

“He really didn’t,” Anti muttered. “It was a bit freaky. I-I’d never seen him act like that. And now we don’t know where he is. I—I can’t believe he just fucking left.”

Where would he even have gone? JJ wonders. He said he was going to ‘fix it.’ Where could he have gone to do that?

Marvin shook his head. “I don’ know if he had a destination in mind. He might’ve jus’...gone.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. “I can help you guys look, if you want,” Stacy offered. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I can.”

Anti looked at her for a long time. Long enough for her to get uncomfortable and start to back away. Jameson coughed. That would be lovely, Stacy, he said. Don’t push yourself, but we’d appreciate any help.

Stacy nodded. “Right. Yeah.” She backed away towards the hospital room door. “I’ll text you guys if you find anything. I mean, if I find anything. A-and you can text me if you—anyway. Goodbye, Marvin. I hope you get well soon.”

“G’bye,” Marvin mumbled, and watched as she left.

Why’d you stare at her like that, Anti? Jameson asked.

“I just—never fucking mind,” Anti muttered. “Hey, Jackson. The doc says that you can leave by this afternoon. Probably. They want to check you out one more time.”

JJ nodded. Understandable. And Marvin?

Anti glanced back at Marvin. “...probably a few more days.”

“T’at’s fine,” Marvin said. “I know I’m in...a bad shape.”

“Yeah.” Anti nodded.

Do you want to talk about it, Marvin? Jameson asked.

Marvin was ready to say no. He was ready to say they’d talk about it another time. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. And he began to cry softly. “...yeah,” he said quietly. “A little.”

Jameson sat up straight. Anti walked over and dragged a chair over by Marvin’s bed.

They both listened to him talk for a while. Until, eventually, his energy failed him. He closed his eyes for a moment and started to drift off. He heard Anti say something in a soft voice. And he heard the creak of a hospital bed, and felt Jameson’s hand on his. Somehow, he knew they would both be there when he woke up again. And so he fell asleep peacefully. He had no dreams, and was relieved.

[fortunetellersdilettante]

Ek weet ek is dalk jonk Maar ek het ook gevoelens En ek moet doen waarvoor ek lus is om te doen So laat my gaan, en luister net Al julle mense kyk na my asof ek 'n dogtertjie is Wel, het jy ooit gedink dit sal goed wees vir my om in hierdie wêreld in te stap? Sê altyd: "Dogtertjie stap nie by die klub in nie" Wel, ek probeer net uitvind hoekom "Want dans is waarvan ek hou (kyk nou na my) Kry dit, kry dit, kry dit, kry dit (whoa) Kry dit, kry dit (whoa, hou jy daarvan?) Kry dit, kry dit (whoa, dit voel goed) Ek weet ek kan stil word, kan skaam afkom Maar ek voel lus om te dans as ek hierdie man sien Wat is prakties? Wat is logies? Wat de hel, wie gee om? Al wat ek weet, is dat ek so bly is as jy daar dans Ek is 'n slaaf vir jou Ek kan dit nie hou nie, ek kan dit nie beheer nie Ek is 'n slaaf vir jou Ek sal dit nie ontken nie, ek probeer dit nie wegsteek nie Baby, wil jy nie op my dans nie? (Ek wil net langs jou dans) Na 'n ander tyd en plek O, baba, wil jy nie op my dans nie? (Is jy gereed?) Laat m agter

E di që mund të jem i ri Por edhe unë kam ndjenja Dhe duhet të bëj atë që ndjej të bëj Më lër të iki, dhe vetëm dëgjo Të gjithë ju njerëz më shikoni sikur jam një vajzë e vogël E pra, a keni menduar ndonjëherë se do të ishte në rregull për mua për të hyrë në këtë botë? Gjithmonë duke thënë, "Vajza e vogël nuk hyn në klub" Epo, thjesht po përpiqem të zbuloj pse Sepse vallëzimi është ajo që dua (tani më shiko) Merre, merre, merre, merre (whoa) Merre, merre(whoa, a të pëlqen?) Merre, merre. (whoa, this feels good) E di që mund të dal i qetë, mund të dal i turpshëm Por më duket sikur të flas më duket sikur kërcej kur e shoh këtë djalë. Çfarë është praktike? Çfarë është logjike? Çfarë dreqin, kujt i intereson? E vetmja gjë që di është se jam shumë e lumtur kur ti po kërcen atje. Unë jam skllav për ty Nuk mund ta mbaj, nuk mund ta kontrolloj Unë jam skllav për ty Nuk do ta mohoj, nuk po përpiqem ta fsheh. Zemër, nuk do të kërcesh mbi mua? (Dua vetëm të kërcej pranë teje) Në një kohë dhe vend tjetër Oh, zemër, nuk do të kërcesh mbi mua? (A je gati?) Lini pas m

ወጣት እንደምሆን አውቃለሁ ነገር ግን እኔም ስሜት አለኝ እንዲሁም ማድረግ የምፈልገውን ማድረግ ያስፈልገኛል ስለዚህ ልሂድ ብቻ ስማ እናንተ ሰዎች ሁሉ እኔን ትንሽ ልጅ እንደሆንኩ ይመልከቱኝ በዚህ ዓለም ውስጥ መግባት ምንም ችግር የለውም ብለህ አስበህ ታውቃለህ? ሁሌም "ትንሿ ልጅ ወደ ክለቡ አትግባ" ለምን እንደሆነ ለማወቅ እየሞከርኩ ነው ''ምክንያቱም ዳንስ ነው የምወደው (አሁን ይመልከቱኝ) አግኝተህ አግኝተህ (whoa) አግኝተኸው (ወይ ወደድከው?) ያግኙት (ዎ, ይህ ጥሩ ይሰማዋል) ዝም ብዬ ልወጣ፣ ዓይናፋር ልወጣ እንደምችል አውቃለሁ ነገር ግን ይህን ሰው ሳየው እንደ መጨፈር ይሰማኛል ምን ተግባራዊ ሊሆን ይችላል? ምክንያታዊ የሆነው ነገር ምንድን ነው? ገሀነም ማን ያስባል? የማውቀው ነገር ቢኖር እዚያ ስትጨፍር በጣም ደስተኛ ነኝ ለአንተ ባሪያ ነኝ መያዝ አልችልም ልቆጣጠረው አልችልም ለአንተ ባሪያ ነኝ አልክድም፣ ለመደበቅ አልሞክርም ህጻን ሆይ! በእኔ ላይ መጨፈር አትፈልግም? (እኔ ብቻ አጠገቤ መጨፈር እፈልጋለሁ) ወደ ሌላ ጊዜና ቦታ ኦ ህጻን ሆይ! በእኔ ላይ መጨፈር አትፈልግም? (ዝግጁ ነህ?) ትቼm

أعلم أنني قد أكون شابا لكن لدي مشاعر أيضا وأحتاج إلى القيام بما أشعر بالرغبة في القيام به لذا دعني أذهب ، واستمع فقط كل الناس ينظرون إلي وكأنني فتاة صغيرة حسنا ، هل فكرت يوما أنه سيكون من المقبول بالنسبة لي أن أخطو إلى هذا العالم؟ دائما ما تقول ، "فتاة صغيرة لا تدخل النادي" حسنا ، أنا فقط أحاول معرفة السبب "لأن الرقص هو ما أحبه (شاهدني الآن) احصل عليه ، احصل عليه ، احصل عليه ، احصل عليه (قف) احصل عليه ، احصل عليه (قف ، هل يعجبك؟) احصل عليه ، احصل عليه (قف ، هذا شعور جيد) أعلم أنني قد أخرج من الهدوء ، وقد أخجل لكنني أشعر وكأنني أتحدث مثل الرقص عندما أرى هذا الرجل ما هو عملي؟ ما هو المنطقي؟ ماذا بحق الجحيم ، من يهتم؟ كل ما أعرفه هو أنني سعيد جدا عندما ترقص هناك أنا عبد لك لا أستطيع الاحتفاظ بها ، لا يمكنني التحكم فيها أنا عبد لك لن أنكر ذلك ، أنا لا أحاول إخفاءه حبيبي ، ألا تريد أن ترقص علي؟ (أريد فقط أن أرقص بجانبك) إلى زمان ومكان آخر أوه ، حبيبي ، ألا تريد أن ترقص علي؟ (هل أنت مستعد؟) اترك وراءك م

alam anni qud andre shaba lucken lady machaar aida ouahtaz elly alqayyam bama ashaar balraghba fe alqayyam bah leza daani azahab ، wastima faqtah gul el-nass yenzhrun eli kakian fatah saghira hasna ، hull fekrat yuma anne sikon min al-moqaboul balansaba lee an akhtou elly hatha al-alemb daema mae taqal ، "fatah saghira cerda tadkhil elnady" hasna ، anne faqtah ahawol marfa al-sabab "lun al-raqse hou mae ahbah (shahedni alan) ahsal aleh ، ahsal aleh ، ahsal aleh ، ahsal aleh (gaf) ahsal aleh ، ahsal aleh (gaf ، hull yacabakhs) ahsal aleh ، ahsal aleh (gaf ، hatha showar jade) alam anni qud akharaj min al-hudua ، waqqd akhajal laknani ashaar kakian athadz muthall al-raqse andama ari hatha al-rajl mae hou amlis mae hou al-mantaqib mada bahaq al-juhaim ، min ehtmev gul mae arafa hou anni said jedda andama turqis hannak anne abd luck cerda asthtie lahtvadh beha ، cerda yamkeneni el-tahkam feha anne abd luck linh anker delk ، anne cerda ahawol ikhfa habibi ، ala traid an turqis alip (arred faqtah an arcas bejanpec) elly zaman lomkan aacher aue ، habibi ، ala traid an turqis alip (hull ant mostadep) atark vrahak mo

Ես գիտեմ, որ կարող եմ երիտասարդ լինել Բայց ես նույնպես զգացմունքներ ունեմ, Եվ ես պետք է անեմ այն, ինչ ինձ թվում է, Այսպիսով, թույլ տվեք գնալ, եւ պարզապես լսեք Դուք բոլորդ ինձ նայում եք այնպես, կարծես ես փոքրիկ աղջիկ եմ Դե, երբեւէ մտածե՞լ եք, որ լավ կլինի, որ ես մտնեմ այս աշխարհ: Միշտ ասում են՝ «Փոքրիկ աղջիկը չի մտնում ակումբ» Դե, ես պարզապես փորձում եմ պարզել, թե ինչու 'Cause dancing's's what I love (այսուհետ՝ հսկիր ինձ) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր, ստացի՛ր, ստացի՛ր (оа) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր (ո՞վ, հավանո՞ւմ ես) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր (whoa, սա լավ է զգում) Ես գիտեմ, որ կարող եմ հանգիստ դուրս գալ, կարող է ամաչկոտ դուրս գալ Բայց ես զգում եմ, որ խոսելը կարծես պար է, երբ տեսնում եմ այս տղային Ի՞նչ գործնական է: Ի՞նչն է տրամաբանական: Ի՞նչ է դժոխքը, ո՞վ է հոգ տանում: Ես միայն գիտեմ, որ ես այնքան երջանիկ եմ, երբ դու այնտեղ պարում ես Ես քեզ համար ստրուկ եմ Ես չեմ կարող այն պահել, չեմ կարող վերահսկել Ես քեզ համար ստրուկ եմ Չեմ ուրանա, չեմ փորձում թաքցնել Մանուկ, դու չե՞ս ուզում ինձ վրա պարել: (Ես պարզապես ուզում եմ պարել կողքիդ) Դեպի մեկ այլ ժամանակ եւ վայր Ա՜խ, բալիկ, չե՞ս ուզում ինձ վրա պարել: (Պատրա՞ստ ես) Թողեք մ

Ես գիտեմ, որ կարող եմ երիտասարդ լինել Բայց ես նույնպես զգացմունքներ ունեմ, Եվ ես պետք է անեմ այն, ինչ ինձ թվում է, Այսպիսով, թույլ տվեք գնալ, եւ պարզապես լսեք Դուք բոլորդ ինձ նայում եք այնպես, կարծես ես փոքրիկ աղջիկ եմ Դե, երբեւէ մտածե՞լ եք, որ լավ կլինի, որ ես մտնեմ այս աշխարհ: Միշտ ասում են՝ «Փոքրիկ աղջիկը չի մտնում ակումբ» Դե, ես պարզապես փորձում եմ պարզել, թե ինչու 'Cause dancing's's what I love (այսուհետ՝ հսկիր ինձ) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր, ստացի՛ր, ստացի՛ր (оа) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր (ո՞վ, հավանո՞ւմ ես) Գտա՛ր, ստացի՛ր (whoa, սա լավ է զգում) Ես գիտեմ, որ կարող եմ հանգիստ դուրս գալ, կարող է ամաչկոտ դուրս գալ Բայց ես զգում եմ, որ խոսելը կարծես պար է, երբ տեսնում եմ այս տղային Ի՞նչ գործնական է: Ի՞նչն է տրամաբանական: Ի՞նչ է դժոխքը, ո՞վ է հոգ տանում: Ես միայն գիտեմ, որ ես այնքան երջանիկ եմ, երբ դու այնտեղ պարում ես Ես քեզ համար ստրուկ եմ Ես չեմ կարող այն պահել, չեմ կարող վերահսկել Ես քեզ համար ստրուկ եմ Չեմ ուրանա, չեմ փորձում թաքցնել Մանուկ, դու չե՞ս ուզում ինձ վրա պարել: (Ես պարզապես ուզում եմ պարել կողքիդ) Դեպի մեկ այլ ժամանակ եւ վայր Ա՜խ, բալիկ, չե՞ս ուզում ինձ վրա պարել: (Պատրա՞ստ ես) Թողեք մ

[livia-dovehallow]

Could you do for your celebration something with little Eugenia Lightwood maybe when Sophideon found out they were expecting, or something cute with her when she was a lil baby pleaseeee

This ended up being longer than I anticipated... but hopefully that’s not a bad thing! Please enjoy this Sophideon + their daughters fluff <3

Girl Dad - Sophideon (ft. Barbara & Eugenia)

Characters: Gideon Lightwood, Sophie Collins, Barbara Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood

Time: 1881-1882, London, England

“Barbara Margaret Lightwood!” Sophie barked from the doorway. Her one-year-old daughter froze in her bassinet, her fruit-filled fists leaking through her fingers. She stared back at her mother with wide brown eyes and an angry scowl. “Do not throw that peach.”

In defiance, Barbara launched the peach across the table where it landed in Sophie’s cup of tea. Barbara began to cry, then, when she went to put her fist in her mouth and found that her peach was no longer there. Sophie forced herself to calm down. She pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply.

“Whoa,” came a deep voice behind her. “What happened here?” 

Gideon stepped forward and plated a sweet kiss on Sophie’s cheek before moving toward their daughter. Barbara raised her arms toward her father; her sticky fingers latched on to his shirt the moment he lifted her. Her small face was drenched in tears. “She is having a morning,” answered Sophie with an aggravated sigh. “I can’t possibly take it today. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Perhaps I need more sleep.”

Gideon bounced Barbara in his arms and cooed soothingly. The little girl hiccuped and sniffed all over his shirt, but she had begun to calm down with her father’s comfort. Gideon looked over at Sophie as he bounced her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you not sleep well last night, love?” he asked. “You snored like a sailor so I thought you’d slept quite well.”

Sophie scowled. “I do not snore.”

“As if,” Gideon laughed boisterously. This made Barbara giggle. “I love you Soph, but you snore horrendously on occasion. Especially when you were—“ he paused, a thought visibly occurring to him. “When you were pregnant.”

Sophie blinked at him in shock. “I’m certainly not pregnant,” she stated, though she was unsure. Was she? It was not out of the realm of possibility. They’d discussed having another child plenty—Barbara was certainly lonely. The only other children in the family besides her were Charles and Jesse, but Charles did not like to play with Barbara and Tatiana had adamantly refused to let her son around any of his cousins or uncles. “Right?” she added, with a questioning look at her husband.

Gideon recovered from his pondering at his daughter’s whimper. He gently patted her back while bouncing her as he looked at Sophie. “It’s possible,” he wondered aloud. “We haven’t exactly been avoiding another pregnancy as of late.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie breathed. She leaned against the frame of the doorway and buried her face in her hands. “I’ve been snapping at Barbara all morning and it isn’t her fault.”

Footsteps grew closer to her. Sophie glanced up through her fingers and found her daughter’s small face peering back. Gideon said nothing, but smiled gently. Sophie moved her hands to cup Barbara’s face and kissed her head. “Mummy’s very sorry for getting angry with you,” she told her. “Will you please forgive me?”

Barbara smiled and nodded, her tears dry on her face. Sophie wiped them off with a gentle brush of her thumb. “I love you so much, my precious girl,” she said gently. Barbara smiled bigger. 

“How about I ring my brother and see if he’s willing to watch Barbara for a bit? We can see the Brothers and find out if you’re pregnant or ill.” Gideon turned his body so he could see them both, his wife and daughter. “I hardly think he would say no. Look at her little face.”

Barbara giggled and patted her still-sticky fingers on her father’s shirt. Sophie couldn’t help but smile back. “Are you sure?” she asked him, wary of making a fuss about something that may turn out to be nothing after all.

Gideon nodded. “I’m sure,” he stated confidently. “Gabriel adores Barbara. I truly don’t think he requires any reason to see her.”

Barbara’s eyes lit up. “Uncle Gabe!”

Sophie laughed at Gideon’s betrayed expression. 

.

.

“Barbara!” Gabriel called from the top of the stairs the moment they walked through the doors of the Institute. Sophie watched with amusement as Gabriel launched himself down the steps and came to a screeching halt before his brother, who he ignored in favor of the small child in his arms. 

Barbara squealed with glee and reached out for her uncle, who took her gladly. He squeezed her tight, a bright smile across his face. Sophie had to admit it was quite nice to see Gabriel genuinely happy these days. “I suppose this means you wouldn’t mind looking after her for a few hours?” Sophie questioned. Gabriel glanced up at her. “Gideon and I must drop into the Silent City for a bit and we’d prefer to keep Barbara here where she feels more comfortable.”

Gabriel’s expression fell a bit, his eyebrows furrowing just like his brother’s did. “The Silent City?” he repeated, ignoring Barbara’s grip on his hair. “Is something wrong?”

Gideon shook his head. “Not at all,” he said to his brother calmly. “Just some preemptive health check. We shouldn’t be too long.”

“All right,” Gabriel said with a suspicious look. He turned back to Barbara and his smile returned. “Of course I don’t mind looking after her.”

Sophie felt relieved. “Thank you,” she told him, and gripped his arm. “I know it’s short notice so I am thankful.”

Gabriel smiled. “We’re family.”

.

.

The Silent City always spooked Sophie. She had not grown up Nephilim so she’d never had a need to become used to Silent Brothers, let alone ever been permitted to visit the Silent City prior to her Ascension. 

Come to think of it, Sophie had never been to the Silent City until she fell pregnant with Barbara. Gideon had insisted from the moment she woke up vomiting.

Now, she ventured into the city from its Highgate entrance hand in hand with Gideon. She still felt unnerved by the silence but was no longer afraid. Jem was here and she was not afraid of Jem.

Gideon and Sophia Lightwood, rang a monotonous voice in her mind. Sophie peered steadfastly into the hazy darkness. A cloaked figure approached them: Brother Enoch. 

“Brother Enoch,” Gideon replied politely with a bow of his head. “We apologize for the sudden visit, but we had a matter of importance we seek assistance with.”

What is the matter of importance? Brother Enoch replied. Sophie lifted her chin.

“There is a possibility that I may be with child,” she explained evenly. Gideon squeezed her hand. “We are not certain, however. We’ve come to seek an answer.”

I see there is something, said Brother Enoch. A further examination is required to determine your answer. 

Sophie swallowed a lump of anticipation and follow the Brother further into the Silent City. A gentle hum filled the otherwise soundless corridors—even their footsteps made no sound despite not bearing Soundless runes. Gideon’s hand on the small of her back reassured her, however, and calmed her nerves.

The group entered a small, dimly lit room. In the center was a single large stone, meant to serve as an observation seat. Sophie settled herself in and breathed slowly.

Have you experience any unusual ailments similar to those of your first pregnancy, Mrs. Lightwood?

“Irritability,” Sophie admitted mournfully.

“Snoring,” added Gideon thoughtfully. Sophie scowled at him.

“Other than that,” Sophie continued, “not a thing that has been too noticeable.”

Brother Enoch did not respond but continued his movements; slow and precise, in the air over Sophie. She closed her eyes and laid back. It wouldn’t take long for Enoch to come to a conclusion, but she was so tired.

I am impressed you were able to detect this so early, said Brother Enoch, removing his hands and returning them to his front. You are, in fact, with child, Mrs. Lightwood. I suspect you are only six to eight weeks into your pregnancy.

Gideon let out a sudden whoop of happiness and Sophie smiled brightly. “Truly?” she wondered aloud.

Yes, I am certain, answered Brother Enoch. Congratulations to you both. It is too early to tell if you are having a son or a daughter, however. If you’d like, you may come back in several weeks time to learn.

Sophie nodded. “It’s all right,” she said, happiness flooding her body. She turned to Gideon, who looked so happy he may cry. “Son or daughter, it doesn’t matter. Right?”

“Right,” Gideon confirmed, his voice strained from trying to remain calm. He looked up to Enoch. “Thank you, Brother Enoch. This is truly wonderful news.”

.

**Ten Months Later**

.

“Genia,” Gideon cooed desperately at the infant screaming in his arms. “Hush, darling, you’re all right.”

“Is Genie sad?” Barbara questioned. She stood at Gideon’s side, her head barely reaching the tops of his knees. She’d been glued to her sister’s side from the moment she met her, curious to see this new member of the family who cried so much. 

Gideon smiled despite his growing fatigue. “Babies cry for many reasons,” he told his firstborn. “Right now, she is crying because she is tired.”

“So why does she not go to sleep then?”

Gideon chuckled, still bouncing his newborn daughter. Eugenia appeared to have been born with lungs of steel. “She needs to learn how to that, Babs. That’s why Mum and I take turns holding her at night; so she can feel safe and happy enough to sleep.”

Barbara nodded. She was in her own nightgown preparing to sleep when she heard her sister’s cries and followed Gideon into the nursery. Her dark hair was tied up to keep her cool in the summer heat and it made her look so much like Sophie. “Don’t cry Genie,” she said after a moment, her small face gentle and kind. “Papa says we are safe.”

Gideon knelt down beside her and kissed her head. “That is right,” he said to her. Barbara leaned closer to her baby sister and kissed her cheek, wet with tears. Eugenia began to calm, her screams settling into fading whimpers. Barbara smiled brightly. 

“I did it, Papa!” she exclaimed quietly and with wide brown eyes. 

“Yes, you did,” came Sophie’s voice. She strode into the nursery and smiled, tired. “You are a wonderful sister, my darling, but it is also time for you to go to sleep.”

Barbara nodded and skipped to her mother’s side. “Goodnight, Papa! Goodnight, Genie!”

Gideon blew her a kiss. “Sleep well, all right? Listen to your mum.”

Sophie lifted Barbara into her arms and hugged her close. Barbara rested her little head on her mother’s shoulder. “I love you,” Sophie said to Gideon. 

Gideon stood, Eugenia beginning to finally fall asleep in his arms. He looked at all three of them, his girls, and felt more at peace than ever before in his life. This was his family; his to love, his to protect, and his to love him in return. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “All of you.”

Thanks for your request! I had so many ideas that I had to force myself to pick small pieces of each to create flashes of memories. I might expand more on all these wonderful prompts!

Join the celebration! It’s my birthday!

[daisylincs]

Staticquake 53, 63, 47, 61

53 = Mutual Pining, 63 = Everybody Knows/Mistaken For A Couple, 47 = Not a Date and 61 = Love Confession. 

Thank you so much, anon, I was grinning already just as I read these prompts! I can just feel the denial coming off these two in waves, and it's the BEST. 

As I was reviewing my bullet-point fics so far, I came to the shocking realisation that I haven't written a single coffee shop AU yet!! I know, I was stunned, too. And I immediately decided I needed to fix that! Luckily these prompts worked really well with a nice little coffee shop spin on them, so, I hope you like it! 

Daisy works as a barista for Shield Coffee, and unlikely as it is, she's found a family there. It's a strange kind of family, to be sure, but it's more than she's ever had before. 

It works like this. The owners of the little shop, Coulson and May, took her in and taught her a trade when no-one else would. In this little pseudo-family, they're her mom and dad. 

Fitz and Jemma are her co-baristas, and also her best friends. They brighten her days with their cheerful banter and the way they always finish each other's sentences, and even if they do drive her up the wall sometimes with their total obliviousness, she loves them more than anything. 

Mack is one of her regular customers, and she's come to know him so well that he's like a big brother to her. She teases him relentlessly about his obvious crush on Elena, the pretty Columbian girl who always stops by at Shield after her morning run, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and promises he won't be tipping her today. (He does anyway.) 

There's Bobbi and Hunter, who are that pair of cousins who will put a smile on your face no matter what with their playful bickering and on-again-off-again drama that somehow always ends up with them on. 

Then there are all the other customers who she doesn’t know as well, who are like those far-off family members whose faces you recognise and would totally say hi to on the street, but who aren’t in your inner circle. 

So yeah, she knows and likes everyone, and everyone knows and likes her. 

So when a totally new guy pops into the coffee shop one morning, suffice it to say Daisy is intrigued. 

"What can I do for you?" she asks, looking up and flashing New Guy a friendly smile. Oh, he's cute. Nice. 

"One hot chocolate, please," New Guy says with a smile. 

Daisy stops in the middle of pouring milk into the espresso machine to give him a disbelieving look. "Uh, you know this is a coffee shop, right?" 

"Yes, actually, I can read," he says drily, nodding up at the sign above her head. 

She rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore that. "You're not seriously going to order hot chocolate in a coffee shop, are you?" 

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I've never really liked coffee," he says, and if he didn't have such nice blue eyes, Daisy would never forgive him for such a horrific betrayal. 

"Well, maybe that's because you've never tasted my coffee," she says, leaning against the counter and quirking her eyebrows at him. "Here, tell you what. I'll make you that hot chocolate -" she can't quite keep the grimace off her face "- but I'll also make you a French Vanilla latte. On the house." 

"See if that doesn't change your mind," she adds under her breath. 

"We'll definitely see," he says, tipping his head at her in a little salute. Flashing her a playful smile, he adds, "I've never been one to pass up a free cookie." 

Oh, he has some nerve. Daisy shakes her head, smiling despite herself, and he gives her a little smirk as he turns away to go find a table. 

She's still smiling (but more determinedly now - she's going to prove him wrong) as she makes his drinks - both of them - and calls, "Jem? Can you cover the counter? I'm taking my fifteen." 

Sweeping his drinks onto a tray, she makes her way over to his table. "Prepare," she tells him, handing him his latte and perching on the edge of his table, "to have your mind blown." 

He gives her a very unconvinced look, but slowly raises the cup to his lips. Takes a small sip. And… 

Makes a face. 

"Oh, come on!" she exclaims, dropping her hands in exasperation. "That's really great coffee." 

"I'm sure it is," he says, trying and failing to wipe away his grimace. "It's just really not my thing." 

"You know what that sounds like?" she asks him, folding her arms and shooting him an arch look as she takes the latte herself. "That sounds like a challenge." 

"It does?" he asks, arching his eyebrows. 

"Hell yes," she says firmly. "You come back tomorrow, and I'll make you another one of our lattes. I'll find one you like, I'll bet on it." 

He takes a very deliberate sip of his hot chocolate. "Well, I will come back," he says slowly, "if only to prove you wrong." 

Daisy gives what's half a snort and half an incredulous laugh, shaking her head at him. "I can't believe you," she informs him. He toasts her with his hot chocolate, blue eyes sparkling. 

"Alright, what's your name?" she asks, because if she's going to be doing this she can't keep calling him New Guy in her head. 

"Lincoln," he says, putting down his hot chocolate to shake her hand. 

"Well, I'm Daisy," she says, gripping his hand. "And I am going to convert you into a believer of the religion of coffee." 

He rolls his eyes at her, but he's smiling a little. "Yeah, we'll see," he says. Reaching for the latte, he takes the complimentary cookie off the plate and waves it at her. "Thanks." 

It's her turn to roll her eyes, but she's also smiling. This is going to be fun. 

"So, who's that cute guy you were flirting with?" Jemma asks, catching her arm as soon as she returns to the counter. 

"I wasn't flirting," she denies immediately - because, Jemma, what? "Where did you get that idea?" 

"I don't know, the cute smiles and proximity?" Jemma suggests, eyes dancing with mirth. 

Daisy snorts. "Yeah, no." Giving her friend a comically betrayed look, she explains, "He doesn't like coffee! I have to convert him." 

Jemma rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "totally flirting" under her breath. But when Daisy gives her a look, she just smiles innocently. "Great idea." 

Daisy rolls her eyes and ignores her friend. Jemma's totally wrong - she wasn't flirting! And yeah, okay, Lincoln's cute, but that's so far from the point. 

The point is coffee. Yes. 

The next day, as promised, Lincoln shows up. He orders a hot chocolate again, giving her a shit-eating grin as he does. 

She rolls her eyes and brings him that and a hazelnut latte. 

And, of course, he doesn't like it. 

This repeats the next day, with the only change being the flavour of latte she brings him. And repeats again the next, and the next. 

Okay, there is one other change, as well. But Jemma can stop smirking, because it doesn't mean anything, at all. Okay? N-o-t-h-i-n-g. They're just friends, and if they keep talking for the entirety of her break, and often longer, well that still doesn't change that, not one bit. Got it? 

All it means is that Lincoln is really easy to talk to, bad taste in coffee or no.

And everyone else in the coffee shop seems to think so, too. More and more frequently, Lincoln is chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen with Fitz and Jemma about something science-y she wouldn’t understand if it hit her with a ten-pound hammer, but which they all get really excited about. Or he’s exchanging banter with Hunter and Bobbi, and placing bets on when Fitzsimmons will finally get their act together. Or he’s laughing himself silly as he and Mack try to learn Spanish from Elena and Joey. Even May grudgingly admits he’s an alright kid. 

Daisy only realises what’s happening as she brings him a pumpkin spice latte, and after taking a grudging sip, his eyes widen.

“Whoa,” he says. “That’s… that’s good.”

Daisy stares at him for a moment in total shock, then shrieks so loudly the entire coffee shop jumps. “I knew it!”

And before she quite processes it, all her friends are flocking around the table, too, exchanging “told-you-so’s” and “finally!’s” with Lincoln. 

It’s then that she realises two fundamental truths at the exact same time: number one, Lincoln has become a part of the Shield family. The thought leaves a warm glow in her stomach. 

And number two… when he looks over at her, blue eyes sparkling as he holds onto his pumpkin spice latte, her heart feels like it’s going to burst from warmth.

Oh, god.

She likes him.

She finds herself looking at him with totally new eyes, as if she’s trying to analyse every little thing he does. The way he laughs and interacts with her friends, and the way they smile warmly back… it leaves her feeling so full of soft warm happiness that she thinks she might explode of it. 

But that doesn’t mean he likes her back… does it?

I mean, probably not. Right?

She finds her gaze lingering on him a little longer, now, as they sit down for pumpkin spice lattes on her ten o’clock break each day (she still tells him I-told-you-so every single day.) 

And sometimes she thinks his eyes linger a bit, too.

Then other times she thinks, Daisy, stop being ridiculous, this is your FRIEND. Friends are allowed to look a little longer when you’re busy TALKING, so stop overanalysing everything, dammit. 

Her inner pep-talk sort of works. Sort of. 

Pity nobody else heard it. 

One day, as they’re sitting together and talking animatedly about Trump’s latest dumb Tweet, this sweet old lady stops by their table and goes, "oh, it does my heart so good to see young love again. You two are such a lovely couple." 

They both start blushing like crazy - "oh no, we're not together" - and Daisy can’t meet his gaze all of a sudden because oh my God, this is awkward. 

And to make things worse, Hunter, asshole with the worst timing in the world that he is, chooses that moment to pop up behind them and go, "Really? Because you've basically been going on dates for three weeks now." 

Daisy and Lincoln simultaneously splutter versions of "What are you talking about??? Those weren't DATES!!"

 Then Jemma pops up, too, and starts ticking things off her fingers. "Sitting together in the coffee shop? Check. Bantering and teasing each other? Check. Making each other grin like idiots? CHECK." 

And when Daisy stops to think about it… sitting together and chatting over coffee does seem a little bit like a date. And, okay, yeah, maybe she does smile a little bit more than she should if they’re just friends, and her heart does do this little happy skippy thing when he smiles back - but that’s just her. Right???

She looks over at Lincoln, and finds him blushing too as he studiously looks down at the table. 

Wait… if he’s blushing, too, that means…

“Were they?” she blurts. “Were they dates?”

He looks up at her, and his expression is all awkwardness, but with a little bit of hope in there, too. “Do you want them to be?” 

Daisy’s heart is going crazy in her chest. Oh dear sweet God and his great aunt Tracy, this is all simultaneously so good and so terrifying. It kind of definitely seems like he might like her too, maybe.

So she takes the plunge and says, “Yeah.” 

He laughs, shaking his head a little incredulously. “Wow. I thought it was just me… I mean, sometimes I thought you might feel the same, but then I told myself I was just reading into things, and -” 

“We’re a pair of idiots,” she says, and she’s a little mad at herself and him but she can’t stop smiling. “That’s exactly what I thought, too.” 

“Well, then,” he says, and he can’t stop grinning, either. God, they’re a pair of love-struck idiots. “So now that we’ve established that - do you want to go on a date? Properly?” 

And Daisy’s grinning so much she thinks her face might split as she answers, “only if there’s coffee involved.” 

He’s laughing, and she’s laughing, and somehow they’re both drawing closer until they’re kissing.

The entire coffee shop starts cheering.

“I KNEW IT!” Hunter yells, pumping his fist. “I knew it! We all saw this coming, oh my God you two owe us!” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Daisy says, reaching for Lincoln’s hand and grinning when he immediately laces their fingers. They pretty much run out of the coffee shop, their friends’ whoops and whistles following them all the way.

(Even so… they go back to the coffee shop for their first real date. And neither of them even mind the relentless teasing that much - they know it’s just because everyone’s really happy for them. 

They’re really happy for themselves, too.

The End.)

Digital pumpkin spice lattes to anyone who spots the Hamilton reference 😜 

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

Marinette: I have something to confess...  In the daytime, I'm Marinette, Just a normal girl with a normal life. But there's something about me that no one knows... I...

Adrien: Oh my God, you're Hannah Montana! That explains everything!

Alya: Adrien, that's a show from like 20 years ago. She's obviously Jem. Whoa, does that mean we're the Holograms?

Chloe: Pft! That's even older! She's gonna confess she's a magical princess from another dimension.

Nino: Don't be "ridiculous", she's gonna say she's Agent P.... Agent M.

Marinette: How the heck the option were I'm a platypus is the one that makes the most sense?

[reading-hub]

Imagine: Slow dancing with Steve Rogers

- - - - - - - -

Dancing with the star spangled man was something every woman back in the 1940s and even now was a fantasy to have. Including mine, a little, ok maybe a lot...

But, who can blame me? Steve is the manliness of men. A super soldier that was idolized by many, and rumored to have knocked out Hitler over 200 times, which is also a plus.

Finally, with my years of hard dedication in robotics, I've now gotten the golden opportunity to work close with the very core of the Avengers!

And by very close, I mean I've gotten closer with said star spangled man over the past months by working with the Avengers. Sure, I'm not exactly apart of the battlefield, but with Stark's help, I've been able to built weapons and robots that I couldn't even imagine...

Although I've gotten to work with them for the past five months or so, it was very rare to come across the rest of the Avengers. I always believed that all of the Avengers lived together in one giant building, but reality check, not the case.

All the others were most likely busy with other worlds, cities that they lived in, or missions.

The Avengers I work with most of the time are Tony and Bruce. Sure, I know Steve pretty well, but we just small talk until Fury or someone else of high authority calls him up, ending our conversation unsurprisingly.

But when the three are busy with other things, I'm pretty much alone most of the time.

Not that I mind most of the time. Silence is something I can get by when I'm working by myself. But when Tony and Bruce banter back in forth with each other about science jumbo, I forget that I was ever alone in the first place...it felt nice for once.

My thoughts were completely blank when I heard my name called as I was still working. I looked up from my holographic working station seeing the star spangled man, a cheeky but swooning smile to greet me. Let's just say, it's working on me perfectly.

"Back from knocking out Hitler?" I playfully remarked to the captain. His cheeky smile dropped a little, not-but-also-expecting that from me. He laughed in boredom at my joke "Very funny, definitely did not see that one coming from you, Miss [F/n] & the Hologram." I took back for a minute there...

"Did--Did you just make an 80's reference?" I asked confused but also amused. Steve was also confused at the remark he said. "No, wasn't me. I overheard Stark say it." Steve cleared up.

"So you don't know what Jem & the Hologram is?"

"The what?"

"Nevermind, what are you doing back here so late?" I changed the subject, back into the real original question I wanted ask. "I could be asking you the same thing." He retorted with wit in his voice.

"I have some unfinish blue prints that I wanna finish this week." I admitted, a little guilty of myself. "Ah, Science mumbo-jumbo that I could never understand." He sighed in defeat. "The only 'sciencey mumbo-jumbo' I said was blue prints!" I laughed. "And that's not really scientific either, there just basic structures I have to draw out before building anything." I explained.

"Uh-huh, science mumbo-jumbo." Was all he said right after. It was almost if he didn't listen. "Anyways," He paused. "Since its just the two us in the tower, how bout I invite you somewhere?" He purposed. Alone together? Invite? Somewhere? This is something I would hear from a dream.

"Ok, sure. Just let it be quick so that I can finish up back here." I agreed loosely. After my words, Steve pulled me close and walked me around the hallways. Until we stopped at the training room. As I had a confused look on my face, puzzling what's happening next, Steve let go of my arm to unlock the door.

"Steve, you know how I feel working out in front people..." My confusion was replaced with worry, imagining the super solider watching me as I do pathetic push-ups and small weight lifts.

He chuckled. "We're not here to work out." He said simply as he opened the door quietly. I was back to being confused again. What on Earth is he playing at then?

Once the door was open, there was no training equipment in sight! It was almost as if someone moved it. I shrugged and thought that maybe the janitor moved it out of the way to clean the flooring.

The only thing I saw was a record player, a very old one that Steve could possibly recognized, no offense to him. It was placed in the middle of the room on top of a small table to stand up nicely on.

I went up to it, gazed at it as if it were something ancient, which it technically is. My fingers grazing the box from the outside.

"What do you think?" I turned to Steve who lightly smiled at me. "It's nice, never seen one up close before." I gazed more at it again.

"I wasn't talking about the record player." He said simply with a smirk. "Oh, then what is it then?" I asked nervously. He came close to me, and placed the needle on the disc. "This."

After that played Frank Sinatra - I Fall In Love Too Easily. I was taken aback until I felt Steve's hand hold onto mine delicately. "[F/n], today marks the day I first talked to you."

"Whoa, you keep track of that type of stuff..?" I blurted out. He chuckled at what I said.

"Yes, It was when I went to talk to Stark at his lab and asked him nicely  to not be so reckless. Then I saw you, with Bruce talking about science things. Stark caught me staring at you for a second and introduce me to you." I blushed at how detailed Steve was describing it. Suddenly, I felt his hands move from my own. Placed one hand on my lower back, and the other on my hand. Swaying me right and left.

His icey blue eyes looking at me with such empathy that I couldn't help but not turn away. I was so focused on both his words and loving face, that I didn't noticed our bodies were close together, our feet moving us around the room.

He continued. "You were looking at me with such admiration and shyness that I couldn't help but want to be around more at that moment. And so, I made it my own mission to always be around you whenever I had the chance. Talking and being with you made me feel like I was this young Brooklyn kid again. No one else made me feel that way like you did and I didn't know why."

I've never felt so special in my life. It was just so much to take in. THE Steve Rogers telling me about how he loves hanging out with me! Ok, now I don't wanna let him finish talking.

"Then, I remember being on a mission. The only thing that kept me going in completing that mission, was knowing that you were in the tower still hard working as always and finally talking to you again soon."

He thinks of me when on a mission? That must be alot thinking then, and flattering too, for me.

"Then I noticed, I never think of anyone other then the objective when on a mission. Only if I really, really care about that person or something. So there was only one explanation for that."

Our small dancing stopped, his hands released me and both reached on each side of my face delicately. His forehead touching against mine so tenderly.

"I am in deeply in love with you." He whispered softy.

My eyes widen in shock, whole body paralyzed at those words that I thought I would never hear, only in my thoughts and dreams!

"What do you say, [F/n]?"

One of my hands shaking, reaching for his to grasp onto. Faintly smiling at him. "So is that a yes then?" I nodded, a million times if I could!

Before I could think, Steve held my head close to his chest. As a response, my hands reached onto him for support.

"Still wanna finish up those blue prints?"

"No, I'm good here."

Best night ever.

[septic-dr-schneep]

Would JJ and Chase ever switch roles when it comes to who takes care of who? Like for example, Chase has been working overtime so when they both finally have time to hang out, Chase falls asleep hugging JJ or smth, and JJ has to be in charge of actually putting Chase in bed 'w'

Welp, they have now! :D Let’s see how well Jamie handles it!

JSE Fanfiction - Steeping Senses

It hadn’tescaped Jameson’s notice that Chase was working much longer hours than usual.His workday generally consisted of filming stunts for the morning and thenspending the rest of his time at the office, editing with his crew. Sometimesthe time for the stunt work ranged anywhere from five to seven hours, but aftertaking a break this past week for a particularly bad depressive spell, thevlogger was doing his best to catch up with his schedule and bring his viewers twice the amount of content to make upfor his absence.

“You mustget back into swing gradually,Chase!” Schneep warned sternly at breakfast. “It does not make sense to strain andexhaust yourself as soon as you’re back on your feet!”

Chase hadsimply offered him a rueful smile in return. “If I’m back on my feet, what elseam I s’posed to be doing but making up for the time I wasn’t?” he’d questioned.Schneep had been too startled by the question to offer a response before Chase glancedat his watch and leapt up from the breakfast table. “Speaking of which, I’mgonna be late. Yesterday’s footage should be ready to upload today. See if youcan watch ’em at some point and give me feedback, okay?”

Schneepseemed reluctant to do so, but Jameson was more than willing. He did watch them as they were uploaded andfrankly…they concerned him a little. He had taken part in a few Bro Averagevideos himself; he knew how Chase acted when he was filming—rather, he knew howhe was supposed to act. Did Chase realize how much of his usual drive and vigorwere missing?

Jamesonknew for certain that it wasn’t in his imagination when he checked the commentssection.

“Is it just me or does Chase look reallytired?”

“He seems like he’s doing a lot reallyfast…”

“Hey mate, it’s ok that you took abreak. We will wait for you!”

“If you ever need, or even just want abreak, you don't need our permission. You're still human, dude.”

When Chasegot home that evening, uncharacteristically quiet and scrubbing at his eyes,Jameson asked him if he was feeling alright.

“Yeah,buddy, I’m fine,” he answered immediately, almost absentmindedly, as he fishedaround in the kitchen cupboards for his favorite coffee mug. “S’just been along day.”

“Perhaps you should turn in,” Jameson suggested cautiously, hopinghis apprehension wasn’t too transparent.Chase didn’t seem to notice it.

“Nope, can’t.Stanley said when I left that once I’d had some dinner he wanted to get on aconference call with me so we can discuss what we’re doing this weekend.” Afterhe set up the coffee pot, Chase leaned against the counter to wait for it, hisjaw working in a certain fashion that Jameson expected was to stifle a yawn. “LikeI said, Jays, I’m fine.”

Coming outof his chair, Jameson shuffled closer, leaning past Chase’s arm and pointedlyflipping the switch—the one Chase had taught him would actually turn the coffeepot on. Chase seemed surprised for amoment at his obvious oversight but he offered no comment as the coffeegrumbled. Jameson stayed with him, resisting the urge to wring his hands. Thisought to be the time when Chase asked him about his day or told him an amusingstory about a member of the camera crew, but instead they just…stood insilence.

When thecoffee finished, Chase visibly bolstered himself, giving Jameson a tired smileas he took the mug from the counter—and the pot. As he started out of the room,Jameson blinked in disbelief, stepping forward enough to take ahold of hisshoulder.

“Wait! Aren’t you—shouldn’t you behaving a proper meal with that?” he questioned uncertainly.

“Ehh, I’mnot really hungry. Just coffee’s fine,” Chase shrugged it off. “I’ll be in thecomputer room. Don’t wait up if you’re tired, okay? G’night.”

“Good…night…” Jameson murmured, not bothering toproject his speech slide far enough for Chase to see as he left.

In the end,Jameson obediently went to bed. He didn’t wait up for Chase, but he did wake upthe moment he felt the bedsprings creak. Jameson kept his eyes closed despiteit, holding very still and listening intently for the sigh of relief at beinghorizontal at last. It didn’t come. After three minutes or so, JJ riskedlooking over his shoulder and found the other already asleep. He was like acandle, blown out as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The nextmorning was uncannily similar to the one before, as was the evening. It happenedagain the day after that and the day after that. The longer it went on, themore Jameson hated it and when he summoned his courage, he told Chase as much,but all he got was a regretful tousle to his hair.

“I’m sorry,Jem. I miss you during the day too,” he admitted. “Hey, text me aroundlunchtime, okay? I’ll try to say hi.”

Jameson didtext him, but he never answered. He must have forgotten.

Nightsprogressively got harder to bear—not just because he found it hard to wait forhim but because it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay with him. Jameson always had a fully furnished room of his ownto turn to, but he knew his da wanted and needed him there. It was most likelya side effect of losing his marriage, but Chase naturally slept better when hehad some company at night.

When he waswarm and had someone to hold, he’d explained, he was calmed. He could lie stilland sleep without any interruptions. Lately, however, to Jameson’s dismay, thatdidn’t seem to be the case. With increasing frequency the gentleman foundhimself jostled awake when a stray elbow ended up lodged in his back or theirfeet got tangled up. Chase tossed and turned much more than he used to.

Thismorning, he didn’t even take the time to finish his breakfast, wrapping whatwas left of his pop-tart in a napkin and jamming it in his back pocket.

“You’re notstaying?” Jackieboy didn’t seem particularly surprised, but Chase didn’t seemto notice how troubled the hero’s eyes were as they tracked his progress.

“I can’t stay,” Chase said shortly, barelyglancing at him as he slapped his cap on his head and heaved a backpack ofsupplies onto his shoulder, stumbling a little under its weight before headjusted. “I don’t know when I’m gonna be back; I’ll see you later.”

As soon asthe front door closed behind him, Jackieboy exhaled slowly, shaking his head.Schneep was already drumming his fingers against the edge of his coffee mug andMarvin was practically vibrating with tension.

“I’m worried for him,” Jameson blurted out.

“We allare,” Jackie assured him grimly.

“It’s beenmore than this last week now,” Schneep huffed, taking a resigned sip of thelittle coffee Chase had left in the pot. “He is not like Jackie and I, he isnot like Jack, he doesn’t cope with late night work—not well, at least.”

“I’m a right testament to that,” Jameson agreed, gingerly rubbing thesore shoulder that had received a particularly harsh elbow last night. “But…bebother it, what can we do toconvince him to stop?”

“I’ll holdhim down for a nap if I have to,” Marvin muttered agitatedly. “If he keepsdoing this, he’ll just end up right back in his slump, and trashing himselflike this is gonna make it a lot harderto get back out.”

Those wordsgnawed at Jameson for hours on end; the worry was all-encompassing. He couldbarely focus on his own daily activities. He didn’t want to see him fall, notagain, not so soon. When Chase had a run of his better days, he was one of thehappiest, most upbeat and enthusiastic people Jameson knew. He loved life. Watching him when he wasbedridden, never speaking, barely eating…it was like looking at an entirelydifferent person, a numb, hopeless little thing that had been torn from Chase’sbody like Peter Pan’s shadow.

The shadowsunder Chase’s eyes were disconcertingly deep now, Jameson noted, swallowinghard and tightening the fold of his hands as he waited. Chase didn’t seem tonotice he was there at first, nearly jumping out of his skin when he finallydid see him at the dining table.

“Whoa! Jem!”Cursing under his breath, he pressed a hand against his chest, taking asteadying breath as he swayed back. “What’re you doing up? You should be in bedby now, right?”

“I wanted to stay up for you,” Jameson answered, trying for a smilebefore allowing for a pause. “Oh, butwhat time is it?”

As he madea show of patting himself down, looking for his pocket watch, he peeked up atChase every so often, his chest tightening. The older Ego had stopped payingattention to him already, tossing his backpack aside and trudging toward thekitchen cabinet. He was probably going to get more of that blasted coffee.

“Good golly! It’s far later than Ithought!” heexclaimed, projecting his speech slide in front of the cabinet doors. “Now that you’re home, perhaps we should both retire!”

“I can’t,”Chase brushed that off predictably. Jameson was starting to hate those twowords. “Something went wrong with the file on today’s third video; I need towrangle that into shape after I’ve had some dinner.”

Jamesonhadn’t seen him actually sit down and eat a full night meal for a few days now.He was distracted from bringing that up, however, as he happened to glance downand spot the edge of the napkin peeking out of Chase’s pocket. Astonished, he rose,crossing the distance in three long strides to snatch at it, causing the olderEgo to lurch away.  

“Hey, what’reyou—?”

“After you’ve had supper?” Jameson echoed incredulously, wavingthe folded napkin and its mashed, crumbling contents. “Why, you’ve still got your breakfastto eat! Did you have sustenance of anysort today?”

“Well,yeah. There was half a donut on the counter at the office,” Chase protested.

“Do you recall picking it up and eatingit?” Jamesonpersisted, tossing the mess onto the counter and planting his hands on his hipsexpectantly. Chase’s hesitation went on for a few seconds too long. Eyesnarrowing, Jameson closed the rest of the distance, interlacing his arm withChase’s and marching toward the couch. “Plantyourself here right this instant, sir! You’re taking a night off and that’sthat!”

Groaning,Chase pulled against his grip, making all the same objections he had theprevious several nights. “You don’t understand, Jem. I’ve got another conferencecall I need to make. All I need is a little coffee and I’ll be set. You shouldn’ttry to stay up when all I’m gonna be doing is work—”

“I’m not staying up for my sake, Chase! It’snot because I miss you or I’m sad I don’t get to see you; I’m worried! Why do you think I’m enforcingthis?” Jamesonsnapped. “The only reason you’ve stoppeddashing about like a madman for the past few days is because you’re tooexhausted to dash! Now you’re stumblingabout like a—a—” He couldn’t find a proper metaphor, steering Chase ontothe couch and then planting himself next to him, wordlessly simmering.

“Jameson,”Chase began slowly—and he’d used his full name, which meant he was finally paying full attention to him—“AllI want is to make up for lost time.”

“You’ve done more than enough. It’s a sorry excuse for battering yourself likethis for more than a week,” theyounger Ego shot back with a glower.

“Okay, then,”Chase conceded, his voice falling lower. “I want to make up for the time all ofyou had to spend taking care of me.”

“Well, think of it this way: we’ll haveto take care of you quite a while longer if you bring yourself to harm byoverworking!”

Chase didn’tanswer right away; it seemed as if it was taking him a while to process thewords. “I just…need to jump back into things when I come out of one of mydowns,” he muttered restively, looking anywhere but at his companion. “Or I’llstart thinking about things…how muchworse I make things for all of you by having these bad days…Hating myself for ’emmore than I already do.”

“…Da.”

“Yeah?”

Sliding hislegs up onto the couch in front of him, Jameson leaned, wrapping his armstightly around Chase’s chest and curling close to him. “The only way you could possibly worsen anything for me is by punishing yourself.”

Now that hewas looking at him this closely, Jameson could really see the exhaustion—the stress creases and the stray stubble andthe glaze in his eyes that didn’t belong. It created an ache in his chest that encouragedhim to tighten his grip, his fingers digging into Chase’s ribs in an attempt toforce him closer.

After afull minute, Chase relented, relaxing into his hold and heaving a breath thatruffled Jameson’s hair before looping his nearer arm around his back. Takingthat as progress, Jameson weighed further into him, getting comfortable, andChase huffed softly.

“Are yousure you didn’t miss me?”

“Are you sure you didn’t miss me more?”

“Yeah, Idid…” Despite the several cups of coffee he’d downed during the day, Chasecould feel another yawn lurking. He didn’t bother stifling it this time, blinkingtiredly as he pressed his cheek against the curve of his boy’s shoulder. Hishead didn’t want to stay upright anymore. “S’being all cuddly part of your plant’make sure I take the night off?”

“Yes.”

“Gotcha…”

There wasno need to elaborate on the rest of the plan; it was already in motion. Chase’seyes were flickering closed, his breaths evening out startlingly fast, andJameson stilled, waiting until the arm around his back slid limply down againstthe cushions.

Fortyseconds. All it had taken was forty seconds without pushing himself to keepgoing. Reaching back, Jameson took ahold of his fallen hand, maneuvering itaround his neck and tightening the grip he had around his waist. The fact thatChase wasn’t holding his own weight as Jameson pulled on him made standing astruggle; he was a little surprised that he didn’t jolt awake again as soon asJameson readjusted his grip, but it was a testament to just how exhausted hewas.

After aprecarious, wobbling journey down the dim hallway, Chase’s bed was a more thanwelcome sight. Jameson let Chase’s arm fall from his shoulders, hugging himcarefully around the chest until he could steer him down properly. From there thegentleman began working on untying his boots. Chase did stir somewhat then,twisting onto his side and allowing his hand to fall into the empty spacebeside him, as if he’d expected something to be there.

“I’m coming,” Jameson assured him kindly, though heknew he wasn’t heard.

As soon ashe’d pried his boots off and set them aside, he didn’t hesitate to burrowunderneath the covers and fill the space, allowing the other to shift his armhowever he cared to in his sleep. Sure enough, Chase’s fingers automaticallyfound the back of his nightshirt, curling loosely into it to keep him where hewas. As he leaned into the touch, Jameson stilled, straining his ears. He hadto hear it. None of this would feel quite as right as it ought to without it.

After a fewmore seconds, he could feel the last of the tension drain from Chase’s body inthe deep, drowsy sigh he’d been waiting for. Relief. Comfort. Jameson wasallowed his own breath of relief because of it, nestling close against him sothe steady, warm thump of his heart could lull him down slowly.  

He had a delightfullycontented feeling that they would be sleeping in tomorrow morning.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Another Life

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

I’ve decided to take this story to properly introduce Switch!Jack to the AU. Because I think I’ve come up with a great way for him to fit in and I’m really excited to see more of him :D And most of the others are, too. Except for Anti. Seems like his trust issues are acting up. Those two just need to get to know each other, it’ll be fiiiiiine. Anyway, hope you guys like this story, and like Switch!Jack as much as I do ^-^

More of this AU found here

It was noon on a Friday, and Anti was getting off a bus. He watched as it pulled away from the stop, then sighed. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. But the others did, and so here he was, reluctantly going along with their plan to get to know this new guy: Jack, Sam’s friend.

He never understood why the others—JJ and Jackie especially—were always so eager to add new people to this group. Especially people they barely knew, like Jack. Really, what had he done so far? He’d showed up at the park and got Anti home after that incident at the Aspen Street house. Then told the others that he was fine. And...that was it. But because he was connected to Sam, and they knew that strange little eyeball to be friendly, they thought it was a good idea to get to know the guy. Anti just didn’t see the point. They didn’t know anything about him! What if this was some sort of trick?

Sighing, Anti started walking, heading towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. At the very least, he could use this as a way to figure out what was going on with Sam. See if they could learn what Sam was, and things like that.

They’d invited Jack to The Waffle Cone, one of their usual places, thinking the casual, familiar setting would be a nice getting-to-know-you environment. But instead of their usual spot at a table near the window, they’d instead taken one of the booths near the back, in a slight alcove with no windows nearby. So that Sam could fly around the semi-hidden area without being seen by passerbys. Though Anti couldn’t help but notice when he walked in that Jack, and therefore Sam, were nowhere to be seen. Why was that? A harmless reason, or something else? He sighed as he walked towards the back to join the others.

“Hey Anti!” Jackie stood up, reaching out but pausing before actually making contact.

“Hey.” Anti patted Jackie on the back. It was a casual contact day. “Wow, so Highlighter Hair is even later than I am?”

“Highlighter Hair? C’mon, Anti,” Jackie sighed.

“Well he’s right, his hair is really bright,” Marvin pointed out from where he was sitting near the wall. “Why woul’ anyone want t’at? Doesn’ it just draw attention?”

“Some people want that,” Schneep muttered. He was sitting opposite Marvin, but when Anti showed up he stood and walked out of the booth, letting Anti have the seat by the wall.

“Yeah, the question is why,” Anti said, sitting down. “Like, if you have a magic eyeball companion, you’d want to blend in, right?”

After a bit of musical chairs they ended up with Anti by the wall, Schneep next to him, then Jackie on the end. On the other bench were Marvin and JJ. Maybe it’s for work? Jameson suggested, signing slowly.

“For a job? Is that what you said?” Anti asked. JJ nodded, and at that, Anti considered the idea. “Well, what does he do that needs neon-colored hair?”

JJ reached into his pocket. After a bit of rummaging, he took out his wallet, and put the card Jack had given him into the middle of the table. Everyone leaned close to look. “Oh, so he’s a musician,” Jackie said.

“A musician with a weird floating eyeball companion who can talk with him telepathically,” Anti stressed.

“You know, considering you are the only other person here with dyed hair, you really should not be judging people on their appearance,” Schneep commented.

“I—that’s not the point!” Anti protested. “He’s got to be something more!”

“Well we can ask him, because he’s showin’ up,” Marvin said, gesturing towards the front entrance. At that very moment, Jack was walking in, hands in his pockets and highlighter-bright hair practically glowing in the sunlight, and looking around. Jackie stood up and waved to draw his attention. Jack smiled and waved back, then headed over.

“Hi everyone. Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding into the empty spot next to JJ. “I got lost. This place is pretty far from the tourist-y parts of the city I’ve been in so far.”

“Oh my god!” Schneep threw his hands up in the air. “Why is everyone Irish?!”

Anti and Marvin burst into laughter. “Hey, I’m not Irish,” Jackie pointed out.

“Your mom is, it is the same thing if you are half,” Schneep rebutted.

JJ picked his pencil and notebook up from the table and wrote, I’m definitely not Irish. 100% British.

“Oh, god, Jems, that’s even worse,” Marvin snickered.

JJ gasped exaggeratedly, then nudged Marvin’s arms, making him laugh more.

Jack was chuckling as well. “Yeah, I was just thinking to myself that this city has a lot of Irish people in it. Even the name sounds more Irish than British, right? ‘Mirygale.’ I’ve been all over, and that’s not very English if you ask me. Wonder why that is.”

Jackie shrugged. “I guess maybe there’s always been a bunch of Irish people in the area. I bet if you looked up city history there’d be something interesting there.”

“You sound like a primary school teacher assigning a topic to a kid’s first essay,” Anti muttered. “Is Sam here?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jack took off his backpack and unzipped it. The moment it was open enough Sam flew out. They looked around, taking in the setting, then floated back down to the table, scooting closer to Jack, who patted them, smiling. “We always go everywhere together. Which is why I was so worried when they decided to come here on their own and didn’t tell me.”

Schneep hummed. “They did that without telling you? Is that not a bit rude?”

“We’ve already talked it over by ourselves,” Jack said. “So if you’re trying to get them to apologize, they already did.”

“Okay, Jack. Mr. McLoughlin.” Anti leaned across the table, getting as close to Jack as he could without Schneep shoving him back. “Time to talk about this. Where the fuck do you get a floating eyeball? Where did they come from? Why can you talk to them but nobody else can? Also what the fuck are they? None of us have ever heard of a floating green eye. What are you?”

“Anti,” Jackie said, putting a hand on his arm. “Can you back off a bit? We just met the guy.”

Jack was unphased by Anti’s hostile tone and blatant mistrust. He just adjusted his glasses and said, “Yeah, Sam’s told me all about you guys. You’re all magic or something, right?”

“Well, technic’lly Jems is the only magician,” Marvin pointed out. JJ nodded, then pulled his usual parlor trick of tiny blue fireworks.

“Whoa.” Jack whistled. “I’ve never really talked to a real magician before.”

JJ tilted his head. So...you know there are real magicians?

“Sort of, yeah. Sam and I have met some, but it was always a lot of questioning and exchanging information, you know, kinda like what Anti’s trying to do.” Anti jumped at being called out like that, and Jack laughed a bit. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. But if we’re at a restaurant, can we at least order food first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, of course. Hang on.” Jackie handed Jack his menu. “Here, let’s all find something then I’ll go up and order.”

A while later everyone had their food, eating and chatting about nothing. Except for Anti. He just kept staring at Jack, eyes narrowed, listening to everyone else talk about movies and video games and books. Sam was curled up around the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table, constantly turning around to follow the thread of conversation. “So does Sam need to eat?” Anti asked the second there was a lull in the conversation. “Because they never did when they were staying with me.”

Jack shook his head, taking a moment to swallow the bite of his sandwich he’d just taken. “No, but they get really upset when I don’t. We like, share energy. Mostly. They just kinda get hangry.”

You share energy and you can hear their thoughts? So you ARE connected somehow, JJ quickly wrote.

“Guys, we really shouldn’t be asking questions Jack doesn’t want to answer right now,” Jackie pointed out.

“No no no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Jack reassured him. “I’m not actually upset about it. I just thought we’d get to know each other a little first. Sam’s told me a lot about you guys, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Sorry, JJ signed. Then realizing Jack probably didn’t know what he said, he wrote Sorry out on the paper instead.

“Really, it’s alright.”

“Jackie, it is fine,” Schneep said. “We are all curious, Jack is fine with it, really there is no problem.”

“Wait, t’ere was a problem?” Marvin asked, confused.

“No, no problem!” Jack repeated. “Man, there is no train of thought with you guys. Or there is, it’s just all winding around and no one is driving.”

“Thanks, it’s the ADD in two of us combined with the bad social skills of the others,” Jackie said.

“Wh—well, we know, but hey,” Schneep said, mock-offended.

“Anyway, back to the question,” Anti said, rubbing the side of his head where an ache was starting to develop. “You and Sam are connected?”

“Uh-huh.” Jack nodded. Sam wiggled their way out from between the salt and pepper and hopped over to Jack’s shoulder. “Of course we are, they’re my eye.”

There was a moment of silence as the others all collectively processed that statement. “Wait, y’mean...literally?” Marvin finally asked.

“Yep. Here, I’ll tell you the story.” Jack leaned back, tapping the table with his fingers. “I was about...nine or ten, and one day, my right eye just started really aching. My family took me to the doctor, but they couldn’t find anything wrong, so they just gave me some bandages to cover my eye and told me to keep it closed. Don’t remember why. But a couple days later, I woke up in the middle of the night and the whole right side of my head hurt. So I got out of bed, went over to the mirror on my desk, and took off the bandages to see if something looked wrong. The minute I did, plop! My eye fell out.”

“Oh my god!” Jackie gasped.

“You can bet that freaked me the fuck out,” Jack continued. “And then I looked down, and it was green, and glowing. And then it started to move, and it looked at me. And that was Sam.” 

And you didn’t TELL anyone?! JJ asked, aghast.

“Jamie, please, what was he supposed to do?” Schneep asked. “He probably thought he would get in trouble with his parents.”

“Actually I thought that if I told anyone the government would come take me away,” Jack corrected. “So, uh. Yeah. Same idea, I guess. Same result. Sam stayed a secret, and over time they started getting bigger and able to fly, and now here they are.” Sam bounced, then nuzzled Jack’s neck.

“What about your eye now?” Marvin asked.

“That’s even weirder. I went back to bed, and in the morning, my eye was back in place. But Sam was still around. Of course, I was ten, so that made perfect sense to me at the time, but freaky as fuck looking back on it.”

“So it’s not fake?” Anti asked skeptically.

“Nope.” Jack tapped his cheek below his right eye. “Can see out of it and everything. I do kinda wish it looked a bit cooler, though. Like your thing, with the different colors? That would be cool.”

Anti didn’t say anything, not taking Jack’s clear peace offering.

I’ve never heard of something like this happening, JJ wrote. And neither has anyone I’ve spoken to. Have you, Jack?

Jack shook his head. “As far as I know, Sam and I are one-of-a-kind.”

“That is fascinating,” Schneep muttered. “I wonder why that happened? There was nothing that could have caused Sam?”

“Not that I remember,” Jack shrugged. “I’m just a guy, really. A guy with a living eyeball that has their own personality.”

“That’s not something that happens to ‘just a guy,’” Anti insisted. “And what do you do with this one-of-a-kind opportunity? You can’t tell me that you do regular shit when your life is like this.”

“Anti, I—” Jackie sighed. “Anti, can I talk to you? Somewhere private?”

“We’re in a restaurant, Jackie.”

“Then let’s go to the bathroom. C’mon.” Jackie stood up. Sighing, Anti started to get out of the booth, waited a moment for Schneep to let him out, then followed Jackie into the men’s bathroom.

“Well, we’re here,” Anti said, checking to make sure that nobody else was in the stalls. “And we’re alone. What’s wrong?”

“Look, Anti, I know you don’t like meeting new people,” Jackie said. “But you’re being...well...more dickish to Jack than usual. What’s the deal? Did you not like Sam or something?”

“No, I like Sam,” Anti said shortly. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let them stay with me. Would’ve given them to one of you guys.”

“Okay, well, Sam and Jack are clearly a package deal, so what’s up?” Jackie folded his arms. “Because honestly? You’re being ridiculous. No, you’re being actively hostile. You weren’t like this with Marvin and JJ, you know. You weren’t like this with Stacy. What is it about Jack that’s causing this?”

Anti shifted on his feet, not looking at Jackie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flipping it open and closed a couple times.

“If you want to leave, you can leave,” Jackie continued. “You don’t have to stick it out. If you’re staying because you want to know more about Sam, then we’ll tell you later. But...I just want to know. Are you just having a bad day and taking it out on him? Because right now it looks like you’re actively trying to make him uncomfortable—”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Anti blurted out.

Jackie blinked, then put his hands on his hips. “Anti.”

“Don’t use your Dad Voice on me, it’s not like—I could’ve said that better.” Anti took a deep breath, switching his knife to his other hand, where he continued to flip it open and closed. “It’s—he’s too nice. It’s...weird. Like—okay, you mentioned when we met Jackson and Marvin for the first time. You know how they reacted to my asshole comments? Marvin called me out on it, and Jackson...well, Jameson’s a really nice guy, but he at least looked surprised when I said something like that. You know, uh...what’s the phrase? Caught off guard. Taken aback. But Jack is just...nice. It’s freaky.”

“Maybe Sam just told him what to expect,” Jackie suggested.

“There’s a fuckton of difference between hearing something and experiencing something,” Anti pointed out. “I keep pushing him to get a normal reaction, and by now he should’ve blinked a couple times, o-or given me a weird glance, but he hasn’t, and it’s freaky. It’s—” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Is he trying to get me to like him? Why? Nobody’s that nice without wanting something from you.”

Jackie paused. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Well I mean...I’d say that I was ‘that nice’ to you when I kept showing up at your room in the hospital despite you actively telling me to fuck off.”

“I—that was different,” Anti insisted. “You’re a doctor, it makes sense for you to check on a patient.”

“I don’t think it was that different. I mean, I didn’t have to keep showing up, but I did.” Jackie walked up to Anti’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but when Jackie started to withdraw, he reached up and put his hand on top of his. “And Anti, I never wanted anything from you. I still don’t.”

Anti took another deep breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. “I—it’s just—I can’t—” He gave up, frustrated that he couldn’t put it into words.

“Do you want to leave?” Jackie asked.

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you good with Jack?”

“I won’t be as dickish,” Anti said carefully. “I’ll maintain my usual level of dickishness.”

Jackie laughed. “That’s fine. You ready to go back?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then.” Jackie smiled, and led Anti back to join the others.

———————

“Daaaad! Someone’s at the door!”

Anti turned around at the sound of Will’s voice. “I’ll be right there!” he called, quickly pausing the game he was playing and all the recording software. Who could that be? He checked his phone real quick, but didn’t see any messages from the others saying they were coming over. Then again, last time someone dropped by unexpectedly it was Marvin, mind-controlled by Distorter. He should probably answer. So he stood up and left his recording room.

Will was sitting at the kitchenette counter, swinging his legs while he munched on a bowl of grapes from the fridge. His plushie rabbit Brian was sitting on the stool next to him. The doorbell rang, and he helpfully pointed at it. “I got it, bud, don’t worry,” Anti said as he passed him.

He opened the door. And immediately wished he’d thought to look through the peephole first. Jack was standing outside, looking pretty much the same as he had a couple days ago when they met him for lunch. “Hi,” he waved. “Sorry for dropping in all of a sudden, but—”

“How’d you get this address?” Anti interrupted.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You gave it to me. I walked you here the first time we met. In the park, remember? I mean, I didn’t walk up here, but I asked a couple of your neighbors and—”

Anti groaned. “Those stupid—it’s my address, don’t give it away—what if someone wanted to kill me or something, dumbest move ever...” His complaints faded into angry muttering.

“They probably didn’t mean anything by it,” Jack said. “Anyway, I was—”

“Dad, who is it?” Will got off his stool, grabbing Brian as he did, and walked over to the door.

“Oh, uhhhhh...” Anti looked down at Will, now standing next to him, then back up at Jack. “This is...Jack. He’s...a new...friend.”

“You don’t make friends, Dad,” Will said.

“Well, friends make me, so it’s the same thing, really.”

Jack looked a bit shocked at first, but he quickly got over it. “Oh, so you’re Anti’s son? I should’ve known. Sam did say he had one. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will,” Will said, waving. “Do you want to come inside?”

“If your dad’ll let me.”

“I—” Anti sighed. “Yeah, step inside.”

“Thank you.” Jack didn’t walk too far into the apartment, hovering near the doorway as he looked around. “So this is your place?” For a moment, Sam peeked out from a gap in the zipper of his backpack, then they disappeared again. And Jack nodded, as if responding to someone. “Yeah, I see.”

“Sooo...why are you here?” Anti asked, closing the door.

“Oh, I wanted to see if you wanted to go somewhere,” Jack explained.

Anti fought the urge to glare at him suspiciously. “Why?”

Jack shrugged. “I just kinda felt like we got off on the wrong foot. Sam’s told me a lot about you, but I want to get to know you myself.”

Anti paused. “Is this a date? Because I don’t do romance, or...” He glanced at Will. “...the other stuff, either.”

“No, no no,” Jack hurried to say. “That’s cool, but I’m not into guys.” 

“Oh good, we needed a token straight in the group.” Jack looked a bit surprised at that, and Anti just had to laugh. “Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that.”

Jack laughed a little, too. “I mean, no. Goes to show how open-minded I should be. Anyway, not a date. Just sort of a friendly, let’s-talk-to-each-other thing.”

“Right.” That didn’t sound any more appealing. “Look, I was actually in the middle of work—”

“You should take a break, Dad,” Will interrupted. “You’ve been at the computer all day, and Mrs. Benson says you should limit your screen time.”

“I...well, she’s right,” Anti said carefully. “But this is for work.”

“You pause things all the time,” Will insisted. “Go have fun.”

Anti huffed. “I thought I was the parent here.” There was a bit of a smile on his face, though. “But speaking of that, I can’t just leave you on your own. And I can’t find a babysitter at the last minute like this.”

“I’m almost ten, Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“I...Will, honestly?” Anti bent over and whispered loudly. “It’s more for me than anything. I’d be worried, especially with what just happened.”

“Hmm.” Will’s face scrunched up as he thought up a solution to this problem. “Oh! You two can take me to Michelle’s house, first. There’s a bus stop close by!”

“I—Michelle’s ren might be busy, Will.”

“Then you should text them first.”

Jack smiled to himself. “Sounds like the kid’s got all the possible problems covered.”

Anti didn’t hold back on glaring at him this time. But, unfortunately, he was right. At this point, he couldn’t think of any more excuses to give to placate Will and his insistence that his dad have friends. “I wish you weren’t so smart sometimes, kid,” he muttered, straightening. “Alright, Highlighter Hair. Give me a minute to get everything ready then I guess I’ll go—where are we going?”

Jack paused. “Uhhh...well honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You know what? I’m not that familiar with the city, anyway, where do you want to go?”

Oh. Anti hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked, considering the options. They’d just gone out for food, so he didn’t want to do that. A movie might be good, it would keep conversation from happening, but it also meant at least two hours out with Jack, and nothing good was playing, anyway. “We can just walk around,” he finally decided. “That’s fine.”

“Alright. Hey, you can show me some of the local sights!”

“Yeah. Sure. Now sit down while I wrap all my work stuff up.” Anti pointed at the sofa, and Jack quickly sat down, waiting patiently. He gave him one last look, then disappeared back into the recording room to shut everything down.

While in there, his eyes landed on the glass shelf where he kept his knife collection. After a moment’s hesitation, he unlocked the case and grabbed one, entirely black with a four-inch drop point blade. It came with a matching black sheathe, and he slipped the blade inside it, quickly grabbing his jacket with the largest pockets and putting the whole thing in the left pocket. Just in case. Of what, he wasn’t sure. But just in case.

——————— 

After taking the bus to Rama and Michelle’s house and dropping off Will, they ended up going to the shops. Not the more popular shopping district of the city, but the area on the west side that had a bunch of small shops in rows. Bookstores and art-and-crafts places, mostly, but there were also music shops, a video rental place, and a survival-type store that sold equipment like climbing ropes and sleeping bags. Jack seemed interested, and asked questions about what the shops were like, if Anti liked them. But eventually, the conversation topic turned to more personal matters.

“So, uh, Anti,” Jack said slowly, zipping up his jacket as a gust of wind made the chilly day even colder. “What do you like to do?”

Anti shrugged. “Hang out with the others. Do stuff with Will. Play video games. Normal shit.”

“Really? What’s your favorite game?”

“I like horror.”

“Oh I’ve played some horror before. Like what?”

Anti sighed. Jack’s questions were persistent. “There’s this game that came out like a year and a half ago that I like. It’s called Doki Doki Literature Club.”

Jack laughed a bit. “That’s a horror game?”

“Don’t fucking judge it by the title, okay?” Anti snapped. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I played it on request, and got gut-punched by what happens in the story.”

“Hey, I wasn’t saying anything!” Jack raised his hands.

“You laughed.”

“Well you got to admit, it sounds a bit out there. But I guess it’s one of those ‘subvert your expectations’ types.”

“Exactly.” Anti nodded. And to change the subject, he asked, “What’s your favorite game, then?”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “Have you ever heard of Shadow of the Colossus?”

“No.”

“Oh, dude. It’s so cool! It’s on the PlayStation, and you play as this guy called Wander trying to defeat these creatures called the Colossuses—Colossi? I can never remember. Anyway, you have to find each one and then...”

Anti let Jack ramble on for a while, occasionally nodding or asking a question to get him to keep going. The streets were pretty empty; it was late November and chilly, nobody wanted to be out walking. But there were quite a few cars driving past. Though after a while they turned onto a dead end, the street ending in a square paved with red bricks and lined with a few benches, a couple concrete planters holding thin, leafless trees. Jack headed over to one of the benches and sat down. Anti followed, and after a moment, sat down on the opposite end, leaving about two feet of space in between them.

“So did you never have a PlayStation or something?” Jack finally asked. “Oh, PlayStation 2, I should say. Cause lord knows there are a million of them now.”

“There’s just four,” Anti said, rolling his eyes. “And no. No Xbox, either, before you ask. Or SNES.”

“Man. That must’ve sucked. Were they not big on video games in—uh, where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

Jack let out a huff of laughter. “Well no shit, I mean what county are you from?”

“Which one are you from?”

“Offaly.”

“Oh, of fucking course you are,” Anti muttered. “I should’ve guessed you were a middle-of-nowhere type by your accent.”

“Hey, yours doesn’t sound that much different!” Jack said defensively. “I bet you’re also a middle-of-nowhere type. Where is it? Longford? Westmeath?”

Anti gave up. “The first one, actually.”

“Knew it!” Jack said triumphantly. Then he paused. His expression shifted as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, did you—this is a fucking wild question, and you don’t have to answer it, but...did you happen to know a Ciara McLoughlin?”

Anti suddenly stiffened. He’d been avoiding looking directly at Jack this whole time, but his head snapped over at him. “What was that name?”

“Ciara McLoughlin, middle name Lily, I think. It’s a bit out there, but—”

Before Jack could even finish that question, Anti lunged. He knocked both of them off the bench, and they landed on the ground with a single solid thump! as Anti pinned Jack. A faint green glow rolled out of the gap in Jack’s backpack zipper, but Anti didn’t care. He’d reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he’d packed—still in its sheath, but a threatening display nonetheless. “Who fucking sent you?” he hissed.

“Wh-what?!” Jack was completely shocked, surprised by the reaction and a little scared of the covered blade Anti was poking into his chest.

“Who sent you!?” Anti repeated, snarling. “It was her, wasn’t it?! This is what you wanted, this is why you’ve been so weirdly fucking nice! How’d you find me?!”

“What are you talking about?!” The shock was fading into confusion, mixed with a healthy dose of nerves.

“You! You you you youuuu...youuuuu...” Anti shook his head. “You can’t fucking pretend anymore. How did you find me?! What does she want?! And why does she care now, of all times?!”

“Anti, please, calm down,” Jack pleaded, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about! I—what do you mean ‘she’? Do you mean Ciara?”

“Of course I do, who else would I mean?!” Anti demanded, pressing the sheathed blade a bit further. “And you need to stop being all confused like this, the jig is up, I knew it, I knew you weren’t just that friendly, it’s impossible, nobody’s like that, everyone needs something and I don’t know if it’s for your own sake or you’re doing this for her, but I know, I know now, I know why you’re like this, is it information? Is that what you want? Or are you going to try to convince me to go back? Either way, fuck you, you’re not getting either of those.”

Jack just gaped at Anti as he ranted, not moving. Then, out of nowhere, a bright green light flew up towards Anti’s eyes. Gasping, he leaned back, not dropping the knife but pulling it away from Jack long enough for him to sit up and scramble back. Sam bumped against Anti’s forehead, slapping his face with their nerve-tail as if to say ‘get a hold of yourself!’

“Fucking hell, dude,” Jack said, a bit out of breath. He ran his hand over the spot where the knife had been poking him, but luckily he just found a little imprint, no blood. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Anti pushed Sam away from his face and gave Jack a closer look. “You...really don’t know what...what I’m talking about?” he asked haltingly.

“No!” Jack shook his head furiously. “But I can figure it out! You clearly did know Ciara, and you clearly have some sort of issue with her. Did she do something to you?”

Anti didn’t answer. He looked down at the knife in his hand—oh god, if he hadn’t brought the sheath, he’d have—his hand opened and let the knife clatter to the bricked ground as he covered his eyes with his hands. His pulse was racing, loud enough for him to feel in his neck. God damn it. He had to get himself under control. Just...breathe. Take a moment to just focus on breathing.

“Sorry,” Jack repeated, softer this time. “I-I didn’t know it would...be like that.”

“Course you didn’t,” Anti muttered, lowering his hands and looking around. It  was lucky nobody had seen that.

“No, really, I-I didn’t,” Jack insisted. “I...When you said you were from Longford, I remembered that she lived there, so I wondered if you knew about her.”

“How do you know her?” Anti rebutted.

“She was my aunt,” Jack explained, taking off his glasses to make sure they weren’t damaged. “And I didn’t really know her, she never visited the family or anything. But. Yeah. My dad’s sister.”

“Oh.” Anti fell silent for a moment. He didn’t know that Ciara had a brother. A brother with kids. How was it possible that she’d never mentioned them?! That was a massive thing to never—in all that time—Anti groaned and rubbed his head. God, this hurt him, almost physically. If he’d known that—if he’d just—well, the past was dead. He’d killed it. So there was no use thinking about what might have been. But something sounded...off. In the way Jack talked about her. “What do you mean, she ‘was’ your aunt?”

“Well.” Jack hesitated for a moment, then said, quite bluntly, “She’s dead, actually.”

“...oh.” Anti waited for a reaction to rise up within him. Some sort of emotion, good or bad. But he felt...empty. Though maybe that made sense. “When?”

“When I was like...seventeen or something. Over ten years ago now. She got hit by a car.” Jack paused again, but Anti didn’t say anything more. So he stood up, slowly, and Sam flew around him. “I’m fine, Sam, don’t worry. No, nothing. Really.” Sam, worried, curled up in their usual spot on his shoulder.

“...Sorry,” Anti mumbled. “About the whole...thing. With the knife. I didn’t—I didn’t actually want to hurt you.”

Jack nodded. “Just don’t do it again.” He offered a hand, and after a moment, Anti took it, letting Jack pull him up. “Hey, uh...you’re probably not gonna answer this, but...are you okay with...telling me how you knew her?”

“No.” Anti shut down the notion immediately. He wasn’t about to share that whole mess with basically a stranger, when his close friends only knew the barest of details.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Jack took a step back, giving Anti some space. “Um...can I tell you something? I think you picked up on this, anyway, but...I’m not just a drummer. I do do that, but it’s to help pay expenses and stuff, you know?”

Anti’s shoulders raised. “What are you, a cop?”

“No! God no, I couldn’t do that,” Jack hurried to say. He took a deep breath, then continued. “There’s...not really a name for it, I think. But Sam and I travel around and...we help people. Not like a vigilante or anything, I hear you guys have one in this city? We don’t do stuff like that. I mean more...you know, mentally.”

“You’re a therapist?” Anti asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really.” Jack shook his head. “Though I guess I could be. I’d just need to go back to school and shit. I just...support people. Kinda encourage them. If any of this makes sense. Like, i-if you’re having a hard time and your house is messy, but you can’t find the energy to clean, I can do that for you. Or if you need to talk to someone to get something off your chest. Again, I’m not a therapist, but I can listen and give advice.”

Anti suddenly laughed. “You’re a life coach?! Oh my god, Highlighter Hair. You do not look the part.”

“That’s still not—” Jack sighed. “Okay, look. Sam’s been staying with you guys for a while, right? They have this ability, this...this feeling they get, sometimes, that they need to do something. What happens is they can sort of tell where we’re needed next, but a few weeks ago, they got this feeling, and they could tell they needed to go alone. So, they headed here. And...they found you guys. And they could tell something was immediately wrong. Your...your kids went missing, right?” Jack asked that last part slowly, cautiously.

“...yeah,” Anti muttered.

“Right. And you were all going through it.” Jack glanced down at Sam. “And if they’d told me where they were going, I could’ve been here to help with that, but apparently they suddenly needed to leave right then in the middle of the night.” Sam swished their tail. Somehow, they looked guilty.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Anti sighed. Actually, he probably understood more than Jack or Sam knew. He’d run into Sam the night of the kids’ disappearance, the night when he’d...had a breakdown. Just like he used to, years ago. And just like years ago, he might’ve continued on those random wanderings, out of his mind, if Sam hadn’t showed up and kept breaking up the routine. They’d probably saved him, in a way. Just like Jackie had, years ago, when he kept showing up in the hospital room of a nobody who didn’t care for him. “So...the real reason you guys are here is to fix us.”

“Don’t use that word,” Jack said firmly. “Nobody in your group is broken, you just need a little bit of help.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“I’m serious, I—” Jack sighed.

“Right. Just like you don’t want anything from us. How much are you offering for this?”

“I don’t charge for this,” Jack said. “We just...do it. Because some people need it.” He folded his arms. “Like you, Mr. I’ll-Threaten-You-With-A-Knife-For-Mentioning-This-Lady.”

“I said sorry,” Anti insisted.

“Are you sure you should be carrying knives around if that’s how you’ll react?”

“I—shut the fuck, up, I—I need to.” Anti realized his hands were shaking, so he folded his arms as well. “And usually, that doesn’t happen. I’ve just been—”

“A bit stressed lately?” Jack prompted.

Anti closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply for a long, long time. Then he let out his breath, equally slowly. “Does the rest of the group know about your life coaching?”

“It’s not life—I was going to explain it next time I saw them,” Jack said.

“Cool. Go see them now, there’s enough time left in the day for that. And if they still like you after that, then I guess you can hang around.” Of course they’d still like him after knowing that. It was the kind of people they were. Marvin and Schneep might be a bit upset that Jack didn’t tell them immediately, but they’d get over it. JJ would insist on including Jack in more group activities. Maybe Jackie would, too. Actually, he could see the two of them having a lot in common. Fitting that their names were almost the same, then.

Jack smiled widely. “Great! Glad to hear that.”

“Hear what? I’m telling you that my tolerance of your presence depends on what the others think.”

“Yeah, that’s great! I mean, c’mon, you haven’t exactly been welcoming. Or hiding the fact that you weren’t welcoming. So that’s a step up.”

Well he had a point there. Anti bent over and picked up his knife from where it had landed, slowly slipping it back into his pocket and buttoning it closed. He turned to leave. “Well, I’ll be going now. You can find a bus stop by yourself.”

“Sure,” Jack nodded. “I’ll be seeing you, then?”

Anti paused. Then he turned back. “And another thing. Don’t fucking analyze me without me saying. Believe it or not, I actually minored in psych, so I don’t have any fucking patience for armchair psychology from someone who probably only did a few searches on the Internet and is armed with just some sort of—of great attitude and a nosy want to help people.”

“I don’t do that stuff, Anti,” Jack reasserted. “But...don’t worry. If you don’t want help, I won’t offer. Unless it looks...bad.”

That sounded like it was as good a promise as he was going to get. Anti turned back around and started walking back down the street they’d come from. Jack called “Bye!” after him, and he raised a hand in response.

A few streets later, he found a bus stop for a line that he didn’t think Jack would take, and sat down to wait. And the moment he did, everything that just happened started bombarding his thoughts. Sam’s friend was some sort of...travelling...mental...helper. Who showed up here because he wanted to help the group with their problems. Sure. That made sense. And this guy was also her nephew. Who he didn’t know even existed, despite all the reasons he should have known. “God...fuck,” he muttered, looking up into the sky.

If Jack was going to be so present in their lives, how long would it take him to figure out...everything? Everything about Anti? The very thought raised a sense of panic in his chest.

No, Jack wouldn’t know. He’d make sure of it.

Well, Anti had to acknowledge one thing. Jackie was right; this new guy hadn’t wanted anything from them. He wanted to give something to them. That thing being some sort of help. That was...unexpected. In Anti’s experience, people didn’t offer aid for nothing in return. Or at least, they rarely did, as Jackie had reminded him the other day.

As the bus approached in the distance, Anti stood up, making sure the driver could see him. While getting on, he reflected that there was one thing he could count on: they’d be seeing a lot more of Jack in the future.

[clockworkopera]

Theories on Cortana...

A few weeks ago I referenced this quote in an earlier post about Edom: When they arrived in the mirrored city of a destroyed Alicante Alec tells them Edom’s story (COHF 482-483): “They didn’t have seraph blades; they hadn’t developed them. It doesn’t look like they had Iron Sisters or Silent Brothers, either. They had blacksmiths, and they developed some sort of weapon, something they thought might help them.”

BLACKSMITHS !!!

Theory: If Isabelle’s ruby pendant was made from the same material as the Skeptron and found its way into this dimension, then could the reason Cortana (and other Wayland swords) be different is because it was forged by the Nephilim of Edom.

Note: As far as we know no Great Swords have been forged since Wayland the Smith. I know that the Iron Sisters work with Adamas, but it seems they don’t know the secrets of the Great Swords, for wouldn’t they make them like the Family rings if they did? Each family having its own sword?

This is a favorite theory of mine, so it goes first, but there are other considerations:

There are two things I want answers to the most about Cortana.

1) What does it mean when Cortana strikes something like the Black Volume of the Dead or the Mortal Sword and her hand and body go numb with electrified pain?

2) What does it mean when a Rider of Mannan makes the statement: “It is yet only one blade.”

So begins my journey…

Let’s go over what we know of Cortana:

-It’s been in the Carstairs family for generations. It belonged to Jonah Carstairs (Jem Carstairs’ father) and Will Herondale refused it as a gift from Jonah’s brother Elias after Jem became a Silent Brother. The inscription on the blade reads: “My name is Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal.” Cordelia became a wielder, instead of her older brother Alastair, “Because to an extent, Cortana chooses who it wants to be with. Believe me, Alastair isn’t initially pleased!” Cassandra Clare revealed answering questions on Tumblr. Also: On the Angel feather in the hilt: It is a big part of what gives Cortana it’s special powers and is the reason Cortana is able to do something in LoS no other sword has ever done. AND, That sword has magic badass powers we can only begin to comprehend. Gwyn also refers to it as one of the Great Swords. It eventually came to John Carstairs, Emma’s father and finally to her.

It’s history says it was forged by Wayland the Smith, and once belonged to Tristan and Ogier the Dane and is also according to Emma’s mother in a dream, LM (pg532): “And remember that a blade made by Wayland the Smith can cut anything.”

When Emma found out about her parents death she cradled the Sword, slicing her arm open, bloodying it and leaving a fierce scar on her inner arm. She used it to fight and protect the Blackthorns in the Accords Hall during the Dark War. In her battle with Malcolm, Emma struck the heart of the Black Volume with Cortana(LMpg596-7): She shrieked with pain as what felt like a bolt of electricity went up her arm. AND: Red pain misted behind her eyelids. Through the fog, she saw Malcolm standing over her. “Oh, that was precious.” He grinned. “That was amazing. That was the hand of God, Emma!”

----------------

My own take is that Emma and Cortana have a symbiotic relationship and have in a way become extensions of each other. My original theory was Cortana was tied to the power of the Black Volume and Emma is the only one who can now wield that magic. I had a wonderfully written piece that got hacked with red ink today when Cassie told us more about Cortana in her Tumblr: “Cortana…doesn’t absorb the power of what it strikes. We’ve certainly never seen it do that and it’s not part of the sword’s mythology.”

So maybe the big take away is that 1) Emma can cut through, hack away things of major magic (Black book, Mortal Sword and the Rider) and 2) Live through it

*** If Cortana shattered the Mortal Sword, then what did it do to the Black Volume? Is the magic of the Black Volume now fractured somehow? And what would that mean to the effectiveness of any spell used?

And what the hell was that black sap oozing from the Mortal Sword? What was that about? I have no ideas on that! (I digress)

But if Emma and Cortana have a symbiotic relationship while the sword may retain no residual connection to the energy it’s destroyed, could Emma herself? I think this might be important because Magnus warned Julian that Annabel is connected to the magic of the book, and I still wonder if Emma somehow isn’t too.

The other question that has been bugging me: What does it mean when a Rider of Mannan makes the statement: “It is yet only one blade.”

Does it mean that they can melt it down and make a whole bunch more ‘Great Swords’ with it, or does it mean it might get reunited with the other swords of it same steel and temper? “My name is Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal.” So, I set myself the task of doing and old fashioned sort of book report. I don’t know how much historical relevance Cassie plans on weaving into her books, if any at all—but the history is interesting, especially Durendal. Kit needs Durendal!

I’m leaning toward the ideas of the Riders knowing of a time, or a prophecy where all three blades will be united again in battle. I think that is something they fear.

Cortana’s Mythological History:

In the Mundane world, our world, Cortana does exist, both in mythology and in reality. It currently resides as a Crown Jewel and is used in inaugural ceremonies of the British Crown. Its mythological history is long.

It first comes to attention in the story of Tristan and Isolde and their story takes place in Cornwall. Tristan came to live with his Uncle Mark who was the King of Cornwall and in an effort to prove himself worthy, stood as the King’s champion. In battle, Tristan saved the king from paying tribute to an Irish King by killing his foe and it was during this fight with Cortana that the tip broke off. (This is the first reference to Cortana breaking and the legend behind why the tip of Cortana is missing from the actual Crown Jewel Sword)

After Tristan died the sword was bequeathed to Ogier the Dane, a paladin of Charlemagne.

This goes back to the Legends of Charlemagne, because the inscription of Cortana was taken right out of Bulfinch’s Mythology— “My name is Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal.”

All three swords were used in Charlemagne’s Campaigns. Charlemagne was Emperor of Rome who united and basically founded the Frankish state (what eventually becomes modern Europe) and brought Christianity to Europe.

The story that Arthur was referring to (and this is from Bulfinch, because I found too many versions to include) was that Ogier’s son was killed by Charlemagne’s psychopathic son Charlot. Charlemagne refused to punish his son (this is from Bulfinch’s, but the next part comes from the book, The Crown Jewels— I didn’t have access to it, so this is reported from Wikipedia): “When Ogier was about to slay the son of Charlemagne, (for revenge) an angel appeared and knocked it out of his hand, breaking the tip and exclaiming “Mercy is better than revenge.” From then on Cortana was known as the Sword of Mercy.

It also happens the other swords of Joyeuse and Durendal were with Charlemagne’s campaign as well.

Joyeuse is the Legendary Sword of Charlemagne. It is said to have been “So bright that it could outshine the sun and blind its wielder’s enemies in battle” (Ancient-Origins.net)

There are a lot of legends including: it was forged to contain the Lance of Longinus, it was smithed from same materials as Cortana and Durendal or that it was given as a gift from an angel.

The real Joyeuse was moved to the Louvre in 1792.

Durendal was no slouch either. The sword belonged to Roland another paladin of Charlemagne. He used the sword to hold off 100,000 Saracens (by himself) long enough for Charlemagne to retreat in an epic battle. Wikipedia: “The Song of Roland, the sword is said to contain within its golden hilt a tooth of Saint Peter, blood of Basil of Caesarea, hair of Saint Denis, and a piece of the raiment of Mary, mother of Jesus, and to be the sharpest sword in all existence.” Fearing the sword would fall into enemy hands Roland tried to destroy it but it couldn’t be destroyed. “After being mortally wounded, Roland hid it beneath his body as he lay dying.” The folklore says it still exists, embedded in a cliff walls in the Pyrenees, but it has never been found.

***I read that, and I thought—WOW! We need to find that sword for Kit!

Everyone petition CC that Kit needs Durendal!!

There are a lot of references and agreement that Durendal was forged by Wayland the Smith. So, while neither Cortana or Joyeuse are referenced to him being their creator, if you follow the clue of the inscription that is the connection. If he made one, then didn’t he make them all?

WHOA! Did you know Wayland the Smith was a true mythological character?

This is where it gets interesting.

Wayland the Smith is from Norse Mythology. Legend said he and his two brothers lived with three Valkyries. In one version, he married his Swan Maiden Valkyrie.

I bring this up because Gwyn mentioned the daughters of Rhiannon, the Valkyrie as almost a counterpart to the Wild Hunt—at least that was my impression, and they are wild magic. And when Cassie talked about wild magic in relation to Kieran’s eyes she said in her tumble post: “Wild magic kind of does what it does without being bound by too many rules.” So if Cortana is made with parts of that magic maybe that is why it seems to have a mind of its own, at least in who it picks for its wielders.

I am hoping that in the Last Hours Cordelia will learn more about Cortana’s history. How it came to be in possession of the Carstairs family, what other history with the Shadowhunters it has, and maybe give us some clues about what else might be possible with Emma for the QoaAD.

Please add comments, I love hearing what other people think!

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

A BACKWARD FORWARD by THORNTON KRELL

   In a recent unpublished survey entitled "Forward Whoa" by prominent factoids Merle Seton and Jem Masters, it has been revealed that 24% maximimum of  armed soldiers will use their arms against an oncoming enemy. The majority will either fire in the air or not fire at all until they literally see "the whites of the eyes" in the foe conducting its onslaught. The "reluctant 76" will hope that the firepower of the majority will be enough to suppress the hostiles who in fact have their own "reluctant 76" who are hoping for the exact but opposite effect.

   The reluctant 76 also includes the .076 who will fire at each other, at their officers or at themselves. 76% of those will miss their targets mostly because their guns jammed.

   Next, they surveyed second and third clarinets in high school bands and discovered that only 24% of that woodwind section actually played the notes of the music in front of them and the "reluctant 76" only played 24% of those notes and only the ones that they were sure of reaching and only at those rare moments when the orchestra leader was paying attention to them.

   Seton and Johnson were unable to demonstrate the high relationship between those second clarinetists who would play the notes and those who would fire the guns. Most of the students who played the notes were also in the honors sections of their classes and were among the least likely to end up in the infantry although those who entered the military and became officers were the most likely to be fired upon not only by the enemy but by their own men.

   Armed with this improvised information, I leapfrogged to the conclusion that only 24% of readers read the forward to a book with the 76% majority, "just trying to get through the goddamned assignment", went right to the first page of chapter one, where the skirmish began.

   As this is a forward to a book that supposedly will be written by my friend Ice Rivers, probably next century, I can pretty much assume that very few readers will read this preamble ; three times fewer than the miniscule amount that will read Ice's book in the first place if it ever comes out which provides me with great artistic license and assures my continued obscurity. Even I myself haven't read Ice's future book "Early Boomer" which as all English teachers know, doesn't prevent me from teaching it, criticizing it, grading it or forwarding it.

   So let's go forward shall we which of course means going backwards to Aristotle. Aristotle was the first famous student of Socrates which means he was the first to misunderstand Socrates. Plato was the great student of Aristotle. Plato took notes and through his misunderstanding of his own notes based on the misunderstanding of Socrates by Aristotle, he somehow arrived at a philosophy that yielded a semblance of the philiosophy of Socrates which Plato did not understand. So to insure further progress, Plato wrote very little about his understanding of Socrates because there was very little of Socrates that Plato understood.

   Plato had the solution. He would depend and insist upon his students taking notes when he was teaching. Those notes constituted the misunderstandings that Plato' students had of Plato which were meager understandings of Aristotles original misconceptions of Socrates.

   Thus Plato and his students stumbled upon the misconception known as metaphysics. Centuries later when I studied the accumulated ruins of metaphysics, I came to the conclusion that it was 'close but no cigar'.

   One day I was smoking a cigar when I met Ice Rivers. We got to talking about all this stuff because I was putting together a seminar on "Metaphysiction" which I considered an evolution of metaphysics. "Metaphysiction" is the culmination of written communication which means that in one and the same time it is singular and plural, it is biography, autobiography, fiction, faction and non-fiction all delivered from different points of view all at the same time because past, present and future  are all present at all times with only the present being "visible" or "real" or "sane". Metaphysiction embraces misunderstanding and includes misundertanding as a milestone in the mastery of itself.

   When I first presented this concept to Ice he said " I got it" which means that I must have presented it incorrectly which again was "good but no cigar". I lit another cigar. I threw in a few contradictions, a couple of faulty syllogisms, overgeneralized non sequiturs, sincere ironies, a dash of gentle sarcasm, upside down sonnets  along with the all important factoids who add questionable backstory and are not quite human enough to be considered humanoids. I was pretty sure I nailed it when I asked Ice if he understood what I was professing and he said. “You lost me at alpha, whatever you said next was Greek to me.”

   That made me feel confident enough in my thinking that I wrote up a fake course description and submitted it to a local community college where they were running short of adjunct professors willing to work at minimum wage to instruct what had been identified as high risk students.

   I did just that. I hoped that at least one of my students would take notes and pass his misconceptions back to Ice who said he would use them in his book if I would write a forward to the book which is still underconstruction as I complete this forwarding task which very few will ever read and if you are amongst those few who are reading this as we come to the conclusion of the forward that means the book was finished. I sincerely hope that you misunderstand and from what I know of Ice, I’m confident that you will.

Doot Doo

Thornton Krell

8/26/1980

INTRODUCTION

   An essay is a recounting of thought processes. All essays begin with, include or accentuate an idea. An idea is a collection of thoughts that relate to each other. A sentence is a group of words that expresses a complete thought. An essay is a collection of related sentences. The essay represents the mental meandering that a specific idea or problem ignites in the mind of the essayist. The essay itself is the words that stay in the wake of reflective, ideaphoric meandering.

   The idea at work in THIS essay is the difference between an essay and a story and how the addition of story adds metaphoric resonance to an essay. As I write THIS essay, I’m thinking about that idea/problem. If I can add a story to my thought process, it elevates the essay out of abstraction into the physical world, which is to say, into metaphor.

   One morning, while struggling to help my students write more radiant essays, I coined this phrase “adding action to abstraction guarantees metaphor”. Even as those words came tumbling out of my mouth. I had to stifle a laugh because, to me at least, they sound unexpectedly intelligent.

  My students, observing me stifling myself ,began to laugh which caused me to bag the stifle and laugh right along. I turned the unexpected phrase into a song. I started slapping my thigh, snapping my fingers and singing “add action to abstraction oh yeah.’ This impromptu song and dance number got me laughing even harder which in turn made the students laugh harder which caused me to slap, snap and sing even more.

   In the midst of this cacophony, as well as within this essay, a point is/was being made: namely that when we add action to abstraction, a metaphor emerges.

    See what I mean.

    In the midst of THIS essay, I told an action story about my class.

     A story is a recounting of the chronological order of physical and mental action, with an emphasis on the physical. The order can be altered through flashback or flash forward, and swerves can be signaled by foreshadowing. The story within THIS essay chronologizes like this: First I came up with the phrase. second, I started to laugh. Third, the students started to laugh. Fourth, I sang and danced. Fifth, the students started to laugh harder. End of story.

     A story may or may not need abstraction. Often, abstraction added to a story becomes tangential, thus superfluous. As a personal rule, action added to the abstraction of an essay is a safer bet than abstraction added to the action of a story.

  An essay is more likely to end with a conclusion based upon logical and intuitional persuasion than is a story which ends with the recounting of the last episode of chronological action.

   All things considered. I’m an essayist.

  Don’t expect chronology or linearity.

  Don’t expect a novel.

  That’s another story altogether.

 Here's THAT story.

   Take 103 prize winning essays/poems that establish a technical foundation, add a generational tone plus backstory character indulgences along with the recognition of reality amidst sudden, unexpected bursts into psuedo philosophic frenzy: mash these together and what emerges is an unforseen story that rises above chronological type casting.

   When I discovered that I had prostate cancer, I decided to describe the journey wherever it may lead. It led to the past, the present and the future in random order. It led to untapped imagination beyond the restrictions of time. It led to a confluence of life journeys. When organized, they came to resemble a story with beginnings, middles and conclusions.

 Is it a biography, a surrealistic autobiography, a novel, a collection of essays and poems that can be read in any order? 

Yes, yes yes and yes.

Auto-biography propels us to confront reality, whatever that reality might be. Fiction allows us to escape and while fiction casts a light upon the society from which it emerges, the ultimate purpose is to entertain and make us feel better about our lives.

I hope my book entertains you and makes you feel better.

Rah Rah Boom Boom

Hope to see ya soon

Ice Rivers

!0/22/2019

[theartofbeinganerd]

So, I know I finished posting a hand to hold (take me home), but I kind of lied by saying it was over - here’s a lil one shot that takes place between Chapter Eleven and the Epilogue, Jemma’s pov of finding out that Fitz is in the hospital. But this time it really is over, I promise!

(Ao3)

-

It was a simple, average, ordinary day, one where Jemma had expected to get some household chores done, see Fitz, Daisy, and Trip later for dinner, and then go to the hospital for her shift that night. Even with everything that had been happening as of late, she never expected or planned on the day going so horribly wrong.

In fact, when she got the call, Jemma was in the middle of doing some laundry – something that she was in desperate need of, given the sad state of the remaining clothes in her closet, along with her overflowing hamper. The sound of her phone ringing echoing through her flat had her abandoning the half-filled washing machine to return to the kitchen table, where she’d left the phone. A quick look at the screen revealed the name ‘Daisy’, and she couldn’t quite help the face that she made in response, wondering what Daisy’s latest attempt to get her to admit to the feelings her friend ‘just knew’ that she had for Fitz would include.

Regardless of the fact that the following conversation would no doubt have her rolling her eyes soon enough, Jemma answered the call and greeted her friend pleasantly, “Hello, Daisy. How are you today?”

Daisy sounded almost out of breath on the other line, and it caused Jemma’s smile to quickly drop into a concerned frown. “Jemma, I… Well, okay, don’t freak out, alright?”

Contrary to Daisy’s plea, Jemma could already feel her heartbeat picking up speed in her chest, leaving her own breath coming with a bit more difficulty. “What is it?” she managed to get out around her sudden panic, though her tone wasn’t more than a whisper. She didn’t bother to agree to Daisy’s request – she’d ‘freak out’ if it was required, thank you very much.

“Um…well, er…Fitz is kind of in the hospital.”

Feeling very faint all of a sudden, Jemma scrabbled for the nearest chair, yanking it out from the table so that she could sink down into it. Her breath was coming even more quickly now, her lungs seemingly refusing to work correctly, and was it hot in there? “Oh my god.”

“But like, he’s fine! Just a little bullet wound, and he’s in surgery now, and I’ve talked to the doctor, and he said that all they need to do is get the bullet out and sew him back up and he’ll be his annoying Fitzy self in no time!”

Daisy’s attempt at reassuring words fell horribly flat, and Jemma lifted a hand to the center of her chest, trying to calm the racing heart beneath her palm without success. “Where?”

“Oh, well, it’s in his thigh. He’s probably gonna bitch about crutches, if he needs them, which he probably will, but –”

“How did this even happen? Neither of you are on duty!” Jemma’s voice rose a few octaves above normal as she cut into Daisy’s anxiety-ridden attempts at casual conversation.

“Um…that’s kind of…my fault. You see, turns out that the one doing all the…er…killing, was my ex-boyfriend, you know, Ward? So I kind of…well okay, I dragged Fitz over there with me to question him this morning, and it turned into a shootout, so…” She released a long, slow breath, then added softly, “I’m sorry, Jemma.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” Jemma mumbled, almost to herself, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head absently as tears that she refused to shed just yet began to build. It could have been so much worse – it had been his leg this time, but it just as easily could have been his heart, or his head, or somewhere else that would have resulted in a much worse call from Daisy. “I…I’m heading over now, okay?”

“Okay. I have to get back to the station to debrief with Coulson, so it’ll be good for him to have someone with him.”

“Alright.” Jemma hesitated, then added, “Thank you, Daisy. For…letting me know.”

“Of course.”

After hanging up with Daisy, Jemma threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed her purse, and made it to the hospital in record time, even though she knew it was ridiculous to do so; she knew from experience that Fitz would still be in surgery for some time. She was right, of course, and ended up spending a fair bit of time in the waiting room, though she was easily able to get updates from the nurses. She wasn’t close friends with any of them, just acquaintances, but they did know that Fitz was her friend, had seen him around the hospital or heard her mention him in passing enough.

However, from the looks that they all were shooting at Jemma as they disappeared back through the double doors of the emergency room, she had the strangest feeling that they knew far more about her feelings for Fitz than she’d ever admitted to aloud.

Left with an abundance of free time to do nothing but sit and think, Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if the decision that she’d made in the weeks since she and Fitz had just about kissed in his hospital room, the decision to finally take a chance and go forward with their relationship, was the best one. She knew that she cared about him more than she’d ever cared about anyone, and she knew that her heart ached when she was away from him and that she worried about him out there in the line of fire, but…

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? She had to constantly worry about what could happen to him, what horrible things out there could harm him, or so much worse, every single night. If she went through with it, how many more calls like this would she be destined to receive?

Jemma didn’t know if she could handle even one more.

When her colleague Dr. Campbell, who had been seeing to Fitz, finally came out to tell her that he was awake and that she could go see him, Jemma wasn’t any closer to puzzling things out. However, as she stepped through the door and came upon the sight of Fitz lying there helplessly in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and heart monitor, her chest tightened to the point of pain and she knew her answer.

“Je-Jem-Je…” he mumbled, still woozy and quite out of it from the surgery and the pain meds.

“Shhh,” Jemma murmured, crossing the room with quickened strides to stand at his side. “Shhh, Fitz.” His eyes were wide and trusting and so, so blue as he stared up at her, and Jemma felt her heart breaking apart in her chest. The tears that she’d refused to shed before were back with a vengeance, pricking at the backs of her eyes and begging to be released, but she pressed her lips tight together and forced herself to hold it in for him. He didn’t need the first thing that he saw after having a bullet removed from his leg to be her sobbing over him.

Lovingly, she brushed her fingers through his curls, and the tears very nearly burst free anyway when she found that they were just as soft as they looked; though she’d never admit it out loud, she’d always wondered about that. Fitz’s eyes fell shut a bit, a little smile playing on his lips as he clearly enjoyed the soothing gesture, and the thought popped abruptly into her head that he almost looked like a cat being petted.

The analogy brought a small smile of her own to her lips, but it quickly faded as she remembered that this would likely be the only time that she’d ever get to experience this quiet intimacy with him. It was by her own choice, but god, it was the hardest choice that she’d ever had to and likely would ever make.

“Jemma,” he sighed, but it was faint, and she figured that he was likely falling back into the clutches of sleep, which was good, because he would certainly need his rest to begin healing from his injury. He turned his head, and lazily, almost absently, nuzzled his face against her hand, and Jemma’s free hand flew up to her mouth to cover the broken sob that she couldn’t quite hold back. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, pressing her fingers tight to her skin.

This was everything that she’d wanted for what felt like so long now, and it was such a cruel tease to suddenly have it, only for it to be taken from her. It just wasn’t fair that the world seemed bound and determined to keep them apart, when all Jemma wanted was to be closer to him, to never be parted from him.

After a long moment, when Jemma felt reasonably sure that she wouldn’t break apart at the slightest provocation, she reopened her eyes and found that he certainly was asleep, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly to let out a soft rush of breath.

“Oh Fitz,” she whispered, giving a little shake of her head. “I want to be angry with you, but you make it damn near impossible sometimes.” Then, despite knowing that he couldn’t hear her, she quickly tacked on, “About making me care so much about you, not about getting shot – I am so angry with you about that.” In the hall outside, Jemma could hear Daisy and Trip’s familiar albeit quiet voices growing closer and closer, so she leaned down and pressed a soft but lingering kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Fitz.”

With a brush of her fingers against his cheek, she forced herself to leave his side and then the room itself, nearly stumbling right into Daisy on her way out the door. “Whoa, Jemma, hey, what’s the rush?”

“My shift’s about to start,” Jemma explained, darting a glance back at the clock in Fitz’s room to find that it was actually true. Thank god for small miracles.

Daisy frowned at her, her narrowed eyes taking Jemma in carefully, almost suspiciously. Slowly, though, she said, “Okay…I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yes, alright,” Jemma agreed breezily, forcing the familiar faux-cheerful tone that she’d perfected long ago in her career and not quite meeting Daisy’s intense gaze. She knew that Daisy was going to be at Fitz’s bedside until the hospital released him or they dragged her away, and as much as Jemma knew that she’d rather be right there beside her than anywhere else, it would only make things more painful in the long run. As difficult as it was going to be, she was going to have to force herself to stay away.

Hopefully, maybe, if she was lucky, it would ease the ache of separating herself completely from Fitz. Truthfully, though, she was far from naïve enough to believe that it actually would at all.

Without much else said between the three of them, Jemma thankfully managed to slip away, and found herself in one of the restrooms nearby. She had never been as staggeringly grateful before that they had single-stall restrooms as she was when she locked the door behind her, sunk into a crouch against it, buried her face in her hands, and finally released the tears that had been aching to be shed since she’d first gotten the call.

[darkpastwoojin]

4, 5 and 7!! (p-arkwoojin)

HEADS UP FOR EVERYBODY IM ON MOBILE SO THIS IS MESSY (and ty jem!!!)

4). What concept do you think is fit for their debut?

Maybe a youthful, upbeat image? Like probably along the lines of Showtime or Super Hot? Like even though my heart wants something along the lines of Never/Hands on Me, I think for debut a fresh image would be good to start them off :’)

5). Favorite quality of each member?

OH SHOOT UHdaniel - HIS SMILE and ability to laugh literally no matter what situation jihoon - THE FUCKING JEOJANG and other trademarks smhdaehwi - (first bias tbh) THE LITTLE POUTS HE DOES AND HIS CHEEKSjaehwan - UM YES VOCALSseongwoo - PERSONALITY !! SO !! ON !! POINTwoojin - SEXY BABY OH MY LADY CHINGALING NEVER IDK I LOVE EVERYTHING BUT MAYBE HIS ABILITY TO CHANGE “360 degrees” (180 lmao) FROM HIS OFF STAGE/ON STAGE PERSONALITYguanlin - SWAGGY RAPPERjisung - ANOTHER MAN WITH AN AMAZING PERSONALITY AND HUMORminhyun - (seonho… jk) EVERYTHING idk just his calm nature makes me feel calm also idkjinyoung - okay tbh I don’t follow him as closely BUT HIS ABILITY TO SING AND DANCE?? like for the amount of time he trained? woooow???sungwoon - HE’S SO FREAKING FUNNY ALSO

7). First impression of each member/Did it change?

daniel - PINK HAIR WOW very handsome like wtf / STILL HANDSOME nothing rly changedjihoon - he’s freaking cute wth / STILL FREAKING CUTE but got that manly side to him??? but wth he’s my age whatdaehwi - what a qt!!!! but eh about attitude (towards the whole avengers thingy / WHAT A FUCKING PRECIOUS CHILD !!! TALENTED !! WANTS THE BEST FOR EVERYBODY !!! DONT HURT HIMjaehwan - “what is that gunhee or sewoon” / MOTHERFUCKING VOCALS THE FUCKING LAUGH UM KING DESERVES TO BE IN TOP 11seongwoo - fucking handsome as hell i’m mad, somewhat thought he was 30 LMAO / A FUCKING DORK BUT A TALENTED DORK in love with his voice tbhwoojin - UM CUTE CUTE CUTE??? members w daehwi but looks young so idk bias?? / FUCKING LOML TALENTED AS HELLguanlin - CUBE’S SWAGGY RAPPER / so cute so pure deserves all the lovejisung - IM FUCKING DEAD WHO IS THIS MAN / HAHAHAH STILL IN LOVE FUCKING VOCALS OKAY DESERVES TO BE RECOGNIZEDminhyun - (based off of pd 101 time bc I did get to know him when he first debuted) oh shit it’s nu'est DESERVES THE WORLD / STILL DESERVES THE WORLD but fuck it’s bittersweetjinyoung - cute tall boy with small face / STILL HAS THE SMALLEST FUCKING FACE BUT SO TALENTED sungwoon - hotshot??? I’ve seen him before BUT WHOA SO CUTE / CUTE??? AND VOCALS??? THE FUCKING SHOELIFT

[skyler10fic]

Alphabet meme!

I was tagged by @aneclipsedhabitue. Thanks, friend!!!

a - age: 28


b - biggest fear: Driving in cities. Smoke alarms. Injuries. Pain. Poverty. Being stuck on an elevator. Being stuck anywhere in general. (I have unlimited quantities of anxiety so this could take awhile…)

c - current time: just past 7:30 pm


d - drink you last had: Diet Coke

e - every day starts with: wishing I’d gone to bed earlier the night before


f - favourite song: oh goodness. It’s been Ryn Weaver’s Pierre for a while, but Traveling Song has been on my mind a lot too.

g - ghosts: Not going to say no, but probably not a thing. I do believe in spirits though. But humans coming back from the dead to haunt things, probably not.


h - hometown: let’s just say Texas and leave it at that.


i - in love with: Years & Years, Laura Mvula, spring, Billie and David working together for Big Finish! (still not over it)


j - jealous of: people with air conditioning because my apartment does not until June and just thinking about it makes me want to cry

k – (Is this a free spot? No question for this one so I will make one up…) kids: Only my fictional one (my oc, Piper).

l - last time you cried: With crying for real, I have to be at absolute rock bottom and in a really dark place, so it’s been a while. But like commercials and stuff, I almost teared up the other day talking about some sappy story and had to hold back because it was like “whoa, hormones.” Lol


m - middle name: For tumblr purposes, Ten. ;)


n - number of siblings: One


o - one wish: No more anxiety and depression for anyone including myself! (Hey, didn’t say it had to a realistic wish. Haha)


p - person you last called/texted: My sister

q - questions you’re always asked: “So where are you from?” (because my accent is a dead giveaway that I’m not from around here) and “Did you go to (insert name of local college)?” and “Do you have a family?” (which is people’s way of asking if I am married/have kids, but I just say yes and brag about my sister and getting to visit her in Cali and talk about my parents so I can rant about my hometown. I have the whole bit down.) ;)


r - reasons to smile: well, the news about the audio adventures is pretty great. Also no more coats! (winter is my least favorite ever) And my pedicure from last month is still a cute (PINK!) and it’s finally time for sandals. And I’m reading these vampire books which are silly but actually really good but more importantly are a way for me to connect with my coworkers and talk to them about stuff outside work. Oh, and I found a great swimsuit last weekend that was half-price and also doesn’t make me look pregnant, so that’s a huge win. Lol (My curves are not in all the right places. Haha)  


s - song last sang: “You’ve Got a Friend” (I’ve been listening to Carole King’s Tapestry this week. One of the best albums ever made, and if you don’t believe me, plenty of Music People will say the same.)


t - time you woke up: 6:30


u - underwear colour: white (just had to subtly check in the library. Luckily I have a relatively private spot.)


v - vacation destination: I want to spend an entire summer just exploring England (again, because last time I had classes and homework and exams so exploration outside of Oxford was limited during the week)


w - worst habit: I have a lot, but most obviously, I cannot shut up. I just talk for ages and I can’t stop even though I know I should. Haha It’s a Problem.

x- x-rays you’ve had: teeth, knee, internal organs


y - your favourite food: chocolate, ice cream, cupcakes, pasta, BREAD (you can see why the swimsuit thing was an issue. Lol)


z - zodiac sign: aquarius

I tag my last five mutuals in my notifications: @lizziea2 @penandpaper83 @chiaroscuroverse @bittyblueeyes and @jem-scribbles

[keyofshadows]

So I was looking for something specific and I'm half-asleep and can't find it, but this is funny anyway. Poor Eli. Poor Kai. 

Poor Ray having to put up with Eli's inability to keep a secret. ...Okay, he can keep some secrets.

keyofshadows Oh, I was gushing at Sabi about Zen (I'm officially hopeless damn it) and somehow or other it wound around to discussing Snapshots canon and the kids with their phones (oh right Zen's selfies triggered that) and this happened - Oh, and Kai thinks selfies are the devil and he's never sending anyone any ever. Though when Amaya visits in canon Eli will probably show her pics of Kai that he took without telling him. And there'd be group pics with Kai rolling his eyes or purposely looking away from the camera.

sstingray kai, you are an old man

keyofshadows Because seriously Eli do you need to be like your mother and document EVERYTHING LMAO he's getting better! Kinda.

sstingray also yes, yes he does, and ray supports it

keyofshadows Watch Eli have more pics of Kai's children than Kai does. Though now Kai's protesting he can take plenty of pictures of his kids on his own, it's just weird when it's him. Also Ray please stop supporting Eli's bad behavior, the towel incident was Not Funny and he's pretty sure while he deleted it off the Epic Dork's phone he sent a copy to 'Jem and ugh.

sstingray it's not weird cause kai is family so w/e bro w/e

sstingray and no, i will not, fight me

keyofshadows He's wondering how that happened, you know. Does he blame Eli for dragging him into things or Ray for accepting him, or his brother for adopting everyone as his own and trying to get Kai to let his guard down, or what. Though he was tired of being lonely, but good luck getting him to admit it. He refuses to fight her if there's another Twilight Thorn involved. CHEAP SHOT

sstingray when in doubt, blame all of them also, that was an illusion kai, aren't you over that already :P

keyofshadows HE NEVER HAD TO FIGHT A NOBODY IN HIS LIFE AND NEVER SOMETHING THAT HUGE SO NO GIVE HIM A MONTH OR THREE OR MAYBE A YEAR and also I imagine Eli just staring at it initially while Ray smirks and Kai's just "....There's something behind me, isn't there."   Eli: /slow nod "You're gonna get stepped on, better move."

sstingray haha eli just Knows he has seen too much with aunt ray

keyofshadows And some of those things would get aunt Ray in trouble with his mom, Eli points out. Like Tortuga. That was an awesome summer and can they do that again sometime, never mind he wasn't supposed to be there and didn't even get to do anything, and Kai needs to go on a pirate ship too! Not poor Ronan though, he gets seasick. And sometimes space sick.

sstingray well you see amy... worldly... experience... helps a kid mature sometimes... it was... for training...

keyofshadows Jalen just snickering in the corner then coughing and trying to look disapproving when his wife shoots him a Look because This is Serious, she was still iffy about the pirate thing (thank you SO much Calum) but Eli wanted to go and she trusts her and Ari but wasn't that island Off Limits Under All Circumstances and Eli's gonna quietly fade into the wall now ahahahaha

sstingray puffs out cheeks we didn't go to the island though the island is a little too much for kids u know

keyofshadows Eli bursting out before he thinks about it "Well not willingly, some pirates really do suck" and Jalen's GONE, he's laughing and excuse him he's going to go carve memorial plaques out of wood for the two of you.

sstingray WHIPS AROUND E L I FOR FUCK'S SAKE ELI

keyofshadows HE'S SORRY IT JUST SLIPPED OUT DON'T KILL HIM

sstingray YOU THOUGHT THE DARKSIDE WAS BAD? YOU AREN'T READY FOR THE NEXT ONE, SON. JUST YOU WAIT. she'll wait until he's (mostly) forgotten about this incident and then spring it on him oh so you thought i foRGOT???

keyofshadows He was hoping and is there any way ever in any reality that he can bribe her with something OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT GO THROW THAT AT KAI HE HAS A KEYBLADE AND MAGIC THAT DOESN'T FIZZLE AT THE WORST TIMES

sstingray kai u better stay back unless you want your own problem to deal with this one's all eli

sstingray consider this a lesson in DISCRETION. when you are not discrete, THINGS LIKE THIS MAY HAPPEN ELI LOOK HOW NOT DISCRETE THIS IS

keyofshadows Kai's hands are up and he's noping right out of this. Nice going Epic Mage, he'll just move all his spell books into your room after you're gone...Ronan'll treasure your memory, 'Jem'll make a memorial blanket and give it to Specter, nice knowing you Eli agrees this is not discrete and he apologizes profusely DON'T KILL HIM

sstingray is that it eli?? are you not even going to try??

keyofshadows And THAT gets him because whose kid do you think he is? Of course he's gonna try! He's just not fond of dying young (while Kai snarks that he should be trying harder not to do stupid shit in that case), what're the rules for this fight?

sstingray all in grasshopper, but since this is a lesson in discretion, you better make sure you beat it down before anyone in town notices

keyofshadows So much "ARE YOU SERIOUS" going on there while Kai just laughs at him and asks Ray if she wants him to go for popcorn

sstingray no thanks, but treat yoself kai she has to make sure this doesn't get out of hand anyways

keyofshadows Eli looking absolutely betrayed that his best friend is gonna get something to eat while he's dealing with this...whatever this is KAI HOW COULD YOU Kai's just shrugging and who said anything about leaving, what do you think portals are for hey look, poptarts!

sstingray fooooocus grasshopper or you're gonna fail

keyofshadows HE HAS FOCUS. HE JUST HAS NO CHILL

sstingray if u were focused u wouldn't be distracted by friends now would u

keyofshadows THEN TELL KAI TO STOP SMIRKING LIKE THAT whoa okay why is this thing throwing Thunder at him YES FOCUS OKAY

sstingray thank you now have at

keyofshadows He's gonna be a very tired, remorseful boy when he's done, yes. And drape on Kai because standing what is that Also I hope next time a dragon steals your poptarts, Kai

sstingray don't be petty eli

keyofshadows He's too dead to not be petty, can he apologize tomorrow and he'll keep his mouth shut next time just please never do this to him again

sstingray apology accepted.

keyofshadows Good, thank you, he's sorry and he's gonna go faceplant into a bed now.

[thegeminisage]

now that im awake time to Do this thing

guess what i had for breakfast lol it was more mushrooms!! bc...there were leftovers. anyway

this actually isn’t the first post i’ve started - i lost a bit of it bc my browser froze lol. so i capped the second half of it, but couldn’t cap the first half. i think the first half went something like, “all these horses suck and i wish i had epona! but that’s amiibo only, but thankfully my brother has the thing and he’ll loan it to me, meanwhile what the fuck do i name these others” and the names i have gone with so far are buck (bc that’s what the horse did shut up) tornado (after zorro’s horse) and eponotte bc...she’s not...epona.

then it was something like i’d caught an epona-like horse BUT i fast traveled and left her behind so i lost her </3 i decided i’d just explore and work my way back around, and if i made it back and she was there great and if not Tough

also i saw bokoblins riding horses which alarmed me greatly but i rescued the horses by killing the bokoblins so all was well

anyway the rest i will retype:

btw some of the horses look pastel pink and uh i want one?? wow???

aw you have to go through a little maze of flowers to get to this shrine in the river bc this lady planted them aww and she gets upset when you step on them she’s so cute

anyway that’s another shrine down

omg no wtf i came out and stepped on them by accident again and she’s being creepy

SHE FUCKING ATTACKED ME AND SENT ME DOWN TO A QUARTER OF A HEART?? OH MY FUCKING GOD, LADY

oh shit theres someone knocked out on this bridge with a bokoblin standing over them AND SHE BLAMES ME?? lady i saved you!!

duuuude ok i know im in the wrong zone but i got attacked by someone from the yiga clan!! fucking sick

oh hey i found hestu again!! upgrade me my dude

lol as soon as i started trying to scale the dueling peaks it decided to start fucking raining so im just like. crouched on the side of a cliff, waiting for it to stop

im using like every stamina potion i have and i feel SO FUCKING JUSTIFIED bc there is a SHRINE up here!! HA

however i finally had to look up a shrine solution...tbh its a good thing i did bc you have to visit this one and its twin multiple times and i dont have enough stamina food for that lol

whoa, from up here i can see a guardian that can actually move around...DNW, jfc

LMAO AND SO GUESS WHERE I FELL DOWN INTO

the place right between the guardian and one of those big stone motherfuckers

i literally had to dodge like four moving guardians and run for my life they are so strong and impossible to kill?? why??? are they there????

anyway i saw a bokoblin riding a pastel pink and white horse so i rescued her

and rode her all the way back to the stables she has a very sweet temperament and does not constantly fight me like the other ones

i didn’t get off of her even for a second to pick up cool goodies i saw i actually had to outrun someone from the yiga clan jesus christ

and when i checked her into the stable her bond with me was already max omfg

i guess bc i rescued her!! i love her already im so glad

anyway i named her jemma bc jem sounds too modern for a zelda game

now i am trying to figure out how to get into the shrine by the stables it has spikes all over

i guess i gotta come at it from above?? goodbye my beautiful sweet pink horse

AAAND made it. #sick

ending this now so my browser doesn’t freeze again lol

[redheadedgumdrop]

Last Show

The end of tour was always a weird thing for Oliver. There was a mix of feelings, and emotions, and the high of playing live for thousands of people was still bursting through every pore, excitement rushing through his skin and his bones and his muscles. He both wanted it to be over, get home, sleep for a whole week, and keep touring forever. And it was always confusing, but never quite like this. Ollie distinctively remembered inviting Ellie over for their show, hoping she would come over but knowing the chances of that happening were small. Yet he was not ready for the disappointment he felt at knowing she had gone to the show, watch it from the floor, and then just… left. He hadn´t got to see her, she didn´t go backstage and she definitely did not go out partying with them.

Oliver had tried to party the night away, and not think too much, and not wonder if maybe Ellie had changed her mind about everything and just didn´t like him in the least. It hadn´t worked.  Not even an hour after going out to some club somewhere, and Lizzie had cornered him by the bar as he got another drink, called him a weenie, said he looked pathetic, bumming everyone out, making it impossible for them to enjoy themselves. But then she had stolen a pen from behind the bar and a napkin, messily scrawled something on it, and slapped his chest with her mum’s hotel and room number. Her groan was even louder at the smile he gave her, illuminating his whole face and brightening the room and the night and especially his mood, and Ollie hugged her, ignoring her muttering about stupid, sappy drunk boys. Somehow, not sure how, he had gotten a ride to her hotel, managing to magically avoid both awaiting fans and paparazzo. It had taken them a while to get there, but it had been enough to give him time to imagine what would happen, the most perfect cinematic scene his mind could come up with. The breeze would be blowing, her hair would be shining, and she would smile up at him, wide and happy, and run into his arms, and he would spin her around and around and around, and then he would kiss her. Oliver was sure he had said all that out loud in a wild stride of words without stopping or breathing, explaining his plan to the driver. “I’m gonna go! And I’m gonna kiss her and it’s gonna be amazing!” and the man had laughed, and wished him good luck as he parked, and everything seemed bright and sunny and absolutely happy.

Used to travelling, moving and maneuvering around a hotel was second nature to him, and Ollie quickly figured out the layout and where he was supposed to go to get to her floor. He tried not to look too suspicious, or run to the lift, but he wasn´t sure if he succeeded or not, but didn´t mind one bit. Pacing and shuffling on his feet all through the short elevator ride, Ollie’s self-control only lasted until the doors dinged open and he practically ran all the way to the last room on the hallway, number 309, and knocked once. And twice. And three times. And then four and more, as he started to tap the rhythm to Teeth against the wood of the door. He was about to start singing the chorus when the door opened up and he almost knocked a man in the face with his closed fist.

“Whoa!” Oliver exclaimed, shocked, staring at the redhead man in front of him, “You’re not Ellie.”

“Clearly,” The wrong redhead replied, his glare dissipating when realized Ollie was drunk and not an asshole. “There’s no Ellie here. Just a Clara.”

“Hey!” A female voice called from deeper in the room, “Don´t tell him my name! What if he’s a psycho?!”

The man laughed, tying his bathrobe tighter around his waist, as he turned to stare at Ollie, sizing him up. “He doesn´t look like a psycho, baby.”

“No psycho ever does! If they did, no one would ever trust them!” The woman argued, and she sounded closer now but not even a little bit like Ellie, but her argument was perfectly reasonable enough.

“She’s right, it’s not smart to give her name away,” Oliver nodded, and the other man laughed even more.

“Alright, are you a psychopath?”

He felt his cheeks burnt up red, not sure why, but he shook his head, “No, no, no. Just a little drunk”

“He’s just drunk, babe,” The other man called back into the room. “A drunk man in love we can relate with!”

The woman sighed, and Ollie could imagine she would be rolling her eyes, but a few seconds later, she was standing next to her partner, hair in a ponytail and a bathrobe on and a frown on her face. Ollie felt himself blush even more under her gaze, like a scolded child, and almost missed the spark of recognition that ignited her expression. “Aren´t you that guy from that band?”

“I….”

“Very polite, Clar.”

“Oh, shut up, Josh. You know, the guy, from the band your sister likes? Second of something! Or maybe Second at something? Some dumb shit like that.”

Josh snorted, patting her shoulder and pulling her closer. “Excuse my wife, buddie. She gets cranky at night, but she’s usually a sweetheart. Anyway. Which room are you looking for? This girl might have just lied to you.”

“Josh, love, look at him,” Clara exclaimed confidently, and the two of them turned to stare at Oliver. “No one would give the wrong number to those arms. Even a lesbian would just point him to a friend. Did this Ellie girl write it down?”

Ollie nodded, handing her the napkin he had clutched between his fingers, his mind offering the dreadful idea that maybe Lizzie had just lied at him to get rid of him. That maybe Ellie wasn´t even there at all. “Room 309. See?”

“Eh…” Clara trailed off, moving the napkin in all sorts of ways, closers to her face and against the light. “I think that’s actually a 5? Look.”

She handed the napkin to her husband, and he nodded eagerly, “Definitely looks like my 5. Try that one instead! 509.”

“Really?” Ollie was confused, accepting the napkin back, but his grin was huge and bright. “Thanks! Thank you much!” Turning around on his heels, he waved at the couple as he started running towards the lift. “Good night and sorry to interrupt!”

“Good luck!” Josh and Clara yelled back at him as he got into the lift.

The alcohol buzz was little less hazy now, the edges of upcoming sobriety reclaiming his mind slowly, little by little. Ollie tapped his stomach in random patterns as the elevator went up two floors, anxiety crawling up his legs. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she thought he was a terrible drummer and didn´t want to see him again. Maybe she had left the state, or maybe she had someone over. Maybe-

The door opened up before he could realize he had walked all the way up there or knocked. And there she stood in all her redhead glory, face bright and freckled, feet bare and legs barer, and black hoodie grazing her thighs. Oliver gaped, surprised that it was really her, that she was really there, that she had really opened up the door, and then he registered the reflective logo on the chest.

“You’re wearing our merch,” He stated, eyes wide. “I have that hoodie.”

The right redhead blushed, fumbling on her feet and looking at the floor, “Yeah… Jem gave it to me earlier.”

“You met Jem earlier.” Ollie wasn´t entirely sure how he felt about that.

“I… panicked a little. Earlier. Jem went to the parking lot, not sure why, and he talked me down. I see why you love him, he’s sweet. He convinced me to stay, watch from the pit if I didn´t feel comfortable there. I’m glad he did. You’re amazing. I mean, you all are, I’m impressed, but you… are definitely something.”

Her words made him blush, feeling sheepish, and it took him a moment to realize that she was rambling because she was nervous, because he was feeling the same kind of nerves. He wasn´t sure where his drunken spur bravado had gone, but now that he was standing in front of her it was harder to be confident. Or charming. Or dashing. The fact that she had left had upset his confidence and his reaction to her, and now he was left feeling awkward and out of place, careful of not tipping the balance even further.

“I think we were amazing too,” Oliver agreed, though, smiling at her. “I’m glad you watched the show. I’m happy you did. I’m also glad it was a great show as well, because we’ve had a couple of flukes during tour when we had awful audiences.”

Ellie looked up at him curiously, “Awful audiences? Were they all on their phones or threw rotten food at you?”

“Ah, that has never happened, but they just… refused to interact! They sit down and do nothing, not even hum a little. It’s unnerving and it fucks with the whole vibe of the show.”

“That doesn´t sound pleasant,” The redhead nodding absentmindedly, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

“It is not. But tonight was great. And you look great. Hi,” Ollie grinned, a little flustered.

The redhead blushed and looked at the floor, but a smile curled up her face and her teeth released her lip. And a mischievous gleam lit up her eyes as she asked him, “Do you want to… come in?”

“Yes.”

Absolutely. He wanted to do more than just that, too; he wanted to touch her face, trace her lips and her nose with his fingers, he wanted to hold her neck in his hand, follow her arms from her shoulders to her wrists and then her hands, he wanted to count her freckles and pull her closer, and definitely see what she was wearing underneath the band hoodie. But as she stepped back from the threshold, opening the door all the way to let him in, Ollie realized he couldn´t. Because that was her room, and he really liked her, and locking themselves there would only give him bad ideas and wonderfully inappropriate images, and he had not gone there just for sex. He didn´t want her to think that at all.

“Wait, no.”

“…. You don´t want to?” She sounded confused, and he was tempted to hold her face between his hands and kiss her nose and her forehead and her cheeks and then her lips.

“No, I do. But I shouldn´t. I don´t want you to think I’m only here for sex or your boobs or anything like that.”

A smirk spread on her face, and she raised her eyebrows at him, tauntingly, “I wasn´t thinking about sex.”

Oliver blushed, again, but figured there was no point in lying. “I was, a little. But I’m not here for that!”

“Well…. I was, a little, too,” Ellie laughed, leaning down to poke his left bicep with her finger. “You looked good on stage.”

“You look good right here, doll.”

“But you still don´t want to come in,” She asked, opening her eyes wide and ignoring her blush as she stepped closer to the threshold. Closer to him.

“Wouldn´t be smart, love. I just wanted to see you.”

“Seeing me naked is definitely a form of seeing me,” She laughed, tapping his bicep again with her index finger.

And while she had a point, it wasn´t what he was going for. “And I would love that. But… we have time. I just want to be here with you.”

Arching her eyebrows at him, Ellie groaned, making him laugh with her words: “Are you a fan of blue balls?”

“No! And if Jem were here, he would go on a rant about how that is not a medical term and it was invented by men to demand sex from women. But he’s not….. So we’re here now.”

“It’s still annoying,” She pouted.

It was hard to remain sure of his decision when she looked at him like that, even harder not to reach down and kiss her, crash her against his chest and not let her go until they both needed air. “I’m sorry, doll. I just want to be with you. For now. We can have sex later, I want to.”

Ellie didn´t reply right away, looking him up and down for a moment as if she was pondering her options, weighing in on what she should or shouldn´t do. “I ordered room service before you showed up, I thought it was them when you knocked. Onion rings and Caesar salad and chocolate mousse. Are you hungry?”

His smile seemed to reach his ears and cover his whole face. Telling her he was only hungry for her, for getting to know everything he could about her, for her presence close to him, was out of the question, the kind of corny things she’d scoff at and rolled her eyes at with some biting remark. So instead, Oliver nodded. “We got some snacks right after the show, but not much else. Only alcohol.”

“You went out?”

The redhead cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed, but before she could continue, a young man in a hotel uniform got off the lift and started rolling the room service tray towards them. Ellie jumped a little and run inside, fumbling through her purse over the bed, leaning down a little with her back to him. It seemed like a jerk move, but Ollie couldn´t help to stare at her legs and the exact spot they disappeared under the fabric, wasting a moment in imagining what would it feel like to run his fingers up her thighs and how her skin would react and if she would moan or move against him or be more confident and demanding. She turned around before he could continue his fantasy, her wallet in hand as the hotel worker reached her door.

“Thank you!” Ellie replied to whatever the boy had said, Ollie couldn´t be sure, and she handed him a generous tip when he finished setting things up on the table by the door. “Can we keep the tray or you have to bring it with you?”

“The tray? Yes, absolutely! I’ll leave it here, then, miss,” The boy smiled, thankful for the tip. He wished them a good night and Ellie waved as he walked out and down the hallway, and then she turned to him, smile still in place.

“Not to get scolded about it, but why are you here if you went out?”

He could tell her about how bummed he had been when she wasn´t there or how much Lizzie had said he was depressing everyone, but he wasn´t sure how she would take that yet, seeing as she had left before seeing him at the show, so he went with half the truth. “Liz gave me your hotel room.”

“Oh. She did? That’s…. Wow.”

“Is it okay…?” The drummer trailed off, but she gave him a wide smile and nodded.

“It’s weird, but I did want to see you. Especially after you came to see me in New York. But alas,“ Ellie shrugged, sheepish smile on her lips, “seems like we’ll stay as unresolved as then, sir.”

Ollie chuckled, cheeks blushing and butterflies on his stomach. “I swear it’s not on purpose, doll.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Ellie laughed, sticking her tongue out at him, “but I’ll deal. I’m getting good at waiting.”

“I’m sorry, doll. Are you sure it’s okay?”

Biting her lower lip again, she nodded, and raised her hand up in between them, pink finger out. “Definitely, pinky promise,” She teased, daring him with her eyes. Ollie raised his hand as well, lacing his own pinky with hers, shaking their hands up and down twice to seal the promise, but didn´t let go of her after, linking their fingers together as she smiled at it. Before he could see it coming, though, Ellie pulled from their hands, using his chest as leverage as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was fast and it surprised him, her crystalline laugh bringing him back as she pulled away. “So, not walking in, then,” the redhead nodded, more to herself than for him, and she let go of his hand. Pensive, Ellie turned around and looked inside, searching for something but he couldn´t be sure of what. A moment or two later, she walked back inside and came back to the door with an armful of pillows and blankets. “We can have a picnic on the floor, and that way you’re not coming in. The room in front is empty so we wouldn´t be bothering anyone. Are you up for it?”

Oliver smiled at her, because he would be up to anything she asked, and he took a blanket from her hands, throwing it on the floor, half inside the room and half on the hallway. “Of course, doll, let’s set it up.”

They set the pillows on the floor, hers against the opened door and his against the arch of the door, and she let him set the tray of food in between them as she went to grab two water bottles, some cans of iced coffee and sodas, two paper straws and some napkins, placing them on the floor by the tray. Ollie sat down, careful to stay outside the room, trying to respect his boundaries, and he leaned his back against the frame, watching her as she sat down in front of him, her back against the opened door, legs crossed. She was closed enough to touch, the curve of her bum grazing his foot, and he knew if he leaned down, he could pull her close and kiss her.

When she finished setting everything up, Ellie smiled up at him, a delighted expression on her face, like a little kid, as she handed him one of the forks. “Here, dig in.”

“Were you going to eat all this on your own?” Ollie asked, grinning, as he looked at the giant plate of onion rings and the enormous salad, and she grinned right back at him.

“Anxiety. I couldn´t think what to get. Would probably not even have finished half of this all on my own, to be honest,” she admitted, grabbing a ring with her fingers and biting on it.

He was enchanted by her movements, his eyes following her fingers and her wrists and her parted lips and the way her jaw tensed and relaxed as she chewed. Ellie had become a mythical sort of entity for him, making her way into his lyrics and his songs and his mind and his thoughts without him even realizing, and talking to her the past week had made her even more of a perfect idea. Seeing her in New York hadn´t helped, but he hadn´t have time to watch her and study her back then, too little time to enjoy her company. Now, though… There she was, sitting with her legs crossed, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair in a ponytail, bare knees moving up and down softly, as if she was dancing. It was even better than what he had imagined, golden freckles and red lips, and he stared until he realized he was doing it, blushing and lowering his gaze to the salad, forcing himself to take a bite, do anything that would avoid her noticing he was behaving like a lovesick puppy.

“How do you feel?” Ellie wondered, an onion ring against her lips, her head cocked to the side.

“Happy,” He replied before thinking it over, surprising himself at how easy it came out. For a moment, Oliver worried she would scoff and belittle his reply, but the redhead just laughed.

“I mean, after a show. Are you tired? On a high? Exhilarated?”

Oliver left his fork on the plate and hugged his bended knee closer to his chest, thinking his answer over. “All three of them. I’m usually all three of them, plus exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m all of that now, but not just for the show,” He admitted, winking at her, loving the way her cheeks tinged bright and red.

“So do I exhaust you mentally?” Ellie teased, eyes wide, pretending to be offended.

“What? No!” Sometimes he wondered how did he always manage to say the wrong thing around her, even if she took it as a joke. “That’s not it at all, that’s not-“

“Ollie. Relax.” Leaning forward, she placed a hand on his knee, squeezing gently once, and tapping absentmindedly as she kept talking. “I’m just teasing you. I know you meant the corny stuff. You can´t help yourself, it’s sad, really.”

The drummer snorted, unable to stop himself, and he smacked her hand once, covering with his after. “It’s not sad,” He protested, his eyes focused on the contrast of his own tanned skin against her pale freckled one. Scraping the back of her palms softly, he dragged his fingers down her knuckles and her nails, pulling her fingers up so he could lace them with his, smiling at their hands. It felt so natural, so comfortable, her hand in his, his thumb brushing her palm, and it always surprised him a little when she let him.

“I missed you,” Oliver admitted, gazing up at her without moving his head, unsure of how she would react.

Instead of pushing him away, Ellie smiled, more to herself than anyone else, and nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I missed you too. I didn´t really…. realize I did until we started talking again, though.”

“What would you have told me if I had picked up when you called me in June?” With her hand in his, it was easy to feel bold and confident, and asked her anything he was curious about.

The redhead chuckled, a soft, pure sound that rang in his head like good wine. “I don´t know, I remember I didn´t really think that much? I had heard all the drama and some very mean comments and then I spent a long time talking myself out of and into calling you. I didn´t know if you even remembered me at all and I didn´t want to feel the shame of re-introducing myself to you on the phone…”

“Elle, of course I remember you. I would n-“

Tugging from their entwined hands, Ellie leaned down closer to him to place her free hand against his face, her index fingers effectively silencing his mouth. “I know now. I had no fucking clue then.”

“But I-“

She pressed her finger more firmly against his lips, grabbing his jaw with her thumb and middle finger. “You asked me something, dude. I know you kept some fuzzy photo of us, for whatever reason. And I kept your shirt. For whatever reason, too. But then I was just anxious about calling and I didn´t think more than that. But if you had picked up, I would have… probably asked you how you were. If you needed help, or… anything. If I could help with something.”

“And if I’d said I needed you?” Oliver asked against her finger, and she looked at him, eyes gleaming with something he couldn´t place.

“If you had told me you needed me, then…. I would have been there for you, in any way you would have needed me.”

He stared at her in silence for a moment, hyperconscious of the points of contact of their skin. Her index on his lip and the rest of her fingers on his jaw and neck, her other hand in his, still against his knee, her long hair brushing his trouser clad leg. She smelled of winter and flowers and strawberries and smoke and a tad of beer and spilled soda; she smelled like her perfume and she smelled like a show spent on the floor, the closed bodies and the smoking and the food and the drinks. She was so close now that he could see the specks of blue and green and dark gold in her eyes.

“Never hated Isabel more than I do now, doll.”

“Why?” She seemed unsettled by his sudden statement, curious.

“Because if she hadn´t leaked my number, I would have been able to talk to you. Maybe see you.”

To his surprise, the redhead laughed and tap his nose with her index finger before moving away from his lips to cup his chin. “We’re here now, though, right? Maybe you wouldn´t have wanted me there then.”

“Oh, love. I definitely would have wanted you with me. I went to your show because I missed you and you made me feel less…. frazzled and used.”

“I really, really want to kiss you again right now,” Ellie confessed, and before he could tell her to do it, to please go ahead and get closer and kiss him, she patted his chin once and then moved back, sitting with her back against the door again. “But we said no funny business.”

“No funny business,” He repeated, not because he agreed, but because he needed to form those words himself to understand what she meant. “Is snogging funny business?”

“Well…” She grinned, mischievously, batting her eyelashes innocently at him, “not really. But definitely when it’s done well and with expertise. Your hands on my ass didn´t count as Funny Business the other day, though.”

“Maybe I suck!” He laughed, leaving forward as he tugged their hands to make her move towards him, having to use her hand against his crossed leg for leverage.

“I know you’re not! You weren´t terrible like five days ago, it’s probably for all the fame and the pretty girls throwing themselves at you. Pretty boys too, probably!” Ellie laughed as well.

“Alright, but maybe I got worse. There’s only one way to be sure.”

“Maybe I’ll let you kiss me later, but you should eat now. And drink some coffee. You just got off a huge tour, dear, you need sustenance.”

“I need at least one little, tiny kiss?” He insisted, and he watched he roll her eyes, sigh a little, and then move her legs so she was kneeling towards him, her free hand on his shoulder, still holding his other hand in hers. Before he could blush or get excited, Ellie leaned down, close enough to breath her in, and kissed his nose.

Pulling back quickly and letting go of his hand now, the redhead sat back down on her heels, laughing at his expression. “There’s your kiss.”

Oliver pouted, “That’s not fair.”

“Should have been more specific, then,” Ellie shrugged, still laughing, as she handed him a can of iced coffee. “Drink, and maybe I tell you a secret.”

“What a secret?” Ollie asked, but he grabbed the can and opened it after cleaning the edge with his sleeve.

“If I tell you, then it stops being a secret, right?”

Sighing, Oliver drank half the can in one go and grabbed his fork and the salad, “Alright, I’m eating. Tell me your secret.”

Ellie waited a moment, scrunching her nose up at him and sticking her tongue out as he started finishing the salad, smiling at him, and Ollie wondered if she was gathering herself up, or maybe coming up with a good enough secret she hadn´t have when she offered to tell him one. As he took the third bite, though, she spoke, her voice soft and low, as if she was trying to avoid being loud and disrupting something.

“… I watched the show last night.”

He could have choke, and he almost spat chicken and lettuce and dressing all over the blanket, but managed to regain his composure before any of that happened, swallowing hard before he could breathe out: “You watched?”

“Yeap,” Ellie nodded, motioning for him to keep eating as she continued her tale. And he was sure he would be more than happy to hear her talk about anything for hours, but this involved him in some way, so he liked it even more. “I wasn´t sure how would I feel so I made up a lie about a business meeting to give me an out if I needed it. So I dropped Sophie off at your hotel earlier, but hours later she called because she had forgotten her camera and something a friend asked you guys to sign, so I had to go to the stadium. I almost went in with her. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and the opening act was good and I was very close to go in. But then I thought about you and how it would be and what if you hated that I was there, but also what if you didn´t. What if I listened to your song and it was weird, because I knew it was about me? What if I liked it but also what if I didn´t? What if I couldn´t hide it or pretend or be calm and collected? I was… I felt overwhelmed and a little panicked, and I walked out but since I wasn´t in my right state of mind, I still have no clue where I was. A security guy found me and since I still had my lanyard to get in and out of the stadium, he asked me if I wanted to go to the VIP spot, which I didn´t. But I asked if it was possible to get to the pit? So he showed me the side entrance and told me to find him when I wanted to leave. Andy, that’s his name, you should get him a bonus.”

“I’ll buy him a car, anything he wants,” Oliver assured, making her chuckle.

“That’s probably good too. So I watched from the floor yesterday too. You guys were amazing, and so… electric and magnetic. I loved the show. It’s hard not to fall in love with your stage personas, and it’s even harder not to let yourself be drown in the music and the atmosphere and the exhilaration of the show.”

Taking his iced coffee and drinking a swig, Ollie asked her, “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Fell in love.”

The redhead grinned, despite her face burning hot and red, and he knew right away he wasn´t going to like the answer, even if it was a lie. At least, he really hoped it was. “Oh, yes. Definitely. Malcolm is just enchanting. I was going to ask you for his number, that’s why I let you stay.”

Oliver gasped, offended at her words and dropping his fork against the now empty plate, “That’s not true!”

“You don´t think Malcolm is enchanting? He’s so good and talented, and he’s adorable with his guitar and forgetting his lyrics for that one song!” She laughed.

And he knew she was teasing him, but he wasn´t sure, and he didn´t like not being sure. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m not here just so you can have his number.”

Wide smile still on her lips, Ellie stuck her tongue out at him. “Of course not. But he is definitely adorable.”

“I know he is, but that’s not-“

“Oliver. Babe. Dearest. The guys are great, but you’re the one I couldn´t get my eyes off of. You were so…. Man, you’re so hot when you’re drumming. Even from afar. It’s like you’re banging to your heart’s content and you’re giving it your all and it���s hard to think straight while you’re up there. Which is why I panicked today too. Because I loved seeing you on stage. And it still feels wrong with Lizzie. And I wasn´t sure how I would react, or how she would react, or how you would react. And I…. spiraled a little, locked myself in the car and all.”

Blushing at her words, Ollie cleared his throat, looking to the floor, flustered but delighted. “I… So you’re saying it was hard not to fall a little bit in love with me…?”

She scrunched her nose up, probably regretting her choice of words, but after a second she shrugged and dared him with her eyes on his. “The you on stage. He’s hypnotic and seductive and a little bewitching.”

“You like me,” He grinned as wide as he could, and she blushed even more, but didn´t argue right away.

“Your stage persona. How could I not?”

“You like me,“ Ollie insisted.

Rolling her eyes, the redhead bit her lower lip, trying not to smile back. “Okay, yes. I like you. You’re pretty.”

“I like you too, doll. A lot. All of you. I also really like your ass in your strappy little contraction from the other day. Especially like you wearing our merch.”

“Funny you’d say that,” Ellie snorted, thrilled, “because that’s exactly what Jem said you would think.”

It was hard not to laugh as well, because Jem knew him too much, and he had a preternatural gift to orchestrate everything, and Oliver wouldn´t put it past him that Jem would have planned it all down. But when she reached for the last onion ring with her right hand, and his eyes followed her movement, he noticed something he hadn´t before, a delicate ring precisely on her ring finger. Suddenly, it wasn´t that hard not to laugh as his eyes latched to her hand, because she had a ring, and it was on that finger, and he remembered Lizzie mentioning something he had brushed away before about her mum being married… but maybe it was the truth.  Oliver hated the feeling that overcame him, helplessness and worry and anxiety mixed with insecurity and curiosity. Because if she was, then…. she had not say a single thing. And what if it wasn´t open and it wasn´t okay with the other person what they were doing? What if he was being the mistress? Ollie knew how much it hurt to be cheated on, and he’d hated to be in that position, but he’d hate it even more if it was with her.

“I heard the strangest thing once…” Oliver trailed off, his eyes still focused on her hand, but he saw her shift a little and look at him, curiously.

“About Jem?” She wondered.

“No. About you.”

Ellie frowned, cocking her head to the side as her eyes bore holes in his face, and he felt his cheeks warm and furious pink. “Oh, boy. What was it?”

“That you’re married,” He blurted out, finally looking at her, on time to catch her raging blush and the confusion in her expression.

“Oh. That…” The redhead sighed, curling her lips to the side. “I’m not really married? Sawyer’s just….. my husband.”

Shaking his head, utterly confused, Oliver frowned back at her, because that made no sense, and he was sure even if he was cold sober, it would still sound off. “I know I drank some earlier, so maybe I’m still little drunk, but right now it sounded exactly as you saying someone’s your husband? But you’re not married? How does that work? Are marriage laws completely different in this weird country?”

“Well…. No?”

Ellie didn´t sound so sure, and the fact he wasn´t getting an honest, direct answer only worked to fuel his anxiety and his fears. What if she was married? What if he was helping her cheat? What if she didn´t like him and was just trying to get even with someone else? What if he was just someone to pass the time while her husband was away at sea, or touring with some bigger, more famous band, or shooting a billion dollars’ movie on the moon, or curing cancer? She must have sense his inner turmoil, or maybe he was transparent, because she kneeled again, and crawled on her knees closer to him until she was between his bended knee and his crossed leg. “It’s not easy to explain.”

“Is it true, then, you’re married? Is it open? What is it what we were doing when I went to New York?” Ollie blurted out, unable to hold her gaze.

“I’m not married. Sawyer’s just…”

“They’re one of your most favourite people in the world, I remember the name, you mentioned them before.”

“Yes, he is. We’re friends, he’s my… He’s my Jem. He’s my work husband, but saying that feels disingenuous because he’s so much more than that. And we have rings, but… It’s not an actual marriage.”

“Is this cheating, then?”

“He’s my Jem. Are you cheating on him by being here with me?” Ellie asked, tapping his forehead once, twice, when he avoided her eyes again, but then she didn´t wait for his answer. “Sawyer is not my boyfriend. He’s one of my best friends and I love him, and we work together all the time so… husband.”

“That makes even less sense, Elle!” Oliver protested, loudly, regretting his volume as soon as he used it, and blushing even more at that.

“I’m trying to explain,” she insisted, sounding a little defeated, which he liked even less. “Sawyer and I are not a couple. We just play one on stage more times than not. And he’s my friend. And he loves me and I love him. You have nothing to worry about and I’m not cheating. I’m not a cheater. I know how much it destroys someone if they’re cheated. And I also try not to lie or hide the truth.”

“But you said he’s your husband.”

Ellie sighed again, trying to find a way to explain that he would accept, but it seemed hard to put it into words. “I like you. Whatever I have with Sawyer, he’s my friend, and he chose the picture I sent you, the wet one? So that should be enough to understand.”

“… He chose that picture?”

“Well, he helped me, I was feeling anxious. I’m not going to tell you that Sawyer means nothing because that’s a lie. But…” She frowned, more at herself, it seemed, than at him, and stopped herself from talking, as if words failed her. Oliver was about to interrupt her silence, tell her he understood, that he had maybe overreacted a smidge, and that she had every right to do everything she wanted, of course, and he shouldn´t have made her feel like she had to explain herself, but he went silent as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Before he could ask or process it, though, Ellie leaned all the way down, and kissed him.

It was an instant wildfire burning between them, her fingers closing tight on his shoulders as his hands went to her hips. He wanted to pull her closer, so close he could feel her heart beating against his skin, but their position was awkward and they were in the hallway, and tearing her clothes off seemed like the kind of funny businesses she had closed off earlier. But then she parted his lips with her tongue, deepening the kiss, making him moan into her mouth, chase after as she moved to get closer, her right knee going over his left one that he had quickly stretched when he felt her get closer, and she was straddling his leg now, her knee brushing hard against his crotch and the growing bulge there. And it was hard to think and it was hard to breath, and he couldn´t help himself as he slid one of his hands under her hoodie, scraping the skin of her thigh all the way up to her ass, squeezing it with his fingers over the lacy fabric of her brief, drinking her whimper in with all of her. Ellie let go of his shoulder in favour of the nape of his neck, clutching his hair tightly on her fist as he moved his hand from her ass to her hip, sliding his thumb under the satin ribbon keeping her pants in place, tempted to pull until they broke or got untied.

But before he could decide on what to do, and as fast as the kiss had started, it ended, and Ellie pulled away, breathless, lips swollen and red, and cheeks flushed. She looked like sex, hot and needy and so, so ready, and he wanted to kiss her again, but she was probably right, because if he started kissing her again, then when would he stop? Reluctantly, he unhooked his thumb from the string of her pants and took his hand from under her hoodie as she sat down on his leg.

“You’re right,” Ollie admitted when his own breathing calmed down. “That definitely counts as funny business.”

That reply made her laugh, and she leaned towards him to kiss his nose. “Told you. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while now. Since the airport, really.”

“Me too, so much. I’d say I’ve missed it since it last happened, especially when you sneaked your pants in my pocket, but that sounds wrong,” He chuckled, because why the hell not? Because she was sitting with his leg between hers and she was wearing his band’s hoodie and only a thin, flimsy piece of lace under it. Because he wanted her, and he wanted her to know.

“You’re cute,” Ellie smiled, brushing the small curls at the back of his neck with her fingertips, and sliding her hands to his shoulders after. “We always did have great chemistry.”

“And kissing is a great exercise, so maybe we should be doing it a bit more.”

The redhead grinned at him at his words as he fisted the hoodie around her hips, dragging her that little bit closer up his thigh, her knee pressing against his bulge a smidge too much, making him hiss and close his eyes and focus on the sensation. She shouldn´t be able to make him feel like that with just a brush or just a kiss, yet here he was… harder than he had been in ages, and desperate for something he knew he wouldn´t be getting.

“Maybe you should get a cold shower,” Ellie teased, her tongue out between her lips, and she leaned closer again to kiss his forehead. It was a feathery touch, barely there, but her lips hovered against his face and she kissed him again, smiling to herself. It seemed a waste to focus on her words when her breath fanned out over his face, her hair fell in waterfalls between them, and her lips, wet and warm and so very red, pressed against his right cheek, right under his eye. Once, twice, and then she kissed the other side. Soft and sensual, it was driving him wild, and Ollie didn´t dare speak or move or even think too much. His whole attention was latched onto her fingers on his shoulders, and her hot lips on his face, kissing gently his cheeks, his forehead again, his nose, his eyebrows, his chin, the curve of his jaw… Even breathing seemed like too much, too distracting, too out of place. She seemed so fixated on her ministrations, so concentrated on what she was doing, Ollie wondered what was going on through her mind. And he would have asked her were it not for the spell that had befallen them and enthrall them.

She kissed his lower lip once, and the curve of his archer’s bow, and then she took his upper lip in between hers, and Oliver couldn´t help himself this time and crashed her closer to his chest, chasing her mouth to kiss her properly again. He felt her giggle into his mouth and she let him kiss her, biting his lip gingerly.

“Definitely a cold shower,” Ellie giggled against his lips when they pulled away.

“Are you going to help me?” He tried, already knowing the answer he would get, smiling wide as she shook her head.

“That would defeat the purpose. Go, take a shower, and I’ll clean this up, and then we can sit here again.”

“I don´t want to. I want to stay with you, not be naked in your shower without you.”

She blushed wildly, sheepish smile on her lips. “What about your current… situation?” Ellie teased, licking her lips, her eyes sliding to his crotch and then back at him, and now it was him the one who blushed.

“I’ll worry about my dick, love. I’m not going to jerk off in your bathroom unless you’re there with me watching, so this is what we have to work with,” He laughed, kissing her nose. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” She repeated, more to herself, it seemed, as if she was trying to convince herself that was the best course of action. Or at least, that’s what he hoped for, because it was exactly what he was thinking now. “Let’s clean this up?”

Oliver shook his head, fingers clutching at her hips, holding her tighter. “Not yet, stay a little more. I like having you here.”

Giggling again, Ellie nodded, “Alright, then, Princess, but this position is a little awkward, hold on.” Kneeling on the floor, holding his shoulders, she tapped his left thigh so he would move it in between hers, so she was straddling his legs now. She sat down on his lap, her legs crossing around his hips, closer than she was before, and it was either innocent or absolutely teasing but his dick was now fully against her body, and he saw the way she smirked and bit down on her lip.

“You, my love, are a tease. A pretty, dirty, beautiful little tease.”

“Ah, but, sir, I’m not even moving!” She pouted a little, innocently, looking up at him through her eyelashes as she rolled her hips, making him hiss and slap her ass once, trying to ignore her soft moan.

“Behave, babydoll. No funny business.”

Her nose scrunched up, half frown and half pout and full adorable. “That was a dumb decision.”

“Come on, babydoll, we can keep it pure,” He laughed.

“Then stop calling me babydoll, tease,” Ellie protested, but she kept her hips still and she passed her arms around his neck. “Do that, and maybe we can work it out.”

“Alright, no teasing in any way. Can I hold your waist, though?”

Nodding, Ellie sighed, leaning her forehead against his, and he hugged her around her middle. “Have I told you already you’re cute?”

“Yes, but I like hearing you say it.”

“Well, too bad, that’s all you’re going to hear from me for now,” she chuckled, tightening her arms around his neck as he started rubbing her waist up and down, gently.

“That’s enough for now, doll. This is enough. I’ve missed you.”

“You told me already.”

“Yes, but not to your face. Not with you in my arms and on my lap, so it feels different. You don´t have to say anything in return, doll. I just wanted you to k-“

“I missed you too. I told you before. Like ten minutes ago,” Ellie laughed.

Sticking his tongue out at her, Ollie kissed her lips once, quick, surprising her. “Tell me something about you you haven´t told me before,” He asked, the same thing she had asked a week ago when he started telling her everything and anything she wanted to know.

“I… have no clue what that would be. I can be totally honest if you ask me, but I always find it hard to just… talk about myself? So if you’re more specific…” The redhead trailed off, shrugging a little, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Alright. Then tell me what do you like about yourself.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “That is not even a little bit easier, Princess.”

“Come on, now. I know it’s hard for you to talk about things you like, but I also know you’re amazing, so you must have something to say.”

“Does saying my tits count as cheating?”

Ollie snorted, surprised, and trying very hard not to look at them. “While they are, indeed, impressive, brilliant breasts, that does sound like cheating, love.”

“Brilliant, huh?”

“Definitely. Dazzling and perfect,” He admitted, his ears tinging pink under her gaze. “Very distracting, like every little thing about you.”

“Okay, then what about my lack of gag reflex?”

Chortling, he slapped her hip once, bringing her attention back. “Do you want me to tell you something I like about you, or myself, first?”

“Yes, please. Not about me, tell me your favourite thing about yourself.”

She was smiling, her forehead against his, looking into her eyes and it was easy to smile back and fall into her spell, comply and do whatever she wanted him to. “I like… I like that I’m kind, and that I always try to choose that. Sunny and sweet, as you said it before,” Ollie chuckled, and he opened his mouth to go on, until he realized what she had done. “Hey!” He protested, offended. “No flipping it on me!”

Ellie was cackling now, like a mad woman, and he couldn´t remain offended at that. “I love hearing you talk.”

“It’s not fair, what if I like hearing you?!”

“Alright… that’s fair. I’m sorry. I don´t feel comfortable talking about myself.” The redhead accepted, puffing her cheeks out. “I like… that I have a great memory? I used to like that I trusted people and that I thought the best of everyone, but clearly that hasn´t been me for a while.”

“Do you think the worst of me?” Oliver asked, curiously, eagerly, not sure yet if he wanted the answer or not. Ellie looked at him, pondering her reply, sizing him up, and then she shook her head.

“I don´t. I don´t think so.”

“Do you trust me?”

This time, she didn´t have to think. “I do. Which doesn´t really seem smart. But… I do.”

“So you trust and think the best of some people, at least. You should still like that about yourself.”

“Jeeze,” Ellie sighed, a soft chuckle following suit. “You would get along great with Sawyer.”

“You’ll have to introduce us, then,” He stated, and he still wasn´t sure how he felt about Sawyer. “What’s your favourite thing about him?”

“About Sawyer?” She asked, and she seemed much more present and willing to gush now, and Ollie wondered if it was wrong to feel jealous, if he had any right, and even if he was jealous, which he couldn´t be sure. He buried his fingers on her hips, grasping at her body and the fabric of her hoodie, drumming softly, trying to get his mind off of anything other than her presence there. “I’m not sure I have one favourite thing. He’s… He’s sweet and caring and loving, and he’s seen the worst of me and he still wants me around, and he’s so so talented and so easy to work with. He’s easy to love and easy to be with, he makes things simple and he makes everything make sense. He… actually…”

Her expression changed, a frown coming over her features, and she bit her lower lip, deep in thought. Ollie gave her a moment or two to gather herself, but when she sighed and muttered a little huh but nothing more, he felt anxious and curious. Tugging a little at her hips, he called her attention. “What? What is it?”

“I just realized something,” Ellie shrugged, focusing on him, but she didn´t continue and he was tempted to stick his tongue out, tickle her, kiss her, anything to get a different reaction.

As she kept silent, Ollie knocked her nose with his, softly, “What is it?” His curiosity was getting the best of him, and slowly sinking into anxiety and he didn´t want to get to that.

“Nothing, really. You and Sawyer, you’re… You guys are a lot alike, now that I think about it. It’s weird,” Ellie admitted finally, a soft smile on her lips.

“Does that mean I’m also one of your favourite people too, then?” He dared, only his fingers tapping on her hips betraying his nerves.

“Currently? You are on definitely up there.” It wasn´t a reply he expected, and Ollie looked at her, confused, eyes wide, which made her laugh. “You asked me, don´t act so surprised.”

“I didn´t know you would agree! I thought you would laugh in my face.”

“Well…. Technically, I did,” The redhead chuckled, brushing his nose with hers.